Every now and then, I have days when I want to blog but can't think of anything to write about; I can't write if I have no thoughts floating around in my head. Those days are very sad.
Sometimes though, a simple outline is enough to get my brain waves flowing so that I'm not so starved for entertainment. So I'm going to present you with another one of those iPod list things--you know, read the question, hit shuffle on your iPod, and the lucky song displayed is your answer. It's going to be epic.
Ahem. I now present you with . . . The Soundtrack of My Life.
Opening credits: I Love You This Much, by Jimmy Wayne. Oh great. It looks like I'm going to have an Alma-the-Younger type experience here.
Waking up: Jesus Take the Wheel, by Carrie Underwood. What did I tell you? Actually, I think I would be well served if I woke up with this philosophy in mind every day.
Average day: I Believe in Christ, by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I take back my first comment--I am actually an incredibly spiritual person who has all her priorities straight. So far the only thing I've thought about all day is Jesus.
First date: Please Forgive Me, by Bryan Adams. This is obviously referring to my absolute perfection--it's got to be hard on any guy to be in the presence of a perfect girl; thus my humble desire to ask for forgiveness.
Falling in love (apparently this is the chick flick version of my life): Greased Lightning, from Grease. After dropping me off, my date is so enraptured that he makes up a song about his favorite car to distract himself. His friends join in on the endeavor and soon the whole neighborhood knows the song.
Love scene: Eight Days a Week, by the Beatles. After warming up his vocal chords in his garage, my guy comes to my window and professes that he can't stop thinking about me, so much so that he forgets how many days of the week there are.
Fight scene: Into the West, by Annie Lennox. Apparently, this guy is willing to die for me. Or, at least he tries to convince me that dying wouldn't be so bad if it became necessary.
Breaking up: Behold the Wounds in Jesus' Hands, by Jon Schmidt. I then explain to the boy that he doesn't need to die for me--somebody else already did. Duh.
Getting back together: Stealing Cinderella, by Chuck Wicks. That's enough for him, and he immediately takes off to my parents' house to ask my dad if he can have my hand.
Secret love: Call on Me, by Chicago. Then, out of the blue, someone calls the guy while he's talking to my dad. It's his ex-girlfriend. Dun, dun, dun . . .
Life's okay: Chim Chim Cher-ree, from Mary Poppins. Then he feels guilty and starts sweeping the rooftops of Elk Ridge as penance.
Mental breakdown: The Best of Me, by Bryan Adams. My dad then gives the guy permission to take ownership of my hand, and for the first time he starts thinking that he is more awesome than I am for accomplishing such a feat. That's a mental breakdown if I ever saw one.
Driving: More than That, by Backstreet Boys. The drive back to Salt Lake takes forever, but he is willing to do More than That to have my hand.
Learning a Lesson: Theme from Jurassic Park, by John Williams. Meanwhile, I am back at my apartment, and I discover that there are other forms of music out there that are pretty awesome.
Deep Thought: I Do, by Jon Schmidt. Because of this revelation, I realize that I can indeed marry someone who has more diverse music tastes than I do.
Flashback: Si Do Mhaimeo I, by Celtic Women. As the guy approaches my apartment, he starts thinking about his mission and whatever the heck the language was he spoke there.
Partying: If She Only Knew, by 98 Degrees. By now, I have said yes to the proposal and am celebrating throughout the land, but I'm feeling guilty because I haven't told my sisters yet.
Happy Dance: When You're in Love, from 7 Brides for 7 Brothers. I do a happy dance because when you're in love, people are more understanding of your stupidity.
Regretting: My Front Porch Looking In, by Lonestar. Apparently I wish I was married and had a couple kids already.
Long night alone: Hymn of Nature, by Jon Schmidt. Of course, I am too wound up from the events of the day to sleep, so I turn on my most boring Jon Schmidt stuff to try to trick my body into falling asleep.
Death scene: To Make You Feel My Love, by Garth Brooks. I suddenly realize that the old me has died--I no longer think I am the perfect being I once thought I was because I would do anything to convince this guy that I like him.
Closing credits: When You Love Someone, by Bryan Adams. When you love someone, naturally, you get married. That's how all chick flicks end.
So there you have it: the soundtrack of my life. Everything seems to have worked out quite splendidly (it helps that my shuffle seemed to catch on to the rules of this game and only gave my chick-flick related songs after a while).
Sadly, though, I'm still lacking original thought. I can't believe this mindless exercise didn't work . . .