Friends

As I've mentioned in the past, I've never really had a lot of friends. Sure, I've met lots of people in my journey, but of the few I've grown to call friends, many have wandered out of my life for various reasons. Some would move away and we'd fall out of contact. Some I'd have a falling out with and we'd just stop talking. So, I've learned that friendships have their ups and downs, and at the end of the day, your friends are the ones who enjoy the ups and press through the downs.

I'd say of the various examples of the ups and downs in my life, one tends to stand out above the rest.

Disclaimer: So as not to single any particular individual out or "air the dirty laundry", I will be using an assumed name for this example. The person I talk about is not anyone that any of my readers know, nor is this person anyone who has ever been named before. If you suspect that I am talking about someone you know, you are mistaken, and the similarities they have with the person you suspect they are is purely coincidence. If you do not believe in coincidence, then perhaps it is happenstance, chance, or a fluke.

Disclaimer: Due to the limitations of my extra-sensory perception, I can only provide my perspective on this example. If you would like the perspective of the noted individual, I would suggest you ask this person directly, which will prove impossible since you do not know the individual of whom I speak.

Disclaimer: The person referenced in this example is an awesome person who has proved generous and kind. This person thinks only of others and is in no way, shape, or form a horrible person. We are all lucky to coexist with this person and should thank our chosen deity that they grace us with their splendor.

Disclaimer: None of the incidents listed below are the fault of this person, as this person has no fault. If the examples seem to indicate otherwise, this is clearly my fault as a storyteller. I apologize in advance.

Perhaps one of my longest friendships was with someone that we'll call Not-Scott.

Not-Scott and I went to the same school, but didn't really become friends until the 6th grade. Despite being on the fringe of the popular kids, like me, he was more outgoing and talkative than myself, so it wasn't long before he decided that I was his friend. As I said before, I'd never had a lot of friends, so, hey, new friend! We'd chat at school, he'd hang out at my house, I'd hang out at his. Pretty normal friendship that remained pretty constant throughout middle school. There'd be the occasional argument or fight, but nothing unusual or major. Early in our high school career, he'd end up moving to a new school district, so we didn't hang out as often. Eventually, he'd move off to the mountains and it wasn't long before we dropped out of contact with each other.

A few years ago, he shot me a message out of the blue stating that he was moving back into town and wanting to hang out. At the time, again, not a lot of friends, so I was open to catching up and chatting.

So, Not-Scott and I started to hang out again. Things were okay for a while, but the longer we hung out, the more something became apparent: either he had changed a lot since when we were growing up, or I just wasn't as observant when I was growing up. Over the next few months, he'd take great strides to alienate me by:

• While introducing me to new people, he would say unflattering, and frankly untrue things about me, tainting their first impressions of me.
• At a dinner meet-up we'd have with friends, he'd embarrass me in front of the group by pointing out that I'm nervous around women.
• He'd rely more and more heavily on my wallet for his day-to-day life. The lowest point would be when he would put me on the spot to have me pay for dinner and a movie ticket for him and his girlfriend when we all hung out as a group one night.
• He'd tell me that my life "wouldn't have turned out quite so bad" if I had moved out of town with him so many years ago.
• He would dominate all conversations, ensuring that we'd only talk about him, his interests, his opinions, and what was happening in his life.
• If for some strange reason the conversation actually did turn to me, he would play on his phone, check out of the conversation, or interrupt me to steer the conversation back to him.
• He couldn't be bothered to remember even the most important details about my life, such as my dietary restrictions.
• Not that that made much of a difference, because he couldn't be bothered to propose any sort of meet up or initiate any conversations with me, making me feel like a charity case when he'd bend his neck enough to agree to hang out.

To his benefit, he did host a cookout for my birthday one year. That he would invite a bunch of people I didn't know and spent most of the night talking to his girlfriend is beside the point.

Disclaimer: As will be noted below, I did sit down and talk to Not-Scott about the above incidents, so he is well aware of my examples, arguments, and perspective on these things.

On several occasions, I would reach a breaking point and would arrange a sit-down with Not-Scott to discuss the problems I was having with his rather self-centered and calloused behavior. On these occasions, he would interrupt me as I tried to explain my stance, offer nothing but insincere apologies and empty promises that he would be more mindful in the future. For the first week or two, he'd actually shoot the occasional greeting or propose a hangout, before going back to ignoring me and all that happened in my life.

