But I hadn't found it easy. Who's good at describing themselves? I'd say probably no one. I can describe members of my family or friends or coworkers because I probably take a much more discerning look at them as they inter-relate with me than I've ever taken of myself. I'm trying not to use the word "judging", but I suppose that's likely what I mean.
In any case, after reading all about my friend's randomness, I went back to read what I'd come up with for myself. Every single one of them still rings true over a year later. So, Hmph! Cool. But it got me to thinking, that as vaguely as my bits of randomness were written, every one of them was indicative of a very real part of my persona.
The next 25 blog posts are going to be about the 25 Random Thing About Me. I'm going to try to really hash out why those things make me, well, me.
1. I love singing in the car to whatever crap is on the radio. Usually I only really belt it out when I'm alone because I'm not that good of a singer. It's not odd for me to sit in the car for a good 20-30 minutes after getting home, just a-wailing away.
I've always loved songs that are stories or are actually saying something. I'm not really a girl who only likes a catchy melody, but nor am I super able to enjoy instrumentals only, like jazz, classical, or Mogwai. For me, music is about relating and dealing. I know the arguments can obviously be made about the feelings conveyed by instrumental music, but perhaps I'm too simple for that. Or is it too complex? Not sure.
I'm a talker. I've been known to talk things to death and yet often I feel like I never successfully get my point across. In my personal life, I say things the way I need to say them, not the way that allows them to be heard. Know what I'm saying? Often times, I'll find feelings or stories perfectly conveyed lyrically by someone else. And I relate. And it feels better.
There are songs that bring me to tears every time I try to sing them. Kenny Rogers' "Coward of the County" is one of those songs, but lord help me, so is Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On". I blame the latter on Leonardo DiCaprio. Seriously, it's his fault for dying in that damn movie. Okay, well it probably didn't help that my Oma died not long after Titanic came out which, as I type and remember, is bringing tears to my eyes. But Coward of the County hits me in the chest too, because it's a story of such anguish and injustice. Lyrics move me.
I think lyrical music is perhaps the way I express myself the most empathetically. I am able to really hear what's being said in a way that I don't think I do when someone's only talking. Perhaps it's because the music establishes stronger connections in different parts of our brains? Those cadences reinforce everything that's being said in a way that I'm willing to hear it rather than glazing over when the person I'm listening to starts getting repetitive. Repetition indicates importance or it wouldn't bear repeating.
So I like lyrics, but why specifically in the car when I'm alone? Like I said, I'm not that great of a singer - nor am I too terrible, but I've had siblings make fun of me enough that it's made me self-conscious for life. I hardly think I'm alone in that, though. I mean, it's tough to find people who aren't somewhat ashamed of their singing voices. We're surrounded by possibly over-produced, yet seemingly amazing vocal talent in our culture. It's entirely understandable that no one really likes having to listen to me!
Since having my kid almost two years ago, my singing has come out of the car and into his nursery. My little boy became my audience before he was even born. Whenever I was alone with my bump, I sang my little heart out - voice straining and cracking at most of the high notes. When I was alone with my sweet infant, he got to hear lullaby after lullaby. To this day, he needs to hear "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" before bed and recently he's insisted on "Rainbow" too. I can't figure out if he means "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" or "Rainbow Connection" so usually he gets both. It may be a stall tactic on his part to avoid bed for a few more minutes (okay, it's *absolutely* a stall tactic), but frankly I think I actually sound pretty darned good when I sing them. So I do. Sometimes multiple times. Because he asks! And because I get to sing.
The best part of my singing to my son is now he's a singer too. He sings all of the time. The Alphabet, Wheels on the Bus, Row, Row, Row Your Boat - whatever it is, he sings and he's happy. I have caught tears in my eyes as I listen to my baby-come-toddler-come-little-boy express himself through music. I don't know if I've given him that by being so fearless as to sing in front of him, but I hope so. There will come a time where he becomes much more self-conscious and maybe a yet-to-be-born sibling will tell him his voice isn't great, but I hope that these years where he's listened to his Mama have instilled in him that it doesn't matter. Singing is good for the soul. And even if he only does it by himself in the car, that he knows he can. And I hope with my whole heart, that he does.
Since having my kid almost two years ago, my singing has come out of the car and into his nursery. My little boy became my audience before he was even born. Whenever I was alone with my bump, I sang my little heart out - voice straining and cracking at most of the high notes. When I was alone with my sweet infant, he got to hear lullaby after lullaby. To this day, he needs to hear "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" before bed and recently he's insisted on "Rainbow" too. I can't figure out if he means "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" or "Rainbow Connection" so usually he gets both. It may be a stall tactic on his part to avoid bed for a few more minutes (okay, it's *absolutely* a stall tactic), but frankly I think I actually sound pretty darned good when I sing them. So I do. Sometimes multiple times. Because he asks! And because I get to sing.
The best part of my singing to my son is now he's a singer too. He sings all of the time. The Alphabet, Wheels on the Bus, Row, Row, Row Your Boat - whatever it is, he sings and he's happy. I have caught tears in my eyes as I listen to my baby-come-toddler-come-little-boy express himself through music. I don't know if I've given him that by being so fearless as to sing in front of him, but I hope so. There will come a time where he becomes much more self-conscious and maybe a yet-to-be-born sibling will tell him his voice isn't great, but I hope that these years where he's listened to his Mama have instilled in him that it doesn't matter. Singing is good for the soul. And even if he only does it by himself in the car, that he knows he can. And I hope with my whole heart, that he does.
