I choked. While standing in front of 350 people I forgot the words to my own song. Some people looked at me expectantly. Others guffawed. But, I saw your familiar face out of the corner of my eye. You smiled and gave me that look that said “dude, you got this!” I grinned despite myself. You mouthed the words to my song and then I was off. After that, I didn't hear any more guffaws. Yeah, I know some butt scratcher in the third row is laughing and pointing right now, but he doesn't matter. I'm singing for you.
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Above is another drabble (100 word fiction). Yes, it is fiction. I have had horrible, choking moments at piano recitals, but nothing quite like this.
Just got back my editor's revisions on my latest article for the magazine. As always, The Editor makes it beautiful. There is just something powerful about a second pair of eyes to look at your work. The Editor is able to machete through my baloney and get it down to the beauty that I know is there. I imagine that with time and experience there will be less for The Editor to cut through. Eventually I will get the hang of this. I'm not going to let my noob awkwardness win. ("The Editor" is any editor involved in reading one's work, not just my editor. Speaking of which, I am currently working with three different editors at the magazine...)
I have a crap ton of homework to take care of tonight. (Crap ton is a unit of mass. To convert, multiply a metric ton by 1.5 to calculate the measurement in crap tons.)