Opening Credits
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So I’m all into this new show: Covert Affairs. Predictable, I know, Piper Perabo: my type. Not really, actually, she’s too thin for my taste. If she were a font, she’d be Calibri, single spaced, and I’m a Times Roman sort of a guy—curvier with more spacing.
So I like the show. It’s good fluff. Kind of the cute, chipper version of 24. But a bittersweet nostalgia seems to encompass me every time I start to watch an episode.
I tried to search my brain, but, as Google has not yet found a way to index it, I couldn’t find the memory I needed.
I watched the show again last week, and, perhaps because of my own awareness and subconscious suggestion, I felt that sad nostalgia, which cleared after opening credits. And then I realized! That feeling only bothers me during the opening credits. It’s not Piper! Piper doesn’t make me sad, the opening credits make me sad.
So I delved into the meaning behind my distaste for the opening credits. I have no psychological training, mind you, but I have watched every single episode of Frasier, so I do know a thing or two. Perhaps opening credit sequences remind me of my failure to succeed as a filmmaker during my early 20’s! I got it! Done. Cleared. Solved that one. Now I can get on with my life.
But wait… if opening credit sequences make me sad, why do I only feel bitterly nostalgic during the opening credit sequence of Covert Affairs and not other shows? I finally solved the puzzle earlier today when I heard the song from the opening credits, Can You Save Me by Apple Trees and Tangerines. Hearing the song, even without the show, or the credits, or Piper, made me sad.
The song makes me sad. The lyrics make me sad, particularly, the last line of the first stanza: “I did well, it’s just my choices, they were wrong. They were wrong. They were wrong. They were wrong. They were wrong wrong wrong.”