Isn’t it awesome how songs just assign themselves to life events? Minor or major. You hear a song and you’re back in a place so specific.
Weezer. Only in Dreams.
Instantly I’m in 10th grade and us cheerleaders are changing into our uniforms for the basketball game and my friend and I are talking about how we love this song. Especially the part where he sings, “You say it’s a good thing that you float in the air, that way there’s no way I will crush your pretty toenails into a thousand pieces.” We were sixteen and ate that line up. I still love that line.
This opens up a pandora’s box of memories involving random things that happened around that time. Things that seemed to so important to me then, but that I haven’t thought about in forever.
I think about these black ballet flats with little bows on them. They were my favorite shoes because Teen Vogue told me they were the hottt new thing and I was obsessed. I think about how I always forgot to bring shoes to change into for P.E. class. I forgot so often that I got written up for it and had to eat lunch in a classroom for a couple of days and that was the most delinquent thing I ever did in high school. (Actually at school anyway LOLOL).
I think about how this guy in my P.E. class made a bet with one of his friends about how long it would take for him to sleep with me. I still laugh about it because I was this American Eagle wearing goody two-shoes and he was this Etnies clad sk8r boi. Some real Avril Lavigne shit. I remember writing in my journal about him and how I liked his new haircut. Of course I was suddenly into this dude because when you’re sixteen you’re blindly infatuated with anyone who shows interest in you. I wasn’t mad about the bet at all. I was itching to change my image and he was just the guy to help me do it. I started imagining how we’d listen to Taking Back Sunday and go to Warped Tour together and I’d start shopping at PacSun. All of a sudden my life was straight out of a Degrassi episode and I was mad pleased.
Long story short, he didn’t win the bet , my virtue was still intact, and I never got to go to Warped Tour.
…..And then the song’s over and I’m not talking to my friend about music and kissing boys and cheering anymore. I have no idea where she is now. I don’t know what her life is like or if she still listens to Weezer and remembers that conversation too. I’m not in my dainty little ballet flats crushin’ on some Tom DeLonge wannabe.
And I’m way cool with that.
I am the type of person that can park it on the couch for 8 hours while watching a Metal Evolution marathon on VH1 Classic. I am also the type of person that feels the need to google the shit out of everything. What does this mean? This means that last Saturday, I spent more time than I would like to admit watching Marilyn Manson interviews on youtube and discovering that he dated Evan freakin Rachel Wood (plus Rose McGowan plus Dita Von Teese). What does this mean? This means that I suddenly find myself admiring Marilyn Manson. Not in the same way that I admire Michael Fassbender or tattooed guys holding cats, but in the way that I admire a professor that I like to hear speak, but am scared to death will call on me.
I just had to find out why these total bombshells would see this dude and be like, “Hey boi lemme get atchu.”
Evan Rachel Wood was in one of his music videos about heart shaped glasses or something and then they had sex while blood poured all over them. Since E.R.W. was only 19 at the time, I’m thinking this was some type of rebellion thing, which I totally get. Except my idea of being rebellious involves refusing to pay back my student loans and hiding from the government for the rest of my life.
Dita Von Teese is no surprise to me. She has her own brand of freak show going on, so why wouldn’t those two click? (This search led me down a whole other cyber-road where I found myself being really pissed off that her fragrance isn’t sold in the U.S. Why should I care? I don’t know).
As for Rose McGowan, I’m not really sure. All I know is that she wore that “dress” once that just looked like she’d draped herself in bicycle chains and everyone was like “Gasp! Naked flesh!” But I mean, if I had an ass like that I would probably do the same. Actually, I probably wouldn’t. Another thing I know is that this lady who cut my hair once said that I look like her. I don’t see it, but I still cling to it so hard that my knuckles are white.
ANYWAY THE POINT IS, I think I’ve cracked the code. After watching this interview from the O’Reilly Factor, I knew. This dude’s sharp. Weird as hell, but super articulate and funny. He’s definitely got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, but I guess if you can look past that and the bizarre get-up, he’s an alright fella. Too bad his music sucks, thus keeping him off my radar. Rest easy, parental unit. The strangest guy I’ll be bringing to Christmas dinner will probably just have an unhealthy amount of flannel shirts and a penchant for smoking pipe tobacco.
My first car was not a car, but a 1997 Nissan pick-up truck. It was green. And that, along with the fact that I didn’t have to pay for it, was the only thing kind of cool about it. For starters, it had manual locks. It didn’t have cup holders. It went up hills at five miles per hour. And last, but not least, the only two modes of listening to music in this thing were either the radio or cassette tapes. CA-SSETTE tapes. Remember those? Think back, think way back.
But I was crafty. I knew there was a way around this whole cassette tape business. First, did you know that in 2006 they still SOLD them? I remember going to f.y.e. and picking up In Utero for three bucks. (Nirvana phase. It happened).
Anywho, I realized that it was so simple! All I had to do was copy my CDs onto blank tapes using my totally rad 5 CD disc changer double tape deck super stereo machine. And that I did. I was able to make these really cool mixed tapes with all of the really cool bands that I had seen on fuse. (No lie, I think I watched Steven’s Untitled Rock Show every. single. day.) Taking Back Sunday! AFI! The Used! Oh mah gaaahd Warped Tourrrr. (That music phase also happened).
At the time, this process was agonizing. I was a lazy, whiny baby. Life was so unfair. Poor poor pitiful me. I didn’t have to suffer for too long, though. On my 17th birthday my cool uncle had a CD player installed for his (favorite, obviously) niece.
Now that I find myself living in a perpetual state of nostalgia, I miss the hell out of the cassettes….and making those tapes. I feel like when I make a mixed CD or playlist for myself (or someone else) I’m in this frantic rush to find the perfect songs. But when you make a tape, you’re forced to listen to each song all the way through, waiting for the perfect moment to press the stop button. And then it’s time to choose the next song, which will reside in the same place forever and ever. There is something so damn romantic about that for me. I’m not saying that isn’t true for a CD, but cassettes just have this….sound to them…this feel to them that is so different from digital.
….The first cassette tape I owned was *NSYNC’s first album. Don’t even get me started on how I miss the walkman I listened to it on.