September 2017
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Sentimental sap

An absolutely non-exhaustive list of songs that are likely to make me cry:

  • Eldorado – Åge Aleksandersen
  • Jessie – Joshua Kadison
  • He Didn’t Have to Be – Brad Paisley
  • One Moment in Time – Whitney Houston
  • Teddybjørnens vise – Alf Prøysen
  • Lindansaren – Michael Wiehe
  • Tuppen og Lillemor (I kid you not, though I don’t actually have this song as MP3, so I’m not exposed to it very often, I have been known, however, to hum it to myself, involuntarily, and tear up… Do you think there’s a drug for this sort of thing?)
  • Flickan och kråkan – Michael Wiehe
  • Skyfri himmel – Bjørn Eidsvåg
  • Dear Mr. President – Pink
  • Harper Valley PTA – anyone of a bunch of people

Occasioned by the potentially embarrassing fact that three of these popped up on my mp3-player this morning (as usual, it’s in random mode) while I was waiting for and then riding on the bus.

I worry about myself sometimes

I think I’ve mentioned before that in addition to getting earworms, I also get poetry or bits of blank verse stuck in my head – sometimes for days. I’ve recently realised this also happens with short phrases, or even words. For example, a month or two ago I had the word “pasilurken” floating around in my head, popping up to the surface of my consciousness and submerging again at irregular intervals, and I couldn’t decide whether to be more annoyed or amused.

Now in that case, obviously, it was the unusualness of the word that caught my fancy. At other times, quite ordinary words get stuck, and then twisted. Like soup. Innocuous enough, as words go, right? Well, the other night it reduced me to tears of amusement. It went like this: I had soup for lunch. Then, at bedtime, I commented something my husband said with “surprise” (our normal slang for “what else is new?”). As usual, he countered with a bad pun “If the soup rises, please try to make it to the bathroom in time”. And as usual, I laughed. (I laugh at bad puns, especially my husband’s bad puns. This is one of many reasons he claims I am easily amused.) We then turned off the lights and proceeded to attempt to fall asleep. The word “soup” and the word “rise” continued to float around in my head, though. Some time later, I snorted out loud. My ever trusty brain had presented me with the alternative Hemingway title “The soup also rises”. My husband wanted to know what was so funny. I tried to explain, but realised it really wasn’t particularly funny, and so started laughing harder (impeccable logic), so it took a while before I managed to fill him in.

I worry about myself sometimes…