Not deaf, just dumb

I have been thinking a lot about Helen Keller recently.  I don’t know why, but she has come up in conversation like three times in one week.  It’s a sign, or something.  When you think about it, she really is a pretty remarkable lady.  She was horribly disabled and didn’t possess any linguistic skills at all until the age of 7, and yet she went on to be a celebrated author and lecturer.  I mean, she was by all means doomed to a reclusive life, and then Annie Sullivan comes along and transforms her into one of the most celebrated figures in American History.  Annie Sullivan spent like all her time with this chick, teaching her and guiding her and encouraging her.  Their relationship is really remarkable.

Which makes me wonder:  WHERE THE FUCK IS MY ANNIE SULLIVAN?!?!  Why doesn’t some poor sap decide to devote his or her life to encouraging and teaching me and keeping me from doing stupid things like eating a whole box of Oreos after a bad audition?!  Why doesn’t this person make me go for runs instead of taking naps?  This person would need to be part personal trainer, part therapist, part life coach, and part chef.  Maybe I’ll put an ad on craigslist or something.  Wanted: one talented but desperate personal trainer/therapist/life coach/chef; must be willing to work all hours for no pay—the joy on my face when I become successful must be payment enough.

Any takers?

Anyway.  My audition was PROBABLY fine, but I feel less than positive about the whole experience.  I mean, I know that the people listening to me know me and know my voice and my work ethic pretty well, but there’s something horribly disappointing about singing for 75 seconds and then hearing, “I don’t think we need to hear anything else.  Thank you.”  They were very nice about it, though.

So I’m not carrying a lot of hope for having work this summer, that’s all.

Aside from that, this is what I accomplished this weekend: I played through all of Final Fantasy I on my Nintendo DS, I watched National Treasure (starring Nicholas Cage) not once but TWICE, I saw Slumdog Millionaire again (which was good for my soul but not fantastic for my already unrealistic expectations for my fiscal future), and I took two three-hour vengeance naps.

I need to get a hobby.  Maybe if I learned Russian or something.