Not since Gwen Stefani drove me bananas (B-A-N-A-N-A-S) in the summer of 2005 with Hollaback Girl has a song irritated and angered me as much as Leona Lewis's Bleeding Love.
Bleeding Love is following me. It is ubiquitous. I cannot escape it. Wednesday morning I got into my car to go to work. I turned on the radio only to be greeted with:
But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you.
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth.
I changed the radio station, stat. And heard:
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing.
You cut me open.
I turned off the radio and drove the rest of the way to work in silence.
After work, I drove home. I took a chance and flipped on the radio only to be bombarded with:
I keep, keep bleeding love.
Keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding love.
You cut me open.
I turned the radio off. I was stressed.
Great, I thought. I can totally see this playing out at work. My brain started spinning, and strange, twisted little daydreams floated into my consciousness. I could see myself going to lockup to do an arraignment and meet with a client accused of stabbing his girlfriend. "It's not my fault," he'd say to me. "I was just doing what she always sang to me. She wanted to bleed love. Keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding. You cut me open and I keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding love."
Oy vey. Something seriously wasn't right. The song was seriously stressing me out. I needed to relax. So I decided to head straight to my 6:15 yoga class.
Once there, things began to look up. No Leona Lewis. Nothing driving me bananas. No scary daydreams. Just soft music, toning, and stretching.
Then: Headstand time. Not the easiest of enterprises, but something challenging and worthwhile. While I was inverted, eyes closed, trying not to tip over, my yoga instructor urged me, "Keep bleeding."
My heart nearly stopped. Still upside, down, I asked: "What?!"
Even when it's not really there, the bleeding won't stop following me.
Dear Deity, please make the bleeding stop.