Member-only story
I Can Do Anything I Want
They lied! They sure did! All those people who wrote the motivational posters. All those people who wrote all those inspirational books. My parents. Lies, lies, lies!
They told me I could do anything I set my mind to. Ha!
Granted, I can do a lot of things, and I do them well. I can dance, cook, and learn just about anything as long as it can be taught in a book or a classroom. I can plant a garden and make jams, jellies, and preserves. I can swim and drive.
I can argue with the best of them and better still. I can play the guitar a little bit (I’m still learning). I can act. Heck, people say I can even write.
But the one thing I’d love to be able to do more than anything is the one thing I can’t do. I can’t sing.
I can screech. I can yell. I can caterwaul. And I can wail. But I couldn’t carry a tune if you actually handed me the basket to put it in. It’s pathetic.
I come from a long, long line of horrible singers on my father’s side.
