Dear Diary,

I know what you're thinking. I'm a flipping psychopath- hello- this is post number three in one day. But anyway.

Rehearsal was actually amazing. I came in late, stressed, and upset. We started singing "I am a Friend of God" which, of course, made me think of Debbie. I sang my lungs out just about all practice. I just about needed to.

But the best part came after the choir left. I got to work on the solo I'm singing this Sunday in the sanctuary. At first I really didn't listen to the words, and I didn't want to. I didn't mean them. But when I started paying attention to them, somewhere between talking with the music pastor about whether to use straight timing or free pulse, more chest voice or more head voice... I started to let go of that little thing that had been nagging me. It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. Who cares what she said? Who cares how he feels about me? And most importantly, who cares what they think? I was chosen, and I was made to sing.

Music is a vital part of my soul like black is a vital part of the dark. And tonight, I sang, and it was good. I'm finally looking forward to Sunday and nothing can shake that from me.

Through all of my insanely mood-swingy snarkiness, I have been keeping up with my daily readings, although not paying as much attention as I probably should. Tonight I read the Daleth portion of Psalm 119, and it was like I had never read it before. The thing that really jumped out at me was verse 32: "I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free."

Insanely cool.

Oh, and yeah, I'm a Christian. If that bothers you, maybe you should ask yourself why. I may be all snarky to you, but that's because you're inanimate and I can vent all my frustrations. But at least I'm real, unlike most everybody else in their wannabe perfect families and houses. Pfff. They're so wonky it's uncouth.

Chill out mah nizzle,
~The Rain~