Yesterday morning we got up early, before the first light came to the skies. It was still dark. I had breakfast (eggs, ham, French toast, orange juice), took my pills/morning inhaler, then got ready to go to my audition at Opryland Mills.

I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of dogs.

For the audition, I was wearing my black jeans, dark grey alligator-skin boots, and a sparkly fringed western shirt. A grey cowboy hat and a beltbuckle that said "CAJUN" completed the look, as did a pair of dangly rhinestone earrings. I wore some make-up (mainly to hide the pallor of my face and lips).

Daddy kept looking at me, kept asking me if I was okay. I guess he could tell that I was nervous. I was nervous. In fact, I was more than nervous: I was terrified.

Terrified beyond belief.

Oh, no, I kept thinking, nerves, don't do this to me! Every audition, this happens! Or, if I make it, I end up blowing it when it really counts!

I could feel tears pricking at my eyes. I desperately blinked them away. No way was I going to cry like a big baby. If I made it, great; if not, oh, well. It wouldn't be the end of the world. I'd be disappointed, yes, but there'd be more audtions in the future for me.

We were at Opryland Mills by nine. Already, there were many people. A good number of them were trying out for a chance to appear on "America's Got Talent", too, just as I was. Some I could recognize as singers or dancers, or even musicians or magicians; however, there wer some that looked totally bizarre. I had no clue whatsoever what their talent(s) were. There were tiny kids no older than three years, and there were white-haired senior citizens.

All had the same goal: to make it past the auditions.

We signed in; then I went backstage, to wait for my number to be called. I was #1717. My talent: singing/yodeling.

While backstage, waiting for my turn, I did my scales, my vocal warm-ups, then practiced the song I was planning to sing. I prayed like there was no tomorrow; I wanted this thing really badly.

I heard the stage manager call out my name/number; as usual, he murderlized my name. I stepped up to the microphone, took the mic from the stand, and proceeded to do my thing. I just closed my eyes and sang/yodeled.

All the while, I could feel my heart slamming against my chest. It felt like it was going to pop right on out of there.

When I was done, I could hear daddy yelling his approval. Other people clapped and cheered, too.

All at once, I felt like a balloon with the air let out. I felt happier, lighter somehow. I had done it. Now it was up to the judges to decide my fate.

The announcer of the auditions asked me some questions. He asked me my age. "Fifteen, sir", I told him. He asked me how long I'd been singing. "Since I was really small", I responded. He asked me why I was there. I told him, "To prove to myself and others that I can do it; I have the willpower to do so."

It seemed like forever before the verdict was announced.

Did I make it? Did I blow my chance? What would have happened if I chose something completely different, or stuck with something I was more comfortable with--like singing Cajun music? What was my fate? Only time would tell.

The announcer called a group of people to stand on the stage on one side, another group to stand on the other side. Two groups, divided in half. One group would go back home; the other group would go to Hollywood, California, for their audition.

I was in the first group; however, which group--that was the question. By this time I was so nervous the butterflies were doing a wild Cajun two-step in my stomach.

The announcement came not even five minutes later. The first group (my group) would go on; for the second group, it was all over. At the news, we all started hollering or jumping around like crazy.

We had done it!! We were going to Hollywood for a chance to appear on television!!

I had done it!!

That meant that this summer I'd be going after the big one: to make it to the show.

Nice.  The process, all over again. That meant practicing when I should be having fun, worrying about the judges' comments/decisions, and wondering if I ws to move on.

Back to square one, excepting this time there were no second chances.

Daddy hugged me, told me he was proud of me. I felt proud of myself, too. I'd done it.

Hollywood, here I come! (Again!!)