Not too long ago on Facebook my status made mention several times of a performer named James Barbour. Many people asked me who he was and what I meant by my comments. This is my explanation.
It is no secret that I am a huge fan of musicals. I recently "discovered" the musical "Jane Eyre," and was introduced to James Barbour's voice through that. And there was just something about it that freaked me out. And by that I don't mean it scared me, it just made me freak out each time I heard it.
There are a lot of shows I love and a lot of performers I consider to be nothing short of amazing, but I have never reacted that strongly before. I really did scare myself a bit, because I didn't understand the reason. I still don't understand why, but I have at least temporarily coined a term for it.
James Barbour is my vocal soul mate. Something about his voice just...just resonates within me, in a way no voice has ever done before. I don't know how else to say it, as all my knowledge of words has failed me in trying to explain the pull his voice has for me.
I am sure this makes me very strange, which my father has confirmed, but it is what it is. My father did point out that soul mates has mutual connotations, and I highly doubt that were James Barbour ever to hear my voice it would affect him the way his does me. But until I come up with something better, I am sticking with soul mate.
For those of you who are curious to hear the voice that makes me shriek and shiver involuntarily each time I hear it, I am providing you a chance. I am including a YouTube video of a song I think he really shines in. Please ignore the clips attached to the song, they have nothing to do with it.
Finale (There's Always a Tomorrow) from Frank Wildhorn's Dracula, performed by James Barbour and Kate Shindle
I was driving home from work the other day, and somehow my thoughts strayed to laughter. I love to laugh, whatever the occasion, laughing is just fun. But more than laughing what I love is making others laugh. There is a natural high involved in hearing a sincere laugh from someone as a direct result of something I said or did.
On that note, I wouldn't really say I am a funny person — I am no comedian. The times when I try to be funny are the times I most definitely fail. I had to recognize that a big part of the reason I make people laugh is because I'm such a klutz.
I have always been an extremely awkward person. I have many good qualities and abilities and all that, but grace is one thing I have never been blessed with. It has always seemed that, physically, things that seem to come naturally to everyone else never quite do for me. Things like, well walking, playing any sport and most especially dancing. I love to watch old movie musicals with the likes of Fred Astaire, along with newer shows like "So You Think You Can Dance", and part of the reason is that I have an immense respect (and envy) for how those people seem so at ease with their own bodies.
But going back to my earlier point, this extreme lack of grace leads me into a large number of interesting situations. Not a day goes by that I don't trip on nothing, run into everything and everyone, and have something I touch fall down three or four times in a row as I try to stabilize it.
If the only laughter I elicited was from people who were laughing directly at me because of something foolish I'd done, I doubt I would feel such euphoria. But I think the fact that I have grown past the point of embarrassment and reached a place of acceptance makes all the difference.
I know I'm accident prone, and even I think it's funny. When I manage to get poked in the eye by the lid of someone's baseball cap at work, I laugh as hard as anyone else because it is funny. I mean, what are the odds?!
Well, I just got home from work, and it is today for about 10 more minutes, so I had better make this quick.
Let's see. Today was the 14th day of the month of February of 2008. It was a Wednesday. It was my friend Michelle's birthday. It was the day I chose to use my 10% coupon at Target and buy myself some towels for the bathroom I don't actually have yet. Oh yeah, and according to some of my tables, it was also Valentine's Day.
I most definitely am not a fan of this holiday, but neither am I of the party that calls it Single Awareness Day and boycotts all things pink and red. People who know me know that I barely muster up excitement for Christmas or Halloween or even New Year's, so no one can be surprised that I don't attempt awkward cartwheels on this day.
I have never celebrated Valentine's Day--I have never been in love. But I don't think this makes me bitter. I am only 23, and I have no intention of getting married until I am in my 3os at the earliest, so it doesn't bother me that love has never come my way.
Tied in with those facts is that I am pretty simple; I believe in love but I am not all that romantic. And I don't think Valentine's Day is romantic. Shouldn't the unexpectedness and thought of the gesture be what make it romantic? Where is that if once a year (twice if you count anniversaries) you tell your partner to BE ROMANTIC, with an implied or else.
Either someone is already romantic, or they aren't. If they are, then this will just be one more romantic day. If they aren't, then I would think that making them be so for one day would either depress you more for the other 364 days they don't do anything, or it wouldn't mean as much because you know they are only doing it because it is expected on that particular day.
So there's my opinion on this day. Some of it I didn't realize was what I thought until I sat down to write this and it just flowed out. So to everyone out there, Happy February 14th. And to those whom this day means something more to, Happy Valentine's Day.
When I started this blog last month, I did it mostly out of curiosity. As I was setting it up, I really started getting excited about it. All these ideas started flowing through my head about so many future posts and topics I could write about. Unfortunately as with many of my best thoughts, they flew out of my head shortly after never to be thought again.
I was so excited about it, and yet a month and a half later and this here is my third posting. I realized that I suffer from a fear of blogs. Yes, I, Autumn Hill, am intimidated by my own blog.
I get frustrated because either I don't necessarily want this to become my online journal, and because I am afraid that as I write down my thoughts on paper they won't make sense to anyone who happens to read them.
Pinpointing my hesitation hasn't cured it. I am not miraculously going to start posting a thought-provoking piece each night without fail. But this is my vow to myself: I will get over myself and just start writing. Only my friends will ever find this blog on purpose, and if they know me at all they know that I often don't make sense in person anyway. So my blog should bring no surprises.
Already, expressing my nerves has generated one new posting. Who knows what will come next...