Over the six years I've lived in my house and made the Great Trek West by Southwest every morning, Monday through Friday, I have done all kinds of things to make the commute less mind-numbing. With varying results. I have listened to the radio. But, I can't abide commercial radio, as I have developed an instant hive-breakout as soon as I hear a political or car ad. So, that leaves our two Public stations. One is classical and it is very nice - soothing, uplifting, mind-numbing. The other is...GAWD AWFUL. I would love to go on about it, but my blood pressure soars. Let's just say that it is ruled-over by a nasal-ly, pompous little jerk with visions of grandeur and limited vision of any other kind.
I have listened to books on CD - most of which were thoroughly enjoyable. Some of which were horrid. What, may I ask the producers of such entertainment, were you thinking when you had the male voice go into a falsetto for the woman's part???? So I spend most of my journey either talking to myself (on the over-the-mountain part where no one can see me) or listening to music CDs. If there is no music to distract me, I think about the beautiful landscape through which I am driving (unless it's foggy snow, then I am clutching the wheel and hoping I make it down the mountain alive); I wonder what's become of the elderly lady with the pitch-black dyed beehive hairdo that lives in the neat little trailer with the white deer sculptures. I had almost convinced myself that I should stop and introduce myself (and check on her, nosy Nellie that I am) when I passed one day and there were people cutting the grass and neatening things up - people that looked like relative-types. I felt better. And I spend a lot of time wondering why people throw trash out of their car windows. It has never, ever crossed my mind to toss out anything (other than the occasional apple core - I think of myself as Sweezie Appleseed) out of my car window.
Then there's the music. Along with names, smells and electric shocks, music stirs up deep memories. (Just kidding about the electric shocks....but I am sure it would stir me up greatly) Leonard Cohen's "Suzanne" takes me straight back to South Dakota in the summer of 1969. Jimi Hendrix' "Purple Haze" finds me sitting in my dorm room in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. Any of the early Beatles' songs has me prone in our living room, giant headphones on my head, tethered silently to the hifi set. Classical music tends to make me wistful for Blossom Music Center in Cleveland. Bagpipes make me cry - instantly - and stir up all kinds of genetic stuff.
What sets off your metronome?