Category: Top 250 Feelings

I wish I knew more about the brain. I wish I knew more because then, maybe, I’d be able to access that far off corner of my brain that has permanently downloaded the lyrics to “Mo Money Mo Problems”. I’d be able to access that area, delete that information and replace it with… I don’t know, just about anything else on Earth that would be more useful.

I remember, many moons ago, being in the car with my mom and that song coming on. It had probably just come out and as such, my intimate knowledge of every single bar in the song wasn’t all that strange. I remember saying to my mom, apropos of nothing, “I’m never going to not know the lyrics to this song.”

And so, in 2014, nearly 20 years after the song came out, I still do know every word to that song. And while it’s a little odd and a definite waste of memory, there’s a certain satisfaction I get when the song will randomly come on the radio or my iTunes. Maybe it’s the feeling that despite my overwhelming, alarming incompetence, there’s still one area where I know what’s going on. Or, maybe it’s the comfort of the song and the familiarity of the lyrics, almost like an audio version of comfort food.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: You think you know all the words to a song, you try to go ahead and take a verse in the car with your pals, but you sadly either don’t know, can’t remember or never did know the actual words so you have to bow out like a jerk.

Let’s be fair, getting to split from work, at any time of day or night, in any weather or situation, is very rarely a bad thing. Unless of course you’re carrying a banker’s box with all of your shit. Then, maybe it’s a bad thing.

Staying on point, the fact remains that all of this–without question–is amplified by good weather. If you really want to crank it up, throw in the idea that it’s a Friday. And, for even more fun, how about you’re leaving to go on a vacation of just about any kind.

I don’t know about you, but I really enjoy and take care in the song selection for that small ride out of the parking lot. I liken it back to what I’d feel as I left high school after the day was over. You had to pick a good song to play yourself out, for the day. You knew people would be walking around, leaving as you did, and while you were at least circumstantially aware that no one gave a shit, you had to pretend as if you were cool. Or, at the very least, living your life as if it was a music video.

Leaving from work is basically the same thing, just minus the hot girls and homework.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Having to walk home or from your parking spot in the rain, on the first day of your work week. Without an umbrella. Because it wasn’t supposed to rain (or, you just didn’t check).

I know I’m not supposed to get this excited by stupid shit like this any more. Hell, I’m nearly 30 years old. But, I’ll say this… I know I’ve officially become an adult when the day will come that I’ll see an unsoiled sheet of bubble wrap and not have the immediate urge to do this.

Granted, it’s loud, obnoxious and renders a perfectly good product into something utterly useless–but come on, it’s fun.

There’s not much else to really say here. This one’s pretty cut and dry, you either get it or you don’t. I will add–I am decidedly a fan of the small bubbled-paper as opposed to the big one that our furry pal here has in his mouth. But, to each their own.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Coming across a half-used sheet of bubble wrap. You try to run your hands over the sheet, looking for some un-popped rows but come up largely empty.

Now, I know a bunch of you big readers out there are going to disagree with this one right off the bat. I’ll address the movie vs. book thing in a minute, but for now, let’s just concentrate on the feeling of finding out this news.

For me, most recently it was that Adam Sandler is starring in an adaptation of Chad Kultgen’s “Men, Women and Children”. I’ve read a few of his books, enjoyed each of them easily and plentifully, so this was welcome news. Same too for the Jason Batemen, Tina Fey-driven “This Is Where I Leave You” vehicle, adopted from Jonathan Tropper’s novel.

I suppose the enjoyment stems from getting to see what some of my, in these cases, favorite actors, actresses and writers have collaborated on and how they will interpret something I’ve already interpreted. Who will play who? What scenes will be kept in, which will be cut? Will it play out as it had in the mental movie I’d created while reading the book? And, of course, will it be better or worse, in the end, than the movie?

That last question is a tough one. First off, it’s almost taboo to say “I actually liked the movie better than the book!” It’s as if it’s culturally frowned upon to admit that you enjoyed a fun, flimsy film over the slaved-over, 300-page hard copy. Secondly, it is true that most often, the movie isn’t better than the book—but that’s not for the reason you’d think. It’s because when we read books and then see the movies made of them, we go in with such an attachment to the book that it’s almost impossible for the film to live up to it. I’ve decided that there’s really no point in even comparing the book and the movie. They’re separate entities in completely separate mediums made for separate reasons (specifically, not generally). One does not effect the other and we should enjoy them as such.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Having your expectations crushed by a great trailer for one of these movies, only to find out it was a borefest. I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.

