It’ll Have To Be…Me

Your blog is about to be recorded into an audiobook. If you could choose anyone — from your grandma to Samuel L. Jackson — to narrate your posts, who would it be?

I can’t pick my grandmother to narrate this blog because she’s dead –
dead now for quite a few years
and even if she were alive, she’d kill me because
I’ve kinda incriminated her in a few blog posts.
And if there’s anything you do not do with my grandmother,
it’s to incriminate her –
for anything.
And I can’t really pick Samuel L. Jackson either because, well –
he’s Samuel L. Jackson,
and I doubt he could do the whining that I normally do on this blog
as well as I can.
So it might as well be me –
for no one does MorrighansMuse as well as, well –
MorrighansMuse.
And that’s me.
So you’ll just have to make do with me then,
won’t you?

 

Daily Prompt

Open Mic

What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?

openmic

I’ve got a face for radio, that’s what someone once said to me once, and it’s stuck ever since.  For how can you forget something like that?   My friends talked me into applying for Cathay Pacific one time, only because they were, and I was going with them to the first interview – which wasn’t really an interview because they were looking for girls (we were all 17 then) who were either tall and beautiful (a plus if you were both) – of which I was neither.  So while they made it to the second round, where this time you actually got to talk to someone, I was dismissed with just a glance from head to foot for I had neither the height they required, nor the beauty they wanted to walk the aisles of their planes.

But what I did have, and still do to an extent, is my voice.  I’m not a singer, and I can’t hold a tune.  But I have a voice that can give you the news, tell you a story, or just narrate something.  I first realized I had a voice someone actually wanted to hear when the local hip radio station hired me to do the news for them.  Sometimes I did commercials, which paid more.

These days, my voice is limited to family, my clients and my students.  Most of all, to my little boy.  I love it when he tells me, read me this book, mama. And I tell him stories about Thomas the tank engine, and his friends, or of Sam I am and how he doesn’t green eggs and ham.  Or just go chika chika boom boom just because it sounds so funny.

Sometimes I wonder if he thinks me beautiful, but really I know it doesn’t matter.  I’d like him to remember my voice and about how my voice can tell show him just how much I love him, cherish him, wish I could be with him forever and watch over him.  My looks are fading, and so is my voice, growing lower with each passing year.  But till the end of my days, as long as I’m able, I’ll always be there to tell him the stories he wants to hear – even of a creature named Sam, and about how he doesn’t like green eggs and ham.

Daily Prompt