I’d like to point out that this is one of those blogs that I thought of the title of first, and I spelled “Mathematicians” correctly the first time through. THAT is PROGRESS.
I’m having one of those “Every song ever written is great” sort of days. Where I could do nothing but sit in a room and listen to music nonstop — I do this at least once a week. Usually it’s happy stuff, or something that’s sparked by a memory, whatever. Today, it’s been maudlin and a bit dreamy-sappy. And I’ve just let it happen. Maybe it’s because my music player is shuffling with the best of them tonight — I’ve heard a lot of great songs on this holiday Thursday — it’s the Fourth of July, I’m in the ESPN newsroom, and the only thing going on is the rent. And a few baseball games. But meanwhile, I’ve been in a weird place the last few days. Not sure why, perhaps it’s the summertime blues, for which we all know there is no cure.
Regardless, the only thing that has really helped break my malaise has been the occasional moment alone with the headphones on.
Which brings me back to the title. “Tangled Up in Blue” is one of those songs that I always like, but on days like these, I truly, deeply FEEL. Near tears all day long, I’ve tried to figure out why. It’s probably due more to the fact that it’s really hot out and I hate heat, and I’m really tired after the NBA draft, and I’m just kinda whiny with all kinds of first-world problems. Oh, I can add this in too — my favorite baseball team, the Brewers, is playing really badly and my favorite player on said team, Ryan Braun, who I’d like to think will be my betrothed someday, has been on the DL for weeks. Like I said, first-world problems.
Anyway, through my veil of tears, faux, reasonable or otherwise, on my way to work today, I heard “Mother of Pearl” by Roxy Music, which wins the Favorite Song of the Last Two Years award, if that were a real thing. Damn — if you don’t know that song, listen to it. Research it. It’s not particularly sad, but it reminds me of leaving Oklahoma… I listened to this about 100 times a day my last few months in Oklahoma.
I got to work, where the sports news was slow, so I went to get a Diet Coke. On my way, I realized it’s been 10 years to the day since I saw my mother. She died on July 11, but July 4 was the last time we saw her at the hospital still alive, though she was barely that then. The week after, we shut off her machines. July 4 was when we had the meeting to decide her fate. And that made me cry in the elevator. I stepped off, stopped by the ladies room, cried some more, came out of the stall, tried to look like I wasn’t crying, and went back to the newsroom. Fortunately there was hardly anyone there.
A good cry in the bathroom at work kind of did the trick for a few hours. I didn’t really feel like talking, so I put on my headphones and immersed myself in my little world of melancholia and subversion. I was not let down– “Monkey Man” by the Rolling Stones, “Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who, “Stand Beside Me” by Hothouse Flowers, ” “California” by Liz Phair, even “Unsung” by Helmet… all special to me in some silly way or other.
Then the hammer fell: “Southern Cross, ” Crosby, Stills and Nash. My mom’s favorite and also in my top three favorite songs.
I had to turn it off before I created a scene in the newsroom. I got up and talked to some co-workers and now my inner stage play seems to have taken a somewhat happier turn.
I’m not sure what causes these weird moods in me. I like to think it’s something simple, like a vitamin deficiency or hormones. But chances are, I’m just, like I said, tired, cranky and possibly irritated that I’m working on the Fourth of July. But it could be worse… I could be unemployed and not working at a place I’m very happy to work.
In a few days, that’ll make me happy again. For today, apparently I’m wallowing. So bring it on. I’m armed with 25,000-plus songs, a few of which will surely keep me going.