Current mood: anxious
While you were sleeping,
I figured out everything:
I was constructed for you,
And you were molded for me.
Now I feel your name.
Coursin' through my veins.
You shine so bright, it's insane.
You put the sun to shame.
~ “Lullaby” by the Spill Canvas
Before I start blathering on like I tend to do, I wanted to thank “our mutual friend, Adam” for all he has done to contribute to my overall happiness. Adam, you are one Hell of a guy! Thank you!
Now that’s out of the way and I can start pouring my thoughts into your laps. I cannot play a musical instrument. I wish that I could – but I cannot. I played the coronet (cousin to the trumpet) when I was in elementary school. I was terrible. I am being kind when I say ‘terrible’. The noise that I generated via the coronet was NOT music. There was only one song I was ever able to play with any decency – and that one only contained 16 measures or so. It is also the only song I can play on the piano one handed (with the exception of London Bridge and Mary Had a Little Lamb). I wanted to learn to play the violin. I NEVER wanted to learn to play the trumpet. My mom persuaded me by telling me that my maternal grandmother played trumpet in a twin band/orchestra when she was younger. Yes, a band which consisted of only twins. Apparently none of my grandmother’s musical talent was passed genetically to me. I quit band after one year.
Recently, I heard that one of my brothers wants to learn to play the violin. He, too, played the trumpet when he was younger. He, too, was persuaded to do so through the manipulation of our mother who explained to him that grandma played trumpet in a twin band. . . plus, she had the added ammunition of ‘and your sister played it as well and LOVED it.’. LIES! LIES! LIES! My brother also quit band shortly after joining. It wasn’t until much later that we discovered that renting a trumpet was far cheaper than renting most other instruments.
Somehow, my sister, Kabie, was able to play the flute. I didn’t know that woodwinds were even an option. She dropped out of band to sing in choir – moving onto show choir in high school. Another sibling gives up on playing an instrument.
After dropping out of band, I switched to choir. I loved choir. Unfortunately, I have not been blessed with vocal talent either. My music instructors suffered through 4 years of me singing in their choir classes. I remember hearing comments like: “Um, well that wasn’t good.” and “You sure don’t sound anything like your cousin when you sing.” (note to readers: my cousin, like my sister, sings like an angel.) Due to these less-than-encouraging comments from my choir directors, I quit choir after my sophomore year in high school. I did not have the confidence to even attempt to sing in our church choir – as most of the church choir consisted of really talented singers.
To this day, I won’t sing karaoke (even if threatened with death). I won’t sing along with the congregation in church. I won’t even sing in the shower. I will, however, sing along to the radio in my car. I love to sing. And in my car, I don’t care what I sound like. I even sing in my car when other people are present. It’s my sacred singing place. I have found that cars don’t care what I sing or say in them.
In fact, when in high school, I used to curse in my car. My siblings would threaten to tattle on me for doing so. Their threats went unfulfilled – as I would require them to say a curse word any time I drove them anywhere as a form of reverse blackmail. It worked. And I can proudly say that none of my siblings, to my knowledge, have a problem saying the word ‘Fuck’ while driving! I was such a good, influential older sister.
PRIVATE NOTE: Let’s go to Vegas soon!
PUBLIC NOTE: If you haven’t donated to my Breast Cancer 3-Day Team yet, please do so! We are still short a few thousand dollars – all of which must be raised by August 7th, or we pay the difference. http://www.the3day.org/goto/jtuck
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: My apologies for what may have been a very awkward situation.