Musical Memories #1

One thing that I have always connected to (as I'm sure is true for many others as well) is music. To be immersed in a good song, it can make me want to sing, dance, daydream.

I often hear a song and recall the first time I heard it. Much like certain smells can take one back in time, songs do the same for me. To a time of innocence and wonder...

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana is listed at #9 in Rolling Stone's "The RS 500 Greatest Songs of All Time." I remember when I first heard Nirvana. I was 13 (Year: 1998). I spent my summers watching cartoons, riding my bike, and going to swim team practice. One of my first crushes was on a boy named Nate. He was on my team, and though he was a scrawny pre-teen, I loved to watch him walk around in his trunks, toweling off after a rigorous morning of laps. I made every effort to befriend him.

Turns out, he lived a few blocks away and was a paper boy. So I immediately offered to help him with his route. We (me, Nate, my younger brother and his younger sister) would go to his house after practice and help him with the route. We'd play video games and explore the surrounding neighborhood. My love of cute boys and riding bikes had finally compounded into happiness, hanging out together in the sunny afternoons of summer.

One day at Nate's house, I was rummaging through his CDs (these were fairly new to me) and he suggested Nirvana's "From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah." I fell in love. Though I was late in the game, I had never heard grunge music before, and something just came over me. I wasn't just trying to impress a boy I had a crush on, this music was actually great! It was loud and thrashing and perfect for a girl whose hormones were about to get the better of her. I immediately got a copy for myself and listened to the album in my room through and through.

Nate and I spent more and more time together. I remember one day he walked me home from the baseball fields behind our neighborhood. I felt ecstatic. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I like to think he even held hands with me. The next day, I had my very first period. I was a woman! And as any girl can tell you, this was a time in my life I would never forget. And although my cute, yet scrawny pre-teened crush moved away the next summer to Pensecola, FL, I will always think of him and our summer afternoons whenever I hear "Heart-Shaped Box."

Shopaholic? No Way!

After working all day from 6:30 am, this afternoon I took my brother Christmas shopping for some new clothes. He's in medical school, and he needs an ensemble that doesn't say "I live on ramen and beer." Being on the other end of the shopping experience is a real drag. As a sales clerk, I do my best to be fast, friendly, efficient, etc. I've also been doing the same thing day in and day out for the last six years, so I have a pretty good handle on the basic procedures. But today I was getting frustrated and impatient with the slow unsureness of my sales clerk. He was friendly, but he didn't seem to be very good at figuring out which coupons to use. Most customers would have been oblivious, but I know how it's supposed to work. Unfortunately, company policy won't let me ring up my own merchandise. It's a shame, because I could've given myself some pretty awesome discounts. I'd rather not go shopping at all. However, if I want to get the best bargains, I must utilize the employee discount. I managed to snag myself a sweater and some new pants while I was there. So at least everybody went home (mostly) happy. And now to get some rest so I can wake up and do it all over again...

...And honestly, I'm having a bit of trouble getting back into the swing of blogging. Throughout the day I think of all sorts of things I'd like to write about. A thought here, a quip there. But I don't write down my ideas; so when I sit down to type, my mind goes blank. I feel obligated to post something; but really, the holidays and our move have kept me so busy that I just haven't felt like it. So if I don't post anything else for a few more days, don't take it personally.

Night.

Retail is Hell, Holidays or Not

Well, we're almost all moved into the new apartment. It's really hard to get in a full day's work when you work retail during the Christmas season. I was hoping to be all done before the holidays, but it's just such a busy time. I wish this time of year was more about sitting around and relaxing with friends and family. Unfortunately the world is greedy, and my job is to serve the consumer's every whim. But seriously, don't get me started on work. Instead, pay a visit to this site. It will explain how I really feel. All day, every day...

Actually, I got so wrapped up in commiserating with RHU that I almost forgot I had work to do. Sorry! We will have to catch up in a few days.

Opening Credits

I used to blog, back in the day. In fact, I was a blogging fanatic. I was always ready to mentally prepare a quick blurb about any given event throughout my day. I'm reminded of teenagers (and some older-agers, too) whom tote around cameras to every occasion, with the purpose of documenting and displaying their good times via the Internet.

These were pre-Facebook days, mind you; so I had to scan in a picture, upload it to a photo-hosting site, and then figure out how to link and/or embed the photo in with my writing. I learned a lot of little tricks that way. Most people today probably couldn't write a tag in their source code if asked, as now these are frequently built-in features, accessible with the click of a button. Still, I grew up in "the Information Age," in which access to the outside world was readily available with a phone jack and a computer. And if one wanted to share his or her thoughts with complete strangers, all one had to do was start a page on Angelfire or GeoCities. Although these days I suppose even the simplest of cell phones would do the trick. Mobile-tweet a couple phrases, upload a quick pic, and bing bang boom! You're there. Everyone knows what's on your mind, 24/7. I still prefer Blogger as it is uncomplicated and straightforward. Me. My blog. My readers.

Back then, I tried to capture everything, even when I was in class or working afterward. Study halls and slow times at work were preoccupied with my writing - in journals, the margins of my textbooks, on napkins. I used to write in concentric circles on the paper doilies provided at Panera Bread (St. Louis Bread Co.) and fantasize about who might pick one up and read it. What would they think about this total stranger, spilling out her thoughts among the crumbs of a pineapple upside-down cake or one of those hideously addicting cinnamon crunch bagels? I didn't care. Writing meant everything to me. I just wanted to put myself out there; I wanted people to know what I was thinking, that I could make semi-intelligent remarks about life.

And like any other spoiled child, it was all about me! How did my day go? What had I encountered? Whom had I met? Growing up and coming to understand the world line by line, post by post. And here's the crux: I miss it. I miss the excitement and sorrows of being a misguided teenager, with few "real" responsibilities. Sure, keeping a blog doesn't mean I have to stop going to work or paying rent. But it's a cheap thrill that reminds me of "the good old days." So here's my first step back into the world of writing. About what? I'm not sure. Perhaps this is a silly attempt at reliving my youth, remembering what it was like to want to be somebody who made a difference, even if it was just through writing. Documenting my existence so that someone, someday, might think "I want to be like her." Who knows? By tomorrow I will be living in a new apartment and it's almost the New Year, so that may be a good start. We shall see.