I was listening to the radio last night and heard that song. You know that song that suddenly brings back a flood of memories from a time that just makes you smile and say to yourself, ‘god that was a good time in my life.’ [And god my ass was so much smaller]. I’m big on sense memory and the part that music plays in memory recall, and I’m happy to say I have many songs that apply to many sections of my life, as most will do (unless you’re not a music lover and then…well, I don’t trust people who don’t like music). I suppose that’s as close as we’ll all get to having a running soundtrack of our lives. I mean admit it, how many films have you seen where the music starts to play while two characters are falling in love and you think, damn it, things in real life would be so much more interesting if some quirky Indie band was standing behind me singing their heart out while I went through my daily tasks.

The song I heard the other night was ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ by The Verve. Such a good song (of course every time I hear it I can’t help but think how pissed they must be for having to give away all the publishing to The Stones. Yes, I am a composer’s child) that reminds me of when I first moved to London; not to mention, it also reminds me of a time when musicians used to actually sing live, play instruments and wear non revealing outfits. Anyway, at the time I was young and in love and thought I had discovered the world’s greatest city – well, barring the weather, I had; and that little song set to a great sample became so much more. It became the soundtrack for that time in my life when anything felt possible and I was set free in a large city to wreak havoc (I kid!). Not to mention, when I hear that song, I smile and actually feel younger; I’m not sure if I’m smiling out of remembrance or because I feel younger. Once you hit 40, you’ll take whatever you can get.

The best part of music recall, as I like to call it, is there are songs for so many different chapters in one’s life. There is the song my husband played me shortly after we met [that I had never heard before] that blew my doors off. I remember sitting there thinking, okay, if this man knew well enough to play me this song, he’s not only soulful, but he’s got serious moves (well done honey). There are songs that got you thru breakups (usually totally depressing ones that made you cry even harder, cause we humans like to wallow in a bit of misery); songs you traveled with, window down, hair blowing, tunes blaring (road trips are key in this category); songs you got your screaming newborn to sleep to (the King favored Coldplay’s first album and Trouble by Ray La Montagne) songs that remind you of people. Songs that you wished didn’t remind you of people…you see, the possibilities with music and memories are endless.

Funny enough, I’ve often been told that my father’s songs mark significant events in other people’s lives. Often this makes me smile, as I appreciate the feeling it gave them and am proud he was able to mark that time in their life. And other times, I cringe slightly as people like to tell me way too personal of information like, they lost their virginity in the back of a Ford to one of his songs. Um. Okay, thanks for (over) sharing.

Who knows? Maybe the King will be walking down the street one day and hear ‘The Wheels on the Bus," (no clue who wrote this stellar classic) and be transported back to the days when he and I would sit in the park on a bench eating crackers (the kid loves crackers) and I’d sing the song over and over, and he’ll think to his adult self, ‘despite the countless hours of therapy to work out my mother issues, she wasn’t so bad after all.’

Sigh. A mom can dream.   

I have never considered myself a lucky person. Fortunate, blessed, a possessor of many great experiences and opportunities…for sure, but lucky, as per the textbook definition and the whole four leaf clover thing, not really no. My husband pointed this out the other night when we were discussing wining the lottery. We do this a lot [go on admit it, you do too]; we ruminate on what we’d spend it on, who we’d give money to, who we wouldn’t give money to and hence have to change our phone number. You know, all that pointless yet very hopeful thinking one does when they ponder what ‘could be’ in life. So anyway, as we were discussing our 145 million potential windfall and were looking at enormous properties online with indoor swimming pools, he pointed out that as we’re not 'lucky' people, the odds of us winning are even steeper than the usual odds. I’m not a statistician, but I know that’s not good. In fact, I’ve been told I’m more likely to be struck by lightning.

In fact, merely being a screenwriter confirms it for me that I’m devoid of luck. Trust me, spend as many years as I have in that business and you’ll know you’re not only unlucky, but you’re totally nuts for walking down the garden path. In addition to this, I don’t win contests, lights and sirens don’t start blaring at the supermarket cause I’m the millionth customer (in my case, it would more likely be that the King had stolen a loaf of bread and started eating it sending the security team into overdrive) and to date I haven’t won the lottery [as we are a capitalist society, luck has a great deal to do with obtaining money and prizes apparently]. 

