Again - AGAIN - how many more days in a row am I going to wake up with this song in my head? Zofia thought, rubbing her noggin as if that might somehow dislodge the earworm.  She laughed at the thought of literally attempting to dislodge a worm with ears from one of the crevices on her head; she then took a moment to google “earworm meaning.”  Google’s first answer provided the following definition:  “a catchy song or tune that runs continually through a person’s mind.” Yep, Zofia thought as she continued to scroll through the various web pages Google had thrown up in response to her query.  Another web page described an earworm as a “musical obsession.”  Getting warmer.  Pretty much any time the word “obsession” is used to describe something I’m experiencing, you’re getting warmer, she teased herself in her own mind.  

Zofia found a portion of another definition for “earworm” embedded in an article published in the British Journal of General Practice.  Zofia found the snippets of that article to be particularly accurate as well as humorous:  “Psychologically, earworms are a ‘cognitive itch.’” 

“That’s exactly what it feels like!” Zofia exclaimed, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth, hoping that none of the others heard her randomly exclaiming half-baked thoughts to herself seemingly out of nowhere seemingly about nothing.  The article went on to state that, with earworms, “the brain automatically itches back, resulting in a vicious loop.”  Zofia read further, “The more one tries to suppress the song, the more their impetus increases…” Damn, yeah, okay, that makes sense.  It’s just like any other attempted thought suppression process.  Zofia was proud of the self-control she was demonstrating by managing to think these thoughts and muse on them alone instead of giving into the urge to tell anyone who would listen about her most recent discovery. She’d felt the need to keep a lot of the things she had recently been discovering to herself - mostly out of concern for the well-being of others but admittedly also out of self-interest - given the numerous reasons she could think of for any other person to want to dismiss as pure rubbish what she had been learning.

The refrain of the earworm - yep, you guessed it - the song by R.E.M. - continued, and as recommended by the article, Zofia allowed it without resistance:

“… It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine”

Noticing a particularly acute desire (obsession? haha) to KNOW ALL THE THINGS, Zofia asked Google to show her all of the lyrics for this particular earworm. As the British Journal suggested - or rather - as Zofia’s interpretation of the suggestion of the British Journal suggested - If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. She turned the song on so she could listen along while reading the lyrics.

“… That's great, it starts with an earthquake

Birds and snakes, and aeroplanes

And Lenny Bruce is not afraid

… Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn

World serves its own needs

Don't mis-serve your own needs

Speed it up a notch, speed, grunt, no, strength

The ladder starts to clatter

With a fear of height, down, height

Wire in a fire, represent the seven games

And a government for hire and a combat site

Left her, wasn't coming in a hurry

With the Furies breathing down your neck

… Team by team, reporters baffled, trumped, tethered, cropped

Look at that low plane, fine, then

Uh oh, overflow, population, common group

But it'll do, save yourself, serve yourself

World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed

Tell me with the Rapture and the reverent in the right, right

You vitriolic, patriotic, slam fight, bright light

Feeling pretty psyched

… It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine

… Six o'clock, T.V. hour, don't get caught in foreign tower

Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn

Lock him in uniform, book burning, bloodletting

Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate

Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down

Watch your heel crush, crush, uh oh

This means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steering clear

A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies

Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline

… It's the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)

I feel fine (I feel fine)

… It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)

… The other night I drifted nice continental drift divide

Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein

Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs

Birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom

You symbiotic, patriotic, slam but neck, right, right

… It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)”

This refrain continued several more times in the written lyrics but Zofia didn’t need to read anymore; the point had already been driven home (plus she still had the earworm).

Now having a much more substantial grasp on what was likely being communicated by John Michael Stipe and his compatriots in writing the lyrics of this song, Zofia contemplated the possible reasons for the presence of the earworm in her life.  As a result of more recent conversations with Dr. Flo during which Flo shared more about her philosophy concerning the potential purpose and perhaps even the potential functionality of various mental health “symptoms,” Zofia paused to consider the potential function of the earworm’s apparent desire to stalk her.  When something keeps knocking on the door (of my mind), it’s usually trying to prompt me to consider some necessary action, she thought.  There was only one action she could think of to take that might satisfy the implicit meaning of the earworm.

“Ice Pick!” Zofia called out, getting up from her chair and taking a sharp left turn down the hallway toward the room where he was most often found.  “Ice Pick!” she called again.  Upon entering the room formerly - and still sometimes - known as Ice Pick’s lair, Zofia spotted the familiar look of the top of Ice Pick’s head peeking up from behind the shelf where he was working on his own project.  “What’s up, my friend?” Ice Pick replied.  “Hey there, yeah, when you’ve got a second,” Zofia hesitated, took a deep breath, and forced the words out of her mouth before she had any more time to consider the impact or chicken out.  “When you’ve got a second, Ice Pick, there’s a podcast that I’d really like your opinion of.”  “Sure thing, Zofia, I’m glad to hear someone’s interested in what I think,” Ice Pick smirked his words, turned around and grinned before winking.  “What’s the name of the podcast?” he asked nonchalantly as he continued to maneuver around the shelves he was building.  “It’s called ‘Breaking Down:  Collapse,’” Zofia answered his question.  Feeling her face turning red, she squared her shoulders and added her last thought, “And as much as I don’t want to, and as much as I wish I didn’t, I believe that what the podcasters are saying on this one is likely more true than false.”

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