Sheilaclapkin's Blog;

I hadn’t heard from you in a long while. I sent you an email inquiring about how you were doing. You sent me an email telling me about your move and the downsizing process and the new building being built for you and the others. You prefaced all you had to say with, “Hi, Wannabe,” and ended with, “Well, Wannabe, you are always in my thoughts.” Wannabe? Where in the heck did you get that? Wannabe? Do you know the Urban Dictionary says,” a Wannabe is most likely lacking in self-confidence and is looking for guidance.” Plus, Dictionary.com says, “a Wannabe is one who aspires, often vainly, to emulate another’s success or attain brilliance in some area.” Did you know this when you called me Wannabe? I only want for continued health. I have everything I need and most of what I want. You called me Wannabe, and I’ll tell you what I really wannabe, but in the meantime think about this: What or who do you Wannabe?

Where did you get Wannabe? Must be you looking in the mirror and found a Wannabe. I don’t wannabe famous, I don’t wannabe be in another house, I wannabe right here in this one. It is perfect. Oh, now you might have a point here, and maybe I wannabe a little smarter, a little younger, and a bit kinder, more understanding, certainly more patient, and I wannabe a singer. That’s right.

Preposterous of course, but I have wanted to be a singer all of my life. When someone else is singing my brain is singing along with the voice, but my voice cannot be found. At first, I thought I was shy about singing out loud, but that’s not it. I am tone deaf. I cannot repeat the sounds I hear or the sounds needed to distinguish between each separate note. Tone deafness seems to be genetically influenced. It is a disability, but only appears to be with music. I can recognize a song, but cannot bring it back on my own. I learned long ago when I was kicked out of chorus in the sixth grade that something was wrong. I realized later that I was so off key, I began to mouth the words hoping no one would hear the off-putting sounds. The teacher caught me, and being put out of chorus stuck to me like a badge of deceit.

I’m whining now, but I wannabe a singer most of all, and if I cannot sing the words to you, I will write them. I do so want to write a song, sing a song, but they say singing takes hearing the pitch, tone, timbre, rhythm and the harmonic consistency in music. I hear none, just the words to accompany and integrate my tone-deaf mind.

I want to sing my song: “Wannabe Gone”

Singing on the mountaintop, biding my time, telling my story, facing the rain, hiding my pain

I want to be a singer, but I can’t sing

Want you to hear my song, but here’s the thing

I can’t sing anything.

It takes hearing music and I hear none, but I wannabe a singer and have some fun

Singing on the mountaintop, biding my time, telling my story, facing the rain, hiding my face, and bearing the pain.

He told me he loved me, he told me he cared, he told me our love would never die and he told me a lie.

I wore his ring, he wore my heart, he was my meaning and I was his receiver.

Singing on the mountaintop, biding my time, telling my story, facing the rain, hiding my face, and bearing the pain.

He took the sun; he took the stars, then he left the moon and my heart with a hole in it. He tried, but he lied; he is gone and this is my song…wannabe gone.