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Jan. 3rd, 2004 12:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
geekchickToday is Boomtime, day 2 in the season of Chaos, 3270.
Lots of ruminating inspired by music today, the most recent inspired by my commute home. I've had Gillian Welch's "Time (The Revelator)"on near-constant repeat in my CD player the last few days; on my way home this evening I was belting out "I Dream a Highway" (as much as such a song can be "belted out", that is) along with Gillian and for some reason my brain observed that I never sing where anyone else might possibly hear me. I enjoy singing and do it fairly often, but never, ever, ever if I think I'm not alone. I was singing to myself when I got home night before last, but I stopped the second I walked through the door since I knew C. was there.
I can tell you exactly when I stopped singing in public: it was a music class in third grade. My music teacher made each of us get up in front of the class and sing part of a song, which would've been traumatic enough for me all on its own. Now see, I can occasionally carry a tune in a bucket, but back then I needed an even larger bucket than I do now and that made the humiliation potential that much greater. I got up, sang my required piece, and saw my teacher's reaction as I was singing -- he was making a face like someone had stuffed rotten eggs and brussels sprouts down his throat and he was making no attempt to mask his reaction. (To say that he was not the most sensitive soul on the planet would be a bit of an understatement; that and his raging temper he made little effort to control made him Not My Favorite Teacher.) Not being what one would call a popular kid, there was a large-ish segment of the class who felt free to do the same or just to laugh. I pretty much resolved then and there that I would never inflict my horrible voice on anyone else ever again; for the next five years I only mouthed the words in music class and stopped singing at home or where anyone else could hear me. I confined my musical participation to band class, where even he couldn't deny that I had a fair amount of talent. I still haven't broken the habit that instilled; I sing in my car, and in the shower, and at home when I'm by myself. I do not sing when I have anyone else in the apartment, or in the car with me, or generally within earshot even if the music is compelling me to do otherwise.
The other music-inspired thought process was brought on my downloading from the Apple music store a copy of Chris Isaak's "Heart Shaped World", which my ex-fiance gave me a copy of when it first came out; the upshot was realizing that with some few exceptions (I can think of only three), I'm lucky enough to be on friendly terms with and still care deeply about everyone I've ever fallen in love with. I'll noodle about that later, for now my bed is convincing me that falling into it will help with the raging headache I've had most of the day.
Lots of ruminating inspired by music today, the most recent inspired by my commute home. I've had Gillian Welch's "Time (The Revelator)"on near-constant repeat in my CD player the last few days; on my way home this evening I was belting out "I Dream a Highway" (as much as such a song can be "belted out", that is) along with Gillian and for some reason my brain observed that I never sing where anyone else might possibly hear me. I enjoy singing and do it fairly often, but never, ever, ever if I think I'm not alone. I was singing to myself when I got home night before last, but I stopped the second I walked through the door since I knew C. was there.
I can tell you exactly when I stopped singing in public: it was a music class in third grade. My music teacher made each of us get up in front of the class and sing part of a song, which would've been traumatic enough for me all on its own. Now see, I can occasionally carry a tune in a bucket, but back then I needed an even larger bucket than I do now and that made the humiliation potential that much greater. I got up, sang my required piece, and saw my teacher's reaction as I was singing -- he was making a face like someone had stuffed rotten eggs and brussels sprouts down his throat and he was making no attempt to mask his reaction. (To say that he was not the most sensitive soul on the planet would be a bit of an understatement; that and his raging temper he made little effort to control made him Not My Favorite Teacher.) Not being what one would call a popular kid, there was a large-ish segment of the class who felt free to do the same or just to laugh. I pretty much resolved then and there that I would never inflict my horrible voice on anyone else ever again; for the next five years I only mouthed the words in music class and stopped singing at home or where anyone else could hear me. I confined my musical participation to band class, where even he couldn't deny that I had a fair amount of talent. I still haven't broken the habit that instilled; I sing in my car, and in the shower, and at home when I'm by myself. I do not sing when I have anyone else in the apartment, or in the car with me, or generally within earshot even if the music is compelling me to do otherwise.
The other music-inspired thought process was brought on my downloading from the Apple music store a copy of Chris Isaak's "Heart Shaped World", which my ex-fiance gave me a copy of when it first came out; the upshot was realizing that with some few exceptions (I can think of only three), I'm lucky enough to be on friendly terms with and still care deeply about everyone I've ever fallen in love with. I'll noodle about that later, for now my bed is convincing me that falling into it will help with the raging headache I've had most of the day.
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The evils inflicted by 3rd grade music teachers
Date: 2004-01-02 10:44 pm (UTC)I hope you will allow yourself to sing whenever the inspiration moves you. Singing is such a gift.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 07:13 am (UTC)Hope sleep helps your headache. *hugs*
Re: The evils inflicted by 3rd grade music teachers
Date: 2004-01-05 12:40 pm (UTC)