I think that "I Can't Make You Love Me" is the unofficial theme song for every female soap star (along with "My Favorite Mistake"). Listening to the lyrics the other night I wondered who would say that, what kind of woman, and I decided she'd be a soap star. I think every episode I've ever watched featured some scene at some point where that song should've been cued up just in time for the final seduction scene before he leaves her moving on to her mother, sister, sister who's really her mother and/or child ... This job gives me great incentive to write snippets and thoughts as they occur to me. My brain, some parts of it at least, enjoys the autopilot sensation as the rather mindless task of transcribing allows me to get lost on other thoughts, mostly the song lyrics buzzing in my ear. I find that more than ever I'd like some backstory on certain songs - for Annie Lennox to tell me why she wrote Why?

There's a janitor that stares at me extremely hard every single time he walks by. Just now he grunted an un huh that was not at all unlike Billy Bob Thornton's in Sling Blade. Gross.

Tell me. Why?

Ga! Tell me why ... ain't nothin' but a heartbreak. Lord a-mercy. I found the old Backstreet Boys on the hard drive just the other day and cracked up. That was the jam! As was No Diggity by Blackstreet, but that was a couple of years before. This guy I used to know used to call me shorty bang bang. Why I ever thought that was endearing I am just not sure.

Came across the name "Skudder" and could not even control the chuckles. And in an effort to suppress the giggles I wound up sounding a lot like a gerbil. Danger.

Anyway that reminded me of a junior high band trip to PA when Lisa and I combed through the phonebook looking for odd names. I think I recall laughing a little too hard about someone's last name being Hamburger ... oh to be back in the Golden Wave polo toting my sax in the Amish country. I'm actually quite close to the Amish country now. Maybe I'll visit this summer.

God. Remembering that polo makes me remember the rest of that outfit - those white pants and those shoes. Horrid. Forrest Gump didn't have to wear shoes as bad as those when he wore leg braces. And my feet froze in those dern things in the Pumpkintown and Easley parades. Boo Mr. Manigault. Curses and boo for making us wear that junk ... I did love the jacket though!

Funnily enough, Glory Days by the Boss just cued up on my random playlist. Awesome. What does that tell me? The good ol' days will pass you by in the blink of a young girl's eye indeed.

I miss Mr. Duncan, the head skutter, deejayin' James Taylor's greatest hits on a daily basis. I do not ever hear JT and not see Ronnie D's smilin' face which makes me smile myself.

Alright. Well I am going to go. Feeling weird. I'm still adjusting to the schedule and find that I'm not getting nearly as much sleep, which is not so bad had I a better handle on managing this time shift. But I feel as though I've lost my way posting as of late ...