***Earworm (noun): a song that gets stuck in your head and makes you go frickin’ bananas to the point that you have to blog about it or you brain will explode
This is not the earworm I am battling, but it was too funny not to share.
I’ve got one of those maddening earworm situations happening at the moment. Although I only saw the rock musical play Rent one time on TV many years ago, I still remember all of the lyrics to the song “Seasons of Love” with absolute precision. This is what keeps replaying again and again in my mind:
“Five thousand twenty-four hundred thirty-six second miiiinutes…
Five thousand twenty-four hundred thirty-six minutes are there…
Five thousand twenty-four hundred thirty-six second miiiinutes…
Five thousand twenty-four hundred thirty-six minutes somewhere…”
I’ll spare the fact checkers and list the purported lyrics per the vast majority of the rest of the internet (and possibly the Screen Writers Guild as well):
“Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear…
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…
How do you measure…measure a year?”
The internet just couldn’t stop there, so it felt compelled to add even more lines (below). As with all good music, I can assure you that there are only four lines in this song and that they are meant to be sung ten thousand times in a row exactly as I originally wrote them above.
“In daylights… In sunsets…
In midnights… In cups of coffee…
In inches… In miles…
In laughter… In strife…
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…
How do you measure a year in the life…
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.”
Well clearly my version is the right one, so pay no attention to any naysayers who might attempt to throw out frivolous comments like “But Joanna, your words aren’t actual numbers…” or “That isn’t how telling time works…” or even “No seriously. I’ve seen the play and your version is in no way representative of the lyrics.” Pshaw! I won’t fall for your tomfoolery!
However I am a kind person and would never want to dismiss others even when they are clearly out of touch with reality. So just for the sake of giving the little guy (the entire internet) a chance, let’s pretend that their version of the lyrics was an actual indicator of the way one could break out the number of minutes in a year.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. That’s a monster boatload of minutes.
And in contemplating that daunting number, I started thinking about the hit counter on my own little blog. It isn’t a drop in the ocean compared to the stats of innumerable sites out there, but the number still amazes me nonetheless.
As of this moment, the counter has almost reached forty thousand hits. In Internet-landia, it’s almost approaching amoebic status! Perhaps I will achieve paramecium-ic status by year end! Smallest of the small potatoes. I know. But that still represents forty thousand interactions of some kind. Forty thousand opportunities to share something with another person.
In the last few days in particular, I have read several incredible people’s blogs and comments that mention how they often see no value in their words. The self criticisms have ranged from “I just gripe and whine” to “I’m spinning my wheels.” I have heard “What I say isn’t important” or “I just ramble. My posts don’t matter.”
The wild part to me is that they absolutely matter. I know because they matter to me. I can’t begin to articulate how much I receive from their words. I need their emotions, their realities, and their perspectives on their journeys (even if they don’t call them that). I see the amazing wonderful everythings that they add to this world.
Personally (and this is just me) (but I’m thinking that leading the sentence with the word “Personally” should have cleared that up already), I don’t buy into the idea that you should only write or say something that you know is helpful, happy, thoughtful or uplifting. I love me some good inspiration, and I want to feel bliss and joy for at least twenty-five of the available twenty-four hours in a day.
But I still get my feelings hurt by people I love. I frequently handle situations in ways that are so beyond terribly poor. Sometimes I feel lonely and sad and angry and frustrated. I hurt physically and emotionally. My thoughts become cloudy and my path unclear. I become disappointed in myself for making sad choices so often that the number could be used as part of the lyrics of a song in a rock musical play on TV. Thankfully the person who heard it would probably hose up the number in those lyrics beyond recognition anyway.
Every day isn’t like that. Yes I do make mistakes aaaaaaall the time, and I definitely make them on a daily basis. But I am always hoping for better. I am always wanting more for myself and, more importantly, from myself. I will have the life I dream of because I am tenacious as hell and refuse to go quietly.
It helps me to feel like I’m not the only person meandering the expansive “Human Under Construction” zone. Pardon our dust, but the lady of the house was busy blogging and also she hates dusting more than pantyhose. But she hates sporks even more…that freaky mutant plasticware… Bleh!
Our words and interactions sing to countless people around us. Although those people may not get every detail right, some part of what we say and who we really are sticks with them. Those parts then ripple out to others as well.
If you know without question that you approach the world from a treacherous place of cruelty, pure meanness, or blatant dishonesty, take these words as a serious call to reevaluate what you are doing. We all stand at crossroads at different times in our life, and when that happens, you have a chance to pick another path. Choose a better way. This is your moment to change everything.
But if you are human and raw and just doing the best you can, I speak your language. If you stumble and want to get up but simply can’t figure out how, I am a frequent traveler on that road, too. If you don’t know if you will be able to hold on another day, I call to you from my heart and plead with you now – just wait it out a little longer. The dark clouds will clear. The importance of your place in this world is beyond measure. You matter to more people than you fathom and you affect innumerable lives throughout the five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of each year.
Sing your song – whatever the lyrics may be – and I will gladly sing along. I have a decent voice. Just ask my shower. But not my kids. Their reviews of my shower singing are not to be trusted. (With that said, you should anticipate that I will probably eff up the words so apologies in advance.)
Love and light always dear ones! Joanna
And just like me –>>
Rick-rolling will never cease to be hysterical to me. It is utterly stupid and truly one of my most favorite things ever ever ever. So boo-yah!
Momentum of Joy 