Well, on my continuing journey to make myself the perfect person via self-improvement (and believe me ladies, I’m gettin’ there *wink and the gun*), I’ve decided to strengthen my vocal chords by taking singing lessons. Between Hazen being out of the house 2 or 3 nights a week with his karate, and Matt out every other night with poker, I thought it might be a good idea to find something outside of work that I can do to pass the time and what better way to do it than by trying to make myself sound less like a cat dying in an unlit alley at midnight.

Most of you know that after enough drinks, I might happen to mention that I’m a musician. Playing the guitar has at least got to rank me somewhere above the mark of “music listener”, even if I can only play marginally better than I did at age 3, so I’d like to take the first steps to making that sentence at least less of a lie than it has been.

People who really know me, know that music has been a part of my life, longer than my consciousness has. Apparently while my mom was pregnant with me, she went to a Supertramp concert (ROCK ON, MOM!) and even there I was kicking her to the beat. If that doesn’t scream “music addict”, I honest to God don’t know what does.

I’ve already got a good feeling about the teacher because he wants me to bring some of the music I’ve recorded already to get a feel for the kind of singing I’m going to be doing. I’m not sure why, but that just seems a lot more personable than just “You’re under my instruction and I don’t care that you’re trying to sing heavy metal. Here’s some opera; now get to singing.”

At any rate, I start the lessons tomorrow at 5pm and finish some time around 6pm. I’ll leave my first lesson and I’ll continue telling people that I’m a musician; I guess now it’ll just be true.