Christmas Eve

Met Thomas for coffee. +1

Practiced. +1

Went to the Met. Usually avoid grocery stores on Christmas. Bought more than I could afford, gave $5 to the Salvation Army. +1

Practiced. +1

Went to my parents house with Thomas. Made cookies, drank wine, ate food, laughed at each other. +1. Things are going well.

Call Dr. S and drop off cookies. We talk. +1

"Oh, I have something for you guys."

"Yea?"

"Yea, you two got some really bad reviews."

"For accompanying?" I'm shocked. I thought things went well this year. I worked really hard and it paid off. Or so I assumed.

She shuffles through a stack of purple. "Yea, Erin, Maria gave you really good reviews. But... Let's see, Lucas, Thomas, Lindsay...." Merry Fucking Christmas, says the two purple sheets, you are horrible. One sheet is signed. "Wrong notes everywhere, I thought you were going to have to stop." I don't think I'm being naive when I can't even think of a piece I played that was that bad. The only thing that comes to mind is the orchestra reduction of a Mozart aria, which did not sound like an orchestra, as it was played on a piano. The other is anonymous, written out for "Aron," and is just a checklist of poor marks. No faculty signature, no comments. -10

I start to cry in front of Thomas, my professor, and her family. -1909398433

I can't stop sniffling. -15.

"Don't let this get to you. Don't accompany singers anymore."
"Yea, but this is what I want to do for gra-a-a-a-a-waaaaaaaaah"-infinity^593

Go home. Cry for awhile. It's like my eyes are lactating. I have no control over this, it's the worst time, and my shirt is spotty. -doesn't even matter now.

Family laughs extra hard at my jokes. +1