The King of Off-Key

On life, translated…

A short while ago, my friend who loved May Day invited my husband and I to sing karaoke. Perhaps, there’s that trend of concerts, he’d wanted to “perform” on stage!

“Going to KTV, we’d needed to pack two mouths, one for singing, one for the foods”, I’d taught my husband, but he’d said plainly, “I just need one mouth, I’ll be the ‘denominator’.” Based off of understanding, the “numerators” are those who are willing to pick up the microphones, and, the “denominators” are those who shared the costs.

I think, if there’s someone who’d tone-deaf, then, he must be it. He’d never sung regularly, and, when he’d hummed a few notes, I would, cover up my mouth and keep myself from laughing aloud, after all, his tone-deafness was so enormous, that nobody could’ve guessed at what song he was singing, like a series of notes that’s lost their ways to the staff.

I couldn’t help but recall his childhood. The electives from his elementary years, due to some error made by the instructors, he’d not gotten assigned to an elective and would wander around the school in class, until one teacher discovered this, and assigned him straight into the choir. As he’d started in there, the harmonies became, not so harmonious, the instructor couldn’t put up with this, had each of the students performed solos, and, as my husband opened his mouth, the instructor patted his shoulders, told him, “You are excused!”, and so, it’d ended his way-too-short elective, and he’d started, wandering about during the free period again.

from the papers…

As he’d told me this, I’d started to cry, asked him, “Are you sad about it? Does this have anything to do with how you don’t like to sing?” He’d replied, “I don’t know, I’m not that moody here!”, I can’t help, but mumbled to myself, “I don’t know again”, every time I’d asked him how he’d felt, he’d always, brushed me off with “I don’t know”, “I forgot”, “Did I?”, like it wasn’t even, related to him. And so, I’d changed my feeling sorry for him to feeling angry about his attitude, and secretly called him, a “faker”, a “poser”.

No matter what, he’d kept his lips sealed, and acted unemotional.

Awhile ago, I’d bought two tickets for Mayday, and, because he’d not wanted the tickets to go to waste, he’d started, honing up on the songs of the band.

One day, he’d started talking of “Stubborn”, the song being beautiful, I’d asked, “Why is it beautiful?”, and, I’d gotten that evasive look, then, he’d continued by himself, that his company invited the man who’s behind the narrator of “Stubborn” to lecture, that he was attending the speech tomorrow afternoon. “Oh”, I’d replied.

The next day after he arrived home, he’d started talking incessantly about the main character’s story, I’d asked him, as I saw he was now, opened up, “Why do you like the song so much?” He’d told, “It’s reminded me of the dreams which were lost long ago. And as I’d listened to him sing ‘Stubborn’, I kept thinking, why am I here now?” He’d turned around, went to the room, started playing “Stubborn” again, and sang along, off-pitch and off-key, through the entire song.

This was, the very first time I’d heard him finish singing a song from top to bottom, and the first time I’d listened, but without smirking about how off-key he was. I’d made a decision, on the day of the concert, other than hearing Mayday perform “Stubborn”, I will also, listen close to his singing it.

That evening, he’d sung along through the entire number, I’d looked back toward him without him being aware of it, I saw his eyes turned red. I’d often complained about how he’d sung so off-key after the concerts, but, hearing his off-key singing, I’d come ot understand, how everybody is just, using her/his own way, to resonate the emotional ups and downs the individual’s experiencing in the concerts. We’d returned home, my husband was, trying, to focus on the work that came at him, he’d talked about the song, “The Door as You May Wish It”, sounded beautiful, that it was about “how after you’d chased your dreams, you’d still had to, return back to reality!”, I was, dissatisfied with his interpretations, but I saw him, pushing the door open ecstatically, entered into his own world, looking upon, a strange, but familiar scene, and kept singing out his off-key tunes, one right after the other.

So, this man only cares about being himself, he didn’t care if he wasn’t able to sing, and, when he did sing, he sang, with his heart out on his sleeves, and that, is what singing should be, an outlet for one’s emotions, and, who CARES if you can sing on or OFF-key? So long as you’d found that “exit” for all the pent-up energies…