Once I got drunk and played Rock Band. I was at a friend’s house. I think it was New Year’s Eve. I’m pretty positive I was trying hard to forget my troubles. It had been a rough year. Pretty much, I was looking for a good time.
None of this matters really. I mean, the Rock Band part does, and so does the me drinking part, but the rest is pretty irrelevant.
I’m pretty good at video games, but I’m pretty horrible at pretending to play instrument and pushing buttons to a rhythm, and I do not vocalize in a harmonious fashion around listening ears. Thus, I try my hardest to avoid finding myself in such a position. This night, however, I was feeling more relaxed than usual, less tense, less inhibited, more inebreaited. So, when a friend handed me a mic and told me to sing, I agreed.
It’s become a running thing now. “Get Krissy drunk so she’ll sing when we play Rock Band!” It doesn’t really work out anymore. Mostly because I’m too tired to ever find myself having the energy to drink enough. Also because I think I’ve developed some sort of ulcer or old person problem that really prevents me from drinking at all.
You’re wondering where this is going by now. I’m trying to make a point, and I will. Promise.
Basically, the point is that it shouldn’t take large quantities of alcohol for me to feel comfortable singing, but it does. And, of course, there’s a reason. Not a good one, but one that I can’t shake because that’s the kind of jerkface brain I have. One that can’t let go of things.
I’m not a great singer, but I’m not a horrible singer either. I can hold a tune pretty well, and I’m generally on key. More importantly, I really enjoy singing. When I’m alone, I belt out songs as loudly as possible. When I’m in a crowd, I sing quietly along. When I fear someone could hear me, I stay silent.
As with most things, it all goes back to me being a kid and taking something entirely too personally. Or maybe, it has more to do with people that should really just keep their thoughts to themselves. Either way, there’s a story because there’s always a story.
My mom and sister used to sing in church a lot. They have the kinds of voices that people ask to hear. On a specific Sunday, it had been requested that I join my mom and sister and we all sing together. Or maybe I was just singing with my sister. Honestly, I don’t really remember the details. I remember being nervous, singing along, and feeling like I had done a good job. Then, after we got done, I remember sitting through church feeling quite pleased with myself.
Really that right there should have put me in check. Let’s face it, I was in church, and there’s that whole “pride comes before the fall” thing. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that, after the service, I would take a tumble straight to the bottom. This little old* ** lady walked up to my sister and I, looked at my high soprano singing sister, and said, “You have such a lovely voice.” Then she looked at little alto me and said, “And your voice is so deep!” Seriously. She told my sister she was lovely, and she told me my voice was deep.
That was the end for me. I tried really hard not to sing in public ever again.
And now we’ve come full circle, back to that New Year’s Eve party, because the only way I’ll sing around others is if I’ve been drinking enough to forget I don’t want to do it, we happen to be playing Rock Band, and someone hands me a mic. Clearly I can’t sing in church because I fear old ladies, and I can’t drink and get coerced into singing while playing Rock Band because my stomach is as crotchety as I am. Ultimately what this means is that I’ll probably never sing for you. Sorry.
Really, you’re not missing much. After all, my voice can only be described as “deep”.
*Disclaimer, if it was you, and you were like 40, I’m sorry you seemed at least 90 to me at the time.
**Also, if it was you, I accept apologies in the form of poetry written in iambic pentameter, or in the form of a video of you performing beat poetry posted publicly to youtube. Please be sure to think this out and create multiple drafts before submitting your final work. I’ll know if you don’t. Along with your apology, please include three [better] descriptors you could have used to describe an impressionable, preteen girl’s voice. Thank you in advance for following directions.