Sing sing sing

I really want to sing today. Just sing my heart out in an empty room. It sucks though, because I don’t really have a place to do that right now. I have my apartment but Andy is trying to unwind there too. It’s not really fair to him that my way of unwinding is so loud.

I wish my life was like Glee. I could just walk around places without anyone noticing I’m singing and being weird.

So I guess in order to help with that I’m going to write today. Just write write write. write posts, write songs, feed my creative monster because he is getting restless. With this full time job and these goals to pursue a non-arts major I just feel like my creative side is being neglected.

But tapping into my creative side is the only thing that makes me feel alive without fail. Everything else has failed me here and there.

Singing makes me feel right.

It’s who I am.

Anyway, I need to remember that and stop neglecting that side of me. It’s too important.

There’s something about hearing myself do a good, crisp vocal run that makes me tingle. Something about hitting that one note correctly that hits me like nothing else. Something about fucking up royally and being able to forgive myself and try again that makes me think that if only I could do that in real life i’d be better off.

Singing is wonderful.



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