There are times when you feel as if everything that's going on in your life is completely out of your control. You have no way of stopping or changing what's happening. You feel weak as you are forced to follow the path of others instead of creating a path of your own.
Yesterday, the Cougar Marching Band traveled to Johnston, IA, and Mount Pleasant, IA, to perform in their first competitions of the season. The morning performance was in Johnston, and there were no actual band placements, just a critique. The Cougar Marching Band had about half an hour to fix some little things before they took the field, and then they were on their own. As they marched onto the field, fearful last minute thoughts rushed through each members' head. "Will I fall? Will the drum line stay with the drum majors? Will our band be able to hold it together and look good at the same time?"
After the performance, and successfully not falling apart and having minimal phasing issues, the band was critiqued by a peppy white-haired man who couldn't get the DVD player to work. The band was ecstatic when they saw their performance and realized that they had actually done quite well. The drum majors were thrilled too--their salute looked awesome. The band director praised them, and told them to perform that well in the evening.
Later, after a long bus ride, a chilly rehearsal, and an unhealthy meal at McDonald's, the band was ready and knew, with false hope, that they would be the best at Mount Pleasant's competition. They lined up to take the field, and this time they weren't worried. They knew they had done an excellent job that morning, and that this performance would be the same if not better. Little did they know, they had a lot to worry about.
The first initial "hit" in the show was powerful, but it only went downhill from there. People couldn't march as well due to wet turf, and the drum line-drum major connection wasn't as solid as it was before. This show suddenly needed a lot of work and a lot of practice.
It was obvious that the band wasn't as good as they thought they were when they got their butt's kicked by the school across town. Disappointment was in everyone's eyes as they clapped their hands and pretended to be happy with where the placed. Tears were one blink away from the drum majors' eyes as they accepted their Third Place trophy.
This is the point when you feel out of control. You can't make the band march better or play better, it just has to happen. If eleven hours of practice a week isn't enough, then the entire band's doomed. Every person has to try that much harder to make it work. One person can't do all the work, can't fix everything, and it drives that person crazy. In this case, that person would be me.
I've had the song "Fix You" by Coldplay stuck in my head for nearly twenty four hours now. It reminds me of everything that could have been but wasn't. It reminds me that I've lost all control of the band and that I'm now dependent on them to better themselves. It reminds me that no matter how hard you try, you can't win if not everyone is completely dedicated.
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