It's musical time. Thursday, December 15th- a day that shall live in infamy as the tryouts for Oliver! the musical. I keep switching between dull acceptance that I have a snowball's chance in hell of getting Nancy, but I'm sticking to it and occasionally feeling hopelessly optimistic. I have the sheet music, and I'm wandering about the house singing. Well, no one's home but my brother (who knows that I'm weird) and father (who was in musicals in high school/college, while being on the football and basketball teams. I don't get it either). So- if you hear me singing under my breath louder than usual, that would be the explanation.

There it is- my hopes for the tryout Wednesday. It involves singing, reading through a scene, and choreography (this would be the part I'm most nervous about). If Fagin isn't cast as a girl, then Sarah won't be Fagin. If Sarah isn't Fagin, I'm sunk- she'll get female lead (judging from three years of listening to the girl sing), and the next-best people get Widow Corney and Bet, and I'll be lucky to be in the chorus. See? I'm already grouchy about the entire ordeal. This means that no one with any sense should even attempt to critique my singing voice on Thursday. I'll either inflict violence or burst into tears, depending on how I feel at the time.

Really- I'd be happy with any part. Any of the ladies in Who Will Buy? have amazing parts, Bet and Nancy and Widow Corney have great songs. I just want to have one line of my own, you know? I've never had that. Last year, I played French horn because the second chair wouldn't do it for me. This year- forget it. The director couldn't schedule matters so I could be in my deserved band (this would be my place as first-chair wind ensemble, the school's highest band), so I'm not giving him my time after school. His precious devoted section leader can do that (okay, so I'm still a little bitter that a junior got it over me, a senior, when every last one of the freshman asked why I wasn't section leader. It turns out that I'm better at teaching people, but I lack the suck-up skills needed to be best buds with the director's pet drum major). Okay- sorry, side-tracked with a rant that no one hear probably wants to hear.

Anyway- my dad was in drama. My grandma directed drama, including plays my father was in. My (very Irish/German) cousin had a standing ovation after her choir sang in the Apollo Theatre (of Harlem, from their Renaissance). Her little brother sang for President Jimmy Carter and some Miss America or other (he noticed the latter) this year. A cousin on the other side played piano (backed up by an orchestra) in Carnegie Hall (yeah, the famous one in New York. She's from Wisconsin). Another cousin on that side has one of the most gorgeous voices ever- she sings at every wedding, funeral, whatever. So- call it selfishness, but I want one line that I can talk about. I want one lick of melody, one spotlight, one bit of recognition when I troop out for a cast call.

Call it greedy, egotistical, vain- whimsical. A girl can dream, can't she? College- my two favorite schools have twenty-two or forty-four thousand people, and I'll be lucky to get into the chorus. I have a decent voice, but I'm not the girl that everyone would pay to see. I can carry a tune, back up a melody- but according to this director, hard work matters more than some stand-out declaration of a pretty voice. So, maybe, for once- I have a chance.

Or maybe I'm just rambling on about something that never will happen- either way, I tried to dream. I'll put up what happens- just watch the penguin. If my mood's not there perfectly, I'll put in a label if I can find the word. Until then- I'll be singing, and how well that happens can just be judged on Thursday.