For those few readers who aren’t in my close circle, you might not know that I sing. If you’re one of my friends, peer pressured into karaoke with the sole self-serving purpose of providing myself an audience, then you already know this. You might even have blamed me for the quad espresso on a random Thursday a.m. after staying out too late to hear “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” If you haven’t yet, trust me it’s only a matter of time. Wait until I puppy dog eye you. You can’t say no to me. I make it impossible. Remember when I watched your cat? Or lent you my luggage. Guilt is my friend too.
Tomorrow I head to NYC to audition for The Voice. I’m going at the encouragement of some friends, but mostly for my husband. My expectations are well managed. I’ve never dreamed of glory. I’d be perfectly happy to be cast as Eva Peron in community theater. Or the random karaoke night. But, if I’m honest, I really, really, really, REALLY want a call back.
I love singing. I also love photography. Photography is the perfect combination of art, business and science. I worked very hard to learn to be a photographer. Singing is different. Singing is as natural as breathing. In college I was tempted to major in voice. Being critiqued and graded threatened to sully the purity of my passion. I couldn’t risk that. So, after all these years I’m willing to stand in line with 10,000 people for 30 seconds in front of a junior tv producer. It’s like entering the lottery. So, why be critiqued and graded now? I think it’s because I’m in my 30s. I don’t need validation. I won’t break if you don’t like me. That’s why I’m in the best voice of my life – I’m not doing it for you. You’re not even on my radar.
This is for me…
…and my husband. I may sing, but he’s the total rock star. I’m his biggest fan.