Finally, I had enough and sent him a rather lengthy message outlining all of the examples listed above in great detail, as well as citing all of the previous attempts to reach some common ground. All I asked was a chance to discuss these issues and move past them instead of remaining stuck in a perpetual loop of Not-Scott is full of himself/Brian complains too much. Not-Scott, showing the value he placed on our friendship, promptly responded that he couldn't be bothered, deleted the entire conversation, blocked me on Facebook, and stopped talking to me entirely.

At this point, I figured that was the end of things. I was willing to offer a truce, he slapped my olive branch away, took his ball and went home. Despite my small list of friends, I don't need that kind of friend in my life, so no biggie.

A bit of time passes, and I get a message from someone who would end up being Not-Scott's girlfriend, telling me that he was regretful of how things played out and asked if I would be willing to sit down with him and talk. I tell her that I had told him previously that I wanted to sit down and discuss things. Despite his response, I say that I'm still willing to talk.

So, a little later, he shoots me a message. He tells me that it is important to him that we sit down and talk things out, but gee, his schedule was just too full at the moment. Could I possibly wait until his schedule is free? Then why bother sending a message at all? "I don't want you to think that it's not important to me that we smooth things over, but it really isn't important to me." Fine, whatever. He can set the whole thing up when his schedule is free. I have nothing else to say until whenever that is.

Five months pass, and still no word from him. So I tell him I assume that he doesn't want to talk. He tells me I am wrong. Alright, how exactly did I misinterpret that? Perhaps his schedule was too busy, and at no point in the past 3,652 hours did he have a spare moment to actually sit down and talk. So I tell him that if he really wants to talk, he'll find the time, because I'm not wasting any more time on this. So, he picks a time and place for us to meet.

And so, we sit down and talk. Ultimately, he wants to be my friend again, but this is nothing I hadn't heard in the previous half-dozen attempts to work things out. So, I agree to think about it and meet up with him again later. So, I take some time to think.

What exactly do I want in a friend? What makes a good friend? Have I ever really had a good friend?

So, rather than say "Yes, let's be friends again," or "No, I'd be stupid to dive back into that shallow pool again," I opt to just outline what I'm looking for in a friend, and he could decide if that's something he can do. I shoot him a message offering to meet up. Not-Scott would love to sit down and discuss things, but wouldn't you know it, he's in the middle of final exams. That's fine. I understand. He'll talk to me after exams are over.

A month after he graduates, I shoot him a message asking if perhaps that meant exams were done. Gosh, he's just been so busy and meant to send me a message sooner. After a bit more back and forth, another meeting time and place is decided and we sit down for our second discussion on whether we could still be friends.

So, I tell him what I'm looking for in a friend:

• Someone willing to talk about their interests
• Someone willing to talk about what's going on in their life
• Someone willing to listen to me talk about my interests
• Someone willing to listen to me talk about what's going on in my life
• Someone who actually shows an interest in talking to me or hanging out with me
• Someone I can rely on
• Someone who has my actual best interest at heart

Apparently this was asking too much, as I have not seen Not-Scott since this meeting, and despite a couple brief conversations in the first couple weeks after that last sit-down, I haven't heard from him in a couple of months.

I don't imagine I'll hear from him again. I certainly have nothing else to say to him. And I think that's a pretty good example of the ups and downs of a friendship. 

Was I asking too much? I don't want to be the center of anyone's life. Heck, I'm not overly fond that I'm the center of my own life. I don't want to be in the spotlight. But I do want to have a spot on someone's to-do list. I want someone to actually, every now and then ask themselves, "I wonder what Brian's been up to and if he's doing okay?" Or say, "maybe we can hang out sometime?" 

All I know is that apparently it is wrong for me to have the audacity to stand up for myself. Apparently I'm a coward for even wanting to shed my door mat status and be treated like a person. Apparently it is disrespectful to highlight any negative aspect of a person who has never treated me with respect. And apparently I'm a villain for not graciously accepting an insincere olive branch from someone who doesn't even want me as a friend.

I'm tired of all the friends who use me to feel better about themselves. Those who value me based on how many favors I can do for them. The ones who only need me to listen to how great they are. The friends who only need me to fill an empty chair in their favorite activity without showing the slightest interest in one of my own. And the ones who consider me so worthless that I'm not even worth sacrificing a few minutes to talk or listen, or who can't be bothered to find a little time in their busy lives just to spend time with me. My life has been filled with a bunch of other Not-Scotts, and if they're the best I can hope for from friends, I'd rather be alone.

