Practice Makes Perfect

Every year from fourth grade until ninth grade, I took part in my school’s choir. It’s where a lot of my friends were, but I also just really liked to be a part of something [that wasn’t competitive]. I was a soprano, and I loved it. It was the only time I was actually part of a team besides dance, and even that wasn’t competitive.

Sidenote: I don’t like competition.

(It’s probably because I tend to lose.)

So I spent four years total doing this thing that I liked to do with my friends, but you see, I can’t sing for my life. Yes, you read that right—I suck at singing.

I can sing my head voice, but even that kind of sucks. (We won’t even talk about my chest voice.) If I had to choose between a boring day job, and becoming a professional singer…I’d rather keep the day job. It’s less embarrassing that way.

What’s funny, though, is that as bad as I told I am at singing, I still do it. On my Tinder profile, I even mention that “I like to have concerts in my bedroom, so I suggest you wear ear plugs.”

Yeah. It’s like that.

I always sang in the car, for as long as I can remember. And I didn’t realize I had that bad of a voice until I was in high school, because my parents and younger siblings would tell me to tone it down.

If I remember it correctly, I’m pretty sure that I was told once or twice, “You’re going to make my ears bleed.”

And mind you, I was friends with a lot of musical kids. I don’t know if I liked to torture myself, or those were just the kind of people I gravitated to, but I always ended up befriending the musically talented kids in school.

(I think the word we’re looking for here is self-sabotage.)

After having that fact that I was a horrible singer being pointed out to me, I quieted down in cars and school. I was so aware of it, in fact, that lip syncing became a thing for me. The only time I’d learned to sing is in the basement of my dad’s house, where I knew no one could see or hear me. It sounds kind of sad, but that’s what I resorted to, because if no one else wanted to hear me sing, I still wanted to throw concerts.

It’s not like I heard it anyway, I’d have the music blasting in my ear buds.

This isn’t meant to be a sad post, although it basically sounds like that’s where I was going. Actually, I love to lip sync. And I’ve learned to find my voice again in the car, although my friends still make me super jealous that I can’t sing for my life, when they sound like pros. But life isn’t fair, and I gotta take what I can get.

And, if I’m going to be honest, if I were given the chance to have a great voice, I’d take it in a millisecond. (Fun fact: I used to wonder if I actually had an okay voice, and my family just told me I was bad, so my head didn’t grow too big. Nope, turned out I was just bad.) I would love to be able to belt one out, and sing from the rooftops, and surprise a crowd. But, sadly, I have to be realistic about this.

You can’t share a talent with the world, if the talent doesn’t exist.

Not being able to sing well has given me business ideas, though, believe it or not. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I kind of have this dream of opening up a lip sync bar. (You know, like a karaoke bar, but for people who can’t sing, like me?) I feel like if there’s a lower chance in embarrassing yourself, people would actually be really into it. And, really, who has actually thought about that before? A lip sync bar?

I’d like to think nobody has, but I guess you never know. Knowing my unoriginal taste, they probably exist already.

Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time I thought of something that already existed.

Prompt: Tell us about a talent you’d love to have…but don’t.

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A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

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