Friday, August 19, 2011

Well That Was Heavy

This post will be as silly as the last was serious. You know what I wish? That I had stronger vocal chords.

One of my recurring dreams (in that I've had it multiple times, not every night, but every so often), and one I'm sure many have had, is this: I'm scared. Either someone is attacking me or I'm threatened by a villain who has not yet spotted me. I'm terrified and I want to run away but I'm rooted to the spot. Or else, I want to scream for help but no sound will come out.

Should this happen in real life, I know I'd be able to run for it. Sure, I'd probably be shot in the back or else overcome by my assailant and stabbed to death, but I would not be immobile. But if my life depended on my ability to scream for help, I'm certain I'd be a goner. There are not many occasions in which we find ourselves screaming, but they do crop up. Sometimes we are trying to get peoples' attention in a crowded room. Other times we are trying to scream above an argument to try to get people to listen to reason. Hell, maybe we're just watching a football game. No matter what the reason, we all yell and scream. But when I do it, I sound like Peter Brady when he was at the awkward puberty stage. My voice is simply a high pitched strained noise, nothing fierce, nothing strong, nothing to take seriously.

I also cannot make fun of heavy metal music's penchant for 'Cookie Monster' vocals because my chords don't allow it. I can start off fairly strong but I can't even make it through a sentence before I need to stop. I would make a terrible metal singer as well a terrible gangsta rapper. Don't worry, these dreams were crushed long ago and I've reconciled myself to it.

The irony is that I'm a loud and talkative person. I didn't start talking until I was three. By that time, I was a year past the date when I broke my head open when I fell on a glass topped coffee table. My mother informed me later in life that she feared I was retarded. Instead, I just showed my innate leanings towards laziness. I had two older brothers. All I had to do was point at something and they'd grab it and tell me all about it. My first words, according to Mom, were "what's that?" I guess M and S weren't around to fill me in.

But once I started talking, I never stopped. It isn't something I'm proud of; rather, it is something I continuously try to curb .But I end up babbling because I'm half way through a dialogue, realize I sound like an idiot, but have to finish or else announce "I sound like an idiot and am embarrassed so I'm going to shut up now."

Perhaps if I had stronger vocal chords I could cut myself off when sounding ridiculous and just throw out "I'm a mother fucking monster" with some degree of respectability.

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