I love storms…now. When I was younger, I hated them with bookish excitement and dread. As soon as my lights flickered, I would be in the basement wrapped in a comforter, singing old Negro spirituals. However, as I grew, I learned that storms are beautiful lullabies. Heavy rain, Dark clouds, thick fogs, low light, loud thunder, bright lightning, bouncing hail – you name it, it sends excited shivers up and down my spine. Storms are beautiful in a wild, savage-esque way. They’re the perfect backdrop for a giant mug of chamomile tea w/accompanying introspective thoughts.
Like I said, I love storms.
Were you ever in a sub-par middle school choir? I was. And when I say sub-par, I say that generously. I went to a Christian school so we weren’t allowed to sing the standards like “Blue Moon” or “Someone to Watch Over Me.” We had to sing unknown songs about Abraham, and wildflowers, with wavering harmonies and starched peter pan collars.
My parents were kind (or blunt, however you want to look at it) enough to let me know that my choir was horrible. And don’t get me started on those band concerts! – as my mom said. Needless to say, I knew that when my choir had a concert some 50 miles from home, on a Saturday morning, leaving out at 5:00 am, I wasn’t going to get any volunteers to come and cheer me on. Continue reading