Jesus fucking Christ... great job in pissing me off royally. I was pretty good all day and having great conversations about 10 minutes ago with Linds and my cousin and really feeling relaxed. Trust fucking Wanich to be the needle in my balloon.
I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the best drum major in the world, but DAMMIT -- I'M WORKING ON IT!!! When you're on the podium and hearing clashing sounds and tempos all because the band is spread from one 20 yardline to the other 20 yardline... you tend to hesitate on which side is right or whether your tempo is right. You know half of them aren't even looking at you and you know the rest don't know how to play their music. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but, it's an awful lot to think about at one time. The hardest part is to clear my head completely each time and embarrass myself more as we blindly stumble through "That Old Black Magic." I'm an embarrassment to myself! Most of the time I'm on that podium, I wish I could just fall off and injure myself so that Holly could just take over and end it for me. But that would be letting the assholes win. Fuck it, I know exactly what's wrong, but I know it won't always be wrong! Just don't criticize me!!
Wanich had this great idea of telling me how much I slow down at 11 o'clock at night.
