Okay, so here’s the thing: I absolutely love to sing, and there are many incriminating videos of me to prove it (apparently I have a thing for hotel rooms) but unfortunately God, instead of blessing me with the voice of an angel, gave me the voice of a dying cat. And not even a gently dying cat either, we’re talking a screeching mewling mess just begging to be put out of it’s misery.

Which sucks.

But what sucks even more is the fact that it took me nine years to realize this. Because when you’re a kid you don’t think about your body’s physiology, and how sound is transferred through the various parts of the ear to the auditory center of the brain. You just talk, and assume that the voice you hear echoing in your head is your own and not some auto-tuned version of it.

In other words, I thought I sounded like Christina Aguilera, and if not for a particularly bad rendition of the song “My Heart will go on” I would have taken that thought right onto my elementary school stage. Not that it would have mattered, because by then I had already been mocked for how I sang the National Anthem, and duped into thinking I had talent just so that my ‘friends’ could turn me into their inside joke.

So can you blame me for having a bit of a trauma when it comes to singing? Though I am sure there are those who wish it was more than a bit, because I still sing along to the radio, and to the songs stuck in my head. But singing along in the backseat of a car with the windows rolled down and the summer breeze tousling your hair is one thing, while singing along to the track blasting through the speakers, with a microphone in hand and lyrics on screen, in a room with other people, is something else entirely.

And that my friends is what Karaoke basically is, which in Korea is called Noraebang. An important distinction, because Noraebang in English literally translates as Song-Room, so unlike in the West where karaoke usually takes place at a dive bar in front of a crowd of drunken people, Noraebangs are far more private, and often consist of a small room with just you and a handful of your friends. Not that, that makes it necessarily any easier for someone like me. Especially when the friends I would be comfortable singing in front of are an ocean and a few countries away.

But luckily, until just this past weekend, I had been fortunate enough to avoid it. Mostly because in a small town such as Jangsu there are few opportunities to go to a Noraebang, and anytime I have been in the city I have been with foreign friends for whom singing is not the cultural past-time that it is for most Koreans. Which isn’t to say that foreigners do not enjoy going to Noraebangs, because I know many who do. I am just not one of them.

So how did I end up going, you may ask?

Well, it started with a promise.

See, about three weeks ago I met someone, a native Korean, born and bred in the city of Daegu. And you know me, ever eager to impress, so when he suggested going to a Noraebang during our first meeting, I couldn’t just say no, so instead I offered him a rain-check, which he just so happened to cash on my Birthday, two weeks later. And who was I to say no then?

Nobody, apparently. Because there I was, wandering the back of alleys of Hongdae, tipsy on beer and soju and already flushed with embarassment. And I mean, I warned him. Frequently and emphatically, because I wanted there to be zero expectation, so that when it inevitably became my turn, there would be no doubt as to my lack of skill.

Although, as terrible a singer as I am, I can, at the very least, speak quickly and accurately which comes in handy when doing a more spoken verse, such as that in the Imagine Dragon’s song “Believer” or in Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep.” Also, in preparation for my inevitable Noraebang debut, I have been practicing some Korean rap songs, most notable Loopy’s song “Save Me.”

So I actually had some moments of moderate success. And let me tell you, there is a certain pride that comes with being able to perfectly execute a song in a Noraebang.

But it’s not just about execution, because just as there are songs that you should sing, there are also songs that you shouldn’t. And the key with that, is mood. If the mood is relaxed, you can afford to break out a ballad or a more somber tune. But if the mood is high and the room loud, you want to maintain that energy with upbeat melodies and familiar tracks.

Though of course none of this applies if you can actually sing, because in that case there are no rules since anything you choose to do is likely to sound good. But for the general public, it is best to come prepared with a mental list of known hits, because long wait times can also sour the atmosphere.

And one last thing: regardless of what kind of voice you have, commit. Do not be that person who whispers into their microphone, and is drowned out by the impromptu back-up singers. Project. Exercise your vocal chords, and sing for the moment.

Because a moment is all we ever have.