The Ol' Singin' Days...

Sitting bored in my room today, I began to reminisce on my old performing days. In high school, my best friend Shelly Kennedy and I used to sing in country music shows almost every Saturday at the Wylie Opry. While I have never been completely thrilled with country music and its, for the most part, "I lost my girlfriend/dog/truck" repetitiveness, there were a few women artists whom I loved... usually for the fact that I loved their don't-care-'bout-nothin' attitudes and aspired to live my life in a carefree way as well.
Basically, this whole "show" was done in a little building in downtown Wylie, Texas. It was local performers who would sing with a band in front of a mostly over the age of 60, mostly blue-haired, audience and make a fair amount of money in tips while doing so. The first time Shelly and I ever watched one of the shows, there was a woman performing who almost made me turn around and run in the other direction. She was probably in her late 40's, early 50's, dressed in a long black muumuu-type dress, with frizzy, poorly dyed hair all array, and belting her heart out to an older Shania Twain song. Poor woman couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. The thought soon crossed my mind that this woman probably thought she was a good singer, just like I had always thought of myself to be. Contrary to this woman's assumed thoughts, the crowd formed their own opinion.... opinions which Shelly and I could hear being spoken aloud behind us.
"That poor woman. She must not be able to hear herself."
"Obviously. I'm going to tip her just because I feel bad."
"Yeah. Me too. Maybe we can pay her to get off the stage."
The next weekend, when Shelly and I were to sing in our first official Wylie Opry performance, that woman crossed my mind. Right as I was about to nervously force myself onto the small, hot stage, I realized I may not be able to sing as great as I've always thought I could. What if the crowd starts whispering about me? What if my tips are pity tips?! Unfortunately, there was no backing out now...
"And now one of our new first-timers! Please welcome to the stage, Taylor Strenger!"
Damn.
I don't remember at all what happened after I came out from behind the curtain, but Shelly's family showed me the video. I walked out with the most pained expression on my face, looking like a cross between nauseousness and squinting. What came next surprised me, and I wish I could remember what I was thinking. The band starts up, and my face completely changes. It was as if someone flipped a switch in my brain and I owned that stage. Belting out a less-twangy version of Miranda Lambert's "Kerosene", it looked like that person on the stage had been doing this her entire life. I could barely make the connection that it was me.
I do remember, however, when my songs were over and it was time for me to leave the stage, I collected my tips and walked backstage. If these were pity tips, they must have felt EXTREMELY sorry for me. I couldn't understand how people were so generous and all I did was enjoy myself (maybe?) onstage. Shelly had the same reaction. She was amazing, as always, and we sat backstage after the show gushing about how much we felt like celebrities. I loved those Saturday nights with her and I wish there was a way to re-live that. Coming to Abilene, there isn't anything like that... save from karaoke at the bars. No thank you.
Really, I was just thinking that if I had as much confidence about myself like I did in that video of my first time onstage, my life would be easy. I would kill to remember that moment and learn whatever was going on in my mind that night. Doing those shows always made me so happy, and the faded pictures from those days still adorn my walls. If only...