Thursday, June 16, 2005

Still Dorky After All These Years. I don't think I sound 31. Granted, I don't know what 31 is supposed to sound like -- but whatever it is, it's not me. And I'm not hinting at being an old soul, or being wise beyond my years, either. I think I sound about 17. And that's being kind. Not to 17 year-olds, per se, but eh....they have youth and beauty and years of fun mistakes ahead of them. Me? I'm just left with a bunch of annoying vocal tics -- and I haven't been that age in 14 years. Perhaps that comes from years of working with kids and teens. Perhaps it stems from the fact that most of my best friends are 2 to 6 years younger than I am. Or at least that could be my excuse if they sounded 17. But they sound fine. No, no...the problem is entirely mine. I have a kid's voice, devoid of any damage from drugs, smoking or drinking during my younger years. Instead of fostering a husky party-girl tone with Marlboros and Jack Daniels, I cultivated querulousness by singing second soprano and high alto in choirs. I also worked with kids almost exclusively, which automatically makes your voice climb a few awkward octaves. And then I worked in customer service, where, invariably, the best way to put people at ease was to speak to them sweetly (i.e. in the upper register). I was screwed from the get-go. Now, despite years of public speaking, positions of authority, bizarre allergies, bronchitis, asthma, and excessive consumption of coffee, my voice remains rather...Mary Poppins-ish. Does a spoonful of sugar really help the medicine go down? It's hard to say. When most people have their throats ravaged by virii and illness, their voices generally deepen, leaving them with tones akin to Lauren Bacall in Now, Voyager, or Lauren Hutton in pretty much anything. Me? I squeak like Mickey Mouse on quaaludes. I can't really do a damn thing about it. And I certainly don't aid my case with my word choices. What 31-year-old do you know puts the following terms or phrases into regular use? "Are you for reals?" "Oh...my....gosh." "And then I was like . And then he was like ..." "That is awesome." "Dude, I don't think that is a good plan." "Holy weirdness, Batman...." "Shut up. Really? He did not. Shut up." "Soooooooooooo cuuuuuuuuuuuuute." "As if." "What-ever." "Golly." I'd like to say that I'm trying to be ironic and kitschy, but that would be a lie. It's all pretty geeky and genuine. And then there's the noises I make: tiny squeaks, pops, cracks, squeals and moans all throughout the course of the day -- generally when I am wrapped up in my own world, but always audible to others. One of my friends says that hanging out with me is like walking across an old hardwood floor: you never have a clue what sound it might make next. The reality is, for all the poise I think I have, I'm just a complete geek. For all the eloquence I think I'd like to possess, I'm just a knob. And for all the writerly skill I'd like to think I have, I just used the word "knob". I'm a lost cause. 10:33:47 PM    build me up, buttercup... []

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