These days, I get up around 5:45 to get to work by 7:30. For a girl known for bemoaning anything requiring a wake-up time in "the 5's," this is no mean feat. Lately, insomnia, weird dreams and general p.m. restlessness have made that alarm clock seem less and less tolerable, and cutting potent brewed coffee out of my morning routine (to help with migraines) isn't helping either.
Today, though, I woke up happy. I took the time to straighten my hair. I applied eyeliner and wore a favorite blouse-skirt-ballet flats combo. My mom packed a lunch that looks pretty damn delicious (no, I am not in elementary school; yes, my mom packs my lunch these days; yes, I am aware of how lucky I am). I had a few spare minutes to chat with my parents before leaving for work, and I think we're going to do something fun in St. Paul after I'm off the clock for the day. When I left the house, it was bright enough for sunglasses, and traffic seemed to be clipping along a little faster than usual.
And then, joy of all joys, my song came on Cities 97. You totally know what I'm talking about, right? The one song that you can recognize from the first four counts and that instantly fills your entire insides with happiness...an auditory memory trigger, maybe, that throws you back to a place or time or moment of significance. Or maybe a song you've just loved for so long it's worked its way into those moments by accident. Either way, it's YOUR song.
For me, it's The New Radicals, "You Get What You Give." My first boyfriend used it in a high school speech video, and I just instantly adored it. Since then, I've played it on every single major event day...high school graduation, the day I made the marching band, the day I left for London, the day I got my job offers, the morning of college graduation. It's going to be my alarm clock on the morning of my someday-maybe-wedding, guys. That's how deeply I adore that song.
And so I did what any rational 25-year old girl would do. I cranked up my car stereo to 40, I rolled down all four windows (good hair day be damned!), I opened the sunroof and I had a straight-up seat-dancing, hand-gesturing, singing-at-the-top-of-my-lungs jam sesh. In that three minute span, I just kind of decided I was going to be happy, whether my happiness was construed as hyperbole or not. Because you DO get what you give in life, and I'm never going to give up on giving everyone a little bit of sunshine. Why the hell not?