I realized Saturday as I planted ground cover around our 250 year old ginormous willow oak tree that I really miss listening to music. The reason I realized that was that I had my MP3 player plugged in my ears and I was randomly listening to some old and new music.
At first, I just bobbed my head as my favorite songs came on. Then I started softly singing. Then I started dancing. (Did I mention that this tree is in our front yard) I didn't start singing along LOUDLY until the end of my planting, busting into the house to a shocked Dave and Conor as I sang surprisingly well considering I couldn't hear my own voice:
"I'm coming out so you better get the party started! I'm coming out, I'm coming!!!"
Or maybe I was singing so well exactly because I couldn't hear my voice, but you thought of that already, didn't you. (Meanie!)
I also decided that it was time to start listening to my CDs while I drive to work instead of getting all bummed out from the news that is NPR. (I do love it, but lately it's sad making) So I put in the first set of CDs, some that I like listening to while making dinner.
Apparently, while Norah Jones and Gillian Welsh are great for cooking, they are not the people I want to hear singing when I'm driving to and from work. They are soft and romantic and emotional. This morning I replaced those CDs with the songs I start craving as soon as the CD engaged: Garbage, Alanis Morisette, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Fat Boy Slim. This music is loud. And energetic. And often angry. That is evidently the music I want to listen to as I drive to and from work. Loud, energetic, and sometimes angry. It seems like an accurate description of me during that time, too.