I Can’t Sing But I Speak Sh#@ Fluently

In the symphony of life, I've come to terms with the fact that my vocal cords didn't get the memo about harmonious melodies.

Yes, you guessed it—I can't sing to save my life.

But fear not, for in this cacophony of off-key notes and pitchy warbles, I have discovered my unique talent: I speak sh#@ fluently.

It all started innocently enough. There I was, a young teenager in the shower, belting out UB40's "Red Red Wine" with the confidence of Ali Campbell himself. And I found myself dreaming.

I dreamed of a world where my voice was a celestial tapestry woven with threads of silk and gravel dancing through the air. A world where my ballads would melt hearts with words that carried the weight of countless stories and unspoken emotions. A world where the girls would be enchanted, and audiences captivated.

But eish (alas), the reality was that my singing voice had the range of a distressed donkey, the shower head was cringing, and my sister was shouting at me to stop trying to kill the cat.

But over time, life has a funny way of revealing our hidden gems. As I continued to bemoan my lack of vocal virtuosity, I stumbled upon a talent I hadn't thought much about – the "gift of the gab". My knack for public speaking was the real MVP (Most Valuable Player) in my repertoire of skills. Who needs to hit high notes when you can hit the right words?

So, armed with a microphone and a newfound confidence, I embraced the spotlight differently. Public speaking became my stage, and my words, my lyrics. I discovered that the power to move hearts and minds was just as exhilarating as hitting that elusive high C note. Maybe even more so.

I couldn't charm an audience with a melody, but I could inspire them with resonating words. Here and there, I managed to cobble together some talks that were a symphony of motivation and a crescendo of encouragement. I may not have been a singing sensation, but could I become a maestro of motivation?

To my surprise, people seemed to resonate with some of the more sensible sh#t I had to say.

As I embraced this unexpected turn in my life's soundtrack, I realised that speaking sensible sh#t was a gift in its own right. While my singing may have been a source of amusement and embarrassment, my ability to articulate thoughts, share experiences, and inspire change became a genuine connection.

It was like discovering that I had been holding a microphone meant for speeches all along.

My motivational talks became a staple in the workplace or social settings. Co-workers (well, at least a few of them) looked forward to office meetings not just for the agenda but for the impromptu wisdom I unsolicitedly injected into discussions.

Friends started seeking advice, not on love songs, but navigating the symphony of life's challenges. Suddenly, my unique talent for speaking sh#t fluently seemed to become a sought-after commodity.

I hope my authenticity will strike a chord in a world saturated with polished presentations and rehearsed speeches.

I have learnt that people appreciate realness, the rawness of someone who can acknowledge their flaws with humour and turn them into stepping stones toward personal growth.

I may not have the vocal range of Axl Rose or David Bowie, but I may have some power to resonate with people on a deeper, more meaningful level.

It turns out that life's playlist is full of unexpected melodies, and mine may happen to be a symphony of spoken wisdom that can leave a lasting impact on those willing to lend an ear. Of course, we all have different tastes, so my symphony may not be for you.

But who would've thought that in pursuing musical notes, I'd stumble upon the art of speaking words that truly mattered? In the grand opera of my life, I may not hit the high notes, but I think I may slowly be mastering the art of speaking sh#@ fluently.

So, next time you hear someone massacring a karaoke classic like I do or engaging in a conversation that defies logic, remember this article and give them a nod of approval. Their talents lie elsewhere, but they are courageous enough to embrace their weaknesses and have fun.

Until next time, wish me luck as I continue trying to find my voice.

Dion Le Roux