Saturday Sentimentalist: A trick

I get grumpy. I've been getting grumpy for as long as I can remember. It usually starts early in the morning with the little things - my inability to get a leg in my pants, something set in the wrong place, an almost laughable case of dropsy, or just the anticipation of having to do something that I don't want to do later that day.

It's not that I'm always grumpy, but this time of year I risk ruining a lot of days with a gloomy outlook to match the weather. It's times like these that I have to remember my 9-year-old self. At age 9, I was definitely moving into the moody era of my tweens. A memory that has stuck with me from that time was when I snapped at my mom at breakfast for praising our dog in a vaguely European accent. "Oh, you're such a goot geeeeurrrl. Goot geeeeurl," she repeated. "Stop it, Mom!!" I said exasperatedly as I dug my spoon forcefully back into my bowl of Cheerios. She quickly put me in my place and at once I recognized how rude I'd been and felt ashamed of myself. I'm sure I still remember it because I still feel bad about it.

Fortunately, it was also at that age that I began listening to the oldies radio station with fervor. And I was a movie fanatic. With these two loves, and an active imagination, I was able to devise a trick to set my day off to an anticipation-filled start.

All you need is this one song, and the feeling that you're starring in an episode of your own life's TV show or movie. (Click here if the video isn't displaying below.)

Listening to it now, I'll admit it's pretty cheesy. But there was always something about "A Beautiful Morning" by the Rascals that made for the perfect opening soundtrack for my day's journey. It made everything feel magical. There I was, arriving at school with this song in my head ("ooooooh, oooooh-ahhhhhh..."), and suddenly everything appeared as a thoughtfully composed scene. I was building a musical morning montage. Cut to the boy I liked over there on the basketball court, and because I looked at him, i.e., the "camera" chose to focus on him, I was hopefully foreshadowing a plot. Walking to class and imagining the camera was now on me, I stepped to the beat and made an effort to look my best. I smiled at people because the song called for nothing less. It was my secret motivation to believe that this was about to be a positively remarkable day, made even more special because I was the only person who could hear the soundtrack. Who knows what I looked like in real life as I quietly imagined the opening credits dissolving in and out, taking in the various establishing shots of my school and the ordinary places of my day. Probably like a goofball or a spaced out kid.

You may think I'm incredibly strange, or just another narcissistic millenial, but I'm here to tell you that to this day, I still employ this trick. It may not always be "A Beautiful Morning," but when mornings are especially dark and sluggish, it's often the first song I will into my head. I dare you to try it (or something like it). As the song lyrics say, it's your chance to wake up and plan another brand new day. I need no other proof that music and imagination is a powerful combo.