I like to think of myself as a sneaky-good “swim for as long as you can underwater without coming up for air” guy. If you took a quick glance at me, you’d probably assume I’m not any good at it… but you’d be wrong!

Well, I’ve really only shown this skill of to family members and no one has ever really competed with or against me, so I have absolutely no frame of reference… But the fact remains, I’m not awful.

Either way, any time I swim and go under, I’m always looking to catch that great deep breath. The one where you fill your lungs with as much air as possible, the one that makes you feel like you could stay under water for an hour… or at least longer than you did the last time you tried it six minutes ago.

It’s a fleeting feeling, and one not-so-easily achieved. Think about how often you breathe for a second. Take a few, think about them. Now, think about how many are really good, full ones.

Exactly.

Don’t take ’em lightly kids, they’re good ones.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Not sure this is exactly opposite, but it’s water-related, and I hate this feeling so to me it applies… getting water in your nose while you’re underwater and having to come up because you think you’re going to choke or drown, only to realize, of course, you’re really fine.

This one does barely make the cut, and is similar to #68–or at least has multiple elements contained therein–but after some review I decided it was singular enough to warrant its own entry. And, hell, 250 was a huge number. May have over shot it a bit.

Moving on… Like most people, I have way (seriously, way way) too many songs on my iTunes. As of right this second, I have over 8,400 songs, totaling just under 24 hours of music. I don’t claim to be a record-setter, but we can all agree, that’s a fuckton of music.*

Either way, as you’d imagine, I barely have listened to half (probably more like a quarter) of that stuff. A lot of it is just stuff I’ve accumulated, full albums with the intent of only listening to one song and so, there’s a bunch of stuff that will come up when I’m listening to the whole playlist on shuffle that I’ve either never heard or skip through without giving a chance.

However, every so often, I’ll forget to hit next (or, the song will grab from the jump—though that’s rare, frankly) and I’ll discover something. Two or three minutes in to the song, I’ll realize, “Hey, this is actually a pretty good song… What the hell is this?” And inevitably, it’ll be something from a mixtape or some James Morrison song I’ve never given a proper listen.

Here’s my most recent example:

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Hitting next so many times you almost don’t believe it’s your iTunes. Like someone came in the middle of the night, broke into your apartment and then your computer only to take all your music off and put all of their favorites on there.

 

*These are technical measurements you don’t really need to bother yourself with.

See how great this feels?

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Expecting to do nothing, and either forgetting you have plans or having plans forced upon you (none of which you actually like).

I realize there are a number of feelings on this list that could be squarely classified as male-centric. At first glance, this is almost certainly one of them. However, that’s under this ridiculous societal gaze we have, within which women never do anything other than pee (heaven forbid, a fart!). So, women out there, if you’re reading this and quietly thinking, “Yes, I agree with this 100% but don’t feel like showing that in public”, that’s OK. It’s between you, me and WordPress.

This feeling, that of the morning dump, is always a great one. It came to be a part of my life more as I got older. When I was younger, I could go at any time, anywhere—didn’t matter. I used to be baffled at how long my father could spend in the bathroom in the morning, how that was seemingly a spot of comfort, escape for him. Now, at 27 going on 28, I get it.

Throw in the modifier I have at the end there–that we’re talking home-toilet advantage and now you’re really cooking with gas. I don’t know about you, but whenever I sleep over someone’s house or apartment, it’s like my colon knows what’s up. The sphincter knows all, friends. And frankly, it’s a bit shy. Not gonna just open on up, share his world with everyone in every environment. He likes home field, the comfortable surroundings.

When you and the guy below are on the same page, that’s a great feeling.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Spending the night out drinking way more than you should, you attempt to go through your routine in the morning. You know that it’s not the same as it’s coming out, but you forge ahead, only to realize, midday that you’ve made a big mistake—but now you’re in a public place of some kind.

I don’t mean that as a clever way of disguising something else. I meant that title as literally as possible.

You’re at the party, you know who is supposed to be there. You have an idea of who might show up. Then, there’s that list in your head of who it would be awesome to see. Not necessarily because that man or woman is better in any specific way than the people that are already there… It’s more because you never expected them to show up. It’s their rarity that makes the visit worth the time.

There’s the obvious fun of the initial surprise, the joy of the greeting (multiplied by how drunk you may or may not be at the time) and of course, the actual fun being with the person. The irony is that once the person has arrived and the initial hello-period has passed, you typically don’t spend more time with them than anyone else.

But, damn, was it fun that they showed up.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Expecting this girl to show up, but that one does. Then, so does the first. Fun.