*Teenage Wasteland*
It's funny what all this free time will do a recently unemployed person. I think I'm regressing to, like, 15-year-old Rebecca. Remember when you were a teenager and you heard some song and it resonated so strongly with you that it, like, hurt to listen to it? Yep, that moment is happening to me all the time these days. Like this afternoon when I was supposed to be applying for jobs and I was casually listening to the Smith's Meat Is Murder (who was I kidding- you can't CASUALLY listen to the Smiths. At least not when you are depressed about not having gotten your dream job or your dream boyfriend or your dream apartment.). I Want The One That I Can't Have came on and- just like in high school- my chest started tightening up and little hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. It's just weird when music or art or movies expresses exactly what you are thinking. Sometimes it's cathartic or fun (or at least passes the hours when everyone else is at work) to wallow in the pathos of a dark song. I mean I could have written these lyrics:
On the day that your mentality
catches up with your biology-
I want the one I can't have
and it's driving me mad
it's written all over my face.
I'm just glad it wasn't Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want. I might've had to have spent the rest of the day in bed. Thank God for small favors, I guess.
It's funny what all this free time will do a recently unemployed person. I think I'm regressing to, like, 15-year-old Rebecca. Remember when you were a teenager and you heard some song and it resonated so strongly with you that it, like, hurt to listen to it? Yep, that moment is happening to me all the time these days. Like this afternoon when I was supposed to be applying for jobs and I was casually listening to the Smith's Meat Is Murder (who was I kidding- you can't CASUALLY listen to the Smiths. At least not when you are depressed about not having gotten your dream job or your dream boyfriend or your dream apartment.). I Want The One That I Can't Have came on and- just like in high school- my chest started tightening up and little hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. It's just weird when music or art or movies expresses exactly what you are thinking. Sometimes it's cathartic or fun (or at least passes the hours when everyone else is at work) to wallow in the pathos of a dark song. I mean I could have written these lyrics:
On the day that your mentality
catches up with your biology-
I want the one I can't have
and it's driving me mad
it's written all over my face.
I'm just glad it wasn't Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want. I might've had to have spent the rest of the day in bed. Thank God for small favors, I guess.
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