Twinkle, Twinkle, I'm a Star

I had a cello lesson. It was slightly traumatic. But I think I'm going to be okay.

First of all, the cello is not like the violin. All my smug inner thoughts that told me I was going to be a super-star at this cello thing were dashed when I realized that my experience in violin is not going to help he here. Just like all the other kids, I'm new and terrible and butchered Twinkle, Twinkle.

Second, my hands shook during the whole lesson. They even turned blue. Okay, bit of history here--my best friend recently got diagnosed with Raynaud's Syndrome. Her hands turn blue when she gets cold. She looks like a corpse, and it's creepy. The other day I was in my preaching class and saw that MY HANDS WERE BLUE. Very weird. Anyway, it's only happened a few times (not all the time like my weird gross friend), but it did happen during my lesson. I became very self-conscious and tried to hide it from the sweet gal who is teaching me cello. She didn't mention it if she noticed. My hands shook for about an hour after the lesson, but the blue tint went away by the time I was in the car.

Third, I was not good at it, but I survived. This was important. Here's my story--when the going gets tough, I quit. I have never stuck with anything that challenged me. So, I'm trying very hard to coach myself through this. This probably all sounds very silly, but if you have an anxiety disorder, you get it. It was terrifying. And I survived. I think I might even go back next week. I'm convinced that this makes me a superstar.

And I think I've broken my little finger. I can't tell you how because you'd be disappointed to learn that I was opening a box with a little to much vigor and pulled my finger so hard that I almost cried (but instead laughed for about 5 minutes because I'm cool like that). So, now I'm wondering how I'm going to play the cello with a broken finger?

And I'm already dreading the moment when my teacher mentions a recital. Seriously? A recital? At my age? I feel silly just thinking about it.

Thank goodness for Prozac. Yes, I weaned the baby, and thus have been reunited with my old pal Prozac. I've missed him so. Pass the little blue pill, please.