Let's Start At The Very Beginning, A Very Good Place To Start

When I was younger, I used to sing. Constantly. I was that freak fourth grader who used to hum unconsciously while doing my math assignments. I sang in the shower. I sang in my room. I joined choirs upon choirs. I was in musicals. My senior year of high school I was very serious about my music. I sang every day for at LEAST two hours. Some days more. I always assumed music would be a very large part of my life.

And it was, for a time. I went to college and lived in an arts dorm where everyone sat around and sang "Brown Eyed Girl," at two in the morning. I joined one of the college choruses and sang with them for a while.

And then ... somehow, so gradually, that I didn't even notice it, I stopped.

I quit the choir for lack of time.

The people in my dorm realized that we all had quite a lot of homework to do/alcohol to drink/cooler people to hang out with, and so the 2:00 am glee club was disbanded.

I still sang occasionally. And every time I came home, my dad would corral me into performing. Something. Anything. It was kind of embarrassing actually because I hadn't learnt any new songs in years. Still, he was happy listening to the same stuff every time. He even asked me to make him a CD of my singing, but I just never found the time.

A few years later, my dad died. I sang at his memorial service.

And after that, aside from some drunken karaoke, I almost never sang. Other people sing in the car, in the shower, while they work.

But me? Whose whole life used to revolve around music?

I kept my mouth shut.

The funny thing is, I LOVED singing karaoke. Adored it. There was a high I felt when I sang that I just never got anywhere else. I toyed with singing again, taking lessons.

But it always fell by the wayside. "My voice isn't good anymore. I've lost my ear and my technique," I thought to myself. I continued to stay mostly silent.

And then a few weeks ago, I was listening to my new (old) Regina Spektor CD in the car. And I couldn't help myself. I started to sing along. And it was like a light had been turned back on. I started to sing in the car, while cleaning house, while chopping vegetables. I couldn't believe how good I felt. How much I had MISSED this.

Today, I read with amusement Ecogeofemme's post about turning 29. (Happy birthday, EGF!!) And I started thinking more about my impending demise 29th birthday in June. See, I have this list of stuff that I want to get done before I turn 30 and learning the guitar is at that top of that list. In fact, a year ago, I bought a used guitar off Craigslist, intending to get a head start on this item on my list, but somehow, once again, I never seemed to have the time, and my guitar has been wasting away in its corner ever since.

But, the thing is, I'll kind of never have the time. But at some point you just have to make time. So I'm going to brush the dust off that guitar, and start practicing again. Because I may be busy, but what I've learned is, I need music back in my life. Not having time is no longer an option.