The Dark Passenger

I've been watching a lot of television lately. A LOT. Way more than is good for a person—I need to get out of the house more and exercise, and see people in real life. As a child I was limited to one hour of television per day, and so I had to choose so carefully that watching an hour of television meant something special. Now I can sit and stare for hours at the television, and even if there isn't really anything on I can still sit there for hours and hours, rotting my brain.

My current favorite show is Showtime's Dexter. If you haven't watched it, you should—that is, if you like detective-type stories with a twist (and if you like irrationally attractive lead characters). Dexter is a serial killer, but he works for the Miami Metro Police Department. He also only kills bad guys. He's quite lovable, as serial killers go.

I've just finished watching the second season, watching episodes "on demand" when I please (which is pretty much as many hours as I have at home in a day). Dexter has been discovering the story of his childhood, and learning what makes him what he is. He talks a lot about what he calls "the dark passenger," something that lives in his mind or his soul and drives him to do what he does. In an episode I watched recently, he spoke about his passenger like an addiction:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toYzUtZdYUk

Sometimes I recognize a kind of darkness in myself—not in a serial killer way, or a heroin addict sort of way, but kind of a cloud over my consciousness. I think there are probably lots of people in the world that feel this way from time to time—some more than others. Mine's kind of a melancholy…I feel like listening to my sad songs, and hope for rainy days, and kind of wallow in it a little bit.

Now, before my mom freaks out (she reads my blog sometimes and gets nervous—hi mom!), you should all know that I'm not going off the deep end—I think most people avoid talking about feeling this way, and we shouldn't. I think we all have dark days, even if they're just a little rainy. Some people have to fight it more than others, but don't we all go through bouts of gloom now and then? Why is it so scary to talk about?

Sometimes I like to wallow in it a little bit—on rainy days, or cold, dreary afternoons, or even beautifully clear days when autumn seems just around in the corner. It makes me feel creative, nostalgic, even human. Because music means so much to me, I usually have certain songs I go to when I'm feeling a little dark, and this week I decided to create a sad songs play list. I've mentioned this before here, and talked about songs that speak to me, but I spent some time this week talking about sad songs—with friends and coworkers—and started to flesh out my list.

I think my definition of sad songs is different than some people's—and I can't even really put my definition into words very easily. It's not just sad lyrics (though that helps). It's also not just emotive music (but that helps, too). It's a general overall feeling I get while listening. I'm sure some of the songs are sad for me because they remind me of someone else, or some other time, and maybe that's why some people's suggestions haven't seemed sad to me at all—they remind that person of a person or time when they felt sad, and that's why the song has so much meaning.

I'd love to hear your sad song suggestions—and the list is getting a little long to publish here, but let me know if you'd like a copy of it. And here's looking to sunnier days ahead.