Celine and Me

Although Destiny's Child's "The Writing on

the Wall" was the first cd I bought, "Let's

Talk About Love" was the one I worshipped.

She's so crazy; I love her.

Disclosing this kind of information is probably not the wisest, especially given the certain wideness of this world web. But it was the only thing I could think of to write. (I was going to write about my latest obsession with the show "Ghost Hunters" and how Theodore and I watched it until one in the a.m. on Christmas Eve and how I couldn't sleep after that and swore I heard a thumping that was from anything but a living human being. But I didn't not want to freak myself out again.)

Alas, I will share a secret of mine and you cannot judge me. Here it goes: I have 5 Celine Dion cds, and I know most of the lyrics. There. I said it. If you knew only that about me you'd probably consider me a lonely girl who waits in lines for Celine tickets and makes t-shirts saying "I love you Celine, BECAUSE YOU LOVED ME." But I am not that girl, let me assure you. My affinity for Celine Dion is not my fault.

It all started when I was about 10 years old. A woman from my church happened to be involved in one of Celine's concerts at the Staple Center. Celine, being the compassionate performer that she is, wanted to include a bunch of mindless children during one of her songs. They were to stand in this lame ass semicircle and sing background for the song "Love is on the Way" from her album "Let's Talk About Love." The woman from my church picked the children she thought were the most talented I guess, plus the pastor's daughter because, well, it was just a nice subtle way to give a nod to the big guy upstairs. Most of the girls my age were picked. My best friend, Brittany, was picked. My sister and I, however, did not make the cut.

Elle was disappointed. She wanted to stand in a semicircle with Celine Dion, too! I, however, was devastated. I convinced my mom to buy me the album, then I sat in my room, and memorized "Love is on the Way." What a beautiful song that was. I cried. I was a regular pathetic weepy girl who longed for a little bit of glory, a little bit of bragging rights to my friends from school. Maybe I no longer would be that odd, freakishly skinny girl with the glasses and short boy hair. Maybe I would be, "Hannah, the singer."

But I learned that I was not a singer. I was wonderful at performing the songs, smiling in the right places, clenching my heart when the lyrics were sad. And that was about all I could do. Singing was as foreign to me as doing a pull-up. No one told me, though, so I continued to believe I was great. Even when I auditioned for the 6th grade showcase a couple years later and didn't make it with my rendition of Celine's "Because You Loved Me", I did not think it was because my practicing with a wooden spoon did not pay off. I thought that it was because I was not one of the cool kids or something, or because they really had run out of room like the music teacher said. I even took singing lessons from the woman who was also my piano teacher, and then she encouraged me to stick with piano after I performed Christina Aguilera's "Genie in a Bottle" at my last recital. I thought it was only because piano came a lot easier to me and she thought I would be a real prodigy. Then I thought she told me to stop singing because she was old and couldn't relate to Christina's sexy song.

There is something about singing that is so attractive to a girl. Maybe because when a woman with a beautiful voice stands up to sing, all her physical flaws seem to melt away and people get goose-bumps. When I would be in a crowd at a recital, or in church, or at a competition or something and a girl with a pretty voice sang, people in the audience would whisper to each other, "She's so good. What a lovely girl." I guess I wanted that. (Luckily I found other ways of getting attention, like the drama team, Comedy Sportz team, junk like that. People laughed. And I eventually forgot about singing.) But it did not change the fact that before I got to high school, I had purchased all of Celine's albums from 1993 to 2002 and listened to them constantly. I had no good music mentor. My parents let me listen to Ricky Martin, Destiny's Child, Celine Dion, and the Hansons. What rubbish that was. And what rubbish it is that I still like it.

And that is the story of how I came to own (and like) 5 cherished Celine Dion cds. That is why I stop to sing along when I'm at work and "It's all coming back to me now" or "Misled" come on. I am unashamed.

I really am a sucker for a good pop song every once in a while. Today at work Miley Cirus' "Party in the USA" came on and I had to sing along. Not only because it is such a moving, deep, and powerful song, but because it is the only thing that wakes me up at 4 in the morning on deadline weekend.