It's Like I've Died and Gone to Forks

I have a problem. OK, so I have lots of problems, but let’s just take one at a time. My problem is I can’t seem to keep from sticking my foot in my mouth at the very moment that I’m supposed to be in charge and in control. It’s like a compulsion—and I usually don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s far, far too late. This past Sunday was a perfect example. Recently I have rediscovered my love for alternative rock music—leaning more towards edgy, indy, and almost metal. And John and I have discovered a band called NightWish—whom we love! So on Sunday, I’m directing choir rehearsal like usual, and we start to work on breathing from the diaphragm rather than our chests. After we practice a few times, I’m trying to explain why it’s important to breathe that way when we sing. I start talking about Nightwish and the different sounds that their lead female singers have. Operatic vs. Rock. So, I’m going on and on talking about round sounds vs. sounds with a rough edge on the bottom, thinking I’m being so clever to use a current band as an example (how cool am I?!?) and then I realize that everyone, including the teenagers, are sitting there staring at me with VERY blank faces. “Oh,” I say. “I guess none of you listen to goth metal.” Wait, did I just admit in church to listening to goth metal?!? OOPS (the answer to the question above is—not cool at all). Then, I try to ignore my flub and keep going. I start talking about how to finish a phrase of singing when you’re running low on air. And nearly all the way through that explanation, I realize that I have now gone so far that I’m going to have to tell a former member of the bishopric to squeeze his butt to sing!!!! I nearly died!! Lands, I really have a problem. The filter between my brain and my mouth needs a serious tune-up.