Loud

Sorry, no pointless photo today. It's getting late, I'm leaving soon, and the roads are probably crap (although not nearly as bad as elsewhere -- thank you Delay of Storm), so I'm not in the mood to play nerdstick games. Especially since I have nothing recent.

Anyway. Topic.

I'm loud.

Not all the time, obviously, but when I need to I can easily be loud. I can overpower an entire class when I'm out in the field. I do one program where I send the kids out into other areas of the building to look for things, and when I call them back I can be heard all the way to the offices. In my line of work, it's handy to be loud.

I sometimes forget that not everyone is loud.

Or can be loud, I guess.

We were having a conversation in the hallway this morning and at one point I said something silly that got loud (it would make sense if you'd heard the topic). My boss turned to me and said that only a trained voice could do that without hurting.

Really?

I mean, it wasn't really even that loud. Comparatively speaking, that is.

So is it actually hard to be loud? Does it hurt to be loud? I mean physically hurt. I've never felt that, to be honest.

I've always told people that it's because of years of singing training and that may be true, but maybe it's just how I'm built. It just sort of boggles me that it's somehow a special thing, that's all, since I can't imagine not being able to be loud.

I wonder how that's shaped me, you know? Just like being nearsighted has shaped me and being left-handed has shaped me and being short has shaped me. Being loud had to have made some difference, don't you think?




Gee, I'm making myself sound attractive, aren't I? Nearsighted, left-handed, short, and LOUD.

Won't you be my neighbour?



Gottat shut down now. That damned snow is really coming down.

Stupid winter.