People have told me my whole life just to “be positive” and everything will work out. When I was younger it was easier for me to believe in that happy horse sh*t and go with the flow with a positive mindset. If it didn’t work out, then someone with a positive demeanor would say “oh well, better luck next time,” or “it just wasn’t meant to be.” That’s complete bull. The truth is that not everyone can just think positively and have things work out for them. If that were the case, we’d have two presidents, everyone would get first place ribbons, and it would be impossible for the simplest things to go wrong for anyone. The whole “just be positive act” hasn’t been cutting it for me for a long time, and it’s just a placebo to numb the throbbing, aching pain of rejection.

Life has to suck sometimes.

I always have my highs and lows, sometimes all in one day. But today was the day I thought I was going to finally be able to maintain my high no matter what happened. I found out about this a capella group on campus about a year ago before I even applied to West Chester University. I watched their videos and found out about their performances in the ICCA’s which got me even more excited to want to join the group if I did end up going to WCU. For those of you who don’t know what the ICCA’s are, they’re basically the competition that the movie "Pitch Perfect" was based on. Pretty cool, right? Right. So last week I mustered up the courage to sign up for an audition slot for the group. I decided to try the whole “positivity” thing out again. I had lead parts in the musicals at my high school, along with years of experience in the chorus, so I felt reassured that I was talented enough to be auditioning for such a group. This, plus all the hype I was getting from my friends made me sure that I was destined to go into this audition to sing my heart out for these people that I’ve never even met before.

About an hour before my audition, my roommate came back to the room looking very down. That’s when I remembered that today was her big “Bid Day” to find out what sorority she was going to be in, a day she was so excited for and had anticipated for so long. To her surprise, she had not gotten into the one that she had her heart set on and was heartbroken. In that moment I felt so much sadness for her. How could the one she wanted not want her back? She’s so beautiful, funny, extremely friendly, and is a master in the art of small talk (so basically the full package). It hurt me that the universe had wronged someone so deserving of something. After all, she had been so contagiously positive to me during the journey of her process. I had so much hope that things were going to work out for my roommate and that’s when my sympathy for her started to set in, along with dismay that I couldn't help doubt the probability that I would get the news that I desperately wanted to hear. What chance did I ever stand then? I tried to cheer her up by saying, “They don’t deserve you. Things will work out if you try again next year.” Even though I didn’t know anything about the process, I still wanted to encourage her to not give up. I left for my audition filled with sympathy, confusion, and anxiety.

You know that shaking that chihuahuas are known for? Or even the shaking you get when you haven’t eaten enough or you’re just freezing cold. The shaking rumbles throughout your whole body and you wish you could do anything to just make it stop. This is the shaking I experience from nervousness. Even though my mind is clear and I'm not necessarily nervous, my body forces me to be nervous and no matter what I do, it won’t stop. It doesn’t matter how many times I audition for things, every time I have to do it again, it’s like I’m a clean slate and my body always wants me to start new. My audition consisted of that uncontrollable shaking. Even when I tell myself that I am calm, cool, and collected and I have nothing to worry about, but my body seems to always disagree. No matter how much I try to suppress the shaking, it won’t go away and sometimes even the act of suppression just aggravates it and makes it ten times worse. I can’t beat it no matter how hard I try, so I have decided to accept it and work around, especially during auditions.

During my audition, I maintained a positive mindset because sometimes that helps the shaking. I tried to be myself and crack some sarcastic jokes which usually makes me feel better (especially when I get a laugh), but the shaking would not stop. What else could I do? Nothing really, but the show still must go on. So I started to sing and I did my absolute best to control the shaking even though it still had a way of creeping through in the sound of my voice. I finished, left the audition, and reassured myself that I did my absolute best, but I couldn’t help but let the bad feelings seep in again.

Tonight, a couple of hours ago, in fact, I got the email along with 25 other people saying that because it’s a competitive process we did not receive a callback and they encourage us to try again next year.

I promised myself this was going to be one of my high days no matter what happened at the audition. I was going to handle rejection better this time. I was already feeling down towards the end of the night for no particular reason, and the rejection email was just the icing on the cake. I tried to tell myself not to cry or be ridiculous, but at the same time, I wondered if it was ridiculous for me not to cry because I wanted this so badly. Either way, I sat on a lawn chair that I wandered onto on campus and just let the tears flow down my face until I could finally get them to stop. A couple minutes into the waterworks, another girl about 50 ft in front of me sat down on a bench looking equally as distressed as me for some reason I’ll never know because I didn’t go over and ask her. I immediately thought of the way my roommate must have been feeling after the day she was having and then the empathy snuck in. Empathy sucks for both of the people involved, but you won’t understand another human being more in their time of need until you can equally share their sorrows.