I’ve realized over the years that if I practice singing a song long enough I’ll eventually be able to sing it well—so well in fact that I can pass off as being able to sing decently. And this was confirmed last Sunday during my grandmother’s birthday celebration. I was singing The Calling’s Wherever You Will Go, which I have been singing in karaoke rounds for as long as my mother have started making it obligatory for me and my siblings to sing in family gatherings, when this total stranger, girlfriend of my father’s second cousin or something, blurted into the din of our cramped living room, “Buti pala may singer tayo dito!”
And that’s saying a lot, because I totally missed out on God when he showered humanity with the gift of music!
The comment made me smile, and gave me the audacity to punch in more songs from my limited repertoire!
Singing has always been my biggest frustration. In fact, the only claim I have to any sort of musical accomplishment is the fact that I played the Bajo de Arco in the Rondalla ensemble back in grade school—and I was given that place only because none of the other guys in class were tall enough to play the hulking instrument!
Well, I know I’ll never be a Michael Buble, but half of singing is chutzpah anyway! I was painfully shy, and looking back that’s probably the biggest reason why my voice had not “come to its own” sooner. Gone are the days when I will just sit meekly in a corner and clap or tap my feet while my relatives boldly belt songs that are too high for them. This year, I, too, shall grab the mic and conquer our unfading songbook!
I shall practice every karaoke staple—from Engelbert Humperdick to The Carpenters, from Air Supply to Shania Twain, from Britney Spears to Westlife—until I master all of them and people begin clamoring for me to sing in parties!
And since our bathroom has got the best acoustics anywhere in our house, I now have one more reason to enjoy morning baths!