Music

 I love music. Yet somehow, I find myself unable to write about it. I don’t know why exactly, but every time I’ve started my journal, I’ve hated it. I have deleted four starts now. Maybe this one will be next, or maybe I’ll just decide if I can’t come up with anything after five tries I may as well give up.

Music is in literally every part of my life. I grew up learning little folk songs from my great grandmother, semi-inappropriate old ditties from my grandfather, rock from my father and everything else from my mother. I loved going to church so I could sing hymns. My sister and I did the best Disney voice-overs for our favorite movies. The first time I really sang in public was when I was in 6^th grade. I sang “Part of Your World” for a school talent contest and won. It was such a good feeling. When I got to high school, my choir teacher decided I was to be one of her “projects”: basically, I was going to be a darn good singer, or else. I learned quickly. The first song I performed at a competitive level was an Italian piece called “Se tu m’ami.” It was easy and I received highest honors. I had gotten the bug and gotten it bad.

My freshman year of high school, I jumped into the musical scene. I was chosen to play Chava, daughter of Tevya in “Fiddler on the Roof.” I was the only freshman in the cast. The next year I played Guenevere in “Camelot” at age 15. The next year it was Sharon in “Finian’s Rainbow,” then the promiscuous “Mae” in a horrible show called “The Pajama Game” and Rapunzel in Sondheim’s crazy difficult “Into the Woods.” Meanwhile, I started singing more and more competitively. In the state’s Solo and Ensemble competition, I was never given a score lower than a first place with honors. I also started singing outside of school, for community events, for church, and for anything else I could find. A friend of mine was a piano genius, literally one of those people who are born to play an instrument, and we would go wherever we could to perform.

When I got to college, I thought I’d keep singing, but things didn’t work out that way. I joined several choirs my first year, which was good though I longed for solo work. My second year, I developed a horrible infection in my throat right before a major concert with the UW Choral Union. I was told to rest for awhile till the doctors could fix me. I performed anyway, but that was the last time I sang in front of an audience.

I’m healed now and I think I’d be able to sing with a choir again. When I get home I’ll start reconditioning my voice to reclaim as much of my range as I can. As a coloratura soprano, I doubt my scarred throat will ever be able to soar to the notes I was once capable of, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get.

Meanwhile, since I haven’t been able to sing for an audience for a year, my head has been bursting with melodies. I am never without a song or two playing between my ears, and I hate having to repress the music in my head. At home I just let it out, and between my musically-inclined mother, father and sister, there is always a lot of opposing music happening in our house. Even the bird joins in.

Here in London, I miss being able to sing out loud. I want to sing in the shower, sing while I check my email, sing while I cook breakfast, sing while I get dressed. Instead I keep in inside, the socially acceptable option, but if I happen to leak a bit of a melody now and then, I’m sorry. I can’t always keep them in.