Sing Us A Song, You're A Poindexter Man

There was a time in my life when music didn't matter much to me. I have always liked it, but I didn't have the burning passion for it that I have now until preteen years when my tympanic membranes were graced with the prodigious tones of Eddie Vedder's voice and the harmonious musical instruments composed by the exquisite members of the legends of alternative rock, Pearl Jam. ::receives a spine chill at the self conscious echoing of the lyrics of the song "Black":: Anyway, before that point in time, I was just a casual listener and had no musical talents whatsoever. The first talent I started to try and develop through painstaking practice was singing. Painstaking is probably an understatement. I remember a lady in church saying I had a great voice when I was about nine years old and by saying that, she must have planted the seed of self esteem in me that I needed in order to think I could one day have what it takes to sing for people. Though I am thankful for her motivating push in the right direction, I have to say that for her to have believed what she said at that place and time, she would have to be so unscrewed that she would have probably believed in anything; I mean ANYTHING, even something as ridiculous as an invisible man in the sky who looks down on everyone as a fatherly, voyeur and is so magical that he can write the history of the world before it even happens, and he has a zombie ghost son that he put into a lady's womb before her hymen was even burst, and he had some guy build a boat large enough to fit two of every species of animal existing in the world on the boat (about 200 million animals total...that's a big boat!), and he.....oh wait ::cough cough:: forget it, now I know why she thought I had a great voice. So to the point now...I will take you to a week before Mother's Day 1998. I decided the first person I would sing to would be my mother. Who better, right? And that I would sing "A Song For Mama" by Boyz II Men. Here's me once again caught up in my wishing I were cool and black phase. Well, after practicing for a week straight I had to give up because it was embarrassing to hear myself sound like that. So my mom didn't get the sincere Mother's Day gift I had planned for her and my singing days had to be put on hold a short while longer until one Edwin McCain came out with "I'll Be" and my first "real" girlfriend was given the opportunity of hearing a poindexter man sing her a song.