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Sing....Sing A Song

I am standing at a I like this better, or that? Which one, if there's only one, makes me happier.
Let's see. I'll keep it short because I don't really feel like writing too much today.
BOTH singing and writing came naturally to me. I wouldn't say I am spectacular at it, please....I just said it came naturally to me. As in it makes me feel darn good. As in it makes me feel on top of the world. As in SOME people actually enjoy it when I do it.
The rest of the world can nuke themselves.
I wrote (still do) short stories (some steamy, some totally weird stuff) to keep myself entertained. The first time I did this was when I was....oh, I don't The moment I could string two words together to make a sentence? Like. I love mom. Mom loves me. She cooks dinner. I love tow foo. I hate vegetables.
Singing came to me about the same time. I think it's like....something I do when I am everywhere. Mostly when I hide myself in my room pretending to be the next....who was famous back then? I don't know. Who cares. Oh yes....Kylie Minoque....yeah, I pretended to be Kylie Minogue snagging Jason Donovan. Hee hee hee....yummy.
And the first full song I could memorize was something taken off my mother's tape collection....Teresa Teng-Teng-Teng-Teng!!! I sang it in the bath, I sang it while doing homework, I sang it in the park, I sang it in my cousin's house....
Now that I am a writer, foregoing performing, it makes me feel a lot incomplete. In fact, recently, a friend asked (tried to blackmail) my sister, me and some friends into singing during a friend's wedding and I could feel my heart lodge in my throat. Me? Sing again? No way! You're kidding me.
I mean, what the F-ck is wrong with me now? Didn't I say at the beginning of this blog post that singing came naturally to me? And I miss it, you know.
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