The Mind of Bluesleepy

The joy that is comfy shoes 15 September 2000

Filed under: Uncategorized — bluesleepy @ 10:36 pm

I got new shoes tonight!!!

OK, some background information first. I went to Walmart with Liad, and on the way into the store, we got stopped by this kid who wanted “our time.” We looked at each other and shrugged, and he led us over to a bench to sit down. We figured he wanted us to do a survey. As we approached the bench (it was close to the doors, and there was lots of folks coming in and out; we weren’t secluded there), a couple of girls that he’d already talked to mouthed to us “Don’t give him any money!!” So he gave us this spiel, being a comm major somewhere or another, and he was in this contest/fundraiser that he sold magazines to get points, the object being to get the most points and win a prize. Liad and I being college students don’t have time for magazines. He kept pushing at us, at which point I got really annoyed and told him, “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m just not interested.” To which he replied, “Your appreciation doesn’t get me points. If you’re not interested, go ahead and walk away.” And so we did. That guy has certainly got to work on his people skills. I hope he never decides to join the clergy…

I found shoes at Walmart for $6. Boys’ shoes. Little baseball-ish type of shoes — the one that look like low-top Converse. They are SUPER comfy!!! I’ve been wearing them since I got home, and I don’t want to take them off. That’s unusual — usually my feet are too wide for most shoes and I take them off as soon as I walk in.

They had hoochie shoes there — little slip-ons that have animal print or red patent leather or cool stuff like that. Woe is me… I can’t wear ’em. My feet are too wide. *sigh* Folks need to make shoes for fat feet. :o)


Speaking of going shopping, my friend Corey took me to the grocery store to get ingredients for the dinner I made them (steak, steak fries, and mixed veggies — the steak was ok, not my best because I bought the wrong cut. But it was still good). So I’m in the spice aisle, looking for pepper, and “I Want It That Way” by N’Sync (or whatever its real name is) came on the muzak channel. I chose not to sing the dirty lyrics that have been taught to me (*wink wink*), being in a public area, but I did sing along.

And there was this older gent restocking the shelves a few yards away, and he turned to me and said, “That’s it… don’t be shy!”

I was mortified!!!

Singing is just something I do without thinking… second nature. If a song comes on the radio, and I know the words, I’m going to start singing. I’m not the world’s greatest singer, but I can carry a tune, and I’ve had no complaints. Yet. :o)

It’s like when I’d go to church… My dad used to pick on me a little because I’d play what he called the “pew piano.” I’d finger the chords and the melody on the back of the pew in front of me as a way to make sure I knew where I was in the hymn.

Music is second nature to me. I have a decent singing voice, and I can play the piano and the cello fairly well.

But the thing is, don’t stick me out in front of a group. PLEASE don’t. I took voice lessons when I was in high school, and my teacher happened to be the music director at my church. She was constantly asking me to do soloes, but I kept refusing. The closest I ever got was a duet with my boyfriend at the time, and that doesn’t even really count because we both sang melody, just a couple of octaves apart (he was bass, I sing soprano).

I like being part of a musical group. I like being in the background. It’s where I’m happiest. Now my sister loves to be on the stage with full lights on her — and that’s a good thing. It’s the way her blueprints were written. On the other hand, I prefer to work backstage — I was on the costumes crew in high school, and it was enough to see my work on stage. I don’t want to be up there.

I guess it’s a bit of an insecurity. I get to hide behind the other cellists, the other singers, the actors on stage. No one notices me. No one can put a face to the name on the program, listed with everyone else on my crew. I can’t be ridiculed if my dresses are sewn poorly or I hit a wrong note because no one will know who made the mistake.

That’s why I would never be a soloist.

I’m also very much a team player. I want to be part of a group, rather than the one who’s stuck out in front. It’s too competitive to be the best cellist or the best soprano. And I don’t have the drive to compete on that level.

So why was I so mortified when the man in the grocery store heard me singing? Because I was front (wo)man there. I had no ensemble to hide behind. And I knew if my singing was bad, everyone would know that it was me who was screwing up.

I have a perfectionist streak a mile wide. But it’s who I am, and I’ve learned to use it to my advantage, like in the attention to detail I put into my tasks at work. I try not to let it get into the way, and I’m fairly good at accepting some failure. I realize life isn’t perfect. But I can try as hard as I can to make it that way! :o)

Take care!!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s