I went to the store to buy a candle holder. They didn’t have one, so I bought a cake.
— Mitch Hedberg
The Conductor’s 4th birthday was January 3rd, and the family convened in Richmond to celebrate.
My sister-in-law Molly, she of the Princess cake, struck again with this race car-themed cake:
The gummy bear spectators on Lego grandstands kill me. He loved it so much, which was the best part. When I have kids, I’m totally enlisting Aunt Molly to make all their birthday cakes!
“To the people of Haiti, we say clearly, and with conviction, you will not be forsaken; you will not be forgotten. In this, your hour of greatest need, America stands with you. The world stands with you. We know that you are a strong and resilient people. You have endured a history of slavery and struggle, of natural disaster and recovery. And through it all, your spirit has been unbroken and your faith has been unwavering. So today, you must know that help is arriving — much, much more help is on the way.”
— President Obama, January 14, 2010
This is definitely a week when I have no trouble at all recognizing how lucky I am, in so many ways. My thoughts are, and have been – like so many others – with the people of Haiti. The more I read and see, the more my heart breaks for them. The devastation is incomprehensible to those of us who are surrounded by the everyday things that we never think about but that keep our lives running smoothly and safely: sewer lines, building codes, police presence, basic infrastructure. In light of what’s happening, here are the things I’m grateful for this week:
1. the sheer outpouring of support from all over the world – everyone wants to help
2. that people like Pat Robertson and Rush Limbaugh, who have said some truly heartless, despicable things about why this happened and what the United States is “getting” out of it, have been roundly and unanimously shouted down by everyone I’ve come across, both personally and in the media
3. that I can do something to help, even in a very small way
The Red Cross has raised 5 MILLION dollars, just from it’s text campaign – you can donate $10 to Haiti relief by texting “Haiti” to 90999. Through Yele Haiti, you can donate $5 by texting “Yele” to 501501. You can check out a list of legitimate charities organizing relief by clicking here. Whatever you can give is enough.
Wonderful music like this was the worst hurt there could be. The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen.
— from The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, by Carson McCullers
What would you do if you knew you could not fail? The answer to that question, for me, has always been easy: Sing. I’d be the lead singer in a band, or a solo artist with just a guitar, either way.
I don’t know if I’ve ever told this story here, but when I was in elementary school – either second or fourth grade, I can’t remember (it all looks the same in my memory) – there were tryouts to be in chorus. I didn’t make it. I don’t actually remember them or remember being disappointed, but that must have happened, because of what I’m about to tell you. One day in music class, the teacher, Ms. Datsun, said, “We already had tryouts for the chorus, but there’s one student who has worked so hard in class every day even though she didn’t make it, and I’m going to invite her to be in the chorus.” I can remember, even now, wriggling to the edge of my little wooden seat, knowing – absolutely knowing – that she was about to say my name. And she did. I remember blushing at being singled out, but also just bursting with pride. From then on, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, if I was going somewhere, I was singing.
I’ve been in revues, musicals, show choirs, concert choirs, and an a cappella group in college. I’ve been invited to All-County and All-District choirs (name dropping alert: when I cleaned out some memorabilia from high school recently, I came across an All-County Chorus program that listed Jason Mraz among the tenors; he went to a rival high school); I’ve performed in competitions and talent shows; I’ve sung solo more times than I can count. I’m crazy for karaoke, but for me and my “crew,” it’s not about being silly and drunk, it’s about showing off. More than once the karaoke DJ has asked me to sing a duet with him. Singing is just something I’ve always done, and it’s the single thing I do that makes me happiest.
But when I lost my hearing almost eight years ago, I thought I’d never sing again, at least not in public. I’d listen to the radio and strain so hard to hear the right pitch. I’d sing along, but one day in the car Aimee told me, sadly but kindly, that I wasn’t in tune. I was devastated. I got my cochlear implant about 18 months later, and one of the first things I did was try to listen to music. At first, it was really disappointing because it didn’t sound like I remembered and I still couldn’t get the right pitch. After a while, all sounds started to normalize, and music I knew got to be familiar again, and I was so, so grateful. But still, singing along with music and being on key eluded me.
I don’t mean to imply that I never sang again. I could always sing a cappella and be right – that’s a skill I’m lucky to have – and I would sing out loud to myself, and to the Princess and the Conductor (he even has his own song I made up for him). But adding the music jumbled everything in my brain and I couldn’t reconcile what I heard in my head and knew was the right tune with what I was hearing through my processor.