All this luck talk aside, I suppose being lucky doesn’t mean you’re technically unlucky. I mean luck can strike in many forms that may not always be so apparent. Perhaps one is bathed in luck on a daily basis but isn’t always aware that the 'stars o luck' have aligned for them, i.e. you miss your bus, but that bus crashes into a telephone pole and yet your bus gets you to where you need to go. Dramatic, yes, but you get the idea. Perhaps without even knowing it, I’m the luckiest person alive purely because I escape danger everywhere I go and don’t even know it. Somehow I doubt this, but it does make me feel better. 

The funny thing is, I’m not sure I even believe in luck. Sometimes I think luck is just good old fashioned coincidence dressed up as something else that feels more magical, if you will. Or at least chosen. Hence, I am one of the lucky ones. I suppose we like to slap the lucky label onto people’s foreheads purely to emphasize its existence and make us feel like we have a shot at it. ‘Well gosh the neighbor is so lucky to have just won a new car, maybe by sheer proximity that luck will rub off on me.’ Not to mention, it’s nice to think that luck doesn’t have a shelf life or isn’t necessarily set in stone, ie. luck can turn faster than the wind. This week’s lack of luck could mean that next week I’ll beat six diseases and win an all expenses trip to Mauritius (with a fully catered kids wing; the King likes to eat). I suppose that could also go the other way, which could mean that after winning the lottery as I’m making my way out of the bank I could be struck by lightning. See how slippery this little four -etter word is!

Whatever luck is or isn’t, you do come across those people in life where things always just seem to work out for them; they get the job, the girl, the property everyone is vying for…they win the contests and always seem to be in the right place at the right time. Maybe that’s not luck. Maybe that’s just annoying. 

Like - For such a small word you’ve suddenly become an unbelievably powerful four letter vernacular destroyer. Yes, I have a bone to pick with you, you little verbal troublemaker. Okay, perhaps not with you exactly as your intentions have always been pure - it doesn’t seem fair to pick on a --- anyway. So I shall direct my ire where it belongs, at the human race – cause humans are such easy targets.

Once upon a time, ‘like’ used to be a sweet little introduction to a simile. Can’t you just remember English class when you were trying to grasp the difference between a simile and a metaphor: like, As. Like, As. “Her bosom was like a big fluffy bowl of pillows.” Okay, a totally horrendous simile, but you get the point. Not to be undone by other four letter words, like also could be used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective, preposition, conjunction, interjection and particle….and if you’re not tired enough by that sentence, I think I’ve left a few usages out.

And then a funny thing happened; the word like was swallowed by the zeitgeist in the most hideous of ways. It became this all-pervasive insidious filler in everyday language; a filler of uber annoyance that peppered the mouths of teens like a bad orthodontist. Every other word spilling out of these young people’s mouths was separated by the word like. “She was, like, soooo cool. Like you know, like, he was like, yeah, I’d love to go, so, like, um, like, wicked. Like you know.” Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh make the four letter bad man stop. And to make matters worse, like any good infection worth its salt, it spread through the age groups, leaving no one but the diehard wordsmiths immune to its charm. [I’m actually eavesdropping on the two women next to me and I’m trying to count the ‘likes;’ It’s…like…damn near impossible].

At first it was just America where this rash bastardization took place. I think we can go ahead and blame a small pocket in an area called the Valley in Southern California. People talked in a melodious sing song way (and I’m being polite with this description) and like was thrown around with other language gems like: wicked, you know, and my other favorite (not), totally. And in short, where there used to be a pause, there was now ‘like.’ Then thanks to TV or international travel, I’m not sure which, I started to hear it abroad as well. My once civilized and well spoken English friends were dropping the word like, like a bad habit (see that proper usage of simile, did you catch that?).

Here is the thing for those of you wanting to rid yourself of an awful habit – yes, I’m trying to shame you into it. The word like sounds really awful in conversation unless used properly. In fact, I’ve heard it can lower your IQ [by like] 50 points. Secondly, we have become a culture where things are no longer what they actually are. They are now ‘like’ something. I shall give you an example to hammer this home. “She was like, so cool.” “He was like, so tall.” Um, NO. He was not like so anything. He was in fact, just tall. Oh hell, if you’re that bored, you could throw in a really, or an egregiously/freakishly/exceptionally etc., and really freak out your friends with your flair for adjectives.

So I plead with society as a whole, let’s stop the epidemic and return ‘like’ to its proper place. We can even [like, you know – stop that!] start behaving ‘like’ humans who are actually in command of our language. Come on, I know we can do it. And besides, think of how left out ‘as’ feels at this point. Do it for the two letter words of the world! Do it for your country, your children. Do it for the poor little four letter word like that is used, abused and downright exhausted.