Look at this! Now you’re on day two of your thirty-ninth year of life! Congratulations! Not everyone can get to this point. For instance, the oldest platypus only made it to 21 years. Happy face for you! Happy face for him! Happier face for you, though, I think.
Anyway, I’m not going to do this thing every day where I say, “ooh! You’re on day XX of your thirty-ninth year of life” because oh man, that would be boring and repetitive to both read and to write.
So today, instead, I am going to talk about what the weather was last year on November 16th. It was a clear and sunny day with a high of 11C. That’s nice.
And now I’ve run out of things to say about the weather last year on this day.
According to my calendar, we didn’t actually do anything on this day last year. In fact, it appears we didn’t do anything in 2015, or 2014, or even 2013. So either my scheduling skills suck (kinda) or we tend just to take it easy after being all wild and crazy celebrating your birthday. I don’t know.
But we did go to Saint Jacob’s Market on yesterday’s day in 2014 (your 37th birthday), and wasn’t that a nice day? Plus when we came back we went for karaoke and that was such fun!
You know what’s fun about watching karaoke? People just appear to be so unbridled in their lack of self-awareness. I mean that in actually the nicest way because I will likely never do karaoke again because I am way, way too self-aware. Self-conscious.
I suddenly notice that I have limbs – I have arms, and legs, and fingers, and a face with features that sometimes seem to move of their own will. I have a sudden flashback to every single awkward picture ever taken of me and how I felt in the moment I saw that picture and was like, oh man, is that me? Is that what I look like? I mean, sometimes I even forget that I’m white. I’m not saying I walk around thinking I’m black or something, I just lose awareness that I even have a colour.
Until I sing karaoke, that is.
When I sing karaoke, I am aware that I am a colour, that I have lips, a nose, eyes (are my eyes crossed? Do I have a lazy eye? These are questions I ask myself while I sing). And don’t even get me started on limbs. Arms are weird, man. They’re weird. Think about it, how often are you actually aware that you have arms? You have these two, long, weird, branches that stick out of the trunk of your body and reach for things. They reach around things; they reach into things; they bring things to the trunk of your body, to your face. And sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it. And a few minutes and a full, distended belly later, you’re like, oh man, I just ate so much food. My arms just brought so much food to my mouth. Did I sanction this? Why did I let my arms do this to me? Why do I even have arms? What am I doing with them at all times of the day?
So this is what happens to me when I sing karaoke. I worry about my arms.
Another thing that happens to me during karaoke is that I see people.
I’m singing. My singing is awful. There’s a point where I peel my eyes away from the screen with the lyrics and I look out in front of me and I see people. And it is not a mirror image. It’s not like back in middle school when the only songs I memorized were diva songs. I would hang out in my bathroom, wildly crooning kd lang, Whitney Houston, or Toni Braxton. And when I say “crooning”, I mean lip syncing because everyone else was already asleep. And I was singing to myself in my bathroom. But sometimes I’d get so into my diva song that a little squeak would slip out of my mouth and I’d be utterly convinced everyone in their respective beds heard it, and were judging the fact that I’m singing to myself in my bathroom mirror.
It’s not like back in middle school because it’s not just myself looking back at me. It’s a sea of foreign, unfamiliar, red-eyed, hazy, slurred-looking drunken faces. And sometimes they turn to one another and speak (or yell. It’s a bar. It’s loud) but I don’t know what they’re saying. Because of this aforementioned self-consciousness, I wholeheartedly assume they’re talking about me and my singing. Or my arms.
So anyway. It was sunny and 11C last year and I don’t like doing karaoke unless I’m watching.
Really, what even are arms?