Karay-OK? Funny.

I love karaoke.  I don't know if this is some kind of genetic thing, deeply rooted in Asian culture (karaoke- not just for the Japanese!) or if it's more from my father, who used to sing and whistle along with just about every song he blared on the cassette deck back in the 80s and 90s in my formative years.  In any case, I love it, despite my shortcomings in the talent department.

I knew for sure when I saw a dude wearing this tshirt during my latest performance.

I don't think that karaoke is meant to be done spectacularly.  Every time I go, with the exception of when I've been to the private rooms that you share with only your friends, there is some schmo there who has brought his/her (surprisingly, more often his) own CD and sings along with it perfectly.  It's as if this person expects that one day, in this ramshackle crap bar with its sticky floors, uninspired host, peeling wallpaper and dim lighting, a famous agent from some big label will be listening for the next big thing, and they want to be prepared for that moment.  That glorious, glorious moment.

...practice your Journey solo.  Over and over and over.

You know that they sit around and practice.  One does not go to karaoke with one's own CD and not have it rehearsed.

It's not unpleasant, listening to someone who is good at singing whatever song it is they have practiced every night for the last five years.  It's actually pretty decent.  But it's not karaoke.

If I wanted professional music, I would shell out a little more than nothing and go see a concert.  Nope, I came for the cheap booze, the sloppy atmosphere and the amateur entertainment.

And if I'm lucky, to see my little bro spit tequila on a hooker.

The point of karaoke is not to be an expert.  It's to be an enthusiastic no-talent bum.  Now, I'm not saying that all things karaoke are delightful.  It's downright painful to go and watch someone who doesn't know the words.  This is ludicrous, because they come up on the screen in front of you.  So one can only surmise that the poor person is illiterate, which is too bad.  It's something that is afflicting more and more of the adult population, it would seem...a greater number of people every day seem unable to recognize such symbols as the following:

 

 

 

...which is why I feel that I'm really making a difference being a teacher and telling my students that they better respect the signs, and if they don't, I will hunt them down and make them pay.

"I KNOW you know how to count to 13, boy!  Now get the hell outta line!!!"

The greatest moments I've experienced at karaoke involve someone performing a song with such gusto that the entire crowd is on board.  Bob is pretty much a master of this, because of

Bob's rules of karaoke

1. Bob will not perform a song unless he knows it.  At least, thinks he knows it.  

2. Bob will not perform a song unless he thinks it's hilarious.  Which means, it's hilarious.

3. Bob will not perform a song unless he has a dance to accompany said song.  He's a showman, what can I say.

4. Bob will not perform a song alone, but he damn well won't share that microphone with you once he's up there, either.

When we went on the cruise to Alaska, we were two of about two people under the age of 50 on board.  The activities director was about our age and had put together a bunch of stuff that people might have liked to do, had it not interfered with their pill-taking and napping schedule.  So when we saw on the itinerary that there was a pub crawl followed by karaoke in the dance hall, we were signed up immediately.  Us, and about 3 other cruisers, all of whom sipped their drinks and made comments about how refreshing the beverages were, then passed them down to us...who were happy to polish them off.  Drinks on the cruise were not free.

By the time we arrived at karaoke, we may have lost 2 of our pub crawl mates along the way and we were properly drunk.  Bob chose "Play That Funky Music (White Boy)", the sound cut out halfway, we did it acapella.  It probably wasn't as good as I remember it being, but I remember it being AMAZING.

Probably something like this!!!

That's the sort of thing that's supposed to happen at karaoke, my friends.  You go, you drink, you make merry, you cheer when some half-drunk girl stumbles up there and hollers out a cuss-laden version of "I Will Survive" and you all join in on a make-the-words-up-as-you-go rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody". complete with a hefty helping of this:

So I propose unto thee...as I have done, so many a time while brainstorming ideas for social gatherings...let's go singing.

Moral of this story: Don't feed Tim tequila, unless you have an extra couple hundred bucks for the aftermath.  That shit ain't free!  RUN!!!

Because it might be your last chance.

It's another one where I'm not feeling funny.  And again, if you want to skip it, go ahead.  But I noticed that last time I wrote one where I was feeling introspective rather than hilarious I had more reads than any other entry...so perhaps, as you may have done last time, read on.

 One of my students is no longer going to come to school.

It's because she is afraid of other people there.  Other students.  Kids.

Other kids have made her feel badly about herself.  We, the adults, didn't manage to make it a safe place for her, for one reason or another, and now she isn't coming back.

I don't have a lot of understanding of how this all came to pass.  I don't understand, not because I didn't see people treating her poorly, not because I didn't see her slowly deteriorating, not because there weren't warning signs...but because I don't understand how children can be so cruel to each other.  I don't understand how her light, her brilliance, her spirit did not shine enough for them to see and for them to embrace.

She is a remarkable young person and I don't know what's going to happen to her.

I once told her that she is the one I talk about to my husband and say "She's going to do something important.  She's incredible."

Now she doesn't even want to come to school.

I feel guilty, because I didn't manage to say anything to her that made her want to stay.  I feel guilty because I didn't make school an environment that she felt comfortable in.  I know that it's not "my" fault.  I know that I can't "save" everyone, and it would be ridiculous for me to think that I am SO important in her life that whatever I did would have a big enough impact on her to change her way of thinking.

But I still feel guilty.

I also feel scared.  I have met hundreds of children over the years.  Some make a very lasting impression...usually those who have some sort of trouble, some sort of personal crisis that I become involved with in some way.  I think back on those children and I wonder what has happened to them.  Did they manage to come out of those depths and find themselves at the surface?  Or did they sink into oblivion, forget every reason to keep trying and disappear?  I am scared that this person, this very young girl, is going to disappear and be lost to all of us forever.  Losing any child is a horrible waste. Losing this child is horrifying me.

I don't know how to fix it.  I am not under the impression that it is my responsibility, or my place, or my destiny or anything like that.  But I definitely feel like someone needs to remind this girl that she is important and she is special and she is worth whatever we can give.

I hope I haven't missed my chance to do what I can in her life.  I hope that I can still look her in the eye and tell her that she is better than she feels right now.  I hope that anyone who has the chance to make another person feel like they are worth it- like they are special, like they are wanted, like they are loved- will do it.  Don't miss your chance and find out that the person is gone.  Do it now.  Tell them.