Gangnam Style

Since August, I have let many things pass me by because I have not had the energy or the brain capacity to engage. For nearly two months I could not read about film or popular culture in general, because it represents something I am missing out on as I go through my treatment. I could not tell you what was in the news in late August and all of September. Partly because my memory is diabolical, but mostly because I did not read the paper. I could not bring myself to do it. Thankfully, things are different now and I use my energy when I have it to find out what is happening outside my front door. It’s for the best and it prevents me from asking Housemate for a minute by minute account of his working day when he walks through the door at 17:00hrs.

I have spent a great deal of energy being angry with My Myeloma for making me miss out on these things. In October I was embarrassed. I had spent too much time falling asleep to Jerry Bruckheimer productions that I had seen before. These days, I find that reading helps me maintain some levels of interest in non-cancer related issues and assists me in holding a semi-interesting conversation with others. Whether it assists them, is another matter entirely.

That said, I am most grateful to My Myeloma that I have only discovered what Gangnam Style is in the last fortnight. I do not think my life is enriched by this discovery. Correction, my life is not enriched by this discovery. It is everywhere. My parents are talking about it, my niece is recreating the dance in my bedroom (I may allow this) and I do not understand why there are three articles about it on the Guardian website today. Who is Psy? Who is the ‘Sexy Lady’? Is the dance supposed to lure prospective bed partners, with the ever subtle reveal of the crotch whilst miming beating a cake batter with your hands and then waving the spoon in the air? The dance suggests that you can bounce, have rude bits and be a homemaker. Is the song actually about Nigella Lawson? I don’t get it and thankfully, because of My Myeloma, I will not be recreating the dance any time soon. Unless I really, really love you.

Can’t we all just watch ‘Oldboy’ instead?