I'd rather not talk about my first world problems. So let's call it existential angst. I won't even ask you to cheer me up. Although you could. [i]But...[/i] misery loves company. Come out and play. Ah, fudge it. You'll ask me what's up anyway. My brother got me to let the guitarist we were 'working with' go and I'd only met the guy like once, while my brother had jammed with him a few times. So I ended up getting all the abuse. About how my I can't sing for shit. The one time I met the guy a few weeks back I was hungover and a lot more rusty than I am now. Although I'm still not at my best yet. So it still stings. Muh ego. I want my hills to be alive with the sound of music :(