I could never really sing, what I couldn't do is sing!
Have you ever been asked the question: If you could pick one talent or ability to possess, what would it be? And I suppose the answers could range from being invisible to reading minds...from flying to throwing a killer curveball. But, my answer has always been the same. I wish I could sing.
I took dance classes from the age of 3 until I left for college at 18 (ironic sidenote: the studio was located in Energy, Illinois). Because of my involvement with the same studio for 15 years, I was constantly surrounded by very talented people. People much more talented than I. My trio competed every year, and we took every opportunity to perform anywhere and everywhere around Southern Illinois: recitals, festivals, basketball games, fairs, revues, you name it. I went to dance camp every year in St. Louis (it was in the Hilton Frontenac, fellow St. Louisians), and one year I even ventured to Disney World for a two-day clinic. I definitely wasn't one of those ballerina types who made dance her sole passion, practicing before and after school and doing nothing else. But, I did as much as I could for a girl who was also interested in other pursuits. No matter how much I enjoyed dancing, I always envied the girls enrolled in my studio who could dance AND sing well. Not to mention, the ones who were also good actors and beautiful.
When I got to junior high, most girls at my studio were auditioning for area musicals. Even if you just wanted a part in the chorus, you still had to get on stage and sing a song by yourself. In front of everyone. This is where another good example of "I'm a Walking Contradiction" comes into play. I could dance like nobody's business in front of all God's people, but I was absolutely terrified to sing alone or do a monologue. It kept me from auditioning several times. I even passed up Grease, one of my favorites.
I can't believe I'm admitting this. In order to build some confidence and hope to do more than just carry a tune, I actually took voice lessons for several months. It was purposely just to get through one of these auditions because I was so horribly shy. When my voice teacher insisted that I perform "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from Jesus Christ Superstar in her recital, I quit.
Luckily for me, my dance teacher choreographed a JuCo version of A Chorus Line when I was in 8th grade. She basically just let me participate without auditioning. I was the "girl in the headband," in the chorus. It's amazing how much confidence you gain when your subpar voice is among a group of excellent singers. I sang one song with the entire cast at the beginning, said two one word lines ("Yes" and "No"), and sang "One" (singular sensation...) with the group at the end while knocking out 88 high kicks in a row. We did 8 shows in one week, and I had the time of my life. One of the best parts for me was the middle of the show when I wasn't onstage. I would sit behind the thick black velvet curtain in the pitch dark and just listen.
To this day, A Chorus Line is still my favorite musical. It's so funny, it has a ton of hardcore dancing, and the song lyrics are so great. I mean, how wrong can you go with "Tits and ass, had the bingo bongos done, suddenly I'm getting national tours?/Tits and ass, won't get you jobs unless their yours?" Perhaps you've seen the Michael Douglas film version. Maybe you own it. Maybe not.
That was the end of my acting and singing career. I've avoided acting like the fricking plague pretty much since then. I don't even sing in the shower. But, I still love to get down with my bad self. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen often enough. My friends and I aren't exactly the clubhopping types. That's why I have to rely on a kick-ass wedding reception to shake what my mama gave me. I still am super jealous of anyone who can sing. So, if you can, please don't tell me about it...unless you plan to serenade me everyday while I make a voodoo doll in your likeness.
I took dance classes from the age of 3 until I left for college at 18 (ironic sidenote: the studio was located in Energy, Illinois). Because of my involvement with the same studio for 15 years, I was constantly surrounded by very talented people. People much more talented than I. My trio competed every year, and we took every opportunity to perform anywhere and everywhere around Southern Illinois: recitals, festivals, basketball games, fairs, revues, you name it. I went to dance camp every year in St. Louis (it was in the Hilton Frontenac, fellow St. Louisians), and one year I even ventured to Disney World for a two-day clinic. I definitely wasn't one of those ballerina types who made dance her sole passion, practicing before and after school and doing nothing else. But, I did as much as I could for a girl who was also interested in other pursuits. No matter how much I enjoyed dancing, I always envied the girls enrolled in my studio who could dance AND sing well. Not to mention, the ones who were also good actors and beautiful.
When I got to junior high, most girls at my studio were auditioning for area musicals. Even if you just wanted a part in the chorus, you still had to get on stage and sing a song by yourself. In front of everyone. This is where another good example of "I'm a Walking Contradiction" comes into play. I could dance like nobody's business in front of all God's people, but I was absolutely terrified to sing alone or do a monologue. It kept me from auditioning several times. I even passed up Grease, one of my favorites.
I can't believe I'm admitting this. In order to build some confidence and hope to do more than just carry a tune, I actually took voice lessons for several months. It was purposely just to get through one of these auditions because I was so horribly shy. When my voice teacher insisted that I perform "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from Jesus Christ Superstar in her recital, I quit.
Luckily for me, my dance teacher choreographed a JuCo version of A Chorus Line when I was in 8th grade. She basically just let me participate without auditioning. I was the "girl in the headband," in the chorus. It's amazing how much confidence you gain when your subpar voice is among a group of excellent singers. I sang one song with the entire cast at the beginning, said two one word lines ("Yes" and "No"), and sang "One" (singular sensation...) with the group at the end while knocking out 88 high kicks in a row. We did 8 shows in one week, and I had the time of my life. One of the best parts for me was the middle of the show when I wasn't onstage. I would sit behind the thick black velvet curtain in the pitch dark and just listen.
To this day, A Chorus Line is still my favorite musical. It's so funny, it has a ton of hardcore dancing, and the song lyrics are so great. I mean, how wrong can you go with "Tits and ass, had the bingo bongos done, suddenly I'm getting national tours?/Tits and ass, won't get you jobs unless their yours?" Perhaps you've seen the Michael Douglas film version. Maybe you own it. Maybe not.
That was the end of my acting and singing career. I've avoided acting like the fricking plague pretty much since then. I don't even sing in the shower. But, I still love to get down with my bad self. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen often enough. My friends and I aren't exactly the clubhopping types. That's why I have to rely on a kick-ass wedding reception to shake what my mama gave me. I still am super jealous of anyone who can sing. So, if you can, please don't tell me about it...unless you plan to serenade me everyday while I make a voodoo doll in your likeness.
posted by quank at 12:39 AM
1 Comments:
If I could have any skill that I don't have it would be the ability to shred and rock hard on an electric guitar.
And time travel.
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