Tag Archives: Backstreet Boys

Finding my Voice: A Singing Lesson

It’s nearly been a year since I walked myself down to Occupy Wall Street the morning after the park was raided and the media was blacked out in downtown New York City. I was horrified at the unimaginable thought that people were beat and kicked out of their home at the late hours of the night–without a voice being able to tell what was going on.

After visiting the site, I proclaimed that “no one could take your voice” in a blog post. Several days later, my good friend Laura joined me as we marched with the union across the Brooklyn Bridge to voice our beliefs. So it’s no wonder that the same person who helped me to find my voice during Occupy Wall Street–is the same person who helped me to find my voice during a singing lesson on a Tuesday night.

As a kid, I always wanted to be in the talent show–as a singer. I remember walking up to the mic in 3rd grade, and raspilly singing, “I Believe I can Fly,” pretty terribly. Somehow, I didn’t let it scar me for life–and in 4th grade I convinced a group of four girls to let me sing Celion Dion’s “My Heart Will go On” in auditions for the show. We didn’t get in. But I still sang on. I found comfort in blasting music and vocals in my car when I finally had a license–and singing at the top of my lungs.

And then I discovered karaoke in college—which of course allowed me to choose fun songs–rather than serious songs, and just have a good time. Hello ‘N Sync–Helllllo Spice Girls.

But deep down inside, I’d always wanted to be in plays–in musicals in high school, but I never had the courage to try out–because I knew my voice was no match for the last year’s lead. So I never tried out, and for good reason–I had already convinced myself that I was tone deaf–and when we’ve already preconceived beliefs–they tend to come true.

I never found my voice.

That is until, I headed over to Laura’s apartment and she took the time to teach me correct breathing–explain why I might be nasally–showed me how to find a note–did several vocal exercises–and then took me through the chorus of the popular Michael Jackson song, “Billie Jean.” By the end, I was exhausted–I could feel my vocal chords screaming for a break. But inside my heart was beating quickly. It was a good exhaustion–the kind where you feel like you’ve pushed past a barrier–and exceeded your own expectations–the kind where you’re thankful you had a friend along for the journey.

I had found my voice–at least for that night. Thanks Laura.

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Special Thanks

Laura Fisher

www.assortedanimals.com

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The Hobby Hoarder Performs Her Pants Off: Subway Performing

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So many times we don’t take advantage of all the things here in NYC or, really, anywhere for that matter. So I say, just go out there and do something. Surprise yourself. Surprise others. Attack a new craft. Conquer a fear. Live your life.

I didn’t go down to the subway platforms just to be a little bit ridiculous—okay well maybe I did. Every day I walk down the street, my headphones blasting in my ears, and my legs shaking with instinct to dance it out. So often, we are way too concerned with what people will think of us that we hold back. I am tired of holding back. I am tired of being afraid of people seeing what I am really wanting to do. When a tiger or a lion wants to roar—they roar. And when The Hobby Hoarder wants to sing and dance—she sings and dances.—even if it’s in her boxer briefs. When you want to do something—you should do it. Stop worrying—stop waiting—think like Nike and just do it.

Performing in a subway or on a subway platform or out on the street is sometimes referred to as busking. I see people doing this all the time. Sometimes they annoy me, sometimes they thrill me, sometimes they make me laugh, and sometimes they make me ponder. I feel as though I did all of these things for a variety of different people the other night—and it was the greatest feeling in the world. My friend and co-comedy-show-producer, who shot this escapade for me on my iPhone, said it best when he said: It’s great to see what really makes people crack a smile.

 

I hope you cracked a smile watching this. I cracked a lot of smiles—and a lot of laughs doing it.

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