Here’s a little known fact about me: I love to sing. I love to belt out songs in the car, the shower and I’m constantly singing made up songs to my cats.

Problem is, I really shouldn’t. And for a long time, I didn’t. You see, I can’t carry a tune in a paper bag.

Call it tone deaf if you want. I sing along thinking I sound great when in fact, dogs howl and children cry. My cats don’t know any better, poor little things. They must  think that’s just the way mommy speaks.  

I like to think of my voice as haunting. So haunting, in fact, it may be confused with that of a banshee. I change octaves with reckless abandon. I’ve been known to go from alto to soprano and back-and that’s during the guitar solo.

It’s hard to believe I was in chorus in high school. Although being an elective, you couldn’t really not be accepted. I only subjected people to my woeful voice for my freshman and sophomore years. I still harbor pangs of guilt for subjecting friends to my pathetic warble. 

For reasons still a mystery to me, my chorus teacher saw fit to put me in with the first sopranos. Perhaps he mistook my screeching for a real vocal range? Or maybe he hoped by putting me in with a higher octave, I’d go ultrasonic and not be heard by humans at all? 

Thankfully, there were many very talented singers to drown me out. Until the instructor went through the room doing individual scales. I can still remember my face going red as I tried to focus on the notes. Try to sing well (or at all) when you can feel your heartbeat in your ears while sweating profusely. 

It’s because of my lack of vocal skills that I admire someone with a strong voice belting out a song that expresses exactly what you’re feeling. I appreciate what a talent it is to be able to hold a note while breathing and being able to back the song up with emotion. Sometimes, the song is just secondary compared to the voice that’s singing it. 

I’ve recently started watching Glee, eager to see what all the hubbub was about. 

I’m late to the party because when Glee first aired three seasons ago, I was hesitant that it was going to be another Cop Rock (does anyone besides me remember that short lived show?). 

At first, I resisted and didn’t particularly care for it but it only took a couple of episodes for me to change my tune (get it?).  

It’s a great show full of heart and humor, fantastic costumes and great music. I am resigned to the fact a good part of my summer will be spent playing catch up with Seasons One and Two. 

Although, I’ll probably watch the show alone so I can sing along.