Eventually, with lots of practice (and thanks to a patch cord that sends music right from my iPod into my brain, via my implant processor), I got pretty good at singing along with music I knew. I can remember so clearly driving back to school after Christmas 2004 when I received my iPod and hearing My Own Worst Enemy by Lit come on and just singing the chorus at the top of my lungs and just being so happy it brought tears to my eyes. That happens to me a lot, actually, that I’ll be singing along and then a particularly good part of the song comes on – the key change, the bridge, a favorite lyric, whatever – and I’ll just be overcome by the absolute joy of singing and tear up.
There’s sadness there, too, of course, because for me, music is it. It’s the thing that healed the hurt of so many sorrows and amplified the happiness of so many good times. It connected me to my father, and to my grandmother (who recounted to me telling her friends about my hearing loss and saying, “She’s the only one of my grandkids who’s a singer like me”). David and I don’t have “a song” because we don’t really share music. And music was always accessible to me, not just hearing it, but being able to create it. That was a power I had, that was a thing that defined me, and it was gone. I’ve been trying every day since to get it back, and as close as I come, there’s a part of me that knows it can’t ever be perfect again. And that breaks my heart.
So you’ll understand when I tell you that this night was a battle. I knew we were headed to this bar, but I had no idea there would be karaoke. When I realized it, I had two immediate conflicting thoughts: I want to do it, and I can’t do it. I’d done karaoke twice since losing my hearing, but never by myself; I’d always had the cover of another person or couple of people if I got off track. This time, among David’s friends, I wouldn’t have that. I had so much fear, combined with such longing, that I had to lean my head into David’s shoulder to hide the tears from everyone else. I don’t think David really understood, and that’s ok. He did what he needed to do: He told me it would be ok no matter what, and that even if I sucked he’d still love me. I posted a plea on Facebook, and a friend of mine from my a cappella days replied, “Even with no hearing and underwater, you probably sing better than the rest of those drunk people.” For some reason, that was exactly what I needed to hear, and I turned my request in.
The rest you mostly know. Karaoke for me is like crack. Once I do it, I want to get back up there again and again. I sang twice and no one booed and everyone clapped and I was on cloud nine. David’s friends swore I was on key, and I’ll take their word for it. I updated my Facebook status: Melanie is just plain happy. And I was. It was bliss.
I had taken two finger bowls of champagne, and the scene had changed before my eyes into something significant, elemental, and profound.
— from The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Hey – I totally didn’t mean to miss last week – sorry about that! It was New Year’s Eve and I spent all day running errands and cooking and then having dinner with David and watching movies, and I just plain forgot. So, to make it up to you, here’s a double shot:
1. the sound of a champagne cork popping
2. kissing the person you love at midnight
3. homemade macaroni and cheese
4. panoramic photos
5. the Nintendo DSi David got me for Christmas – boring commutes are a thing of the past!
6. when the CostCo coupons are for stuff you actually regularly buy at CostCo
That’s what I was/am happy about/grateful for last/this week – what have you got?
And by the way, everything in life is writeable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
–Sylvia Plath
I’m thinking of taking a break. Like, an actual, official hiatus from posting. Of course, some of you may think I’ve already done so, since I hardly post anything beyond the Three Things series and the occasional photo anymore. I don’t necessarily want to, but I also don’t like feeling guilty for not posting, and I think giving myself permission to take an official break would ease that feeling somewhat.
The title of this post is somewhat misleading. I don’t think I really have writer’s block. I think I’m just lazy and unmotivated. I have a lot of things on my mind, and many of them I wouldn’t mind sharing with you, but it seems that I just can’t be bothered to take the time to put them in writing. I read other people’s words (like this and this and this) and find myself wishing I had the determination and ability to write like that. I think I used to, in the beginning of all of this, and through the first year or so, but I haven’t written anything that makes me feel like I’m a writer in months. I know, of course, that the only way to be a writer is to write, every day, and yet . . .
Everything’s building up in my head. Here are some things I’ve considered posting about lately:
1. The story behind this photo
2. P. He’s back in my life, in a manner of speaking, via the magic of Facebook and I have a lot of conflicting feelings about it/him.
3. My grandparents gave the Princess this for Christmas (among other things), and of course she loves it. I was appalled, and even nearly a week later, am still a bit aghast. (Note 1: the one the Princess got is not wearing denim capris; she’s wearing a barely there denim mini. Note 2: I seriously hope my grandparents did not pay $100 for this)
4. The disaster that is my current “effort” at weight loss
5. My parents have been separated for three years as of this past November, yet they spend nearly all their time together, and no one ever tells me what’s going on.
And, of course, I still owe a recap of Days 8, 9, 10 of our 10-day trip at the end of August/beginning of September.
Maybe I need to do another NaBloPoMo or something, I don’t know. But I definitely think I need to either commit to writing regularly or walk away for a little bit, and I haven’t decided which way the chips will fall just yet. I’ll keep you posted. (Ha.)
Hear Me in the Harmony 