The sounds of silence - I wish!

Have you heard the term "earworm"? Probably have - it was all over the news a few months ago, I think. Someone came up with the term for a phenomenon that has plagued mankind since humans could make music or probably even hum.

When you have a song that you can't get out of your head - that's an earworm. Or maybe it's an ear worm. Whatever. While it's a great term it also icks me out a little, thinking I have something crawling around in there, beyond the reach of the Q-Tip.

I get a song stuck in my head at any hour of the day, but I just think of another song I like, and this blocks any annoying ones out of my head. It usually works for me. Don't want Bon Jovi wailing away, "And I'll love you alllllwaaaaaaays..."? Think of Tom Jones..."Sex bomb! Sex bomb! You're a sex bomb! And baby you can turn me on..." or Neil Diamond..."Sweet Caroline (BUH BUH BUH) Good times never felt so good...". Sometimes a little Paul Simon, "People say she's crazy, she got diamonds on the soles of her shoes..." or "I know a man. He came from my home town. He wore his passion for his woman like a thorny crown..."

Sometimes my best efforts cannot dislodge the little bugger from my mind though, or sometimes other tunes pop into my head that are worse than the one I was trying to replace.

That is what happened this morning. The soundtrack of the early morning for me was, "YEAHHHHHH BABY!!! I like it like that, I like it like that..." and when I was roused out of my sleep by the yelling singing (I am sounding schizophrenic!) I decided it was time to turn the dial of my mental radio. And what came next was so out of left field that it surprised even me.

Bolero!

You know when the conductor has worked the musicians up into a frenzied pace, right when the piece just gets going so much you almost have to turn the volume down? Completely out of nowhere, there it was blaring in my subconcious at what must have been 5am.

The other side of my brain said (a la one George Michael song), "WOULD YOU TURN THAT RADIO DOWN, I'M TRYING TO GET SOME SLEEP!"

I put some thought into it and debated between my top three solid choices, the best bets for getting my heart rate down: Pachelbel's Canon, Delibes' Flower Duet, and Camille Saint-Saens' The Swan.

I settled on the Swan, and gently glided back to sleep.

Throughout the entire day, Bolero kept creeping back in and like someone sneaking up behind me and blowing a trumpet in my ear, had me mentally startled all day long.

Would you all just be quiet in there?!

There has to be some sort of branch of psychology that "reads" what these earm worms say about our psyche. Honestly...I think I'd rather not know.

P.S. Remember how yesterday I said that maybe I will throw in gratuitous mentions of people whose names get searched a lot in the hopes of increasing my hits?

Yeah.

About that.

Sometimes people enter certain search terms and for some reason end up on my site. And frankly, sometimes they are people I’d rather not have on my site!

Today's magic search phrase leading someone to my green pastures was "girls poop picture".

Eeeww.

Shame on you. That CAN’T be for a science project. Sicko.

And this wasn't the only disturbing thing that happened electronically today. I sent out my monthly newsletter giving folks on my mailing list an update about what's new with the company, t-shirt and product line and other groovy stuff I have discovered. People have to sign up for it, or give me permission to sign their name up. In other words, I haven't bought, borrowed or stolen mailing lists.

One marvelously brilliant fuckwit sent me this:
"honestly whos the fuck are you"

I could not help myself...I responded.

"Oh, nice! Don’t worry, you’re unsubscribed and blocked.
PS It’s WHO the fuck are you. Smarty pants."

Siiigh. What a day, dealing with all manner of worms.