The moment has come that I have to raise the white flag and put a stop to a dream I now consider obscure.   I have decided that my boyish hope of becoming a great singer has to come to an end.  Today, mom's wish of seeing her son in the music limelight fades to nowhere.

Too unhappy I am.  You see, I can never find the most favorable time to rehearse a single song these days.  Morning, afternoon, evening and the rest of the day, I am all too busy with my job.  Living in a city apartment with unfamiliar neighbors only an arm-stretch away, there's no way that I can sing at the top of my voice even inside my room.  Unlike when I was still a homeboy back in my quiescent town, where only birds, and cicadas, and lizards are my competitors, here I can only vocalize as quietly as possible, or moan melodically, or simply chirp like a dying bird.  Read: I do not have the intention of waking up everybody to the music and sound of a trying-hard music lover.

I have my own cassette player.  I purposely saved a meager amount of my allowance each week just to be able to buy it.  Placed beside my bed, anytime I want, I can play my collections of minus-one tapes.   I have a number of Martin N's and Gary V's albums included in my set too.  But all I could do now is morosely listen to them played lightly before jumping off to bed at night and before dashing off to work the following day.  It is not that I am intentionally tormenting myself, its just that I was used to blaring the sound of the player out of the window with my fave singers on air.  But not until now.

Somehow I regretted why I did not soar high in this talent in my childhood days I was so convinced was the easiest way to stardom.  I felt sorry about the singer in me who slowly faded in time though, obviously, has not yet completely bloomed.  Dejected - must be written in big bold letters - is the perfect description of the me who'll never see himself in the glaring spotlight ever.

Maybe because I dreamed for myself way past the borderline.  But who can blame me if I had yearned too much?  Mom didn't say I had to pause.  I never saw the red light flashing to tell me ok son, slow down.  Each time I looked at her, she seemed to be saying go ahead, you are on the right track.

And I was too thrilled to believe her.  Besides, she has more of what little I have about surviving the singing quest.  She was a defending champion for twelve consecutive weeks in an on-the-air radio singing contest during her teens.  In today's generation of divas, her singing prowess can be compared to Jaya's or even Regine's.  As our townfolks say, even a lizard would slip from its sturdy hold every time she renders a song.  Well, no kidding, her experiences show how mighty she is and how convincing her words are.

The singing blood running through mom is the sole explanation why my brothers and my sister sing so well.  They had participated so many amateur singing contentions, experienced being humiliated for singing the wrong line and at times cried for not living up to the crowds expectations for the Salas family.  Even with all the falls, they succeeded though.  They had established into the hearts of the townfolks a label they will be bringing with them for a lifetime: "mana yan sa ina".    

No one, among us siblings, can ever run away from our relatives or schoolteachers request for an intermission song during fiestas or weddings or school programs, or even on rallies.  It was the reason why I had my first taste of shame.  Driven by the need for a good mark, I never expected to hear myself giving a yes to a singing number in a closing ceremony.  Minutes before my turn, I had assorted emotions thumping heavily inside me like trying to kill me even before I can set foot on the platform.  And as I expected, it didnt turn out the way I, I mean Mom, planned it out.  I stammered, not only once but many times as I delivered the much-awaited song.  I failed Mom, my family.  I failed myself.  After that, embarrassed and broken, I gave no more chance for myself to regain my self-esteem, my worth for singing.  I was a failure, so I thought. 

But still my family continued to inspire me to learn to love the talent and somehow helped me to develop it even in a very slow pace.  It helped in way, though sometimes I had musings that I was less blessed with moms vocal dexterity.  My brothers and my sister had the lions share while I had nary a piece.

But fate might have heard my craving for the craft that I ended being in a group of music enthusiasts.  I became a member of a chorale.  It was then that I discovered something that had long been hidden, which was what mom was trying to let me know.  I found out that I could carry a good tune, in the correct, not trying-hard, way.  I realized that moms daily blah-blah were actually helpful hints only hidden because of my own mask of pride.

That all I have to do is to say to myself that I am gifted and not everybody is blessed with a pleasant singing voice.  In fact, it encourages me more each time I see someone, like an action or sexy star, sings on TV with a voice comparable to a crying cow in my neighborhood.  I do not want to sound rough or perfect for I am not, however, from the viewpoint of someone who wakes up and sleeps with a music playing, they need to plunge themselves into the sea on early mornings and stretch their voices from bad to public acceptability, at least.

With the little I have known and was diligently trained for so far, I can say with certainty that they sound so shameful, rather disheartening, to the people whose life is purely music.  Conscious of it, what else they are after for other than money, or popularity, or hope-to-be-box-office-hit movie.  They only care less of the song they have just murdered publicly.  How I wish I could give due respect to and render the song for them.  How I wish that the composer of the song would haunt them during night if dead and sue them for public nuisance or claim damages if alive.

I feel now I am slowly deprived of the great love I have for music, with some people emphatically mutating my viewpoint of the craft.  I just want to see the music industry bloom.  All I want is to let those with great caliber voices sing and those not so gifted to please wait for the time, to just sit and watch.