True story: I really like Pink.
Truly. It’s not a sarcastic statement and I’m not even trying to be funny. I genuinely think she kicks ass.
There’s nothing more judgy and shitty than when you’re sitting in the bar and a song comes on that you just love so you begin to hum, maybe even belt out the lyrics karaoke style, until, you realize that your social circle doesn’t approve of certain things, AKA pop music. Suddenly, you have to watch just how earnestly you sing lest you become the target of unkind chuckles.
We’re all drawn to different things for different reasons. With music, it may be a lyric or a guitar riff. It’s not necessarily something you can explain in a blog post. For me, that’s always what drew my heart to geek culture in the first place.
And this applies to a lot of shit. It isn’t just music.
I have been acting like a superior jerk about Fifty Shades of Grey. I will wholeheartedly admit that now. There’s really no good reason for it. In my mind, I’ve justified it because “there’s other great books to read," but just because it’s not my taste doesn’t mean it isn’t helping someone else. I call a great book, “literary therapy," and perhaps the Grey books are just a different variety. Whatever your prescription, right?
But let me bring this back to music. If you were to run through the tunes on my iPhone, you’d find a bizarre mix of people and taste. Beyonce next to Bob Dylan. Vince Guaraldi next to The White Stripes. One area of life where my obsessive mind has a wider starting point is music. My reading tastes, movie preferences and design leanings can be so narrow. It’s probably a positive sign that my mind is a bit broader in an area or two.
And come on, you have to admit when you’re driving home from work and you hear that refrain… "I’ve had a shit day…" it all feels better.