Hmm. Am having a problem of what to write about today.

Was thinking I was all creative, going off on an obscure tangent about the power of sound, cheek kissing, and tummy growling, when I decided I may have been sitting in a room with an open bottle of glue a bit TOO long.

What is it about Fridays? Do we start the week with a fixed amount of energy, intelligent thoughts, and motivation, which gets deducted from our total “thought-bank” as fast as a trip to Neiman’s can drain my bank account? Have I used all my relatively impressive thoughts and statements by, say, Thursday afternoon, thus rendering me non-smart, non-humorous, and non-creative by 3pm on Friday?

If so, I must have used my total allotment by Tuesday morning this week.

Not that it’s been a bad week…just jumbled, fast-paced, and (sad to say, but probably true,) unsuitable to my quasi-type-A personality.

Too much up in the air this week for my liking. Control freak that I pretend I’m not (truly, I’m not THAT bad, despite my only-child-ness,) having more than 2 major things up in the air for me sends me over the edge of sanity (or at least to the edge of the precipice!)

So, long week notwithstanding, I’m looking forward to a weekend o’ fun. Am getting ready by listening to some beach music, booty jams (ya Bran, I’m talking about you!) and other things I have labeled in my “good stuff” folder at work. Trying to get myself motivated to do anything but head home after work, put on my softest pjs, sit on my couch, and be a big ol’ piece of crap. (Appealing, no?)

Which brings me to the topic of music. Like certain smells, I find that music plays such a huge role in my life; sets the soundtrack of the day/week/year, of sorts. Back when making mix tapes was something to do instead of go to your Math 30 class, I found myself making a new mix in the midst of a semi-crisis (something along the lines of having to ask someone to my cocktail and being stressed out about it.) A good friend of mine pointed this out to me while driving in the car listening to “Go Your Own Way,” my then-mantra for some jerk-face who thought that making out with a not-cute, trashy girl in front of me at the respectable establishment of Players was a super idea. “Take that,” I was thinking, “I’ll go my OWN way.” Until my friend mentioned it to me, I hadn’t realized that I was using music as my own subtle form of therapy.

It’s a practiced form of therapy (check out this article), one that I think many of us participate in without meaning to. After a long day of work, I love putting on my favorite soothing CD, and just relaxing. I’ve got songs that motivate me when I’m running (how I remember this after being a dormant non-exerciser for coming-upon-5 months now should reiterate the strength of music here!), songs that I put on during my Sunday “clean-the-house-often-with-a-hangover-semi-penance-for-drinking-more-than-the-state-of-Mississippi-did-the-night-before” sessions, and of course, we all know about the power of a “romance” cd, a bottle of wine, and some candlelight.

Like most things, each person has their unique taste and preferences for music…who but me would associate “Love Bites” with 7th grade slow dances (and be known to dance with a bartender in Cleveland at Hooters just to prove this point!) Certain songs will forever make me think of different times in my life: “Send me on my Way” (Rusted Root) makes me think of driving around Westlake w/Carianne the summer before my senior year in High School; “Bouncing Around the Room” reminds me of Toe-Walking Freak Brandy (!!); “Son of a Preacher Man” will forever remind me of learning to shag (the dance, you perverts!) in the Granville Towers hallway. Even a few notes of these tunes lead to reminiscing…and I love that the smallest thing can put a smile on your face.

So that’s what I’ll leave you with, my friends, thoughts of days gone by, good tunes, and big smiles.

Have a great weekend,


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