ADVICE: "MUSIC IS THERAPEUTIC"
CAB #: 8934

I'm currently feeling introspective. Like, deep. Deep like pondering the meaning of life and how I fit into the grand scheme o' things on this funny little planet we call Earth. Deep like convincing myself that I am, like, totally limber enough to conquer a yoga class if only I could find time to take one (you see, my schedule is packed full, what with Happy Hour and late night Taco Bell runs taking precedence). Deep like wearing a beret and turtleneck (black, of course) whilst sipping a latte in my local coffee shop. Well, not so much on that last one. But practically. Just deep.

Long story short, I've been through a whirlwind of ups and downs recently, and my music has been my lifeline. When I'm stressed / sad / angry, I switch on my tunes and find my happy place. I get in the zone, man. That said, I compiled a list of the songs I've had on repeat - I preface the list with the fact that I have wonderful taste in music (and by wonderful, I mean cheesy) - and have taken a line from each of the songs to create a diddy of my own that expresses my mood at this very moment:

D. DU'S PLAYLIST ON REPEAT
"Don't Stop Believin'" - Journey
"Bette Davis Eyes" - Kim Carnes
"Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" - The Police
"Runaround Sue" - Dion
"Go Your Own Way" - Fleetwood Mac
"Africa" - Toto
"September" - Earth, Wind & Fire
"Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
"Like a Prayer" - Madonna
"Heat of the Moment" - Asia
"More than a Feeling" - Boston
"Flashdance [What A Feeling]" - Irene Cara
"In Your Eyes" - Peter Gabriel
"All Night Long" - Lionel Richie

D. DU'S DIDDY
Just a small town girl;
She’s precocious and she knows [it].
Do I have to tell the story of a thousand rainy days
[When] she likes to travel around,
Packing up,
Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies
While chasing the clouds away?

In this whole world, what is fair?
Life is a mystery.
You can’t concern yourself with bigger things.
I hide in my music, forget the day,
Close my eyes, hear the rhythm.
[It is] the resolution of all the fruitless searches;
Let the music play on.

What's on your playlist, Cabbie #8934?

ADVICE: “MARRY THE FIRST MAN WHO LOVES YOU”
CAB #: 2316

One of my favorite parts about living in the city is endlessly wandering while listening to my iPod. I walk to the el, to the grocery store, to the beach (from the el, from the grocery store, from the beach) while absorbed in my own little musical land of deliciousness. I gotta tell ya, I’ve even been known to strut the Walk of Shame armed with “The Pod” (while taking in Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater.” Clearly.).

I should mention that I’m a musical glutton of sorts. I inhale it, not unlike an entire pizza or gallon of ice cream. But I’m not one who thrives on listening to undiscovered, underground bands, man. Or up-and-coming local artists, dude. I’m big into music that most are ashamed to own up to loving, and I ain’t scurred to admit it. Gimme my all-time favorite, Journey. Add in Jefferson Starship. And don’t forget Rick Astley ("I’m Never Gonna Give You Up," you marvelous morsel of a man). The product? Perfection in its purest form.

These are the songs that make up the soundtrack of my life. I walk and listen. I walk and think. I walk and shake what my mama gave me. Mostly, I walk and pretend that I’m the star of my own music video. I spend time making sure I have the appropriate track for each scenario, whether it be seeing an attractive man sip his morning latte at Starbucks, getting stuck behind a group of slow walkers when I’m late for an appointment or arriving at the office in the morning (“Alone” by Heart, “Mama Said Knock You Out” by LL Cool J and “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N Roses, respectively).

I got signed to my imaginary music label when I moved to the North side of Chicago from the western suburbs. Aurora, to be exact. Yes, the same Aurora that boasts SNL’s classic characters, Wayne and Garth. Shwing. I had lived there most of my adolescent life, and after a brief hiatus while at school in Boston, I returned to the wonder that is suburbia. Shortly after, I met – sigh – a boy. I’d love to say that he was the dreamiest boy I’d ever seen. I’d be lying if I said that. I’d like to tell you that he swept me off my feet and made me feel like the most fortunate girl in the world. Still lying. I’d love to be able to say that he awakened my spirit and made me want to become a better person . Totally lying. The truth is, he was loyal to me. He stuck. He was a sticker. In fact, he shall be referred to from this point on as Sticker. For all intensive purposes, he was my first love. Due to my own insecurities and immaturity at the time, I tested him, and he never left. I played games. Sticker stuck. I played more games. Sticker stuck. Let’s be honest – the first year of our relationship was one giant game of “Asshole” – sans the drinking and the fun, mostly just the asshole part. Guess what? Sticker stuck.

Sticker was also a sucker, though. He sucked the youth, the life, the ambition, the passion out of me. Eventually, when we moved in together, the suckling Sticker became a stinker – down right mean and controlling. Then, after three years, two dogs, a townhouse and a very brief engagement, I left. I knew I could never become the person I wanted to be in that relationship. In that life. I was sacrificing everything I ever wanted to do – travel, social life, city dwelling – for the comfort of being with him. It just couldn’t work. He knew it. I knew it. Our mini dachshunds knew it.

And while leaving was one of the roughest decisions I ever had to make, it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. On one hand, had I stayed, I now could have the security of a husband and a house and a joint checking account, but I rest assured in the satisfaction of knowing that I’m kind of a big deal. I mean, come on...I’m the star of a different music video everyday.

In conclusion, thank you Cabbie #2316, but I prefer life without Sticker.

D