I was once accused of being “socially-uncaring” by Ben’s father, which was especially hilarious considering he did (and still does) work for a company that manufactures parts for a superfluous home appliance. He works as tech-support. At the time of aforementioned accusation, I was in nursing school. When I pointed out the obvious discrepency, the only other poo that he could fling in my direction is that I preferred to listen to something other than NPR while in the car, didn’t pour over the works of Michael Moore, and I disliked sitting around talking about the sad state of the world, because well, I don’t like to be depressed unnecessarily.
(and I wonder why I broke up with him).
(no, no I don’t)
Growing up, the radio at my house was always tuned to NPR or WFMT. It was like living in a dentist’s office. To this day, I still have a vast appreciation for classical, as I played concert cello for many, many years. I cut my teeth on Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and can still recall watching the film version while I stayed home with chicken pox in the first grade (and that wasn’t the first time I’d seen it). To say that I grew up a bit twisted would be the understatement of the year.
(as a complete aside, the NPR skit on SNL actually took my breath away, I was laughing so hard. It’s_just_SPOT_ON.)
The older I got, however, I began to realize that one didn’t actually NEED to listen to music that made them either feel badly or required too much thought. Sometimes a song is, afterall, just a song.
Yesterday, I dragged my poor, sweet husband out to buy Britney’s new CD, because if you’re going to go the absolute opposite direction from NPR, Britney may be it. I genuinely think that this may be the first time in history that I’ve bought a CD on the day it dropped, and I am not disappointed. It’s a quindessential pop album. Her voice is absolutely overprocessed and almost electronic on some tracks, but you know what? I can dance my ass off to it (very, very, very badly, but it’s MY living room. Someday I will fufill my life’s goal of learning The Robot. Sadly, though, it’s not today.), and some days, that may be all that I need.
(besides, between the fact that the baby seems to dig it AND loves Diet Coke, my husband may have just reached new levels of horrification at the whole nature versus nurture debate. And that my friends, is priceless.)