Harmony In My Head
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

As Grandma said, "Tempis is fugiting." Time slips by like a Carrera Targa in the left lane, and before you know it, you're wondering why you ever thought a knee-length hemline/boots-combo flattering. Before we pull up rocking chairs and practice ranting about the Old Days (or equally irrelevant, last week), let's chat about now. Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True love is fascinated by the melody stuck in your head.

Altrok's crack team of researchers investigated (read: took an informal poll of my co-workers in an unnamed university office) songs playing in brains near you. One brain, which played "Hava Nagila" all of 1998, was curiously silent during our study. A second brain, used by a person who listens when spoken to, if you can imagine, spun the Enrique Iglesias buzzword hit "Hero." Another brain, usually tuned to a country music station, played a morning-long loop of the Mr. Rogers theme. The mental jukebox selected this ditty during a wiring frazzle that replaced Mr. Rogers with Mr. Ed. It's a bucolic smell in the neighborhood! Um. Yes, please, change your shoes.

You're trying to think, your suitemate's meowing "The Blue Danube." You hum "Eye of the Tiger" and your boss transfers you to Nome. Your wife says, "We have to talk," and you reflexively warble, "…feelings! Nothing more than feelings!" Why oh why, My Diva, you're asking, do you mention it?

Because no one's listening. Not to him- or herself, not to friends or relations, not to the noise in the atmosphere. No one's listening. That song in your head is a message: too much information for me, your brain, to process. Too much! Too loud! I quit! Too much tragedy! Too much Britney! I, your brain, traipse off to McDonald's now for a theme song that has it my way.

Well, alrighty. Your Sweet Potato Pie's brain's playing Devo's "Gates of Steel" this week. Like you, this week, the lips attached to that brain issued statements like, "Oh thank God, that plane crash was just a terrible, awful accident. Got any coconut rum?" Like yours, ears plugged themselves to screams and backbeats alike. So, enough nonsense. It's not working for anyone, especially people trying to talk to you whose voices sound strangely like Charlie Brown's mom's, so let's try something radical. Let's be brave! Let's stand in heroic profile with our capes gently fluttering in the wind (much the way Enrique's song will when our hearing's restored, ew!) Tell us what song's playing in your head. Tell us why you think that particular pesters you so.

You have my undivided attention.

©2001 Robin Pastorio-Newman