I'm rather disappointed in myself.
While procrastinating from my due-tuesday 5-7 page analytical essay earlier this week, I came across a tape labeled "Summer Mix 95". I blew the dust of the motherfucker and slapped it into the tape deck.
Then I spent a few minutes trying to remember how a tape deck works. Man, digital is awesome. Analog sucks. Rewind? Are you kidding me with this rewind shit? It takes sooo long!
Eventually, I listed to my summer mix from 1995 and here is the only conclusion I can draw from the experience: I was a total wanker!
The line-up: Jennifer Trynin, PJ Harvey, assorted songs from the Basketball Diaries movie, Better than Ezra, and the Cranberries.
For those of you who don't recall the mid-90s: Jennifer Trynin is one of those "all the reasons I am a feminist and you suck, repressive man-beast!" singers that had one or two songs that were moderately successful on alternative/ progressive radio formats. PJ Harvey (obviously) rocks, but we're talking about the summer I was 15 years old. I was not that cool so what the hell was I doing listening to PJ Harvey? The Basketball Diaries starred Leo DiCaprio and Marky Mark Whalberg, with a key scene being a skeevy Leo-in-withdrawal letting some old dude pay him to go down on him.* Better than Ezra had the fun "wah-uh" part in their one hit song and I think it was the Cranberries' sucky second album, because "Linger" is not on the tape.
Other than Better than Ezra, the whole tape is one long slow alternative drone about miserable-ness after another. Its a SUMMER MIX TAPE! It should have been full of the Backstreet Boys and Mark what's-his-face from that band that always puts an album out every summer. You know, that one. With the one guy rapping and Mark Whoever sings with his little blond highlights and nice pectorals with a ska-friendly backbeat. You know who I mean.
Stupid paper. My brain is mush.
Back to the story- as I get older, I get less embarrassed. At 15, I was extremely embarrassed to listen to summer pop music, and obviously made myself the WORST MIX TAPE EVER just to prove how unaffected and apathetic I was. Nowadays I am perfectly unashamed to say that I busted out with the Running Man and the Roger Rabbit while singing "My Prerogative" the other day, in front of my mom, for no good reason.
How did I learn the words to "My Prerogative" when I was so busy listening to all that cool-cuz we're-depressed-teen music? Bobby Brown released this seminal classic in 1988, when I was eight years old. I definintely did not memorize the lyrics then. This leaves one option- the radio. Radio is ephemeral and transient, it exists at one time and then disappears. No one can prove you've been listening the pop classics of the 80s, 90s, and today unless they catch you in the act. Its too bad for the kid me that had to make herself a stupid tape and listen to it all summer. But shit, I still know the lyrics to the song!
So I say to you, stop talking all that shit about me. Why can't you just let me live? I don't need your permission-- I make my own decisions.
It's my prerogative.
*even at the tender age of 15, I was unsure that some old dude would really pay to go down on someone. I mean, we all love oral sex (ha ha, kidding mom!) but pay to do it to someone else? Wouldn't you pay to have it done to you?
P.S. if I was 15 in 1995 and now its 2005, how old am I going to be very very soon? Time to start thinking about presents, people! I will accept warm donuts, trips to the hair salon, and a new spring wardrobe.