I Was Poorly Born With the Voice of a Wasp
When I blogged about my mountain escapades when I was young, never did it occur to me that it will soon become my most viewed post since I started blogging in 2011 in WP. From basically just talking about and helping me get the right lyrics of a particular song, to people sharing their own experience— to me, that was out of ordinary. I was not used to people commenting in my posts, especially that this is just a personal blog. But later, I realized there is probably something more than just sharing my life here. I am humbled everytime a reader shares his views or relates his experience. I am actually growing with these people, learning with them, crying and laughing with them, sometimes all at the same time. We wander through space and time to where the reader or the writer takes us. And it is always a new and wonderful journey to take everytime.
I love this world. I love where it takes me. I love the people who has journeyed with me through these years. That is why when I got that request, I said I am going to reconsider his suggestion. But after realizing what I am truly in for, my knees quiver in horror.
I loved singing but I do not know if the love between me and the art is mutual. I think singing loathed me, especially when we talk of ear-piercing falsettos thrown out in the air like confetti after a victory. Like how am I supposed to sing this song when clearly, my musical prowess can only excel in the periphery of the great toilet arena? That is where I occasionally held my concerts… and I am glad the lizards that inhabit it were surprisingly moved by my talent every time. The crickets too, sing in unison.
That's the melody of the song. Imagine?
But seriously, I am no good at this. Oh, Jaysus!
While we celebrate the bravery of our fallen Filipino WWII heroes on this great Day of Valor, we pay tribute to the years gone past with the song above. Perhaps, while the American and Filipino soldiers were forced to march the 90-mile hike to Camp O’Donnell in San Fernando by the Japanese troops, some soldiers hummed this song and wished life were something different. That they could be just anyone somewhere in the outskirts of La Union enjoying a shot of tuba in one hand, while singing to “I was poorly born on the top of the mountain”… and with a fighting cock in another.
PS. To you Sir, please know that I am still considering your request. I still have a lifetime to learn and master the craft. I’ll post when I am able.