Well, hello! This is my Blogging thing. I've never had one, but here I go. I'll try it out and see how long I can keep it updated, lol.
A few days ago (last week, to be specific), I got a very special letter in my mail box from a touring company out in Corona, CA., called, "The Young Americans".
About 2, almost 3, years ago, I auditioned for them in a little workshop here in Nashville when they came. I was bareeeeely 16 when I auditioned, and I was nervous. It wasn't too awful because my brother had just auditioned, along with another boy. It wasn't like, a HUGE Disney Audition or anything (and that's a story for another day O_O).
Their rule is that, when you audition, you don't find out until your senior year of high school if you got accepted or not. Joshua (my older brother!) was a senior when he auditioned. A few weeks after he auditioned, he got a letter that he didn't make it because they had accepted all the students that they could. :'(
Honestly, I think I was more upset than he was, lol.
MEANWHILE. Waiting the three years was murder. SHEER murder. Oh, I hated the wait. Especially right after I auditioned. A year went by and it got easier, and I had my mind on school and the local community theater, so it wasn't too awful. It was on the back burner of my mind, so to speak.
Three years later, here I am. A senior in high school/college (dual enrollment), working as a receptionist, just chilling until I got my BA in Psychology.
And then, here comes...
The letter.
The letter that would seal my youthful fate. It was do or die.
Anyway, my Momma and I were heading out of our pea gravel drive way, heading to work, and stopped by our mailbox.
My Momma reached in, pulled out the mail. I was too busy cramming a granola bar in my mouth to notice what was going on. We stopped to get the mail all the time, it wasn't a big thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my Momma staring at me. And staring at me with these huge blue eyes. I looked at her, granola probably all over my face and went, "Whaph?" (translation ((without me stuffing my face)): "What???")
She slowly handed me a plain, thin white letter.
I choked a little and my blue eyes got huge as I grabbed the letter.
"Oh my gosh... I CAN'T DO IT! YOU DO IT!!! YOU OPEN IT!!!" I cried and shut my eyes, waving it back in her face in the car.
"Oh no, you do it. It's your letter." She was grinning from ear to ear. She pushed it back in my hands.
"But Momma-"
"Just open the letter!"
I swallowed the rest of the bar, and stared determinedly at the letter in my lap. Momma had started the car and was pulling out of our little country road.
I turned the letter over, and carefully proceeded to lift the flap.
Riiip.
"Dang it..." I muttered. Figures. I tore the envelope open and pulled out the one piece of paper.
And held it.
"What does it say?" Mom asked eagerly as she completely stopped the car in the middle of the road. I don't exactly recommend that, but when you live on a dead end road, it's okay. Not much traffic.
I cringed and unfolded the letter like it was going to bite me.
It read;
"Dear Chelsea Wilson,
Congratulations, Chelsea! The Young Americans would like to invite you to-" And I started to cry as I read the rest of the letter. My Momma got it on her iPhone. One of these days I'll post it on my YouTube account!
Back to real life, lol.
This blog will be about the year I have left here at home before I move away for four, maybe five years to teach children music, travel the world, leaving my family behind for awhile to do something I can't live without. It'll take you through my struggles, frustrations, whines and complaints, college issues, financial worries (lol), emotional stress, and my journey to a big part in my life that will change it... forever. Yeah. That sounds good. :D I'm such a cheese ball, but there's absolutely NO way to say that and not make it sound cheesy.
Much Love!
Chelsea-Logan
John 1:5
