i am supposed to wake up at 730 am every day. that way, i have the proper amount of time for hygeine and grooming before i have to leave the house to be at work by 9 am. usually, this looks more like: alarm goes off at 730 am. i don’t wake up. second alarm goes off at 750 am. i re-set it for 8 am. alarm goes off at 8 am. i turn it off and go back to sleep, and wake up in a panic – usually at 821 am. this morning looked just like that, except i woke up at 828 am.
by that point, my roommate has left for work and i’m left with an empty house … me, alone, half-asleep … it always makes for an adventure.
i blame my late-night walmart trip last night for what happened next. at the checkout, the national enquirer had whitney houston on the cover, with a brain tumor i think. so, this morning after i brushed my teeth, i started singing "greatest love of all." oh, don’t play like you don’t remember every word. "i believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way…" and then there’s that part that goes, "no matter what they take from me, they can’t take away my dignity…"
anyway. let’s just say i was belting it.
hearing myself sing reminded me of my failed music career. some of you may not know this, but most of my life, i wanted to be a professional singer. in high school, i dreamed of being a famous pop vocalist. my senior year, i auditioned for the pops concert with amy grant’s "if these walls could speak (i know some of my friends read this blog, and i know you know that i don’t like amy grant’s music very much. i only picked the song because it fit my range perfectly and it was sad. really.). i rehearsed with the soundtrack tape every day in my car. every night before bed. and i got accepted to sing it in the pops concert. until i skipped school. with katie. and we both lost our solos. mr. griffeth, our choir teacher, made an example of us. so i never got to sing my farewell song to my fellow choir-mates and their families. instead, riddled with guilt at trashing my dreams of being on stage, mr. griffeth gave me a pity solo. "diamonds are a girl’s best friend." there were backup singers and choreographed hand movements. it was all bad, and i never sang publicly by myself again – unless you count the occasional karaoke performance. even then, i shake from the inside out and turn purple. or something like that.
so this morning, while i was getting dressed and putting my contacts in, i decided to re-visit the glory days that never were. i still remembered most of the words and the chorus. i let it fly. i let it ring. i sang loud, i sang proud. i –
i just heard a toilet flush.
yes, yes, yes. my roommate was still home. and she told me, when i apologized for singing the paint off the walls, that she had heard me start singing and crept to her door to hear what my voice was like. she heard it all, from "never to walk in anyone’s shadow" to "there’s someone who really loves you, don’t ever go away" – whitney and amy. whitney houston and amy grant, at the top of my tired little lungs, on the same morning.
there’s really nothing else to say.
except that learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.