Thursday, November 11, 2010

A sad little ditty, sung to the tune of a Taylor Swift song

The other day I was in the car, listening to Taylor Swift. Shocking, I know, or maybe not, but either way, I have an eight year old daughter, so I am exposed to this particular kind of bubble gum teenie pop on a regular basis. I know the words to several of these girlie Disney backed tunes, though luckily in most cases I wouldn't be able tell you the name of the artist, and my guess is that it doesn't matter, in about five minutes, they won't be around anyway.

But Taylor Swift kind of sticks with me a little, and I hum along, even when my kid isn't in the car. Don't judge. I can relate to the angsty teenaged love stuff. I used to be that girl.

I think, as I approach middle age (forty in two years, and as these youngsters say, OMG), what's really missing from my life is a soundtrack. There aren't any songs that fit my particular struggles, so I feel pretty isolated. Nothing to make me swoon at the sight of my weary husband coming in at the end of a three day business trip. Nothing about the burned pork chops or the bleary middle of the night bedside calls (from the kids, not the Hubs). Nothing about the worries about ever being able to afford anything fun again (Girlie's new front teeth? Hello orthodontist, let me just donate a kidney first.). Nothing about the stress over re-entering the work force or watching the neighbor gals head off to work while I stay at home (she wears pencil skirts, I wear t-shirts).

Okay, maybe none of this stuff is song worthy. Does that mean there aren't any happy endings? Now I'm just depressing myself.

Time for another Taylor Swift song.

** Update: A very concerned friend called to stage an intervention. She claims that country music might solve this problem. I've never been a fan, but I agreed that I might be okay with the old stuff. She's promised a playlist with some Tammy Wynette.

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