grateful for my voice
This summer cold has taken away my voice. I went through the day saying almost nothing, whispering when needed. There were nods and shakes of my head, shrugs, minimal gestures. Mostly I listened: to other people, to the sounds of children playing next door, to the cats purring, to my own sticky breathing, to my beloved’s quiet singing in the car.
I am always surprised by the sound of my voice on recordings. We sound much lower inside our own heads, which makes perfect acoustic sense but still startles me. I sound like a little girl; my laugh is bizarre and whooping. Not-so-secretly I have always wished for a lower, sexier voice, something that prowls around vowels and shudders spines, chuckles that emanate whisky and chocolate. Today I would just like my own voice back, because I miss it.
One thing I like about my voice is that I sound a lot like my mom. She is a professional actor and voiceover artist, so I don’t sound like her when she’s performing, but many people have told me that they can’t tell our voices apart in casual conversation. I admire her voice so much that if mine is like hers, it can’t be all bad.
(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)
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Comments
I can’t imagine any other voice coming out of your mouth.
If you had vocal-plastic-surgery and got your voice lowered, it would be like a bad science fiction movie.
Posted by: Wirehead | July 17th, 2008 08:51
There are times when you sound like a little girl, it’s true; there are also times when you sound like a mother and a best friend and a playmate, the whisper of wind in your wistful sigh and the steadiness of a mountain behind your supportive urgings. It’s your voice that utters the arsenal of words that I have grown to envy and to delight at, to engage with clever play and sensual, furtive flirtation. After not hearing it for four years, it was like coming home to feel those first words against my ear again, and now I hold against my heart the inexhaustible joy that that voice of yours is the very last thing I hear before I slip down the stairs at night, and the very first beauty I wake up to every morning.
Posted by: Darren | July 18th, 2008 14:50