Fortunately, I've actually managed to meet a few people who I can consider real friends.

So I want to thank those friends who actually do care about me. The friends who think my life stories are just as interesting as their own. The friends who I can have actual conversations with about our mutual interests, as well as the interests we don't currently share. The friends that actually show an interest in talking to me and hanging out with me, even when the ups and downs of life try to get in the way. The friends who allow me to vent about my frustrations and feel comfortable enough with me to share their own. The friends who make me feel valued, and loved.

Cellphones (or why I sometimes hate technology)

My first cellphone was a hand-me-down Sprint phone. My parents had just started their own business and switched to a new carrier, which meant new phones and new numbers. They still had the old phone and the old contract, so they passed it along to me. I had never had a cellphone before, and had never really seen the need (at this point, I barely had a license and had never really driven outside of the county, so things like car trouble didn't really register on my mind). So, the phone went in the glove box as more of an in-case-of-emergency type thing. My first real attempt at using it did not wow me with its convenience and technical capabilities.

I had driven to my friend Christin's house to visit, and as I pulled up in her yard, the heavens parted and approximately three oceans' worth of water fell from the sky. My friend, being security conscious, kept her door locked. So, I figured I would use my new phone to call her and let her know I was there so she could let me in, which would cut my time standing in the rain down to a minimum. Sadly, I could not get a signal on the phone. At this point, it is worth noting that my friend lived next to a cellphone tower. I can admit now that I have no idea which carrier owned that particular tower, but at the time, it provided fuel for quite a bit of anger.

So, after that, the phone pretty much sat in the glove box until the contract expired, and I vowed never to use Sprint again.

Time passes, and I'm now in college. My mom and sister decided to get their own cellphone plan, and offer to let me join in. I get the basic free flip phone from AT&T, which serves my needs. Barely. The signal isn't great (far better than Sprint, though). I can recall that there were only certain points in my apartment where I could get a signal, which could make for some interesting moments.

Eventually, I end up on my own plan with US Cellular. Again, a basic flip phone, set number of minutes, no text and data because I didn't see the need. At this point, I end up with a circle of friends who are big on texting and Facebook chatting. So, I add texting to my plan. I quickly blow past the limit. I upgrade the limit and start to blow past that as well. So, when my contract was set to renew, I upgraded to a smartphone with unlimited text and enough data to let me chat online. Which brings us to the here and now.

While I get more use out of my phone now than I did the old Sprint phone from way back when, I'm not exactly glued to it. Sure, I have apps and games and all that fun stuff, but when I'm with people, I'm content to just stick the phone in my pocket and not use it. Not everyone seems to have that ability.

Now, to be clear, I'm not complaining about answering a phone call or text while you're in a social situation. Sometimes you get a phone call that you have to take, or if you're in a situation where you can excuse yourself from the conversation to take a phone call, it's no big thing. Sometimes you have to fire back a quick text to keep your phone from ringing off the hook all night. Again, no biggie. Nor am I complaining about using a smart phone if it goes with the conversation. If you're showing someone a video or picture that you were talking about, that's perfectly acceptable.

No, I'm talking about when someone rudely checks out of a conversation to play with their phone. When you suffer from low self esteem and you know that you aren't the best conversationalist in the world, it can be very damaging when someone engages in a lengthy Facebook chat while in your company, or breaks out Candy Crush to see if they can get to the next level. It puts out the message that this person would rather be doing practically anything else instead of having a conversation with you.

A perfect example:

I used to hang out with a group of friends that would get together about once a week to grab something to eat and maybe see a movie. It was on one such night that I found myself standing in front of Cheddar's with a friend (we'll call him Scott because that's the name his mama gave him), waiting for our table to be ready. As we're waiting, we're having a conversation. Mid-sentence, Scott gets a text on his phone and drops the conversation to respond.

And proceeds to start a conversation with the person who texted him. The awkward pause turns into a rather lengthy awkward silence. And I go from mildly annoyed to increasingly angry. Finally, I sent my own text.

Eventually, the texting conversation dies down and Scott rejoins our conversation, not apologetic for rudely checking out of the conversation, but annoyed that I pointed it out to him.

And what was the text message that was so important? His friend was running a Dungeons & Dragon game for the first time and needed some pointers. No relatives in the hospital, no trouble at work, no crisis of any kind. Heck, the friend wasn't even running the game that night, so it was a text book example of "I'll call you back later and we'll talk".

