I received a call the other day to head up to the local coffee house and watch my friends rehearse for an upcoming open mic. They kick ass and are much better musicians and singers than I, but I used to sing in a choir with both of them. It reminded me how much I miss it. Since the new year, I have been singing old choir songs in the shower. I have been memorising lyrics for no reason. I have been blasting Mary Had a Little Lamb on my elementary school recorder [yes, the one I actually used in elementary school. yes, it’s been cleaned.]
Then, the Magpie’s music classes started up again today after a long break and I was completely ecstatic to be there. I was among egg shakers, tantrums, dirty diapers and a gaggle of women I’d never met before [I switched times due to napping changes] and I was way too happy about it.
At the risk of getting a little too weird, there is just something about being in music, about being able to feel it and just kind of zone. It is probably an escapism kind of thing, but no more so than running or yoga or video games. And, please, running?? Video games? Too sweaty and too dizzy. And while yoga may be peaceful and rejuvenating, it’s just not quite the same. There is no melody to rise on, to lyrics to slide across the tongue and no bass to reset the heart rate and nerve firings. Sweaty and dizzy – in the good way.
Forget sex, chocolate and coffee.
[okay, don’t, but you get the idea]
And, what with the Impending Return to Work, I suspect that it won’t be much easier to find time for a choir or private lessons unless they happen to be on my lunch – the one that isn’t ever at the same time. So, I’ll be listening to my mp3 player a lot during my commutes on public transit: mouthing the words, accidentally singing a few out loud, smiling at a sweet turn of phrase or rolling my eyes at the obligatory key change. Please just ignore me.
Or, interrupt and suggest a brilliant artist for me to download.