Karaoke Okay

The karaoke culture has never quite appealed to me. I don't like how almost all karaoke joints ooze with either sleaziness, tackiness, or both. (to me anyway)

Once or twice a year though, I would go to one of these sessions with a specific bunch of friends. To be a spectator. Because these friends are special to us.

They love singing. I must admit that a number of them are pretty good at it, sounding very much like the real deal, and even managing to do renditions of super fast numbers by Jay Chou. Others, with less vocal talents, make up for it by inventing their own lyrics, imitating boy band choreography, giving their best eunuch sounding falsetto voices (Bee Gees), screaming with rock-star mannerisms, and generally being hilariously funny.

I admire them for their ability to let their hair down. To be uninhibited. To laugh at themselves and allow others to laugh with them. And really, to be their own crazy selves. Among friends.

I decided yesterday to scream and sing along. In my own subdued way. Without the microphones. Interestingly, I didn't realise how much I was participating until we left the session.

Then I realised my voice was hoarse.