Alright, so, people ask me about this whole “rory singing journey” thing I’ve been on. Lemme tell ya, it wasn’t some grand plan, you know? It kinda just… happened. One day I was just sitting there, probably scrolling through endless videos of people who actually CAN sing, and I thought, “Heck, why not me?” Famous last words, folks. Famous last words.
So, I started. How hard could it be, right? You just open your mouth, make some noise, and boom – music. Yeah, no. My first attempts? Let’s just say the neighborhood cats probably filed a noise complaint. It was bad. Really bad. I sounded like a strangled goose trying to do opera. My own ears were begging for mercy.
Then, like everyone else, I dived into the internet for “tips.” Oh boy, what a mess that was. One site tells you to breathe from your belly like you’re inflating a beach ball. Another one’s all about your “head voice” versus “chest voice” – sounded like a biology lesson I definitely skipped. I found:
- Videos of people making weird siren noises.
- Articles promising to “unlock your hidden talent” in five easy steps (spoiler: they lied).
- Apps that were basically glorified karaoke machines judging my every painful note.
It was overwhelming. Everyone’s a guru, everyone’s got the secret, and most of it just made me more confused. I swear, some of those “warm-up” exercises? I felt ridiculous. And sounded even more so.
I actually tried a few things. Downloaded some apps, watched a ton of tutorials. For a while, my daily routine involved locking myself in the bathroom – for better acoustics, I told myself – and just… trying. There were days I’d make a sound and think, “Hey, that wasn’t completely horrible!” And then the next ten sounds would be pure garbage. It was a real rollercoaster of tiny hopes and massive disappointments. My family started wearing headphones a lot more around the house. Can’t blame them.
You know, the funny thing is, I almost gave up. Like, a dozen times. I’d think, “This is stupid. I’m not a singer. I’m just torturing myself and everyone within a one-mile radius.” But then, I don’t know, something just kept me going. Maybe it was pure stubbornness. Or maybe it was that one time, just one, where I hit a note that actually sounded… okay. Just okay. And that tiny little crumb of “okay” was enough to make me try again the next day.
So, where am I now on this “rory singing journey”? Am I ready for a world tour? Absolutely not. Don’t quit your day jobs to become my manager, folks. But can I now sing “Happy Birthday” without making babies cry? Most of the time, yeah. I’ve learned a bit about breathing, a tiny bit about not straining, and a whole lot about patience. It’s still mostly me, in a room, making noises. But sometimes, just sometimes, those noises vaguely resemble a song. And for now, that’s kinda enough. It’s a journey, alright. A long, weird, often hilariously off-key journey. And I guess I’m still on it.
