Yesterday, I commented to one of our fellow bloggers that I am absolutely in awe of anyone who can sing.
As I drove home, belting out the lyrics to whatever song was playing in my Jeep, I was reminded of one of my favorite memes: “Just because I can’t sing doesn’t mean I won’t sing.”
Amen to that. My Jeep is my concert venue, and admission is free. Lucky for the rest of you, the windows are usually closed.As my brain began spinning, I started thinking about songwriting. It’s incredible enough to write meaningful lyrics, but to take those words and marry them to a melody? That’s a double miracle in my book.
For as much as I love and follow music, I cannot read a single note. Another art form completely lost on Kiki. If I were a songwriter, every composition would somehow be fashioned around the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Imagine a deeply poignant ballad about heartbreak, loss, and the human condition set to a children’s nursery rhyme. Grammy Award material? Probably not.
But isn’t this the case with so many professions and talents?
I’m equally fascinated by chefs and their culinary expertise. I used to watch Chopped religiously on the Food Network. For those unfamiliar with the show, several chefs are given identical mystery ingredients and challenged to create extraordinary dishes within a ridiculously short amount of time.
Cotton candy, pickles, steak, and sweet potatoes.
Seriously? What culinary genius looks at that combination and thinks, I’ve got this!
I’m lucky if I can follow a recipe without having to reread the instructions six times. To CREATE a dish from scratch, without a recipe, and then have it judged on taste, presentation, and originality?
That’s sheer genius. I’d be eliminated before the appetizer round. Probably while still trying to open the cotton candy.
And then there’s this wonderful little corner of the world we share.
We are writers. Every one of us has a different voice, style, and reason for putting words on a page.
I know for a fact that I stink at poetry. Yet I read pieces here that are so beautifully constructed, so soulful and moving, that I sometimes wonder how someone managed to arrange a handful of words into something so powerful.
When friends compliment my writing, I tend to brush it off with, “Oh, everyone has their own literary style.”
And while that’s true, I sometimes forget that there are people who don’t enjoy writing at all. People who struggle to string two sentences together, while others can fill a page with words that make you laugh, cry, or simply stop and think.
We spend so much time admiring the gifts of others that we sometimes forget we’re carrying a few of our own. What comes naturally to one person might seem like absolute magic to another.
So here’s to the singers, the chefs, the poets, the artists, and everyone else who makes something extraordinary look effortless. We all have our own kind of magic. The trick is recognizing it.
And as for Kiki? I’ll keep writing, leave the cooking to the professionals, and continue performing sold-out concerts in my Jeep.
After all, not everyone can sing. But apparently, everyone on the Long Island Expressway can hear me trying.
