I don't remember her name anymore, but she changed my life.
What was it? Mrs. Fiegleman? Mrs. Filgelman? There's a hazy memory of the sounds, but I can't remember the letters. I'll just call her Mrs. F.
She was my second-grade teacher. And she changed my life by sitting me next to Kevin.
I admit it: I'm a car singer. I'll bellow out songs up the 101 until my throat is soar.
And yet, put me in front of a karaoke machine, and I'll freeze up like a popsicle. Karaoke, I don't do. But Caraoke, sure.
Unfortunately, other drivers don't always expect someone to be Caraoking, I guess. I say that because of the funny looks.
Hi, I'm Mike, and I am shy. I'm a shy guy. I was a shy kid.
I was so shy as a kid that I didn't say a word in kindergarten. Not one word. My teacher would say to me, "You can have some candy if you can say 'please'." I would look back and shake my head, saying nothing.
Ironically, on the drive there I was bellowing like a madman to a bunch of recently-downloaded mp3s. My throat was even a bit sore 'cuz I was singing so loud.
But once in that tiny, claustrophobic cell they call a karaoke room, my throat closed in on itself. It slammed shut like a wall of rock coming down on Indiana Jones, right before he reaches back to grab his hat.
"Do you like her?"
"Yea," I nodded. "Yea, I think I do."
"That's great! But what about the long distance thing?"
"Sigh… I don't know. I guess the situation may not be in my favor this time."
I fooled them all.
They all think I'm some kind of socialite. A guy who's always smiling, always talkative, always outgoing. They accuse me of being a "blabbermouth" or a "ham," whatever that is.
Ha. I'm so good, it scares me.
I didn't realize it was a date until later that evening.
I had no reason to think it was a date. It was originally going to be her, her sister, and myself going to that comedy show.
A date doesn't have three people. So why would I ever consider it one?
Weekly random rambles, musings & writings of Mike Lee in San Francisco, CA