What made the whole thing worse was that, even after I explained my perspective on the situation, he didn't see that he had done anything wrong. It's one thing to suspect that you aren't worth someone else's time, quite another to have them confirm it.

Depression

This is kind of a hard subject to talk about, but something that I knew I'd get to eventually when I started this blog.

I have always had a hard time fitting in with people. I'm not sure why, but it's just difficult for me to interact with others. Growing up, as the people around me flourished, and their social circles grew, I just kind of sat around on the outside of the group. I had friends, sure, but mostly because particularly outgoing or extroverted people would just declare that I was their friend. I think I just made a good sounding board for them to talk about themselves, their interests, and their lives, as I don't really feel any of them ever tried to get to know me.

I did have a few people that I would get comfortable around, where I actually wanted to hang out with them instead of just feeling obligated to hang out with them, because it's what people are supposed to do. But these folks had a tendency to move away, to the point where I decided I wasn't really supposed to have a "best friend". So, I've more or less always felt a bit lonely.

At home wasn't much different. My parents divorced when I was young and remarried not too incredibly long after, so I had four parents. Of them, I was probably closer to my dad. That being said, we didn't have a whole lot in common. Dad, growing up on a farm, was always an outdoors, work with your hands type. I, being red-haired, tend to burst into flames when exposed to sunlight for too long, and I was more of the thinking-type than the doing-type. Still, I didn't mind manual labor, and would actually prefer to work than sit idle, so I would help him out when I could, working on whatever project he'd find to do. But we didn't really share a lot of interests, so while I could interact with him, and identify with him, I just couldn't ever really communicate him.

That's not to say I didn't get on well with the rest of my parents. It's just that Claudia, my step-mom, was kind of the problem solver of the family, so I never really wanted to impose on her time with what I'd consider a minor concern, though honestly, I doubt she'd see it as an imposition. Likewise, I think my Mom understood my mindset a bit, having grown up with a brother with a similar mental state, but it was hard communicating with her with my step-dad around, whom I wasn't overly fond of.

My siblings were no easier to talk to. My older brother was in that age where you try to distance yourself from your annoying younger brother and sister, and my sister, though my twin, was a girl and thus her mind just worked differently. Neither of them really seemed to struggle with a social life, so I doubt that they would have understood anyway.

So, even at home, I always felt like a bit of an outsider, being the middle child, second son, and red-headed stepchild all rolled into one broken package. That's not to say I didn't feel loved, though. I never doubted that my family loved me. I just don't think that they understood me.

As high school rolled around, my social problems and mental state didn't improve all that much. Again, I had "friends" in my class, but no one that I felt really comfortable around. There were girls that I liked, but I couldn't really find a way to express that. Worse, I started becoming a target of ridicule by some of the more "normal" people at school. While I was never physically bullied, the verbal abuse wasn't helpful for my already fragile mental state, so when senior year rolled around and I more or less stopped caring about anything, I ended up getting put on anti-depressants.

The pills actually seemed to help a bit. I actually seemed happy. I was a bit more talkative and outgoing at home. So overall, I'd say things were improving. Of course, the pills didn't really fix the problem I was having with social anxiety, but at least I'm not dwelling on it, right? Well, in some regards, that just makes me feel worse. Before, I was an outsider who couldn't really identify or communicate with the people around me. Now, I was an outsider who couldn't really identify or communicate with the people around me, but I'm also on medication. So, sure, I feel happy, but I wasn't really happy.

I think the doctor who prescribed the pills kind of picked up on that. But rather than try to get to the root of my problem, which I didn't really understand at the time, he just doubled my dosage and called it a day. So, with twice the dosage, would I be twice as "happy"? Surprisingly, no. Instead of better balancing my emotional state, it just burned it out completely. I didn't feel happy or sad. I didn't feel anything.  Which just bothered me more. Still, I just struggled with it and pushed on.

Things didn't get easier. Over the course of a few months, my grandmother passed away, I ended up withdrawing from college, losing my job in the process, and after a bitter fight, ended up parting company with one of the few friends I had left. So, I just became more withdrawn. I felt more and more outside of the rest of the world. And I hated the pills because I couldn't even feel sad about any of it.

The doctor wouldn't take me off of the pills, so I ended up taking myself off of them. I started staggering my doses until I just stopped taking the pills. The withdrawals I went through over the next two weeks were not pleasant. But at least I was off the pills. So maybe my emotions would return, even if they were mostly negative. They didn't come back.

