I sing because I have to. And not in the "I love music so much that I simply cannot remain silent and burst at the seams until my vocal folds are producing angelic, involuntary sounds!" sort of way. (Statement to be read in a soprano voice.)
I do music because it is, well, something I have always done. I was in choir at church when I was little because my mom thought I would be really cute as a singing, dancing angel in the Christmas program. I did choir at recess in elementary school because I wasn't athletic enough to play kickball and wanted to be saved the shame. I continued choir in middle school because I was not being academically challenged and did not need the extra study hall.
I did show choir from seventh grade on because my sister did it. I wasn't great at blazing my own path due to social anxieties, and therefore found it easier to follow in her footsteps and be known as "Chelsea's little sister." I continued music in high school because it was the only way for me to have friends.
I made music my passion (again in the soprano voice) as high school progressed because these later teen years were meant to be used for self-discovery. Everyone was busy figuring out who they were and what they were good at, so I fell back on the comfortable option. I milked it for all it was worth--proclaiming to the world that music was a part of my very soul, my identity. (Did you know that I'm a soprano?)
I studied voice at Drake from the time I was a sophomore in high school, so when college decisions came along, it was a no-brainer. I knew my way around the campus, had met some of the faculty, and knew I could sing well enough to be accepted but not the star of the show. Do you see my ingrained, irrational fear of change surfacing in my decision making yet?
The facade cracked during the second semester of college (I was a music education major at this point.) I realized that I was on track to become a middle school band teacher somewhere in the middle of nowhere Iowa, most likely with a drinking problem and distinct lack of satisfaction in life. These fears were largely unsupported speculations, yet they plagued me until I changed my major to Music Business (...an even more ambiguous field of unstable careers.)
I also realized around this time that I hated performing. I despised it. It made my stomach churn and my hands shake. It inflamed my already present anxiety disorder to the point of paralysis.
I changed my major, yet again, the summer before my junior year. Having been dropped unceremoniously from the voice studio of the woman I had been studying with for five years for no reason other than my performance anxiety, I found myself at a distinctive fork in the road. It would have been very easy to quit and pick a new major, whittling away a lifetime of musical involvement into a compact and forgettable music minor. I could have walked away and chalked it all up to a series of cowardly decisions by a mediocre musician.
So why didn't I? It wasn't for a lack of options--I am, in fact, much better at many things other than music. I have excelled in writing, painting, leadership, public service, and communication more than I ever did in music and could have majored in any of these fields. No, alas, in coherence with my pattern of apathy and fear driven decision making, I did not change my major because doing so would have been scary, overwhelming, and honestly a lot of work that I just really didn't want to do. I, therefore, settled for a BA major in music and figured I would graduate on time and end up with a degree at least, even if I would never use it to acquire a job in the prescribed field.
Somehow, in the middle of this sob-story, music began to reveal truths of life to me. In a weird, ironic way, not being so good at music while immersed in it taught me how to handle some of the intricacies and challenges in life. I understood from early on that life has big risks and potential for big disappointments. I readily embraced hard work and pride in achievement and a finished product. I had a very realistic view of the challenges of working as a team toward an end goal bigger than oneself. I was faced with moral conundrums and the necessity for self-discipline. I learned the power of asking for help. I learned humility.
Without my knowledge, music did become my identity--although not in the anticipated way. Singing brought to light the things in life I stand for, the people I need to surround myself with, and the rocks I have to lean upon when trials come.
It was by sheer, dumb luck that I ended up where I should have been all along. I love the bachelors of music because of the emphasis on history and academia of music. I resonate with the controlled, writing-focused tasks and enjoy exploring the polarization and varying views within music scholarship. I love the fact that even as a mediocre musician and only slightly-above-average-due-to-uniqueness-of-vocal-quality singer, I can still impact the field. My brain, gut, extensive vocabulary, and unintentional years in the world of music all combine to make me a notable scholarly researcher and critic of music. Even though I never made all-state, never got any of the solos I tried out for, didn't make Drake choir my freshman year, am not a member of chamber choir, once got a D in ear training, am not in the opera, and have never ONCE in my life been brought to tears strictly by a musical performance--I still can function well as a wannabe musicologist and find enjoyment in the process.
I will still say that I do not love music. I love my fiancé, I love my dear friends, I love my family, and I love Jesus Christ. I might even love paint and coffee, but I do not love music. Instead, I have a deep respect and awe for music and a profound curiosity for its intangibility, fluidity, spectrum, uses, and influence. I have a kinship with music and musicians, a nostalgia attached to performance garb and back-stage bonding. Even though music has not functioned as the cliché "passion" you are meant to pursue in college, I do not regret my collegiate path whatsoever and am actually quite excited to earn my BA in music degree.
My dad always says to me that if you're lucky, the thing you learn most about in college is yourself.
Music was the avenue for this self enlightenment to happen for me in college. Music gave me the courage I needed to explore other "scary" things I am drawn to; such as writing, painting, yoga, worship, building a family, and discipleship. Who knows where my paycheck will end up coming from, and who cares? One way or another, I will follow my gut and God will provide. I have a new courage, thanks to music, to pursue whatever moves me and to let the rest fall into place.
I will always be grateful to music and will continue to make it for the rest of my life. True, you will never see me on stage as an opera star or read my critical review of the New York Philharmonic.
However, you better believe that you will hear me singing lullabies to my children, humming silly made-up songs, worshiping my God, and otherwise following the love in my life--wherever it may take me.
