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February 16, 2006

It's got a good beat and you can dance to it.

I read somewhere that a bad habit can be broken in three weeks. What happens during week #4? Does the bad habit return doubly re-energized from its vacation? Or does another Bad Habit begin to set up house and sleep in my bed?

This morning, I left my house for work when it was still dark and the moon was out. Wrong, so wrong. But I accomplished somewhere between .0002% and .0005% of my to-do list yesterday, and I have a software fix-it guy arriving in half an hour and yet the list! Keeps! Growing! (My to-do list is about 65 feet long, single spaced. In ten point type.)

So of course I am procrastinating by writing down complaints about said to-do list and making nostalgic playlists for my ipod. About half an hour ago, I pulled out a CD by the quintessential college band, Poi Dog Pondering. (I'm ripping CDs. Not on the to-do list.) Their music is generally upbeat and hippie-esque, and they wrote songs with catchy little titles like "Spending the day in the shirt you wore..." and "Living with the Dreaming Body." I listened to them reverently during the university years -- I even went to a few concerts where I was appropriately grungy and self-aware. The grunge time was not my favorite phase, since I have an overwhelming love of hair care products and a biological need to MasterCard, and often. I felt like I was a closet yuppie, hiding my trips to the mall like some kind of fetish. Anyway, I'm amazed how music is able to draw you right back to the past, to where you were when you used to listen to that same song, again and again.

Some people think your first music purchases say something about your personality. My first record was a 45, and it was technically a gift from my older brother. I think I was about 7 years old, and he gave me the single "Take This Job and Shove It," by Johnny Paycheck. If that isn't serendipity, I don't know what is. I believe that song marked my life, and I'm thinking of suing my brother. But I digress.

The first actual record I bought was also a 45 single, "I Love Rock & Roll" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. The first album I ever bought... John Cougar. Jack & Diane, baby! My first casette tape... Midnight Starr (no parking on the dance floor, yo) but I soon redeemed myself for all the glitter eyeshadow by going on a U2 binge. I was convinced that if I could just meet Bono he'd fall in love with me and we could sing profound songs about racial inequity together. That is ... until I discovered Prince. My social consciousness went right out the window, and in came lip gloss and the tightest pair of Calvin Kleins in the neighborhood. Seems I have a curious addiction to funk, and there is no known cure.

Since I have no musical ability and have never even picked up an instrument (well, one time I picked up a guitar and handed it to its owner), I just don't exhibit signs of musical snobbery. Although that's pretty obvious, now that you know about the Midnight Starr thing ...

The software guy is here. Maybe I'll greet him with "I'll be your freak-a-zoid, c'mon and wind me up..."

Posted by laurie at February 16, 2006 7:16 AM