So it turns out that this week wasn’t, as I originally expected, the worst ever. In fact, it was pretty average to maybe good. Tuesday night, I got to GO OUT ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. You guys. Has that happened for you yet? If so, do you remember when that was a huge deal? In eighth grade I was invited to this girl’s American Idol finale sleepover, which ALL the TOTALLY POPULAR girls were attending. I distinctly remember not wanting to go because I preferred to stay home and study and worried that I was going to feel super excluded, but I begged my mom anyway because I knew it was imperative that I accept the invitation unless I wanted my only friends to be Harry, Ron, and Hermione forever. The night ended with my falling asleep early and some girls putting my hand in a glass of water.

This past Tuesday, I, for the second time in my SUPER EGGCITING life, rushed to finish my homework in order to go out on a school night. I got to see Bleached and bop my head along with their music. It was enough to make me temporarily stop WIGGIN OUT over everything that I have to do right now. Like this audition for music school that I had on Saturday that I was basically preparing for by playing my flute as time allowed (one hour a day felt like a victory) and then falling asleep in the fetal position thinking about how much I was going to embarrass myself.

I had good reason to be worried. I was gonna be judged by the same woman I auditioned for last summer at band camp. That audition was to be held in a church on a Saturday. I drove to the church in the morning, only to find it totally empty, and completely boarded up. I panicked. I called the camp and got no answer. As I started walking around the perimeter of the church, it began to rain. An hour later, I discovered that the auditions were actually at the theater next door. Drenched, crying, and ridiculously late, I walked into the theater and was informed by the camp staff that all of the flutes had already tried out, and that the audition was up four flights of stairs, and that I had better run if I didn’t want to automatically be last chair (first chair is DA BOSS OF DA BAND, and they go down in importance from there). So, when the flute teacher asked a drenched, panting, crying, and utterly distressed version of myself to play an E, I clumsily obliged by playing the note—just, you know, the single note of E—as opposed to the E scale, which is basically like 29 notes, if you’re playing two octaves, which is what I was SUPPOSED TO DO. When the teacher pointed out my error, I burst into tears and began to play the scale one weezy, sobby, painful note at a time. They gave me seventh chair. Out of eight.

But this time was different! I actually did OK. I played my scales when the teacher asked me to. I didn’t cry, and I wasn’t drenched or late. Also, the teacher was really nice because I had taken a class from her over the summer where we did yoga and played the flute (not at the same time).

In other good-ish nes, the Sadie Hawkins dance didn’t go so bad either. I didn’t use my best judgment with how much Mexican food I ate right beforehand, so I felt like I was going to give birth to a queso baby all night, but other than that, it was, I would say, totally average.

Contrary to previous reports, everything is not, in fact, the worst. It’s just a mixture of really shitty things and really average things that are somewhat better than the really shitty things. Put THAT on an inspirational bumper sticker. ♦