My Own Personal Soundtrack

Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Separation.

Being quite the lover of music, I sometimes find I have my own personal soundtrack running in my head. Sometimes, I don’t realize it’s even playing until I stop and think about it— and then it’s very telling. I’m convinced now that my angels and spirit guides talk to me through music…or maybe it’s just my subconscious warning me!

The Long-Awaited Honest-to-God Secret to Being Happy

Just a few days ago, I woke with the phrase, “Why yawanna give me the round-around?” playing in my head. I didn’t even realize it was there until my fourth phone call in an hour to my roofer to get them to fix yet another of their errors and I heard the words pop out of my mouth, “Why do you want to give me the round-around?”

On my way to a series of all-day meetings, a traffic accident  made  me late and all the way to work, I worried about missing the meeting and how embarrassing to walk into this particular meeting late. Then I stopped worrying and had the feeling I wasn’t to be in those meetings because Alanis Morissette’s “Uninvited…You’re uninvited” was  playing in my head repeatedly. I arrived two minutes early and out of  breath from running, only to find out the meetings had been called off and the secretary had failed to notify me.

On another day recently, I heard from an old acquaintance and  I  kept wondering if she was back to stay or simply wanted something. Then I stopped to check the “soundtrack” in my head. An old song that I hadn’t heard in years was playing, specifically the phrase, “Tomorrow, I’ll be gone…tomorrow, I’ll be gone.” During a conversation with another woman, I swear the Thompson Twins were singing, “Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies” so loud that I could hardly hear her.

Through much of the past year of questioning my intuition  concerning romantic liaisons, I’ve heard, “Listen to your heart” (the old Roxette version before the newer one hit the radio waves), “It just takes some time,” “The waiting is the hardest part,” “Doncha worry ‘bout a thang, baby,” and “I’ll be with you in your weakest moments.” When I am indeed listening to my heart, I don’t hear these songs in my personal soundtrack.

Other friends have noted this same kind of soundtrack, too, once they’ve been alerted to it. Most recently, Shannon told me that for the  twenty minutes before I told her about a disturbing conversation with a  clairvoyant friend, she had been hearing “The future’s not ours to see; whatever will be, will be,” a song she’d heard once in the seventh grade. It  was the first time I realized my friend hadn’t told me anything from a clairvoyant point of view but rather had simply given serious advice related  to his own romantic interests. I’d misunderstood and thought he was telling me something he’d seen psychically.

Think my kids and I are the only ones? I jotted down my thoughts on the personal soundtrack and turned on the radio— only  to  hear  a  female  deejay  asking  if  anyone  else  has  an “internal jukebox” that’s always playing like she does. Ah, syn- chronicity!

Does this mean that every song that pops into my head has a hidden mesage? Let’s hope not. Because I have no explanation at all for  “Doncha, Wish Your Girlfriend Was a Freak Like Me,” “My Humps,” and “Shake That Ass for Me.”


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