Since starting my new job in February, I’ve spent a lot of time in the car. A lot.

I don’t really like all the driving and sitting, especially after taking public transportation for three years, but my brother has made my commute more bearable by giving me a cord to connect my iPod to my radio. (I know this is not a new thing to most people, but it has revolutionized my life.)

Every morning and every evening, 45 minutes there and one hour back, I shuffle. I have almost 2,000 songs on my iPod, and I cruise through all of them, bypassing the ones I don’t really like or don’t feel in the mood for. Sometimes I’m tired and I want something peppy, something to sing along to. Other times I’m contemplative and need some middle-ground music: not peppy, but not slow, either. Sometimes I’m feeling gushy and happy about life and want love songs. Other times I want to hang myself in my closet and need an appropriate suicide-inducing soundtrack. Crying, singing, zoning out—the music I choose to listen to in my car is dependent upon my mood on that given day in that given moment.

There are, however, a few exceptions. A few songs on my iPod that make the cut, no matter what I’m feeling. Happy, sad, I never skip them, and I never tire of them.

“Missing You” – John Waite
I actually have two versions of this song—the original, and one that he sings with Alison Krauss. (Both are excellent.) What I like about this song is that it can fit a variety of moods. It covers the full range of post-break-up emotions: denial, anger, heartache, acceptance, peace. No matter what stage of a break-up you’re in, this song has got you covered. At the same time, if you’re not sad or heartbroken, the beauty of “Missing You” is that it won’t bring you down. The tune is just upbeat enough that you can still sing along, all the while thinking, Man, I’m glad I’m not that guy.

“Sway” – Bic Runga
This song makes me feel all misty inside. That doesn’t really make sense, but it’s the best way I can describe it. I heard this song for the first time while watching American Pie back in college; it’s played at the end, when the boys are finally doing the deed with their respective women. The second time I heard it was in the room of a friend whom I later fell semi-in-love with. Despite the fact that he didn’t reciprocate my feelings, I’ve always loved this song. For me it’s all about longing and not being able to convey everything you’re feeling about someone. And I suppose I’m always feeling that longing, for something or someone. My head is battling with my heart / My logic’s all been torn apart / I say it’s all because of you.

“After All” – Cher and Peter Cetera
Yes, this is the cheesiest song on this list (though, c’mon, it’s me. They’re all cheesy). When we were kids, my brother Peter and I would find a movie we liked and watch it over and over and over and over again until the tape wore out—our obsessive natures revealing themselves. One of these movies was the 1989 classic, Chances Are, starring Robert Downey Jr. and Cybil Shepherd. And the theme song for the movie was, you guessed it, “After All.” (The song won an Oscar. Go figure.) Even though it’s not the most appropriate song to share with one’s brother, to this day I still consider it our song (just substitute “kiss” with “punch to the head”). My brother is, after all (ha), the one man who has always been and will always be there for me. Now that was cheesy.

“Bleed to Love Her” – Fleetwood Mac
This song just fucking rocks. And I’m not saying that because I have the hots for Lindsey Buckingham (which I do). I loved this song the first time I heard it, but it was actually my best friend Lizzi who sealed the deal for me. Not only did she adopt the song and play it on repeat while at the office and in our apartment, but she also once said to me, “This song always makes me think of you, because it describes how I want the man you end up with to feel about you.” Sniff.

“In Your Eyes” – Peter Gabriel
This is hands down my favorite song of all time. (Though Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” is a close second.) Aside from the John Cusack/Lloyd Dobler-ness of it all (“I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen”), this song expresses how I feel about love. What love is and what it means to me. Without a noise / Without my pride / I reach out from the inside.

How about you? Which songs do you never tire of? Which songs fit all of your moods?

I have a new article up at Sirens Magazine: “Give It Up for Masturbation.”

I think the title is fairly self-explanatory.

[Side note: One of the perks of writing this article? One free We-Vibe.]

My friend and former boss, Alex Goldfeld, recently published a book: The North End: A Brief History of Boston’s Oldest Neighborhood. It’s a fantastic read (and I’m not just saying that because I know the author or helped edit the book).

While I was in grad school, I worked with Alex for two-plus years at the Museum of African American History. Traffic through the museum was slow (sadly), especially during the winter months, which meant that Alex and I had a lot of time to talk. When he wasn’t recommending restaurants or asking me about my family and friends, Alex was talking about history.

I can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone who loves history as much as he does (and I’m a nerd; I know a lot of people who love history). And though I love Boston with a fierce kind of devotion, love it despite its many flaws and horrendous weather, my love for this town doesn’t begin to rival Alex’s.

That being said, if you’re at all interested in Boston history, read his book. It’s easy to read, short, and, hey, it’s got pictures. Best of all, it’ll make you appreciate this amazing city if you don’t already, or appreciate it even more if, like me, you’re already a convert.

Copyblogger recently posted a list of 73 ways to become a better writer. It’s a great list, one that I should take to heart—a list that should inspire me to get off of my ass and, you know, write. 

Unfortunately, these days I could probably come up with my own list: 73 ways to suck as a writer. #1 would be: Don’t write. #2: Watch Netflix DVDs of The West Wing instead of writing. #3: Sit down to write then check Facebook instead. #4: Turn the TV back on. You get the picture.

I’m in a slump. It’s not a block. A block would imply that there’s something I want to write, something percolating in my brain that I simply can’t get out. The truth is much more pathetic. There ain’t nothing in there. Zip. Zilch. Nada. The truth is, I’m bored.

At the moment, my life is boring. My friends will protest, but I will insist upon this fact. Everything is good, calm. No almost relationships (February). No self-inflicted angst (March). No break-ups/anniversaries of ex-boyfriends’ deaths (April). No debilitating, self-destructive depressions (May). No weddings or weekend trips (June).

For most people, boring is a good thing. No more drama, baby. In our lives. (A good song, by the way.) But for a person who writes about her life, it’s a major buzz-kill/mood-breaker/cock-blocker. I sit down to write, and all I feel is malaise. I could write, eh, or I could go to bed early. What does it matter?

The obvious solution is to make something exciting happen in my life, right? I could meet someone! And fall in love! And write about it! If only life worked that way. As I’m still learning, there’s not a whole lot about my situation that’s in my control. Except for my writing. I do control that, and I can make that piece more interesting, more prominent.

Except that right now, I can’t. You see my dilemma.

But like an impotent man gunning for that erection, I will keep trying. I’ve even pulled The Book out of hiding. It’s on my coffee table. I’ve re-read the prologue. I’ve even re-written the beginning in an effort to start over, though it lacks a certain something.

I think they call it inspiration.