Canary in a Cage

Why is it that we have come to blog this day in age?

What gathers our confidence and tells us that we may divulge our secrets to the world, and be reassured that we are behind pictures that are used as avatars to denote who we are?

What makes it so different—so alluring—from telling a friend the same information?

Perhaps my dreams have the answer.

I’ve come to realize that even though I’ve talked about it with someone else, I still have a fear of it.  This happened because I had a dream about it.

Lately, with midterms and tests, I haven’t been getting much sleep, having to study nights before or write detailed critiques of my peers short stories.  And so sometimes, my dreams are colored thus: Instead of being thought-provoking and artistic, they can get scary and stressful, to the point where I wake up a little less than thirty minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off.

The only detail I remember was a friend of mine being angry—angry that I had not participated in an extracurricular club I’d been going to for the past two weeks.  This part is true.  I’ve been busy, and things have been coming to the point where I must sacrifice some time with my extracurricular, but what felt the most stressful was to know that I had let someone down in my dreams.

This shouldn’t be a concern for me, but it is.  I’m an empathetic person, to the point where if I feel that I have failed someone or hurt their feelings, I’m devastated for a long time.  I’ve learned that some people’s opinions matter and other’s don’t and that I cannot please everyone, but having this dream made me realize that I’m still battling one fear in particular: the fear of becoming a canary in a cage.

Do not be mistaken.  I am not literally afraid of becoming a canary trapped within a physically cage with iron bars.  It will take sometime to explain the fear that I have soften into a metaphor, so bear with me.

I like to sing.  I like singing in my room when no one is around, or quietly when I’m walking to class.  It’s something I do just to do it, and exercise my harmony and pitch skills because I can, and I like it, because I love music.  But then I learned two years ago, when I got into my high school’s talent show that I was good at it.  Better than I thought, to the point where those who heard me would be amazed and wonder if I had any classical training.  Other than informal 3rd grade chorus, I would say no.

And then I joined an extracurricular that allowed me to showcase this talent I had.  Same responses.

And then I met some former dormmates on the street, our in broad daylight, excited to see me and knowing that I could sing.

And I sang for them, and they liked it and wanted more.

And I felt awful.

I have the fear that if I sing for everyone who asks that I’ll be their canary in a cage, singing for them and doing nothing else.  They won’t see how much I like to write stories, how I like to write music, how I like to draw pictures, how I like to voice act, and how I like to dance in my room when no one’s watching.  I’m afraid that if I sing, then they will never ask me of these things, and that I’ll just be a voice that bring pleasure to them, but not to myself.

Writing is different from singing.  It’s slower to digest compared to sound and images, as it requires on to read and form the images in their head, makes sense of the plot, etc.  With sound, one knows right away when the pitch is off or they like what they hear.  It’s a faster form of entertainment, sometimes requiring only seconds to hear.  Will I be all that I’m reduced to—seconds?

That is what I fear—that my pleasure will outrun me and turn into someone else’s.  But then again…

Don’t we all do that at some point anyway?


2 thoughts on “Canary in a Cage

    1. Hi, thank you for commenting and liking my post as well as following my blog 🙂

      I definitely agree that life is a kind of game, with your social status determining what level you start at and how far one has to work their way up. As for writing, I definitely believe it can be subtle, because language is a tool with which we can construct new meanings out of words we never thought could do that before or just present a universal truth through particular detail. It certainly requires a bit more thinking on the part of the reader and the writer.


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