I've been hearing songs in my head. Out of nowhere tunes are popping up and following me through the day, or clinging to me in a wakeful moment of the night. An array of numbers from "Mama Mia!" were the first perpetrators. Could. not. shake. them. And then Billy Joel. Yesterday it was Cher. Quite a hodge podge, as you can see (and as I type Gordon Lightfoot's "If you could read my mind," is enjoying iterations in my mind!).
I have no clue what this is about. I think we all experience music in our minds from time to time, but this time it feels a bit like an assault! Is there a message here? Like, I need more music in my life? Well, as a matter of fact I do, but is my psyche in on this conspiracy? What gives?
I have recently set up my sewing machine in my office. It faces a television that I can't watch since broadcast signals went digital, and as yet I haven't bothered to do anything about a converter box. I prefer not to sew in silence, and although I regularly talk to myself while engaged in just about any project, that isn't quite the companionship I seek while I sew. The radio is an option, but my preference is NPR and the signal isn't great. iTunes? Maybe that's the answer.
Or maybe it has to do with rhythm and harmony. As other aspects of life bump along, perhaps the music in my head is a way to keep a sort of balance and offset the scale of discord that interferes with life's joy.
I don't know, but it's a curious thing. Curious.