JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

My sister and I were at the mall one day when we saw a woman standing in front of a store, wielding a microphone and singing. She was really exercising her vocal chords, oblivious to the throngs walking past her. Who were just as oblivious to her performance. A few minutes later, inside a bookstore, we spotted another singer, male, who was so engrossed in his own vocalising that he was practically fellating the microphone. The caterwauling issuing from another corner of the mall indicated yet another vocalist. I counted five singers that afternoon, all of them demonstrating the capabilities of their handheld karaoke mic. They had varying degrees of singing ability, but most of them seemed very serious about what they were doing; you could tell that in their minds they were not just standing in a mall ignored by passersby, but on the stage of the Araneta Coliseum, cheered on by their adoring public. The fact that nobody seemed to notice or care was beside the point; they were singing in a large venue.

“See what people have to endure to make a living,” I told Cookie. “Standing there singing like fools while everyone walks right past them. Think of the embarrassment.”

Cookie harrumphed. I don’t know about your sisters, but mine harrumphs, and occasionally supplements her commentary with eyeball-rolling. “What do you mean, embarrassment? Where are you from? It’s probably their dream job! They get to stand in the mall and sing all day in front of an audience. They’re professional singers. Sort of.”

I feel like an alien.