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Apathy Girl and Other Tales

Musings of the Overly Naive Cynic

One of two things is possible. Either A) God is really detail oriented or B) iTunes is trying to get me to commit suicide.

After what I will generously and colorlessly describe as a ‘crappy’ night at work, I came home to an empty house. My ‘kids’ are with their grandpa for the weekend. So of course I kick off my shoes and pour a glass of wine and turn on my computer so as to access what I happily referred to in my mind as ‘tuneskies.’

You see, for being a person with no discernible musical talent for at least the last six years (once upon a time I could sing, passably, and now can do the same only in my car or shower.) I am addicted to music. Where some people turn it on in the background to drown out their mind, music owns my mind. With each song my mood can change, shift, sway. When I am forcing myself to be happy I listen to Cake, Barenaked Ladies, Better than Ezra, They Might Be Giants, etc. When I have the time to succumb to depression and melancholy shuffle to Bon Iver, Kate Nash, Beirut or Iron and Wine. There is no danger in this music, in the emotions evoked or supported. The danger is in the void, when I let two converging arrows highlight themselves blue and dictate my fate. This evening I was tired, a little frustrated, and had no assigned or preferred music, so I just went with it…

“The Atlantic was born today and I’ll tell you how…The clouds above opened up and let it out.”

Oh no. A song that a long, long, long time ago signaled a highly specific emotion. And even though I no longer think about it, it is a time I no longer linger in, I can still hear that music, close my eyes, and all I see are dark grey clouds, in the distance, and I remember. But memories are romance, are perfect, are at once real and unreal, time can only tell for sure. So I shuffled forward.

“All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places, worn out faces.”

I don’t think you can kill yourself with a butter knife, but I was thinking about it. Oh, Gary Jules, how you have betrayed me. With your simple and repetitive piano and haunting overtures, I am pulled into a black hole, a time in my life where there was nothing but light, and that was nothing but darkness. As ridiculous and dramatic as that sounds, that is what that year and a half was. A time when I was able to enjoy the luxury of being exactly who I was, with another person, and understanding how dangerous of a thing that is. Because when you are with someone who seems like you at their core, but is only actually like you on the surface, it is quite easy to get sucked in, to get lost. Shuffle shuffle shuffle. I have to find something different. But at the same time, I know what I want to listen to.

“Half of what I say is meaningless. But I say it just to reach you.”

I actually had heard this song earlier today, which is fine. Timeless. And the closest thing I have to a void, depending on the song. ‘Yesterday’ ‘Across the Universe’ ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ all are loaded, unacceptable choices. But ‘Julia’ ‘Yellow Submarine’ ‘Sgt. Pepper’ those songs I heard drifting through my house as a child. If they were loud, if the floors of our trailer were pulsing with the rhythm of pure, unadulterated rock and roll, then I knew my Papa was happy, and in turn, all was right with my world. The music my father listened to has become more and more important to me as I have grown up, and has helped me understand him as a person unto himself, not just as someone who is my father. So I go find ‘The Logical Song’ by SuperTramp. This song encompasses my father, it makes me think of how much he has sacrificed, how the universe and some of the lesser people in it have tried to change his logic. Thankfully to no avail.  Ok, this song is a little depressing too. Shuffle Shuffle Shuffle.

“I want to live where soul meets body. And let the sun wrap its arms around me.”

More overtures. More memories. More. More. More. I kept trying to find music that meant nothing, that had no assigned meaning, or memory, no such luck. No one specific person, no one certain time, no single song, has more or less of an effect on me, they all make me feel something, just different. So as I write this I am wallowing in music, letting iTunes drag me around on a too intense guided tour of my mind. Happy that there is a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere. Even if it makes me feel so much that I think my death, inevitably, will be by iTunes.

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