Death to the golden rule

I have no voice.

Not in an inequality kind of a way but in a literal 'I cannot push sounds through my vocal chords to make words' kinda way. It's horrible and  inconvenient yet somehow makes me appreciate the quiet moments in life. Right now I can hear the rain fall outside, the tick of my living room clock and my wheezing breath. Well, maybe the wheezing isn't so great but with silence comes a new way of thinking. I live alone so you may ask "What does it matter that you can't talk, you are by yourself?" Well, noble reader, it matters when I am used to talking to the food in my fridge in order to decide what to eat and it matters when I watch my favorite film, Con Air, and can't hoot and holla at the screen as a result of the awesomeness that is Nicolas Cage. But overall the silence won't kill me, it makes me more contemplative and peaceful. Laryngitis, however, is the enemy of singing in the car which is, as many know, my favourite thing to do in the world. Sadly, I still try to squeak out a verse or two but only end up looking like a fool when lyrics like "After all, you're my wonderwall" come out like "aaaaaaaaaa...(audible wheezing)" How the hell can I be fierce like my girl Rihanna without a voice? I should learn sign language and execute it with R&B style passion. Just wait 'til they all see my gangsta alphabet...