Thursday, 3 April 2008

I lost my identity, apparently

Current mood:  pissed off

Song of the day: Year 2 Sea Pony commercial
Mum’s in a mood again.  She has good reason, as will be explained below, but please, there’s no reason for her to take her anger out on me.
I got to bed at 4.40am after talking to Grace and Sarah over MSN.  I was up by nine in order to be at Woodberry for 10.30 so that we could supervise the collection of Ron’s old car.  *Yawns*
As soon as the car was collected, David rushed us back (no clearing out done again!) so that he could go to the doctor about his bad back.  They say it’s badly sprained, and that he should take at least three weeks off work.  He’s going back to work tomorrow.  Is he crazy?  He’s not even being paid!
Elisabeth sent me some more recordings, and I was listening to them in the lounge, while Mum was sitting on the sofa.  I just made a comment about what a nice voice Liz had compared to my horrid deep English-accented drone, and Mum got all annoyed, saying, "Well, my dad loved your deep voice!"  "Well, maybe he did like the sound of it..." I started.  "He did, so shut up!"  (Er...obviously she doesn’t appreciate my voice like Grandad did then! ) I ignored her, and continued, "But what use is it?"  "To talk with!  What else would you use a voice for?  I DON’T GET YOU!"  For someone who doesn’t get me, she brought that line out in a rather weird place, didn’t she?  (ie. Right when we were talking about voices.  I figure she "gets" a lot more than she lets on. )
I stayed in while they went to Ealing Broadway and tried to make some new recordings - I am totally useless though.  All I want is a nice recording of me singing *something*, ANYTHING.  But my voice is awful.  I tried to sing "On My Own" from Les Miserables today...I haven’t decided if I dare upload it for your opinions yet.
My parents came crashing in about 4pm, and Mum’s been on at me ever since.  She has a sore mouth from the dentist, and then went to pick up her new glasses, only to find they’ve put the lenses in the wrong frames - AGAIN.  And it’s my fault for not going that nobody noticed the frames were wrong until Mum was standing in WHSmith, while David bought five more Mills & Boon books.  How would I have noticed anyway?
The day went on, and Elisabeth sent me some more recordings tonight, in return for one I sent her this afternoon.  Of course, I have nowhere other than the lounge to listen to them, and Mum was doing her sulk-sleeping (Pretending to be asleep, while actually sulking, and occasionally sitting up and juggling five pairs of glasses to see which suit her...and if she can see through any of them! ).  So from the snoring lump in the corner comes a voice.  "Don’t you lot ever get sick of singing?"  Excuse me?  "It’s not like any of you are any good.  You’re having a laugh."  That’s not true.  Elisabeth IS a good singer.  I know I have no training, and I can’t train myself.  As David is always telling me, "IT’S ONLY PWACK-TISSSSSSSSS!"  And practise does not make perfect. *Sob*  "I mean, it was funny at first, but now you’re sending me tone-deaf."  Er...was Mum ever not tone-deaf?  I’ve never actually heard her sing, unless you count a few wobbly humming sounds!  Just because Grandad was a musician doesn’t mean you’re all high and mighty, Mother!
The argument went on for a while.  Eventually I found my headphones, and plugged them in, killing two birds with one stone.  Mum could no longer hear Liz, and I could no longer hear Mum!
Then finally, later on, Mum actually tried to apologise, and asked to hear one of my recordings.   So I went to let her listen (didn’t want to re-buff her when she is actually showing a little interest), and said something on my way over to the sofa from the place on the floor where I sit.  I can’t remember the exact line, but I mentioned "the recording". However, apparently I didn’t say "Recording" to Mum’s liking, and in fact, spoke in the Canadian accent I keep trying to imitate.  I know how I’ve been saying "recording" lately, almost as "record-n", totally dropping the "ing" sound.  Not sure if that’s Canadian or not?  Kind of half-and-half, I guess.  Because I’m not pronouncing the "awr" on the "or".  Anyways, Mum tells me, "You’ve lost your identity - you think of yourself as a bl**dy foreigner.  You’re not even aware of it now.  Your voice cr*p has f****d you up good and proper now.  Everything’s mixed up, and you don’t have either accent - you have a "mongrel voice".  You’re ENGLISH, for God’s sake!  Stop speaking in ridiculous accents!  Or you’ll never get your own identity back!"
Since when "my identity" has mattered to her, I don’t know.  I’m not even allowed to do what I want with my own life!  And why does she have to swear like that too?  I feel like that entire paragraph was made up of *’s!  Maybe she is right though, maybe I have ruined my own voice.  But there’s no need to say that, is there?  Especially when she knows how much my voice means to me.  I guess it’s all the unguided "pwack-tisssssssss troining".  Why should I want to speak like that anyway?  There’s no such thing as animation in the UK anymore - nobody really wants English accents in voice acting.  Darn them all.  I’m going to Vancouver, honestly I am.  Miserable so-and-so’s won’t know what’s hit them then, will they?  Once I’m "miss-n" from their lives.  Idiots.
Now David has finally got off of my bed, having been sleeping and drooling his chicken dinner all over it.  Lovely for me to have to sleep on as a vegetarian, eh? 
Best wishes,
Dair-soor-eeee Sky-lork, I mean Diz-ar-roy Skoy-lark  xxx

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