We had a fabulous lunch invitation on Sunday with some of Lupe and Marcelo's high school friends at their place, about 40 minutes from Quito. He is an ex-military guy, or might still be a colonel, and they live in a great bit house in one of those gated neighborhood complexes. We ate clams with a white wine/soy sauce/pesto-ish dressing, a vinegary salad, and fried bananas. For dessert, Maracuya cake! They have all kinds of fruit-bearing trees in their beautiful back yard, three dogs, and more Christmas decorations than I've ever seen in my life. Every light switch, every doorway, every window well covered in red and green. Pretty impressive, and Lupe said most of them are hand stitched by the woman of the house. Also, two of three sons joined us, one of whom was recently married in Quito Antiguo and I remember Lupe raving about the wedding.
After lunch, their youngest son, Daniel, pulled out the guitar and the two sons gave us a bit of a show. I loved every minute, even as I was dreading the inevitable invitation to take over the guitar and play something. We made it through about three songs before Marcelo dropped the "she likes to sing and can play the guitar" bomb in the room.
Smile, politely laugh, and "no thanks."
I don't know what it is exactly, or when it began, but I hate being put on the spot to sing, and even more to play the guitar. I explained as nicely as I could that I prefer to sing along with the radio or sing to myself in my room with the guitar, and that they should just continue and I'd jump in if I knew the songs. "No, no, just sing something in English. It doesn't matter." The more they pestered, the farther from obliging I got. It quickly went from being a friendly invite to an all-too-curious request to see if I can REALLY sing or play the guitar. Or that's what it felt like to me as I over-analized the situation in my head. And that's not why I sing. That's not why I always have music playing, why I love to drive alone, why I enjoy a kitchen all to myself, or why introducing me to a new artist is the best gift in the world.
I like to share and love when other people will just pick up and play, but this ego of mine turns everything into a performance and everyone else into an audience. It wasn't that family that made me feel like I had to prove something. It was me, assuming they had expectations and were actually waiting for me to fail. So, I come off shy and timid because I can't even explain to myself what keeps me from sharing in those situations. Ego? Insecurity? Being stubborn?
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2 comments:
I hate those inner battle things that take place in our heads no matter what we say to console ourselves. It's difficult--sometimes impossible to explain that to people, but it's good that you know what's going on.
I've always loved hearing you sing however, it's like having a good conversation.
I suspect you are reading some non-verbal cues that are off-putting, and that your reaction is an honest one.
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