I have a terrible singing voice. It’s very flat.

This has not, however, kept me from singing—karaoke, Rock Band, in the car, while drunk. I love music and I love to sing. I love watching musicals—I remember watching South Pacific on HBO when I was in high school and that feeling of excitement that swept over me when Nellie Forbush washed that man right outta her hair, or when Bali Hai was calling me.

I loved that feeling, and I would sing along whenever I could. I still break out into song—I sing opera-style for my daughter when I want her to do something or want to emphasize what I’m saying. I sing to myself when I’m anxious or frustrated, reminding myself that it’ll all be okay. I sing to make sense of my life.

My life is a musical, and I love the fact that Glee lets me in on a bit of that each week for each character. I can’t wait to see each new episode, to see what songs they’ll pick and how happy they’ll be to be singing, even if they’re singing something sad or angry.

And the dancing—my goodness, the dancing! Who doesn’t love to break out into dance? We have disco days at home, where my daughter and I will start dancing when a good song comes on. Sometimes I can even get my husband to join in.

Glee makes me happy because for about forty minutes a week, I get to  …