This morning, as I was eating breakfast and listening to music, I found myself inexplicably welling up with emotion, to the point of near-tears. Now, I wasn’t listening to the Free Haiti concert or Mariah Carey’s “One Sweet Day,” (stop judging me!) nothing that tends to elicit a negative emotional response. No, it was “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” More specifically when Johnny out-fiddles the devil. Misty-eyed, I said out loud to nobody, “You tell him, Johnny!” On the day-to-day scale of embarrassing-things-I-do-when-no-one-is-around, this was a relatively mild occurrence. But it’s been happening a lot lately. I cried when Glee’s “Jump” came on my iPhone. Twice. If you’re unfamiliar with this aural masterpiece, I should mention that a third of the song’s lyrics are “jump, go ahead, jump, might as well jump and why don’t you jump?” I have almost all of Glee’s songs, including your typical tearjerkers like “Lean on me,” “Imagine,” and “Somebody to love,” but none of those do it for me. Nope. I cry over the song that’s used in the show to sell mattresses. Naturally, since I’ve been socialized to assume that I’m not allowed to feel anything unless I’m pregnant or on the rag, my first thought was, “Am I about to get my period?” Which is ridiculous, of course, and reminded me of the prevalence that “hormones” have in dismissing people’s (often women’s) legitimate concerns and behaviors. Read more...