Slave

I would tell you that it’s just one of those nights, but it isn’t.

It’s 5:40a.m. and I don’t quite know what to tell you really. It’s not like I’ve been all that busy with anything, yet I’ve been feeling so lost I don’t know where to begin. I can’t even begin to count how many times I arrived here at this page, this column, filled with optimism and eagerness to write you something. Only to have it all diminish.

Suppose it’s about time I get out of this college that is doing me no good. I’m not being ungrateful, but for the large sum of money my folks are forking out every semester, I strongly believe that we deserve so much more than what is being given to us. In simpler terms, my progress in being a vocalist has been stagnant for way too long. After all, where do I go from here when all they can tell me is that “that was a good performance” by the college’s standards?

Hearing from Feri that auditioning from ICOM can never land you the Presidential Scholarship from Berklee was beyond depressing. My favorite meatballs with fries on the side lost its appeal as I fought my overwhelming emotions over dinner last Saturday. I don’t quite know what to make of it really, for no Presidential Scholarship = No Berklee = No getting out of the mediocrity that is ICOM.

Dad, however, mentioned that if I want it bad enough I will find my way. And I suppose he is right. I’ll just have to keep trying and meanwhile, keep my emotions at bay. You only find what you truly want when you can’t have it.

I really need that Presidential Scholarship.