It's late on Wednesday at Cabaret Summer School 2014.
When I'm finished with my French song, I go upstairs to where the other half of the group is working. I sit down and express my anxiety.
I don't have a show. I've only got one song. I have no idea what I'm going to perform on Friday night.
I don't want to have to learn two new songs on Friday afternoon.
I need someone to help me.
We canvas various songs. I desperately scan the list I brought with me, but find no joy there.
Catherine says "Work on a song you've done before". But I want new ideas for my full-length show.
Someone tells me to make two columns, "Definite" and "Possible". Julie, the ever-helpful social worker, pulls out her phone and googles "Songs with Heart in the title". A bit doubtfully, she suggests "Listen to your Heart" by Roxette. I leap at it. That's exactly how my heart condition was diagnosed - when I listened to my heart I realized there was something not right, and went for a check-up.
The song has a lot of words, but I don't have to use them all. It's really the chorus that I want to use.
When I go home, I discover that I already have the song in a music book, and there are pencil markings on it that indicate I've worked on it with my singing teacher. I shove the book into my bag ready for tomorrow.
That evening, some of us go to see a Cabaret Competition. James from our group is competing. In fact, it turns out that I know six of the eight performers. It's nice to sit there in the dark and let other people do the work.
James does a great job with his performance, incorporating some of the suggestions offered by mentors during the week. We've witnessed his development over the past three days.
The winner is a "drag queen", who is very popular with the large crowd. I know this guy and I know he's worked very hard at his art, producing his own solo shows and competing in a TV contest.
But after the show, I don't feel relaxed; I'm agitated.
I'm angry that the one contestant who exceeded the time limit was declared the winner. But I wasn't competing - so why should I care?
I'm angry at the performer who aired her family's "dirty linen" in public. But it's not my family - so why should I care?
I'm angry at the MC who thanked everyone except Matthew the pianist, who worked so hard in accompanying all the contestants. But he doesn't seem unhappy - so why should I care?
I'm reacting emotionally to things that are happening around me. Normally I'm not like this.
My friend Alison would like to stay and chat over a drink. But I'm toxically tired, and I'm her "lift", so she agrees to leave with me.
I can't imagine being ready to perform in two night's time.
Why am I even doing this?
When I'm finished with my French song, I go upstairs to where the other half of the group is working. I sit down and express my anxiety.
I don't have a show. I've only got one song. I have no idea what I'm going to perform on Friday night.
I don't want to have to learn two new songs on Friday afternoon.
I need someone to help me.
We canvas various songs. I desperately scan the list I brought with me, but find no joy there.
Catherine says "Work on a song you've done before". But I want new ideas for my full-length show.
Someone tells me to make two columns, "Definite" and "Possible". Julie, the ever-helpful social worker, pulls out her phone and googles "Songs with Heart in the title". A bit doubtfully, she suggests "Listen to your Heart" by Roxette. I leap at it. That's exactly how my heart condition was diagnosed - when I listened to my heart I realized there was something not right, and went for a check-up.
The song has a lot of words, but I don't have to use them all. It's really the chorus that I want to use.
When I go home, I discover that I already have the song in a music book, and there are pencil markings on it that indicate I've worked on it with my singing teacher. I shove the book into my bag ready for tomorrow.
That evening, some of us go to see a Cabaret Competition. James from our group is competing. In fact, it turns out that I know six of the eight performers. It's nice to sit there in the dark and let other people do the work.
James does a great job with his performance, incorporating some of the suggestions offered by mentors during the week. We've witnessed his development over the past three days.
The winner is a "drag queen", who is very popular with the large crowd. I know this guy and I know he's worked very hard at his art, producing his own solo shows and competing in a TV contest.
But after the show, I don't feel relaxed; I'm agitated.
I'm angry that the one contestant who exceeded the time limit was declared the winner. But I wasn't competing - so why should I care?
I'm angry at the performer who aired her family's "dirty linen" in public. But it's not my family - so why should I care?
I'm angry at the MC who thanked everyone except Matthew the pianist, who worked so hard in accompanying all the contestants. But he doesn't seem unhappy - so why should I care?
I'm reacting emotionally to things that are happening around me. Normally I'm not like this.
My friend Alison would like to stay and chat over a drink. But I'm toxically tired, and I'm her "lift", so she agrees to leave with me.
I can't imagine being ready to perform in two night's time.
Why am I even doing this?
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