O, Say Can You STFU

Exhausted, right now. Awfully sore in the arms too, as I was holding the gargantuous electric hedge trimmer with one arm yesterday at the places I couldn't reach on the bushes, and for some odd reason, my legs are sore. I stand in the kitchen mucking around with food too much, I suppose. Larkin's party was tonight, and it turned out to be another great success. I think that, despite showing a movie to hold it all together, the mob had a marvellous time with the party games and homemade sushi. For me, it was practically a spiritual experience. I was awfully lonely today before the festivities began, and knowing you're loved and invited is a comforting thought.

It might even be enough to get me through tomorrow--the EV1.net Houston Bowl at Reliant Stadium. Once again, I idiotically told Mr.Raddin I'd be able to come with the choir during the holidays to sing the national anthem. I always volunteer. My problem with it is that they only need two minutes of my voice, but they're taking ten hours of my time. For some reason, I guess it's expected that the kids will enjoy a nice football game in the sub-arctic temperatures and friendly, cheering atmosphere. Bastards. I can't leave. I have to ride the bus home, so I'm forced to stay and watch Team A tackle the shit out of Team B in a sport that's less amusing than American Gladiators until what, like, eight o'clock? I do not enjoy football. In fact, I do not enjoy activities of this type at all: supposedly happy gatherings where we're all supposed to feel noble and patriotic and sing for our beloved country, which I am in a constant disapproval of in the first place.

Nevertheless, I've got my duty to do. I rarely believe in the lyrics I sing, but of course, I'll sing them. Mr.Raddin can have my dedication, but he cannot have my hand over my heart, with me saying the pledge of allegiance.

You see, friends, I don't do choir to perform. I don't do it for the attention it gets me, nor for the joy it brings other people to hear me. There's no fame or recognition involved; it actually embarrasses me to sing in front of other people. I do it for myself. I know I'm good at it, damn good--I've made region choir for two years in a row now--but while I appreciate the compliments, they're not what drives me to stay in. I can't see myself in a career as some fat opera soloist. But maybe a chorister: the background that is everpresent, but unrecognized.