The Weird Old Guy Who Sits by Himself in the Corner Crying

 

So I have a new tradition at work. Normally I work from home, but on Wednesdays we have to go into the office. Having spent over 25 years in vocational ministry, with an office staff that ranged between one (me) and four, being in a fully staffed office environment is a new experience for me. I’m having to learn the nuances of navigating eight hours with other people, most of whom you only communicate with during those eight hours one day a week. Honey laughs at my weekly reports detailing my attempts to be friendly and converse with my co-workers. Despite the publicly conversant requirements of my ministerial work, my default setting is to sit silently and blend in with the crowd. However, in my new environment, I don’t want to be seen as the creepy old guy who doesn’t talk to anyone or the arrogant jerk who thinks he’s too good to talk to anybody. Each Wednesday evening I explain to Honey how I’ve attempted to be a normal person and engage with my co-workers in small talk. I do my best, but once those semi-social interactions have ended, I hurry back to my desk in the back corner of the office. That’s where my new tradition begins.

At some point during the day I sit in silence at my desk and sob. Don’t worry it’s not because I’m having a midlife existential crisis brought on by the realization that I am trapped in corporate hell. Actually I really like my job and my coworkers and bosses. In between meetings and conference calls, Wednesdays have become my go to day for catching up on paperwork, data entry, and other mindless, rote tasks that must be completed. To aid me in my mechanical missions, I put in my bluetooth earbuds and listen to music. Listening to music while I work is nothing new, I literally play music during everything I do (cooking, cleaning, gardening, working, writing), but sitting undisturbed and undistracted, with no other sounds in my ears, the music just hits different. In this environment it is so much easier to hear all of the little nuances and backing instruments that tend to get lost in a more ambient environment. As much as I play music, I rarely sit and listen to music, as in conscientiously engage with the sounds and lyrics, but I do that intently in the office and that is often when the crying comes. I think it’s largely because I am undistracted and really listening that the lyrics are able to do what they were intended to do, invoke emotion. 

The most recent catalyst for the weeping — and the idea for this blog post — was the song “Thank U”,  originally written and recorded by Alanis Morissette. The version that struck a chord with me on this day was a cover by Audrey Assad. Audrey Assad has become a go to favorite artist in our household, whose music has been the source of a number of blog posts through the years (for example: https://brandonbritton.blogspot.com/2023/12/fortunate-fall.html). Her song, “I Shall Not Want” has become the default prayer to begin my Sunday mornings for many years. For background, in 1995 Alanis Morissette went from musical obscurity to releasing the 13th best selling album of all time, and you can imagine how that might tend to mess with your head a little. One day you can move through the world in utter anonymity and a month later you cannot pump gas without being recognized and approached by complete strangers. Two years later she took a year and a half off and went to India and wrote this song. She later said, “Basically, I had never stopped in my whole life, hadn't taken a long breath, and I took a year and a half off and basically learned how to do that. When I did stop and I was silent and I breathed... I was just left with an immense amount of gratitude, and inspiration, and love, and bliss, and that's where the song came from.” 

Although the song “Thank U” is autobiographical to Alanis, there is something about the emotion Audrey milks from the music that moved me to tears and felt familiar. I’ve come to believe that the mark of a truly great song is in its ability to make a complete stranger feel like the artist is singing about their experience. Sitting in silence and stillness at work, able to truly focus on the lyrics to the song, a sort of nostalgia began to wash over me, and the tears began to flow out of me.

How 'bout getting off of these antibiotics?

How 'bout stopping eating when I'm full up?

How 'bout them transparent dangling carrots?

How 'bout that ever-elusive kudo?

Thank you, India

Thank you, terror

Thank you, disillusionment

Thank you, frailty

Thank you, consequence

Thank you, thank you, silence

How 'bout me not blaming you for everything?

How 'bout me enjoying the moment for once?

How 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you?

How 'bout grieving it all one at a time?

Thank you, India

Thank you, terror

Thank you, disillusionment

Thank you, frailty

Thank you, consequence

Thank you, thank you, silence

The moment I let go of it

Was the moment I got more than I could handle

The moment I jumped off of it

Was the moment I touched down

How 'bout no longer being masochistic?

How 'bout remembering your divinity?

How 'bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out?

How 'bout not equating death with stopping?

Thank you, India

Thank you, providence

Thank you, disillusionment

Thank you, nothingness

Thank you, clarity

Thank you, thank you, silence

Her unshielded honesty, combined with a lyrical landscape that is recognizable to my own journey the last decade, siphoned the salt water from my eyes and a considerable amount of pain from my soul. So yeah, that’s my new Wednesday work tradition. Instead of being the creepy old guy who doesn’t talk to anyone, I’m likely going to be referred to as the weird old guy who sits by himself in the corner crying. Thank U.