The music video in my mind

Today I had my annual physical. Due to my company's insurance carrier I was forced to change to a new doctor-and today was my first visit to her office. Besides the impressive goatee on the female receptionist's chin, I felt it was a relatively quick and painless visit. As many of you may have noted from your own physicals, once you become an adult new and intimidating procedures are added to what was once a quick look in the ears and a few deep breaths for the stethoscope. Unfortunately the whole thing can be awkward and uncomfortable, so after answering my doctor's questions I typically like to escape to a far away place in my mind-like an imaginary beach or that vacuum in my brain where I stored the multiplication tables.

When I was younger my mother would hold my hand whenever I got a shot while singing the ABC's with me. This became hard for her once I went to college-because on a good day it's a five hour drive from Wisconsin to Indiana. But now I am an adult and, when my mother is not available I have to just sing for myself. Today I graduated from ABC's to the "Happy Thoughts" song. Which is basically just me singing "Think of happy thoughts" over and over to the tune of "Row Row Row Your Boat."

Moving my singing skills out of the doctor's office, for the past month I have kept Gavin DeGraw's CD Chariot on constant rotation in my car. I am not sure why I love it so much-but nothing beats speeding home from work(or anywhere really) while enthusiastically singing along to "Chariot" with the windows down, the wind blowing through my hair, and the setting sun casting a yellow glow into my rear view.

Sometimes I like to pretend I am in a music video in my car-and I wonder why talent agencies haven't been in contact with me. I am currently unrepresented, so I feel career-wise it is probably in my best interest to continue diligently performing. Hopefully someday soon a high-powered agent will see my antics during a lengthy red light or as I weave through traffic. I imagine him insisting that I pull over and signing me up for a multi-million dollar record deal.

It could happen.

I also refuse to give up on my secret hope to be stranded on an island with Weezer and The Backstreet Boys. Oh the sing alongs we could have!