Week from tomorrow we're testing. Bunch of us. First time in a long time we've had testing. First time in a long time I've tested. Haven't even thought about it in, well, a long time. Haven't enjoyed thinking about it. Not looking forward to it. Not sure why.

No big deal. Somebody's going to call out my name. I'll shuffle out and bow. Do this, and I'll try. Do that, and I'll try. And everyone from Sensei to the newest newbie will see which parts of what this-and-that I screw up. And they'll see how I handle it. See more than that, probably.

Hang around for a while and you start to see things in the newbies, little clues to what they're all about. Noted. Hang around a little longer and your seniors start to show themselves -- show their ass, sometimes. Always disappointing. Hang around long enough you start to realize... maybe you're equally transparent. And maybe you're not everything you should be. And maybe it is noticeable.

So why not go out in the middle of everybody? That'll be fun! You'll fail to do a bunch of stuff all the experts claim they're still trying to learn. Everyone will watch. And you can't hide squat. And the newbies will watch and probably wonder how you've hung around so long and learned so little. And there'll be a short line of people sitting quietly, demanding performance, judging you -- be better off not knowing anything about them. Easier to take if they weren't so damn human, so familiar... so reliably, predictably, intimately fallible.

Be easier if I wasn't
made of the same stuff.
If I was different.
Above it all.
Special.

Shit.