I generally consider myself to be a person pretty committed to long term goals. However, I still fall victim to the siren call of the new and exciting. I remember when Santa brought me Pokemon for Christmas. It was love at first sight. I couldn't put the game down, and the world of Pikachu and Charizard engulfed me. I was determined to become a Pokemon master at all cost until I saw the newest Nintendo game, then it was all about that game. I can't even remember what game it was that made me drop Pokemon, but it was new and Pokemon was old, and I had to have the new game. In the end, the long afternoons spent with Pikachu and friends amounted to so much old plastic that could be replaced by a quick trip to Target.

How many other opportunities did I let slide because I lost interest in something old? If I hadn't lost interest in the trumpet, maybe I could have become some sort of virtuoso. And what if I hadn't lost interest in the Boy Scouts? I could have helped thousands of little old ladies cross untold numbers of streets.

But Cascada is different. She stays in my same old mp3 player and comes through the same old headphones into my same old head with the same old hairdo; but she assures me that every time we touch (Cascada) she gets that feeling (Cascada). Cascada shows incredible dedication to me, telling me that every time we touch (Cascada) she feels the static (Cascada) and other such heart-warming lines. And although I know that Cascada sings not of me, but of some unknown lover, her steadfast dedication to her significant other inspires me to dedicate myself to everything I do.

It isn't that Everytime We Touch is the pinnacle of human musical achievement that makes it such a powerful influence on my life, but the fact that it is probably one of the worst songs ever. Its cloying lyrics and poppy techno are most often heard through the speakers of sixth grade girls the world over, and I would have it no other way. The inherent hokey-ness of this song is exactly what draws me to it and makes it so meaningful to me. Most guys would shy away from Cascada because she is a direct affront to all things manly, but I'm man enough to admit that I love Cascada enough to be able to derive a life lesson from a song probably written for teenage girls.
The dedication Cascada shows in her song has inspired me to work through endless study sessions, runs, and sets of push-ups. If one woman can accomplish so much through mere dedication, how much more could I do by becoming more dedicated? Cascada has taught me to always stay dedicated to things that I truly care about, and although I don't get that feeling every time I get down to business, I try.

Cascada. "Everytime We Touch." Everytime We Touch. Rec. 1 Jan. 2005. Robbins Entertainment, 2005.