You know that song that comes on the radio and you just have to turn the volume up and you roll your windows down even if it’s like, mid-December and you sing at the top of your lungs? If you know me outside of these random rants, you have probably been around for 434,567 of these moments. If not more.
Since my childhood my brother has made fun of me, and told me to shut up or even resorted to jokes at my expense:
ME: *singing excitidely*
BROTHER: Hey Chel, who sings this song?
ME: Oh! Well, it’s The Beach Boys. It’s from their-
BROTHER: Well, let THEM sing it.
Ha ha. Cute.
I can even tell sometimes that my friends hate that I do it- but I just can’t help myself. As my mother once said, “life is too short not to sing along.” And she’s totally right. What is so wrong with loving a piece of music, no matter how ridiculous, so much that you have to belt it out, right there no matter what you’re doing or who you’re with?
That’s right. This behavior can even leave the vehicle into that unsafe place known as… the World.
For example, the other night a gentleman friend and I went to see a late movie at a mall near Syracuse. When we left the movie theatre the mall was totally empty. Very Dawn of the Dead. And over the radio was one of my favorite jam sesh songs- Torn by Natalie Imburglia. You know, the one with the line “lying naked on the floor” that good stuff. Well, considering there was pretty much no one around, I decided to star in my own one girl theatrical performance. One night only. Unless you’re creepy and like, watch me get dressed in the morning or something and have happened to catch me perform the same routine to my mirror. So I did my weird little dance and sang my soul out. In that moment, along with many other sort-of-drunk nights, I was Natalie Imburglia. Eat your heart out, baby. It felt great.
The gentleman friend and I stopped seeing each other after this experience.
JUST KIDDING! He was jiggy with it. He didn’t partake in song or anything, but he was totally into it. I think.
Anyway, the point is that sometimes you just have to sing along. You know that point in writing some crazy long paper where you’re like, more than halfway through but also totally stuck on what else to say? Throw on that song that makes you want to roll the windows down and go wild. Sing. Dance. Jump. Whatever. And then compose yourself, and finish that paper, girlfriend. Write the crap out of Rousseau or Human Sexuality or freaking economics. Just sing it out and dance it out. And the world will start to spin the right way again. Even if the song is Jane Fonda by Mickey Avalon.