3B
Wednesday, January 31, 2018 // The Statement 

Soundtracking: A Voice Crack

W

hy? Why would you betray 
me like this?

I trusted you. I gave 

you my everything, and you went and 
pulled this shitake mushrooms? 

We all know voice cracking isn’t 

incredibly uncommon. It happens to 
the best of us. Even the best voices to 
ever grace our ears hit speed bumps 
every now and then. I bet some nights 
when he’s unwinding and getting 
ready for bed, Morgan Freeman lets 
a crack slip into conversation. If the 
king of voiceovers himself can let 
his inner 13-year-old out, I should be 
allowed to let my voice crack once in 
awhile.

But no. For some reason, I am 

held to a higher standard than 
Freeman. By some unfounded logic, 
Matthew Harmon is not allowed to 
sneak in a voice crack without an 
incomprehensible amount of judgment 
falling upon his shoulders.

We can all agree puberty was a 

female dog. Whoever paints puberty as 
a time of beautiful blossoming can take 
a long walk off a short pier.

Yes I’m Changing — Tame Impala
During my freshman year of high 

school, my voice was squeaking more 
than a rickety floorboard. I couldn’t 
stop it. Every time I opened my mouth, 
my voice tried to do gymnastics, 
flipping 
around 
and 
eventually 

crashing and burning. However, in 
this tumultuous time, I wasn’t alone: 
Almost everyone was in the same boat. 
Kids were accidentally hitting Michael 
Jackson high notes left and right.

But in my 20s, I am alone. No 

solidarity for the occasional squeak 
when it comes out of a 20-year-old.

Let’s set the scene. Huge lecture 

hall. Over 200 students staring at a 
screen, iClickers poised and ready 
to fire at a moment’s notice, some 
diligently taking notes and others 
trying desperately to stay awake.

I am of the latter cohort.
I wasn’t trying to doze off. It’s never 

my intention, but sometimes numbers 
just lull me to sleep. I was never a 
math or science person (which kind 
of explains why I’m spending my free 
time writing this column) so whenever 
mathematic 
mumbo-jumbo 
like 

logarithms and parabolas start getting 
thrown around, you can guarantee 
I just bought a one-way ticket to 
Snoozeville.

Boredom — Tyler, the Creator
If you had seen my face, you would 

have been bored just by the transitive 
property 
(that’s 
some 
geometry 

knowledge for you, you’re welcome). 

Everything was in one ear and right 
out the other for me. Though my eyes 
were open and the lights were on, no 
one was home.

If you’ve stuck with this column 

for this long (which at this point 
is probably just my mom and the 
Statement editors), there’s something 
you should know about me. I get the 
worst 
second-hand 
embarrassment 

of anyone I know. If someone told me 
to run around in the street screaming 
“September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire, 
I’d probably do it in a heartbeat, but sit 
me down in front of someone else doing 
the same thing, you’ll see me squirm 
and avert my eyes. I can’t explain it but 
it’s the gospel truth.

The worst is when a professor asks a 

question and has the audacity to wait 
for someone to answer. If we don’t 
know, we won’t raise our hand. It’s 
as simple as that. However, I’d rather 
be outwardly wrong than sit in that 
professor-induced awkward moment. 
So when the professor in this lecture 
asked a question and no one wanted to 
answer, I knew what had to be done.

Someone had to be a hero and say 

something.

Something — The Beatles
This was my moment. I was about to 

step into my supersuit. The entire class 
would lift me up and parade me out of 
the lecture hall for having saved them 
from the silence. I was ready to shine.

Did I know the answer? No.
Did I care? Not at all.
Everything 
happened 
in 
slow 

motion. My hand crept into the air. I 
saw my professor’s face light up. His 
arm reached out and pointed at me. I 
think he was more so shocked that I 
was even willing to speak. He knew 
I wasn’t in the mood for numbers but 
I guess he thought I was giving it the 
good old college try.

“Yes, you in the back!” the professor 

said.

I was ready. I opened my mouth, 

ready to B.S. harder than I ever have 
before, but instead of some meaningless 
mathematical jargon, a tiny peep 
echoed across the room.

Frick me. 
How Could This Happen to Me? — 

Simple Plan

“I try to make a sound but no one 

hears me.”

In all my years of living, I had never 

seen more heads dart towards me at 
once until that day. Every single person 
in that lecture hall heard my vocal 
throwback to middle school. The entire 
purpose of me raising my hand was to 
break the silence, and break the silence 
I did.

What did I do to deserve this fate? 

I’m just an average dude. I pay my taxes 
when applicable. I sometimes hold the 
door for people assuming they aren’t 
too far away for it to be inconvenient. 
I do that little white person jog across 
the street when a car is waiting to turn.

Why do bad things happen to 

mediocre people?

I wanted to just click my heels and 

magically be hundreds of miles away 

from that lecture hall seat.

No Place Left to Hide — Jessica 

Hernandez and the Deltas

Have you ever seen those ostrich 

pillows where you can lay on your 
desk with your entire head covered 
by comfort? I wanted to bury myself 
10 feet under. I couldn’t even answer 
the professor’s question. He waited 
patiently again but I was just silent.

Then the waiting began again. The 

endless waiting.

I had failed. I let my class down but 

somehow — more importantly — I let 
myself down.

When duty called, my voice box kept 

me from realizing my true potential. 
Instead of being championed by the 
class like Rudy after the last play, I left 
class with my head hung low.

Death with Dignity — Sufjan 

Stevens

Shame. It’s a thing we feel from 

time to time. But we learn from our 
mistakes. We move forward, endlessly 
striving for better days. Did I learn 
anything this time around? Yes.

I learned to shut my fricking mouth 

or else middle school Matt is going 
to make an incredibly unsolicited 
appearance. 

The best we can do in times like 

these is recognize your place in this 
world and laugh. And sometimes write 
a column about it.

Lost This Time — Langhorne Slim
And the award for biggest L of lecture 

history goes to … My prepubescent 
vocal chords.

BY MATT HARMON, DAILY NEWS EDITOR

ILLUSTRATION BY HANNAH MYERS

