I could have been a famous singer, if I had someone else’s voice.

I feel that the title of this post is pretty self-explanatory (though it is also a song lyric).

Sunday night – and it was night, my maestro is quite nocturnal – PC and I began our Secret Government Eggo Project. I, of course, began with a sense of trepidaton bordering on full-blown panic. With my heart in my throat, fingers vibrating with fear, I asked him “why? Why? Why is this so scary?” (Sometimes I repeat things three times for no reason.)

“I can’t answer that for you,” he said, and took my hand. I clutched at him and he squeezed my hand just hard enough to hurt. And away we went.

(I didn’t hold his hand the entire time, though, he did have to conduct me. Which, strangely, helps.)

In any case, I didn’t wheedle my way out of it completely (I can be very convincing when I am afraid of doing something!) and we got a lot of good material despite it being past midnight when we finished. All in all, it was more exhausting than the four-hour shift I had at my show the night previous.

If I keep doing this, maybe it will be like driving – I start off petrified and panicky, but eventually it won’t be that big of a deal to me. Like driving, I’ll still be constantly vigilant (because if you do driving wrong you can, you know, die), but I will be more comfortable and less inclined to panicked crying. One can only hope.

He really is very patient with me, he’s somehow struck the balance between not letting me get away with anything and not wounding my delicate flower feelings. (Delicate floral feelings?) I’m enjoying it, so far – the work that he’s done is beautiful, as usual, and I enjoy working with him. I just hope I’m not ruining it completely with my voice. D:

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