soundtrack

We need a breather.

Or at least, I do.

The other day, Kim and Jason of Escape Adulthood (a great blog for rediscovering enjoyment of life) talked about music that has meaning in your life.

I live to my own soundtrack. You guys know that I have annual theme songs (this year’s being Sinatra’s "I’m Gonna Live Until I Die").

Did you know that I cling to songs like a security blanket?

Tracy Chapman’s "Give Me One Reason" reminds me of vacuuming
and mopping sticky bathroom floors. The summer I was janitor at a church, I did
everything with my headphones stuck in my ears, and the radio played Tracy
Chapman several times a day. Cranberries reminds me of a friend in high school
who smashed all his CDs as some sort of statement against the man or something
to that effect, and the Cranberries were the first to go. "Be Thou My Vision"
reminds me of my wedding because I walked down the aisle (or across the bridge and onto the beach)
to that song, and "Cheeseburger in Paradise"
makes me think of my honeymoon. Speaking of Jimmy Buffet, "Margaritaville" reminds
me of my college roommate (hi, Jen) who first got me into him. "One Week" by
Barenaked Ladies remind me of two friends, Pete and Craig, from college who
determined to memorize all the words (hi, Pete). "Sisters" (from White Christmas)
brings back memories of my sister and I mimicking the sisters on screen.
"Matchmaker" and "Singing in the Rain" are reserved for my niece because we danced
to those songs. "Silent Night" makes me sleepier than Benedryl because my mom
sang it to me every night (in fact, I think I was seven or eight before I
realized it’s a Christmas carol). "La Vie Boheme" from Rent and "Try a Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd without fail force me to get out of my chair and dance around the house. Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet makes me swoon not because of the story behind it but because writing the paper on that piece in college made me realize my love for not just music itself (which I already knew) but the history of music and its place in culture. Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings evokes all sorts of sadness, but especially the memory of 9/11 because it’s the piece that popped into my head the instant I found out about the first Tower. I want Verdi’s Requiem played at my funeral. There’s a slew of songs that my dad sang to me at nights: "Jesus Loves the Little Children," "Running Over," "Praise Him, Praise Him."