Last week I was driving to work, and suddenly an aria burst from my lips. (O Mio Babbino Caro in case you’re wondering which one.) Which was…weird. I realized a few days later that I wasn’t just having arias popping out of my mouth, I was singing along to anything that was on. Radio at work? Yup. Puppet music for new show we’re putting together? Yup. Random Youtube videos? Yup. Broadway tune that randomly popped into my head? Yup.
What was even weirder? I was and am enjoying singing. Now, I’m sure that what everyone else is finding weird is the fact that I find all of this weird. The truth is, I haven’t enjoyed singing or playing any kind of instrument since March of 2004.
See, back in March of 2004, I was a freshman in college. A music education major. I got off the bus from choir tour, and received some life changing news. News that had several nasty effects on my life, but one in particular was that I began to hate music. Me, who had spent all of her life adoring music. I had loved music so much that when I was sixteen, I chose voice and trumpet lessons over getting a car. That’s some real love of music.
As the weeks passed from that day in March ’04, I came to realize that my voice wasn’t really as great as I thought. People put up with it because they were kind. I wasn’t that great of an instrumentalist either. Sure, I thought I was, but all the evidence pointed to the fact that my ego was just a little bit blown out of proportion.
I slowly pulled away from the world of music, and stopped singing. Stopped listening to music. Only pulled my trumpet out when forced to.
Fast-forward 10 years, and for some reason, along with the dormant emotions that have suddenly woken up, I’m suddenly singing and playing again. Not because I’m being forced to, but because I genuinely want to. My voice has changed. Looking back, I realize that my voice wasn’t the greatest in the world, but I really did have a beautiful soprano voice. It’s now more mezzo-soprano, but I’m okay with that. I don’t even care if people hear me sing, I’m singing for my own pleasure. There’s a joy in it that I’m rediscovering.
Two days ago, I mentioned to mom how surprised I was by the fact I was singing. I told her that for the first time in forever I actually wanted to sing, and I’d been catching myself singing all the time. Mom just looked at me and said, “You’re happy.” Which, oddly enough, is what a friend on Facebook said, yesterday, when I mentioned that out of the blue I’d lost 10 pounds.
I guess I am happy. It’s weird. I’ve not felt truly happy and at peace in a long time (and by long time I mean 10 years). I’ve got a job I love, other aspects of my life are starting to make some sense, and I can honestly say that life is generally good. So, I’m going to be silly, and probably talk to much, and possibly be a general annoyance, but it’s been so long since I’ve even wanted to be any of those things, I’m okay with it.