Measuring a life in CDs

I experienced a lovely bout of synesthesia the other day when Alanis Morisette's "Ironic" began playing on the "easy listening" radio station, being instantly transported to Monroeville, PA, in 1996. I was at a neighborhood pool with my best friend, on what I thought then was a hot day (I hadn't yet moved to SC). That song appealed to my teenage, existential crisis-side in just the right amount to make me wistful and thoughtful and, well, teenager-y even though I had absolutely nothing to be in an existential crisis about, or wistful (but thank goodness I was at least thoughtful). I can remember the wind blowing on my face as I stood in the pool, not wanting to move until the song was over. (If that made you barf, I understand and apologize.) I suppose that to the 1996 me, I felt the song beckoned me to consider my life beyond superficiality, as you must do in order to recognize irony. I don't know Alanis Morisette; perhaps she was just trying to write a hit that would open her career, but the me in 1996 cared about it. I also enjoyed "Mary Jane:" "Well it's full speed baby / In the wrong direction / There's a few more bruises / if that's the way / you insist on heading." I love that because she's implying your choice is what's wrong, not the universe.

We can remember and giggle and enjoy our little selves that existed before we encountered what would shape us as adults. Here's the measurements of parts of me according to CDs. Yes, CDs. Back when you could buy albums at the music store in the mall. I'm not going back to my cassettes of Paula Abdul and NKOTB and my mixed tapes for my Walkman. Those are too sacred for words.

My biology textbook was open on the left side of my bed (which was fully made), and my binder of notes sat dutifully on the right. The sun was shining through my two windows (I had a corner bedroom). I had made up my mind to make an A on my Honors Biology mid-term exam, and my method was simple: read through every chapter we had studied so far with my accompanying notes. And the Counting Crows took that journey with me in 1996. (And to lessen the suspense, I did make an A on that exam. I vividly remember my teacher smiling at me and giving me a thumbs up because, let's be real, everyone knows science isn't my intellectual forte.)

Even when you're untrained as a teenager, you know that music lyrics invite you in like a charming hostess, make a mess of your mind, and then abandon you to figure them out. These lyrics in "Rain King" always lifted a finger to me, grazing my mind: "I belong in the service of the queen / I belong anywhere but in between." From "Omaha": "Omaha somewhere in middle America / Get right to the heart of the matters / It's the heart that matters more / I think you better turn your ticket in / And get your money back at the door." From "Anna Begins": "but we're always changing / It does not bother me to say this isn't love / Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love / and I'm guessing I'm going to have to live with that / but I'm sure there's something in a shade of gray / or something in between." And I really loved this from "Raining in Baltimore:" This circus is falling down on its knees / The big top is crumbling." For those of us who are thinkers, who note complexity and only see gray, who complicate and are complicated.

R.E.M.'s album "Automatic for the People", again memories around 1996. I can't recall very specific moments when listening to these songs, they just evoke a general sense of what I felt like during my freshman year in high school. From "Try Not To Breathe:" "I will try not to breathe. / This decision is mine. I have lived a full life / And these are the eyes that I want you to remember." From "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite:" "The cat in the hat came back, wreaked a lot of havoc on the way / Always had a smile and a reason to pretend / But their world has flat backgrounds and little need to sleep but to dream." From "Nightswimming:" "Nightswimming, / Remembering that night / September's coming too soon / I'm pining for the moon / And what if there were two / Side by side in orbit around the fairest sun? / The bright tide forever drawn / Could not describe nightswimming / You, I thought I knew you / You, I cannot judge / You, I thought you knew me." And everyone knows "Everybody Hurts," which I think sings in its simplicity: "Sometimes everything is wrong / Now it's time to sing along / When your day is night alone." You're a jerk if you find yourself haughtily rejecting this song.

Again, 1995-1996 for me, a freshman in high school. I don't keep up much (not at all) with Jewel these days, but I vividly remember going to Monroeville Mall with my best friend and deciding to buy this new album. Everyone (well, people I knew) sang along to "You Were Meant For Me." The song "Pieces of You" is very powerful, particularly for 1995 in my opinion. Brief, vague descriptions (She's a pretty girl, she's an ugly girl, you say he's a faggot, you say he's a Jew) elicit the same direct question: "Do you hate him / 'Cause he's pieces of you?" I still love this. You can't hate others without hating yourself. Her rawness is moving. And "Foolish Games:" "I watched from my window / Always felt I was outside looking in on you. / [...] You were fashionably sensitive / But too cool to care. / [...] Well in case you failed to notice / In case you failed to see / This is my heart bleeding before you / This is me down on my knees and / These foolish games are tearing me apart / And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart." How much of what we do to others is putting on airs? Acting a part we've seen? When we might do well to remember that we're dealing with each other, alive, warm, breathing. And there are consequences.

I still experience a twinge of a love affair with Dave Matthews. This album makes me feel engulfed in 1997-1999 after I moved to South Carolina. The dance team I was on, the Dazzlers, performed to "Two Step": "Celebrate we will / Because life is short but sweet for / certain / We're climbing two by two / To be sure these days continue / These things we cannot change." I still remember many of the dance steps in our routine. "So Much To Say:" "I find sometimes it's easy to be myself / sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else." Perfect for a teenager, but it's also so true for those of us who continue to be multi-faceted. And "Crash Into Me:" "Lost for you I'm so lost for you." That song is still endearing to me despite it being a bit explicit because I think it rather beautifully captures the spirit and angst and fast pace of adolescence trying in vain to figure out adulthood but falling miserably short.

And at 32, the following is what I think when I hear all of the music listed above:

• "Ironic": wow, how did she pick some of the worst examples of irony ever? "It's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife?" Who cares about that?
• I remember Jewel saying in an interview that she listened to her own "Pieces of Me" album and thought she sounded like Kermit the Frog. I sort of agreed.
• I still enjoy hearing "Crash Into Me" and laughing about boys I had crushes on compared to the much more mature, deep love that comes with 13 years of marriage. Clearly the boy in the song lacks that perspective, but that's why it's so endearing to me and I smile when I hear this song.
• I still don't know what in the world some of these songs are about, but that's the point.
• I can be 15 forever as long as I have these albums (and I do still have them). I think one result of 90's music pointed out the veil that my blog is named after, not necessarily suggesting there is anything underneath it, but perhaps so, if you can at least recognize that there is a veil. The rest is up to you. Don't drown in it.
• I'm clearly no music expert.
• I may have just really embarrassed myself by revealing these music choices.

Embarrass yourself by joining in the fun! Share how you would measure your own life in CDs.