Lofty Aspirations = Future Aggrivation

My friend Patrick has been pushing me to audition for the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus' spring season. Every time I see him, he reminds me about the auditions and how I'd have no problem getting in. He goes on and on about how it's a fantastic group of talent and it's full of attractive and single young men. I don't really have problems meeting young and attractive single men, but I appreciated the heads up. I was definitely intrigued.

As a child, I used to sing along to a lot of songs on the radio and on MTV. I'd grab a hairbrush and sing Kylie Minogue's rendition of The Locomotion. Now, almost twenty years later, I had the support of an existing chorus member to bolster my existing passion for singing and dancing. There's just one problem: I can't sing.

Imagine the worst American Idol auditions ever, then understand that I aspire one day to be THAT good. But does it matter? There are over 150 members in the chorus. Surely I could just wing it if I had enough desire to belong. All I'd need is an intense fervor and a basic understanding of music and everything would just fall into place, right?

Wrong. This is a recipe for disaster, much like my eagerness to join a drum and bugle corps when I was in high school.

I was a member of my high school winterguard and my friend James, who marched with a world class corps in the area, begged me to audition for his corps so I could be his travel buddy. He filled my ears with honeyed words, telling tales of hot and horny young men going at it late at night after practices and traveling to other countries to perform. He told me that it would be the most memorable experience of my life. He was right.

The audition was a nightmare from the first moment I stepped onto that field. People with years of color guard experience had come from all over the country to audition. Their lithe bodies moved with such grace and they handled their flags with such finesse that I looked like a bull in a china shop. I couldn't dance, I kept dropping my flag, and my body wasn't used to practicing more than three hours in one day. I was so bad that the director yelled at me to get off of the field. I saw him point to me as he talked sternly to the color guard director, who shrugged and probably said "I hardly know him!"

James was right about one thing. It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

Years of motivational conditioning from teachers and prime time sitcoms seem a lot like bullshit when you go through experiences like that. Remember hearing the phrase "you can do anything if you put your mind to it?" Tell that to the color guard director who suddenly disavowed any knowledge of your existence once he saw that you didn't know the difference between a pas de bourree and a grande jete. Tell that to the scads of cute gay boys in the color guard who laughed at you as you hung your head in shame on your way off of the practice field at a world class drum corps.

People need to be more specific when they're trying to build your confidence. They should really be telling people that "you can do anything... as long as you're already very good at it or if you have an abundant amount of time and patience to become very good at it."

I guess this means that Patrick won't be seeing me at the Gay Men's Chorus auditions next season. In the mean time, you can find me in the venue that best suits my vocal quality: The karaoke bar.

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VOTE FOR RICHIE!