I live in Japan, and one of my favorite past times in this marvelous country is the practice of karaoke.

Sometimes I go with friends, and other times I go on my own purely because I have a substantial fondness for making musical sounds. Today, I had a large gap of free time between the Saturday morning lesson I teach and my late afternoon meeting with a friend I hadn’t seen in quite some time, so I took the opportunity to do a few things I haven’t made time for recently: reading and karaoke.

I did the reading at a Starbucks (accompanied by an amiably orange Mango Passion Frappuccino), and the karaoke at a place down the street that contains a lot of fond memories (that time we got the room with the huge window, the time I did that contest, the time we had my birthday there and my excellent friend got me sparkly glitter that I still refuse to use because if I use it it’ll be LESS FULL).

In the lobby of the karaoke building, I asked the staff guy for a room for an hour. He asked if I’d like a studio room, to which I shrugged and said, “Sure,” but in Japanese.

The studio room, it turns out, looks like that photo above. Generally, rooms are like this:


But this one was special. The staff guy gave me professional headphones to plug in, and when I sang into the mic, I heard not only the music, but my own voice in a way I’d never heard it before.

I’ll admit while I was belting out number after number, I felt the tug of my long-forgotten dream of becoming a singer. It’s still not impossible, I thought, and I like the idea of keeping it an open dream, so to speak.

Until then, I’m absolutely going to make some regular returns to that studio room.

Possibly with an amiable Mango Passion Frappuccino. ♡

Good night, citizens of life!


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