The Dilemma of Earworms

Recently, there has been an influx of articles about earworms—those catchy tunes that get stuck in our heads and refuse to leave. I found myself reading these, wishing that their musical earworms could take over my own.

Unfortunately, my earworms aren’t songs at all. I often find myself haunted by conversations I wish I had handled differently, the regrets and comments from others that linger in my mind. They’re far worse than any catchy melody.

Imagine being stranded on a deserted island where the guardian offers you the chance to choose one song to listen to for eternity. Naturally, I would opt for a profound, intricate track with endless interpretations, something enjoyable rather than irritating. But, just my luck, the island’s radio gets stuck on NPR.

So here I am, stuck with NPR for eternity. That earnest Midwestern tone, which often makes me tear up in my car, does little to comfort me on this island. If I had to choose, I would gladly take any disco hit over this monotony.

Have you heard about how certain illnesses can overshadow COVID? If you have one of these conditions, it’s like they give COVID a run for its money. You might catch it, but you won’t keep it. That’s exactly what I wish would happen to my annoying verbal earworms—let someone else’s musical ones kick it to the curb.

Can you tell I’m not a scientist?

I live next to a scientist, and I could easily knock on her door to ask for clarification on that scientific theory about COVID being overshadowed. I could then relay it to you, but that feels like cheating. Is anyone even using libraries for research anymore, or has everyone resorted to Googling and pretending they always knew the answer? Oh, of course, I knew that. I wasn’t looking it up—I was just searching my brain.

It’s crucial for me to express my lack of knowledge openly. I don’t want to contribute to the facade of knowing everything. Eventually, the truth comes out; everyone seems to have an intuitive grasp of your reality, even if it’s just an inkling.

One of my favorite tropes in crime dramas is when a detective has a gut feeling, and everyone treats it as if it were scientific fact.

Can you tell I barely passed science? My teacher and I were not an item, despite what you might think. Just kidding—he was too passionate about science to date someone like me. Dating me would have been like saying, “Forget you, science. It’s not real.”

As a teenager, I had a penchant for weaving elaborate tales without much understanding—like a pre-QAnon conspiracy theorist. I was onto space lasers long before they became a talking point for certain politicians. I just knew they weren’t linked to any particular group.

I wish I could replace all this with a catchy tune, something that would embed itself deep in my brain. I fear I might just have to become my own earworm, and I’m going to need a particularly annoying song to drown out my thoughts.

Thanks to Holly See for editing.

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