The Voice (well, mine)

"I am a walking, living, breathing biohazard". Since I have this cold, this is what I keep saying to people around me at work, as a warning, between two coughs or two sneezing fits. This is my new great unknown line. It is too late anyway: I caught it there from someone else, who knows, and now everybody is catching it. I was not the only one sniffing and coughing today. At least it will be gone for me. Eventually. I have to confess that I do find the time long.

There is one aspect of a cold I always find difficult to deal with: what it does to my voice. I sound like a raspy, croaking toad. And it means one thing I don't like at all: I cannot sing, or cannot sing much. I remember when I had big bad colds and was learning opera, and was forced to stop singing for days or weeks. It was so darn frustrating. Claudine (my singing teacher, more about her here) would not let me sing the moment I started coughing badly. She sent me back home once or twice because of a bad cough, ordering me to preserve my voice. I don't sing anymore, I mean I don't learn to sing, but I do sing for fun and even when I sing only for myself (I pretty much always sing for myself now) I find it difficult. When I was rehearsing for a play, I used to always catch a nasty cold at some point, that was keeping me voiceless for a week, a bit before the dress rehearsal. I used to panick of course, and drug myself with cough syrup, all osrts of medicine and have a diet high in garlic and orange juice. I do not have the same feeling of urgency now, but it is still the most unpleasant aspect of a cold.