I leave the solitude of my cabin and spend some time in Nashville for New Years Eve. I’m not quite sure how to properly honor the occasion, but I do know that I want to see more of what this city has to offer.

I’m self-conscious with my haircut and half-wishing I had already shaved my head in order to practice dealing with its awkwardness in the company of strangers. I can’t tell what exactly it is that I want out of this night. To make friends? To flirt? To have some great epiphany? No way to guarantee any of them but my choices of how I spend my time will make some outcomes more likely than others.

I go to an OA meeting, I take myself out to lunch, I write and drink coffee at a downtown cafe and almost order a cookie. I know where that leads and that is one thing I definitely don’t want for myself today.

As it gets dark, I walk around and into a trashy-yet-self-aware “boogey bar” with some of the best free live music I’ve ever heard. Now you’re talking. After awhile, I float down the street and into a karaoke bar. To sing karaoke in Nashville was the one cultural goal of my trip, and here’s my chance. The bar is pretty much empty and I get picked right away to sing “Bobbie McGee.” I love that song, but its hard to sing. And Janis is so weird. And I’m so unsure. I don’t make it through very many of the “la la las.” Why did I even pick that song? It’s so much longer than I remember, I wish they’d cut me off. At least I did what I came there to do.

I sit back down and asked my new friend Shawn how I did. “Honestly?” Oh shit, yeah, honestly. “Honestly, why would you choose to sing in public and then be shy about it? Why would you be careful and self-conscious? You’re in a bar full of strangers anyway, you have a good voice, and you obviously like singing or you wouldn’t be here. So just enjoy it and sing.” Oh my god he’s right.

Why have this fear around something I enjoy? Why have false modesty about something I think I’m good at? Every second I spend downplaying my gifts or talents is a second wasted. It’s a favorite hobby of mine to stick my neck out there and then personally apply the guillotine afterward. I want a voice, I want to write, I want to sing, and I want to be able to be proud of what I do well instead of apologizing for it. I’ll take the responsibility for what I do wrong, so why not be proud of what I do right?

I thank Shawn for setting me straight and tell him that if my name got picked again, I’ll try my best to do it right this time. Thirty minutes later they’re calling my name, here goes. I stand up and sing Tracy Chapman “I’m the Only One” like it’s just me in my car. I have to close my eyes when I feel the urge to hold back, but I’m singing so loud my voice goes sharp.

This time, I don’t ask Shawn how I did, my voice is a little sore and I know I could’ve used auto-tune but I know how I feel- I feel good. And I’m proud of how I sang, so I don’t care so much about how others might feel. It’s 8pm, 4 hours till next year, and I’m ready to take myself back to my little cabin to greet the New Year alone.

Next entry: Part 5: Suffrage

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