Music. On Repeat.

You know when you fall in love with a song and can't stop listening to it? In university I learned that that specific second where your heart catches just as one beat happens or one lyric makes you want to listen over and over is called Punctum. Basically that moment of intense emotion that catches you and makes you want to play it for someone--who will inevitably not feel the punctum that you do for it.

I have a history of this with music. Which was also explained to me once in a graph. Basically you feel more and more pleasure from listening (and thus listen on repeat) until suddenly, you don't.

Unfortunately this lack of interest in the music comes much faster for the people around you. Your family, neighbours, partners and roommates will be done after the second play.

Van Morrison - Cleaning Windows Annie Lennox - Walking On Broken Glass Hall & Oates - You Make My Dreams

I would continue that list but that will only humiliate me, as there are even more questionable items than the above songs on there. (Did you just hear me mutter "Jolene"? You must have imagined that...)

On one memorable occasion where I was obsessed with Rod Stewart & The Temptations "Motown Song", I played it on repeat for almost an hour at max volume because I thought I was alone in the apartment. And I was singing. Not singing like normal people do where they kind of quietly sing along while doing other things. I was singing the baritone Temptations parts in my fake-baritone voice and possibly was also stomping up and down the hallway in time to my singing. It was also 7am.

When my roommate emerged from her room with an amused expression I was horrified. Mostly because I was embarrassed to have woken her so early and because although I would have easily done that in front of her, having her accidentally witness it was different.

I know what you are thinking. You are wondering what the apartment below me is feeling. Especially because in the first illustration I showed a downstairs neighbour. Angry.

I have never seen my downstairs neighbours. Or heard them.

Not that my hopeful/suspicious mind automatically assumes that silent neighbours are equal to grow ops, but I do imagine that illegal plants are silent.

I also imagine that they are enjoying hearing Raphael Saadiq's "Love That Girl" for the 543rd time right now.