Thursday, April 11, 2013

Highway Diva

I like to sing in the car. Wait, that's not quite right. I like to sing at all times, wherever I go, but I love to sing in the car. With air drumming, and dramatic head tosses, and car dancing.

Because there's a part of my brain that is convinced that when I'm driving, no one can see me being a complete moron.

This, of course, is not true.

Until recently, I didn't drive very much. But now I have to drive to work, which takes about twenty minutes (depending on traffic, which can be sucktastic). For those twenty minutes? I am a rock staaaaaaar. I am singing! And laughing at myself! And happy!


Especially, as it turns out, at stop lights. Yesterday, I happened to turn my head to the right while belting out one of my new favorite songs in time to see:

A very attractive individual, who was ... laughing at me.

I should probably have been embarassed. I mean, that's embarassing, right?

But I wasn't, and I'm still not.

Because if doing what makes me happy -- even if it's as stupid as being an overly dramatic singer in my car -- makes someone else laugh and gives them a funny story to tell? 

Then who cares? Who cares if other people don't get it? Who cares if you love to sing in the car, the shower, the grocery store? Who cares if you like to bust out into a random dance step while you're shopping at a department store?

What difference does it make if it makes you smile? And how much of a difference could it make if you make someone else smile?

So someone laughs at you. So what? I can think of very little that is more horrible than taking yourself so seriously that you can't bear being laughed at... and if you laugh too, then you're being laughed with -- and laughing with other people is one of life's great joys.

When Neighbouring Vehicle saw that I was seeing the laughter, HE looked mortified. I wish he hadn't. I wish he'd given me a thumbs up, or broken into applause or something. That would have been cool. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the traffic light and appeared to be willing it to turn green.

That guy needs to relax, and just maybe, sing a song.

It works for me.

No comments:

Post a Comment