Whistling in the Dark

I've spent some time using the magical powers of iTunes 3 to build custom playlists for writing. Since I'm working on Nobilis right now, that means songs that evoke the look and feel of Nobilis to me while I'm working. This can be because of lyrics, because of the tone and sound of the song, because of attitude... any reason, really. I tend to focus on music bemoaning the mundane, quietly exalting that which was humble, or recognizing the slow end of things. After going through my music collection on one pass, I have a few hours worth of stuff, which I'll now let you in on.

The problem is... I'm a tremendous geek. I'm not even a cool music geek like many role players. So, I don't want you to look at this as anything more than my own sad little mind in action. Please don't mock me.

( The List )

It's Friday the 13th. Growing up, that was always a cool spooky day. In school we'd play the game, talking about bad luck and ascribing every stubbed toe and C- in History to "Friday the 13th." And, like all kids, deep down we believed in it.

Belief is a powerful force. It's also a nebulous one. I have many beliefs that inform my day to day activities that have no basis in rationality. I don't like killing insects (though I do, when they're in my house -- cleanliness outweighs superstition) because I've read too many cheerful fairy tales and stories about treating disguised faeries or demigods badly. I try to actively restrain myself from imagining horrible fates afflicting the deserving, because of a superstition that unspoken wishes can affect the world. (So, Jesse Helms should be glad, because clearly only my self-restraint and irrational belief in my own omnipotence keeps him from having a massive heart attack.) I'm an agnostic who speaks respectfully about all deities, in vogue or not. I loved Mythology as a kid (and still do, really), and I never forgot the story of Perseus and Andromeda and the lessons of comparing yourself favorably to the Gods. Even today, when (in my agnosticism) I get outraged at some extreme right interpretations of Closed Salvation and repressive attitude, I'm always careful to get outraged at the people, and not the deity. I'm definitely sure that they're wrong, but I don't think that's God's fault, hypothetical or not. And I try never, ever to say 'what could possibly go wrong' and mean it, because I do believe in Murphy.

But I don't believe in Friday the Thirteenth any more. I don't hold my breath when passing by cemetaries. Not only don't I get nervous about black cats, I live with one who crosses my path so enthusiastically she nearly trips me. I don't avoid stepping on cracks. Spilled salt is ignored.

And that's a little sad. There is a comfort and simplicity in superstition. We want there to be rules for the universe, and if you live inside them, you know you're going to be okay.