I Sing Because I'm Cranky

If you've ever had to work a customer service job with me then you're probably aware of this fact: I sing. I sing a lot. To myself. Could be anything: folk, pop, jazz, rock, the occasional show tune and, of course, "What's Up?" by 4 Non Blondes. A good many coworkers have expressed annoyance at this habit (which is fair). So lately I've begun to ask myself: why the hell do I do this?

I have no aspirations to be a singing performer, and if you've ever heard my voice you'll know that's a fortunate thing. I don't even sing karaoke, because it's not endearing to me in any way. So why do I act like I'm rehearsing for my summer tour opening for an American Idol runner-up?

I've come up with this hypothesis: I sing to keep myself from going postal.

I've skimmed a few articles about how singing all the time is good for you mentally and emotionally, the equivalence to starting your day with a cup of coffee and all that (my therapist confirmed this study for me this morning). That's comforting, but really you can google any topic and find a hundred articles to support your claim. Although the other day I googled "Is it okay to pour bacon grease down the sink if you run water from the faucet?" and it turns out NO, that is still NOT okay by anyone's standards.

The fact that I work somewhere where Pandora radio plays all the time is probably a good reason why there's always a song in my head. I've actually grown accustomed to hearing "Pumped Up Kicks" on a daily basis. The truth is I have to listen to a good bit of complaints at work, ranging from the temperature in the building to the size of the free cup you get when you get tap water with your lunch. Nothing too awful, really, but after a while you just gotta let loose with a few choruses of "Faith" (covered by Lake Street Dive). It restores your...faith...that not everyone in the world needs to be set on fire.

Sure it's a bit dramatic, but I like to think annoying my coworkers with song will cut down on my annoying them with angry complaints. Ultimately NO OF COURSE IT DOESN'T. I can always find something to complain about and I will. Sometimes the only thing keeping me from rolling my eyes aggressively at customers is to sing "Pirate Jenny" to myself, and imagine being the protagonist in that song who orders the execution of the patrons who were rude to her. See? That's totally healthy.

So am I healthier for singing all the time? Maybe. Am I healthier for eating a salad in bed at 10 PM while watching Teen Wolf? I certainly hope so. But I shall keep singing all the time. Because it's far too late to get diagnosed/medicated for ADD, and because it makes me feel good when I want to be elsewhere. So I'll paraphrase that old hymn:

I sing because I'm cranky
I sing because I'm pissed
My eye is on the time clock
And I can't wait to be done of this

I'll leave you with Mahalia Jackson singing the real version. Keep singing, crabasses!

Charlie Brown and Me

A common game my friends and I do at work is cast ourselves as cartoon characters. Recently we came to the conclusion that I am the "Charlie Brown" of our little "Peanuts" group. My friend Jodi confirmed: "That means you're the center of our group but we all secretly hate you". We decided Jodi would be Lucy.


Now before I continue allow me to point out that Jodi apologized right after that sentence and that I am 95% sure they all don't hate me. And if the truth lies in that 5%, then all the better for me to live in ignorance. But what does it mean to be a Charlie Brown?

The first Peanuts comic. Poor Charlie never had a chance.

Being Charlie Brown is somewhat similar to being Meg Griffin from Family Guy. Meg has a lot in common with Charlie Brown: both are abused by their friends and family for no apparent reasons. Both try to stay optimistic in a world where bad shit always happens to them. Both have a white dog that steals the show All. The. Time.



So why does Charlie Brown put up with that? Well I assume that, like me, he knows his friends are kidding and would have his back if he needed them. I also suspect Charlie has a thick skin; his friends mock him openly but he still puts them on his baseball team and in his Christmas pageants. People, including myself, sometime like to show their support and affection through sarcasm and harsh language. For example, if a friend of yours comes up and says "Oh gee, guys, I'm having a bad day" the proper response would be "oh no, what's wrong?". Whereas me and my folk would say something like "Oh, well why don't you post about it on Facebook before you get your period?" or something in that vain.

Sometimes people need a scapegoat for their anger. They are pissed at the world so they take it out on someone they know is a friend; that way they get rid of their anger without worsening a situation. It can be tough to be that scapegoat sometimes, but after years of practice you learn to shrug it off and go with it. Take Lucy for example. She always pulls the football away from Charlie Brown before he can kick it. And you know why? Because Lucy's a bitch. But tricking Charlie makes her feel better, and in return she's always there for him when he needs advice (for five cents, please).

Oh fan art, gotta love it.

What else do I have in common with Charlie Brown? I share his insecurities, for sure, but I feel like everyone can feel like CB in that respect. It would be weepy to say life hands me shit, and false because I have had a good life so far. But perhaps in little ways life may hand me shit. Like getting a rock instead of candy on Halloween. I get rocks sometimes instead of candy. You just say "aaaggh! I got a rock!" and move on with life. Or sometimes you throw that rock at Violet, and take her candy.

I also share CB's need for attention and affection, the way he gripes when he doesn't get a Valentine's Day card. Take right this instant, for example: it's midnight, I have no reason to be awake, but I'm blogging about how I'm like a comic strip character known for being the butt of everyone's joke. It's a lame situation, but it's totally something Charlie Brown would do.

 But there's plenty of good about being Charlie Brown. For starters, you appreciate all the good you have in life: Your dog playing Red Baron on his doghouse, that scary-ass demon tree from Hell not eating your kite. You face the day with an unwavering optimism: today will be my day, I'm gonna kick that football and finally talk to the Little Red Haired Girl. Even though you know you'll land right on your ass in both instances.

And so I will embrace my inner Charlie Brown. Everyone may mock him, but in the end he's a Good Man (musical reference). Now I'm going to go to my front porch and sing "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes. Because that's what Charlie Brown would do.