Boy, Interrupted

It's an old wives' tale to young, unmarried girls not to sing while washing the dishes, lest they'll marry an old man.

However, I find myself least likely to withstand an urge to sing every time I wash the dishes. Plus, I'm not a young girl. (Though I wouldn't want to marry an old man!)

So just now I was washing the dishes and launched into an opera-style rendition of Only Hope, followed by Cry, both by Mandy Moore -- you would know them from the soundtrack of A Walk To Remember.








Instinctively, whenever I started singing, my brother would blast Nickelback songs or whatever loud music from his room just so he doesn't hear me. Come on, I'm not that bad, am I? Haha. I am a tough act to follow. Love it!

That's my brother.

As for my parents, whenever I sing, it's cue for them to talk to me mid-song or ask me a question which I can't refuse to answer. They know it irritates me greatly because after the momentary distraction, I don't feel the song anymore.

It has somewhat transformed itself into a game over the years. Nowadays, just for fun when I'm beside Dad, I'll start moving my mouth as if to sing, and sure enough, he'll start talking. Then I'll mutter loudly under my breath, "I knew it!"

How did this nonsense start?

It began some years ago when I first started songwriting. I was spending a lot of time on my guitar and singing away that my parents were worried that I spent too little time on my studies. However much I assured them that it wouldn't, it never registered.

As a matter of fact, my academics never faltered.

As for the nonsense, I hope my recent academic achievement hammers in the last nail on its coffin.