Saturday, September 12, 2009

Have you ever thought you could sing?

I have. For many years my singing has reverberated inside my head with more force than Hurricane Katrina. In my mind I am a combination of Macy Gray, Dido and Norah Jones - albeit a middle-aged, slightly overweight, and many-chinned version. Not for me the leather skirt, no, but I always wondered if I could achieve something with singing lessons. My husband on the other hand has always told me that my singing was really bad. I never believed him. Sure my voice wasn't great for a lot of songs, it's soft and somewhat sexy...I certainly can't belt out a rock tune - but, many friends have told me I have a nice voice, that I am a "good singer".

Of course, the singing dream disappeared under the weight of children, work, the burdens of life and, well...weight. But here in my Washington bedroom, far removed from my reality, I found myself procrastinating instead of working on my PhD. This, by the way, is the normal state of affairs, what wasn't normal was that I was alone - just me and Mac who is my inseparable companion of the last few months. Turns out it is my uncles 70th birthday today, so it occurred to me that Mac could record me singing him a birthday song! "Roll on Iphoto booth," I thought, - "may you remain unscarred by what is about to occur - and watch out Australian Idol."

Turns out, it wasn't too bad - that is if you are into a bad, somewhat older, Marilyn Monroe impersonator, who may, or may not, actually be in drag. This inspired me, in a moment of madness, to fish out my iPod touch (my other permanent companion) and video myself doing some rousing renditions of Counting Crow's Big Yellow Cab and Norah Jones "Come Away with Me" (which I am sure is not the title, but is the only line I know).

So here are the results - it turns out that my friends must love me, and they are well-meaning and compassionate, and most-likely all too aware of my fragile sense of self confidence. My husband was right, and I have just had the biggest belly laugh of three weeks. It's too good not to share...excuse the lisp - and my deepest and most sincere apologies to Norah.

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