Sorry Mama Kat, I just couldn’t do it. I read the prompts and the only one to jump out at me was the singing. There’s just one little catch. Okay, two.
1- I have no video camera or even a cell with the capabilities.
2- I can’t sing. Seriously.
You know those people who say they can’t sing and then they open there mouths at karaoke and they’re passable. Not the situation here. Not even close.
I had know idea just how much I sucked for a long time. I can recall countless occasions that my mother endured my “performances”. I never noticed her cringe the trooper that she was. I also never noticed how she would try to keep me talking in the car. She ever resorted to sword fights in the car. Not once did she ever tell me the truth. She just smiled and nodded, encouraging me. Little did I know, her ears were dangerously close to bleeding. I love that woman.
I found out about my problem on my own, eventually. I discovered a tape that my cousin and I had made for New Kids On The Block when we were about 9 years old. We used two boom boxes on my grandparents front porch. You could hear my brother making fun of us in the background. At the time I thought he was just being a douchey big brother. Now I know better. He was right. I sounded like this
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I was mortified. I had joined chorus my senior year in high school. I made a complete fool of myself again. I got over it. I love to sing. It’s a way to express emotions that you can’t put into words. It makes me happy to sing.
I put on concerts for my kids on a regular basis, complete with air guitar and knee slides. I them my all. I behave as though my kitchen is a real stage and there are a thousand fans out there. My greatest hits are played to the hilt. Come On Eileen, Her Diamonds, Empire State of Mind, ska, rock, hip hop, pop, 80’s and 90’s. It’s all magic to me. The smiles and giggles and getting dizzy spinning around. I leave it all on the stage and we collapse in a pile to catch our collective breathe.
The next day, when I’m singing along to the music channel, Amanda tells me to stop, loudly and repeatedly. Apparently I suck again. I won’t stop though. I love to sing, it makes me happy. And happiness is what survival should be about.