“Excuse me, was you sayin’ something? Uh uh, you can’t tell me nothin’.”
I have a playlist buried deep in my iTunes library, nestled comfortably in between other forgotten playlists representing other and different moods. It’s a playlist from when I was still playing organized sports, a simpler time when my biggest worry was Friday night’s game, or the coming weekend’s wrestling tournament. I still rely heavily on music as an emotional receptacle, but in those days it was pretty much the only outlet I could regularly turn to, and so I had a playlist for nearly any occasion.