I would end up gaining a few more friends when a friend who had previously moved away came back into town, bringing a small social circle with him. So, it was nice going from mostly sitting at home alone to actually hanging out with and talking to people. And for a while, I actually felt a bit closer to "normal".

As time went on, it started becoming clear that these people weren't really my friends. I was just someone to make them feel better about themselves. Eventually, I decided that having "friends" wasn't worth all the headache, and stood up for myself. When it became clear that I wasn't their doormat anymore, they left.

Which brings us to the here and now. I found myself at a particularly low point when the last couple of friends that I really had left found themselves with significantly less free time to spare for me. Finding myself sitting at home alone with no one to talk to again, I hit another mental breaking point.

And so, I'm back on anti-depressants. I'm taking the lowest dose possible now. It doesn't really make me feel "better", but it keeps me more focused where I don't dwell on the negative feelings as much.

Despite that, I actually do feel a bit better this time around. I recently made a new friend who has a better understanding of my mental state and my social anxiety. It's a lot easier to talk to people who can see where you're coming from, so while I still don't feel "normal", at least I don't feel quite so alone anymore.

Trying New Things

The world is filled with an ever-growing, vast assortment of things to try, sample, taste, see, or experience. One could spend an entire lifetime in an effort to try it all, and barely scratch the surface. Which is precisely why I've managed to avoid almost all of it.

Growing up, I managed to assemble a nice little box for myself, filled with all the things that I had experienced and liked. And as I settled into my nice little box, closing the lid to the rest of the world, I was content. I wasn't happy, but I was comfortable. I would think "if I only have these things for the rest of my life, then it will be a good life." And, in some ways, it was.

When you're sitting at a restaurant, there's no agonizing over what you're going to eat. Every time you've sat at this restaurant, you've ordered this dish, and it has consistently been good. You don't even need to look at a menu, as you can recite your order from memory and save yourself, your party, and the wait staff time. And if you keep your dish simple, then you can get it relatively anywhere. There's not a restaurant in the world that can't make you a hamburger.

Oh. Right.

When you're flipping through the channels on the TV, there's no worrying about what to watch. You've seen that movie replayed on HBO a hundred times. No worries about following the plot or about whether it will be good or bad. And since you've seen it a hundred times, you don't feel a sense of loss if you have to leave during the middle.

When you're reading a book, it's like returning to a little safe zone in your mind. You've been here before,  you know exactly how the story is going to play out, there's no fear of anything unexpected happening.

And that's how it is with everything. It's familiar, it's comforting, it's safe.

It's boring.

Eating the same food again and again is comforting. You know what you get each time, and you don't have to worry about spending money on something you don't like. But as delicious as that sirloin is, how do you know you don't like fish more? That potato is good, but is the corn better? And you don't even have to reach that far outside of your comfort zone. If a plain hamburger is good, would adding tomatoes, or lettuce enhance the flavor?

Watching the same TV shows or movies, or reading the same books repeatedly is also comforting. You know you'll enjoy the story arc and be happy with the ending. You don't have to invest countless hours in something that may have a disappointing payoff. And, hey, repeated viewings tends to reveal details you may have missed the first time around. The twists and turns in the story may have had subtle foreshadowing that you didn't pick up on the first few times. But at the same time, those twists and turns become less surprising. It might be shocking when you see the big twist in Saw (Dr. Gordon is the Dread Pirate Roberts) or the Sixth Sense (Haley Joel Osment's career is dead) for the first time. And watching it again might reveal more clues (he was also Robin Hood; M Night Shyamalan's career is also dead). But after that, there's not much point for a third viewing. There's nothing riveting, nothing to get you emotionally invested in the characters anymore. I recall the first time I read the Dragon Prince series by Melanie Rawn, this was the first series I had read where the author wasn't shy about killing characters. I actually feared for the characters as their stories played out.

Many a sleepless night was spent agonizing over the fate of these characters.

Reading it a second time, you start to remember which characters not to get attached to, and you no longer worry about if the heroes will succeed. It's fun to read again, but only when I've had a few years for the finer points to have faded from my memory.

I realize that this may all sound like common sense, but to be brutally honest, it is something that I only recently discovered.

As I said before, I was very comfortable in my box, if not a bit bored. What inspired me to start exploring the world beyond the borders of my box was spite.

