Foutu

My first piano juries got changed to Friday. As in, the day after the day after tomorrow. They used to be on the 29th. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!!!

This wouldn't really be a problem if I didn't have to play that damn Chopin "Black Keys" etude. I don't know what my deal is with this piece--I've played harder stuff, and it's something that a lot of 15-year old pianists can handle. But for some reason, the gears just get stuck on this one. Or, more accurately, my hands get stuck, thus making it sound like shite.

In general, my morale concerning my school has been steadily decreasing for the past six months or so, to the point that I found myself browsing university websites today for master's programs in foreign language education--what I imagine I'll fall into if/when this piano thing falls through.
I guess I'm somewhat happy I'm getting it over with though. If I fail, I probably won't bother taking the other exams, which will at least save me a bit of stress.

I've been thinking about metaphors for how I've felt throughout this school year, and especially now that it's winding to an end. I've come up with a couple accurate ones:

1. That feeling when you start a book and put it aside for a long time. Then when you pick it up again, you have to reread everything to remember what happened. It's a kind of annoying feeling that you're wasting your time, and you're often tempted to just put it aside and pick up a new book.

2. When a chica is clearly not interested in you, and you make some huge, last-ditch effort to snag her, reasoning that if you're going to fail, you should at least fail in a last blaze of glory.

I guess I'm regressing into "complaining" again. Maybe I should go practice instead.
Please light a candle for me and my jury. Preferably one of those gingerbread scented ones.