The past 24 hours have been torture. I have a song stuck in my head, on a loop, playing over and over, endlessly, until I am pretty sure it will soon drive all rational thought right out of whatever is left of my brain.
This happens to me all the time; I seem to perpetually have some sort tune providing a soundtrack to my life, whether I want it to or not. And it is in no way a relevant or even welcome commentary on what I am doing or how I am feeling, (Unless there is some sort of deep, hidden meaning about my existence in The Beverly Hillbillies theme song that eludes me.) It's just usually some random, catchy melody that takes up residence in my head and lives, rent free, until something else supplants it, and I start all over again.
The song providing today's anguish is (and I am warning you, it is likely to spread like a virus if you click on the link) is Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham. It was on the sound system at work yesterday when I arrived, and it's been going around and around in my head ever since. Now can you sympathise? It's a horrible, irritating, torment of a song, specifically designed to lacerate one's psyche.
Last week it was Georgy Girl, which was excruciating. ("Hey therrrrrre! Georgy girrrrrl! There's another Georgy deep inside!") I seriously thought of exploring pharmaceutical intervention. It went on for days.
When the song You Spin Me Right Round first came out, a guy I worked with and I used to sing it like Elmer Fudd. ("....wight wound, baby, wight wound, like a wecord baby...."). Now, when that song sticks in my head, it is that version, and no other. Pure misery.
Last summer, the kids and I were lamentably introduced to The Llama Song, which is possibly the most horrible of them all. Seriously, it's the herpes of catchy tunes; once you've got it, it will never, ever go away. I finally managed to get "doorknob! ankle! cold!" eased out of my brain, with some effort, and then we went to the Toronto Zoo, and what did we see? A llama. Right back at square one, I was.
When the kids were very small, one of the ways to keep them sane in the car was to play music from Barney the Dinosaur, which just about killed me. (They used to see the car as some sort of toddler torture device specifically designed to dismantle their sanity. The only problem with that theory was that I was right in there with them.) There was one song, in particular, that was impossible to wrench from my consciousness once it got in there, and I'd even find myself singing it in my sleep. ("Never talk to strangers, that's very good advice! 'Cause you just don't know if their good or bad, even though they may seem nice!") It's been years since we've had to listen to Barney the Dinosaur, and I can still sing the whole frigging song without hesitation.
Christmas is especially horrible, because I hate Christmas music at the best of times. When I get a Christmas song stuck in my head, I get no relief whatsoever, because it is everywhere...tv, the mall, work. It's unbearable. Even now I sometimes have "just hear those sleigh bells jing-a-ling, ring-ring-ring-a-ling too!" hanging around on the edges of my brain, must waiting to hop right in an drive me crazy.
Once I had this rattling around in my head while I was cleaning the bathroom, and now every time I clean the bathroom, it comes back for a visit. Gahhh! (Another reason to avoid cleaning the bathroom.)
Why don't I ever get Vivaldi running through my head? Or James Brown? Or The Clash? No, it's always the Spice Girls or "The Macarena" or, God help me, that song from Expo '67, Canada, which, seriously? is loathsome. (Although you have to admire the song writer who managed to fit "it's the hundredth anniversary of Confederation" into any lyric at all.)
Welcome to my hell.
No comments:
Post a Comment