A few years ago, I used to hang out with a friend who we'll call Scott (because that's his name. Though I have other names that I have called him, we'll stick with Scott at the moment for simplicity.) He introduced me to a friend of his, named Aimée, who I would end up considering a good friend of my own. She confessed to me that when Scott was introducing her to the concept of me, he said that I was closed minded and wouldn't try new things. Aimée took this as a challenge to get me to try something new. At the same time, Scott and I hadn't seen eye-to-eye on a lot of things, so when I heard this, I decided that I would try anything and everything that was presented to me, with the sole exception being anything that he recommended.

So, it became something of a game. We started with food. I always prided myself as a meat and potatoes type person, so I had to venture forth and try other things that grew in the ground and things that used to swim in the sea. It was scary, but in the end, it was good! And from there, the directions I was willing to reach grew. Mixed drinks, movies, TV shows, books, roller coasters, cosplay, anything that was mentioned would go on my fabled list and slowly I started checking them off. Sure, I've liked some things more than others, but I can honestly say that I've enjoyed the experience.

Sometimes, it is difficult to keep trying new things, and instead of trying something on a corner of the menu I haven't browsed yet, I get something more familiar, but there's nothing wrong with going back to your comfort zone, just so long as you don't let it stop you from exploring.

Which brings us to the here and now. Since I've opened myself up to new experiences, I have still only relied on a small handful of people to dictate what I should try next. While I know these people and trust that they have a good idea of my preferences and interests, they are themselves limited to what they have experienced.

So, as an experiment, I wanted to open up my fabled list to see what my readers would recommend. I've taken the liberty of breaking it down into categories and sections so that it's a little easier to navigate.

My List - Anime
My List - Books
My List - Games
My List - Movies
My List - Music
My List - TV
My List - Other

All I ask is that anyone who wishes to contribute to the list add as much information as they can in the provided fields. This makes it easier for me to find the show, movie, book, etc. I'll add more categories and sections as their need becomes apparent. Please include your name or some other identifying nickname so that I can tell who made the recommendation. This way, if someone has similar interests to my own, or has recommended a lot of things that I enjoyed, I can apply more weight to their suggestions. I ask that no one edit the green columns, as I want to use those to track my progress and grade the experience. Also, please limit your editing to just adding content, as I'd hate for someone's recommendation to go ignored because someone else deleted it.

The Songs That Play in My Head

Like practically every person with functioning ears, I listen to music. In turn, also like practically every person with functioning ears, I tend to get songs stuck in my head. They get trapped there in a variety of ways. A common one is my friend from work, Richie. He'll randomly sing out a line from a song, and if I've heard it before, 9 times out of 10, the rest of the song will be playing in my head for the remainder of the day.

...and together we'll fly through the portal, when the gateway opens to the other side!

Other times, I'll just catch something on the radio, or hear it playing in the background of a store, or it will be featured in a commercial. However I come by them, they wind up stuck in my brain. And they never really go away.

Sure, they typically fade into the background and are practically forgotten. But they are still there. A song I haven't heard in years can pop into my brain randomly and I find myself mentally singing along. Sometimes not quite so mentally. I once disrupted a family reunion by tapping along to the beat of the Literal Trailer for Resident Evil Afterlife.

So while I can't really be rid of a song once it's lodged in my brain, I can quiet it down. I find the best way that works for me is to listen to the song continuously. After several playthroughs, it gets old and my head starts finding something else to focus on. This can be easy to accomplish if I own a copy of the song, as I can load it up and set the mp3 player to repeat. It's a bit more difficult if it's something I overheard though. Then I have to try and remember some of the lyrics so I can look the song up later. This becomes a bit more difficult if the song is not in English, or worse, an instrumental.

Once, my cousin Trey and I were eating at the now recently-rebranded Hwy 55 (formerly known as Andy's). For those unaware, Hwy 55 tries to recreate the 50's diner environment by playing old music over the in-store audio system. Since the music is basically stuff your parents got bored with listening to years ago, it reduces itself to background noise that you don't really notice. This time, however, they played a jazzy instrumental number that latched onto our brains and we couldn't get it out.

Since there was no lyrics, there was no way to look up the song. Also, unlike standard radio stations, there was no DJ to announce the name of the song. So it would just play on repeat in the back of my head with no salvation in sight. A year and a half later, I was in Toys R Us with a friend, browsing the toys, when a song came on over the in-store speakers. I recognized the tune as the same song from Hwy 55. But this time it had lyrics! Whipping out my smartphone, I was able to look up the song and find the original version that had no lyrics, called Soulful Strut. I was the most excited person to ever set foot on the My Little Pony aisle.

Well, second most excited