Of Me I Sing

     When you're self-involved, it can be hard to accept that you are not good at everything.  And some things, for the sake of those around, should not be attempted.  For example, I would like to sing but all I can accomplish is a really loud facsimile of singing without pitch or hitting any recognizable notes.  Once, when I was in a school musical, I was told to speak the songs, not sing them.
     Oh, excuse me, News Flash!  Edward, that indelible stain on my collar sweet, loving husband of mine, needs to interrupt to inform me that our neighbor is walking her dog.
     I was told to speak the songs after watching the director and the pianist as well as my fellow cast members cringe when I opened my mouth.  So instead, I yelled the notes -- to some effect, I must say.  Good thing the musical was a comedy.
      When I first started taking jewelry-making classes at the local community college a few years ago, it was all so foreign to me, particularly soldering little pieces, that as I was working away at my bench in total frustration, I continually muttered profanities, some of which were more creative than the jewelry I was creating.  There was a culture in the class of mutual support so that even if someone's work was only fair, the focus was on providing positive feedback.  But once I turned out a piece that was so bad, a classmate looked at it, attempted to make some positive statements, and finally exclaimed, "It's just awful."
     These deficiencies are hard to accept, but somehow I muddle on, reminding myself of the truly fabulous person I really am.