The Universe is Talking...

For three days running I’ve woken up with the song "The Sign" playing in my head. Now for those of you who don’t remember this horrific piece of pop fluff, it’s a bouncy, repetitive pile of crap that I hated then and hate now with the exponential factor of 5+ years to refine and augment the depth of my distaste. And yet I’ve woken up to it every morning for the better part of this week.

Now I’m sitting here with an hour and forty minutes to kill in between those moments I’m actually, you know, WORKING, pondering the meaning. Not of the song itself; there’s a more pointless endeavor than my already soul-sucking subsistence. No, I’m wondering if the Great Organizing Principle (and no, I don’t mean the Republican party — no GOP abbreviations or affiliations here) is trying to tell me something.

But what? Of course, there’s the one thing I really and truly want — my current Grail, if you will. (Yes, yes, the BOOK, where’ve you been, come on, stay with me here) Does this mean what I hope it means? (I don’t even dare voice it aloud.)

Come on, though, we’re talking Ace of Base. If the Great Organizing Principle wanted to communicate news of that magnitude, wouldn’t He choose a more worthy venue, like maybe Dave Matthews Band’s “I’ll Back You Up” ?

90 minutes and counting…

Of course, it could just be that I’m channeling crap music through the abundance of fillings in my teeth. Not a happy possibility, but equally likely, I guess. (Mr. Jones, it’s time to ask yourself — what do you believe?) Still, though, it’s got to mean something. Let’s examine the lyrics as I heard them in my head: “I saw the sign/ something something something/ and something happiness”. Signs and happiness? Sounds pretty damn positive to me!

Happiness is a choice, though, you know? I mean, you can choose to believe something will turn out positive, or you can choose the other option. We see what we want to. (Ask any woman who’s ever loved a man who later came out to her.)

80 minutes…

I need to do something with my cuticles… no wait, sorry, that’s a whole other subject. What else could that stupid song mean? And you’re thinking, why does it have to mean anything? It doesn’t, I suppose, but I’m among those superstitious faithful who operate with the belief that everything has a meaning, a reason if you will, whether we ever understand the reason or not. For those of you in the psychology field, I know you’re thinking ooo, Magical Thinking! But what the hell is religion anyway, right? Dead men rising from their sepulchres (don’t you love it when you know written words that you have no idea how to pronounce?), so-called Holy Ghosts floating around, entering you and filling you with their “Spirit”? A man had to dream that one up. (No offense, guys; just a cheap shot. I’m crazy-bored here.) Magical Thinking indeed.

70 minutes…

Oh, I don’t know what it means. Maybe I don’t wanna know… but maybe it’s good news. (“Something’s comin’/ I don’t know what it is/ But it is gonna be great…” — Tony sings that in West Side Story… but we all know what happened to him at the end. Chino knifed that thievin’ white boy down!) Good good good! Positive positive positive!!!

Barf-o-rama.

If I sit a certain way, I can crack my sacroiliac simply by turning my right foot toward the left and exerting a tiny bit of pressure with my left foot. Neat and weird things you never wanted to know.

ONE MORE HOUR!!!

Oh! Late addendum. Just realized that crappy Ace of Base song is actually a song about a break up! Since there's no worries on that front, now I'm really confused... but at least I'm not at work anymore.