Last night, I mentioned my lack of skill at the video game Karaoke Revolution. This is the Playstation game where you sing along to hit songs in a microphone, and get rated. Out of a field of eight, I came in last. This was my first time playing, but it was also my younger brother's first time, and he got 6th (I heard he moved up to 4th, after I left). I was in 5th for a little while, but my horrible performances of Britney Spears' "Hit Me Baby, One More Time", as well as Otis Redding's "Sittin By the Dock of the Bay" knocked me to last. This confused me. I always assumed I was a much better singer than Mrs. Spears.
Wrong, I guess.
Actually, this ruined my dreams. I always knew that someday I would front a rock band, and people would gape at my incredible vocal prowess. Now, I don't know this at all, anymore. Plus, my younger brother (by 5 years) has, in the last three months, defeated me handily in basketball, foosball, and now, singing. These three things were my bread and butter. And the excuses I had for doing poorly at Karaoke? My throat hurt. I couldn't stop coughing. Those things were true. But anytime I am on the spot this happens to me, and I'm not lying, but people tend to stop believing me after the 10th time. Why does this happen to me. Is this God's way of humbling me? It works.
I think getting beaten at singing is the worst, though, because singing is something you release from the inside of your body to the outside world. Thus, losing at this game makes me feel like I have nothing of worth to give. Not really, but on long drives home, I like to try to figure out why losing a stupid game makes me feel so bad about myself. Also, after losing, I said, "That's it! I'm going to figure this game out!" So, while everyone went downstairs(thankfully, I was not defeated at my own home), I practiced Mrs. Spears' song again. This time I did even worse. Several people came upstairs and filmed my performance with their cell-phones. I made cool facial expressions, and everything. When I was finished, they immediately ran out of the room and humiliated me. Usually I am a good sport on these things, and can use my self-deprecating sense of humor to laugh at myself. Usually, I don't get bothered by this sort of thing, at all.
This time, though...I was infuriated. Seriously, I kept it under the surface, but I wanted to go into Tony Soprano mode. It didn't help that my mockers were jerks about it. When I came into the room, they kept making fun of me. This was expected. I wouldn't have cared. But when I started to talk, they kept making fun of me to each other, and ignored me. I guess it didn't help that I was practically the oldest person there, but still, these people are in their 20s.
"Well," I said out loud. "I'm humiliated, now. I guess I'll go home."
I said this seriously, but everyone continued to ignore/mock me, except for my sister, who told me to stick around. "Nah," I said. "I think I want to go." So I left.
So, admittedly, while my mockers were being jerks, this probably shouldn't have pissed me off to this extent. But it did. So why? Why do I want to buy a PS2 and this game, and become a master at it to show everyone up? I'm 23. Aren't I supposed to be sort of grown up by now? I guess not. And speaking of grown up...
Last night, as I made the decision that I was ready to start blogging again, I listened to a CD I had just checked out from the library. It was an album I have never heard in its entirety, an album that came out just before I turned fourteen, an album that I really wanted to buy in 1995. Well, growing up in a poor and religiously constrictive household is not exactly a good conduit to a thick music collection. So, after ten years, I have finally completed a full listen of The Smashing Pumpkin's Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I enjoyed it just as much as I thought I would have in 1995. In fact, the album(s) made me feel fourteen all over again. I know I would have won Karaoke Revolution without even trying back then.