Singery (MEGA BLOG -- pt. 2)

..But as I floated through school the rest of that day, a little Stargirl turned on in me, and, in combination with the PHS, I became a super-mega-confidence orb. This feeling only lasts so long and has since worn off, but it'll be back later, and I'll be ready.

I'm going to be honest, I can't remember if Lightmare's note came before or after this particular incidence. She didn't date it.

I woke up like always. I sat at the table to enjoy a hardy breakfast of croissant-wich when my dad re-mentioned my choir term project. I, infused with PHS, had convinced myself that I was going to sing a song. In fact, I had practiced the song both the night before and the night before that night. I felt my face tighten into a rye smile (that happens when I get nervous). I fell into my regular school routine but added just a hint of energy to pump myself up for the big performance. That sounded like something from Glee...so what? Sue me. I knew nobody would know the song. Nobody knows a good 60s-70s singer when they see one. However, I knew that I was accustomed to all those in the class, and, with enough funny business, I could be great. The sombrero would help too. Yes, I have an authentic Mexican sombrero. Coming in at at least a foot radius from head to edge, the hat would draw attention from all over and build hype.

I felt the awkwardness of the microphone in my hand. I intended to blast over the microphone, but my voice fell nicely into place. I had to break the ice first. I held the microphone directly to my lips and spoke in a whispery, terrified voice. A few of the louder burst into their regular, dominating laughter, but I saw that others were equally amused. I had them! Like fish in a barrel. I snatched the chance and began to bring about my confidence. A small piece of me was still not into and, like they do for some odd reason, my ears began to tense and rotate backwards ever so slightly. Like how it must feel when a cat sits up, you know? It's involuntary and I've learned to deal with it. It's not that big a deal anyway. My sombrero sat low on my forehead, so I propped it up and then let it fall back into place. Light cackles and whispers came this time because my song was about to begin. Tom Jones - Delilah. One of my personal favorites. I "owned" it as some like to say. Every note I matched, every voice I spoke, every part I played. I was the teacher, and the actual teacher my student. Stunned looks and stifled giggles when I mentioned I stabbed my girlfriend, my face a wicked sneer. I let them see a side of me I showed very few... my loud and obnoxious side. I'm not going to lie, that side of me is obnoxious, but it's what fuels obnoxiousness that's important. That sense that everybody's still paying attention and I'm funny. For being obnoxious is only one step away from being funny, isn't it? So I released my obnoxious all over the classroom and, luckily, they loved it. I feel much more comfortable around people who are laughing, because that says they want to hear more. I couldn't give a good, solid lecture or a talk on your future. Everybody's too silent, and that's when I get nervous. I prefer it when everybody's speculating on what's happening. I also like the element of surprise. Nobody expected me to sing a song like I did in a sombrero. Heck, nobody expected me to sing a song at all. I'd never sang to anybody but my shower head before in my life.

I ended with a slow descent to the floor while I held the final note. Everyone cheered and whooped and I resumed my seat as my father slunk from the classroom. He filmed it, and I got extra credit. No negative comments from anyone, even the teacher.

Next morning. I find that suddenly I'm interesting in the hallways. People say "nice job" and "good work." It kind of hurts me that for anybody to listen to you, you must be loud, but any politician could tell you that. I had no idea what I was in for that very night which would boost my popularity a little more.

I had a performance. It was my schools version of ninth grade graduation. There was the band and the orchestra and, most importantly, the highest level choir in the school, Rhapsody. I just happen to be part of said singing group and so I had to go. My parents told me they didn't know if I won anything, their usual omission of truth. it's to be expected. We sang once before my big moments. Yes, there were two. I had a slight hope that I would win something, I had an eagerness that drove me a little crazy. Mrs. BrickMail stood behind the lectern and  began her talk. She began with, "he's a quiet giant." Quickly I erased all the people that couldn't be. I supposed I was still part of the group. My ears indicated that she said "He," so it was a boy. Gentle whispers fluttered about my clan of singers and most fingers pointed at me. Then came the stinger, "At BYU foreign language festival..." My heart pumped a little faster. "...we needed at least one person in each category..." My ears twisted gently backwards and a zippo lighter burned behind my face. It came back to me really fast.

Two months ago, a term project/field trip. We each had to do an activity before we went to hang around in a strictly Spanish environment. Both of the Spanish teachers approached me before school and asked if I would do the one activity that they needed me to do. The prepared talk. A talk that required practice and preparation beforehand. I didn't realize what I was getting into when I immediately said yes. Ever since that agreement I was kind of on BrickMail's good side. I was also elected student of the month in her class that month too.

I returned to the now and I smiled as she said my name, and everybody looked at me all excited like. I escaped the row of people by sliding my chair out backwards and sped up to the lectern. She gave me my plaque and I insisted upon a hug. Everybody "awww"ed at this. They were puddy in my hands. Now that the emotional moment was over, people were really paying attention. I attempted to run but she grabbed me and said she wasn't finished yet. I stood as she read kind information that she had gathered from multiple outside sources. I returned to my seat and, while others buzzed at me, I looked into the reflection of the blue, chrome finish plaque and felt something. It was one of those moments where suddenly a small vibration runs up your spine and shakes your thoughts apart, until something is revealed. I don't know what it was, but it felt important. We sat in silence while a confused LePu gave out awards to the wrong people.

They reached the final award; the "best student" award. That's essentially what it is. I waited as a group of kids I knew and liked walked up to the lectern. Thanks to my last name's position in the alphabet, I was called last. My ears again rolled back and I was stunned for a moment. My friend next to me looked like she was going to crap her pants she was so excited. I turned around to find my parents hurrying up the aisle behind me. We hustled up the steps and stood awkwardly as they explained our goodness. I was later told I stood exactly like my dad was standing next to me. Our feet shoulder width apart with our hands clasped behind our backs. Masculine, but respectful. I received a medal to affirm my candidacy but I knew I wouldn't win. I wasn't the kid for it, and I was OK with that. If I got the award, I'd feel I took it from someone else.

I found my eyes wandering about the audience and I found a girl in band with a French Horn. I knew this girl. She was smart, quiet, and Asian. She destroyed me at math regularly and never wrote less than one thousand words per blog. I looked at my medal for a moment and all that was reflected was her. She hadn't won anything that night, but tomorrow morning, she was getting a surprise.