Zip a Dee Doo Dah

Could it possibly be a more glorious day outside? I think not. Sunny skies, 82 degrees, with a whisper of a westerly wind breezing at 9 mph. I should really consider faking an injury and heading for the beach. It's cold and stale in here under the pale flicker of these fluorescents. The other good news about my new desk configuration is that, as long as every one's office doors are open, I can see through to their windows. I can see about a 5' x 5' patch of blue sky. On a day like today, I think that might actually be a bad thing. Although, I suppose it's always helpful visual cue as to whether it's day or night.

So my blurb of the day is: I really love to sing.

Don't really mean much beyond that. I'm no pro or anything. You give me the right song on the right day and I can do okay. But that's not really the point. I'm not saying I love the sound of my singing; just saying I love the act of singing. Whether you sound like Susan Boyle or Peter Boyle, can anyone really deny that, if you're able to let go of any cares about what you sound like or what people think of you, the act of singing makes you feel good?

It's funny to me how there is a certain stigma attached to singing. A person can't exactly burst out in song without some weird looks, even from their friends. Whenever a person does spontaneously sing in a non-traditional setting for it, the instinct seems to be tell them to shut up, or at the very least to think it. Hell, my own fiance resists an honest serenade! I am guilty of this myself. Years ago, Kory, Adam, and I were coming back from a camping trip. They drove down in separate cars, meeting me there for the second half of my trip. When it came time to head back, I decided I would ride with Adam. That is, until he told me I should ride with Kory because he wanted to sing on the ride home. We, of course, never let him live it down. But I get it now. I might not tell a buddy to not ride in my car because I wanted to do it, but I get it.

Some of the best times I've had have been at parties over the years when somebody started playing piano or picked up a guitar. I can't play a lick, but I would often sing along if I knew the song. I remember one time back in college, my friend Dave played piano as he and I sang and within the span of a song, there were no fewer than 5 other people gathering around to watch or sing along. I love it when that happens, the spontaneous sing-a-long. You know all those scenes in Christmas movies where the family is gathered around the piano singing carols? I've never done that, but I am definitely into it, man.

I've been thinking that once I finish this next script, I am going to curb the writing and spend that time learning to play guitar. I'm not talking about a career change here. I have no illusions of playing shows or becoming a singer. I just think that it would be worth it to me to be able to provide my own music to sing along to without having to count on a karaoke machine or the next guy at the party to know something beyond "Crash Into Me." I still have my old ax (yeah I said it--wait, can an acoustic guitar be called an ax? Maybe not) from that class I took in college. All it needs are strings and a tune.

Anyway, that's what I have to say today. You may now proceed with the "Hey Johnny, sing us a song!" jokes. First one to quote Champ Kind's "He sounds like a gay" wins a free stick of gum. I'm ready for ya.