When I was in 7th grade, I auditioned for Woodland Jr. High School's show choir. The auditions involved one day of learning a chereographed dance, one day of learning and singing a group number, and a third day of singing a solo.
I rocked the chereographed dance. (The dance was basically a couple jazz squares and spirit fingers to "Hello Dolly," but whatever. I nailed it.) The group number was easy too. After nine years of Primary programs, I could sing a group version of anything. I was sure I had show choir in the bag.
Then came the solo number. I chose "The Way You Love Me" by Faith Hill. Keep in mind that these auditions fell between the glory years of the boy bands (1997-2000) and my Shania Twain obsession (2002-2004). I think I hear "The Way You Love Me" once on the radio in the dentist's office, so I chose it.
My twelve-year-old heart was thumping as I got up to the microphone. I knew this. I could do it. I had sung this song a million times in my mirror and in front of my mom. This was easy, right? Wrong. As soon as I got in front of the twenty other girls, I froze. I heard the first few twangy bars coming from the tape player and I forced myself to open my mouth.
"If I could grant you one wish, I wish you could see the way you kiss," I whispered in the microphone, awkwardly swaying with the music. I think this was around the time the absurdity of my song choice struck me. I hadn't even hugged a boy and now I was singing about kissing one? I pushed forward, but my voice never really increased in volume.
All the other girls looked at each other and smirked. My choir teacher put her hand to her ear in the international symbol for "I don't care how good you were at the chereographed dance, if you don't get your crap together and sing there is no way I'm letting you in show choir." I struggled through the next two minutes of the song and people politely clapped. I ran back to my seat and hung my head in shame until my mom came to pick me up.
Needless to say, I didn't make it.
Ever since then, though I've had this unstoppable dream of becoming a rockstar. I've sung karaoke and I'm a mean singer in Rock Band, but they have not quenched my desire to sing in front of a thousand screaming fans. I can see myself up there, running up and down the stage, touching my fans' adoring hands, punching the air and letting the crowd sing the lyrics. Maybe even smashing a guitar.
Hayley Williams is my idol.