A peculiar thing happens to music when it starts getting categorized by decade. Each song becomes less of an item in itself than an archive for historical/cultural/autobiographical moments. 70's music? Disco? Ha! Disco is a thing that silly old people (possibly even my parents) did to make themselves look ridiculous on weekends. 80's music? Okay, so I remember it...but only vaguely. I probably rocked out to the radio a little with my preschool buddies, but frankly, we were too young to take responsibility for the leg-warmered, spandexed, side pony-tailed cultural ouevre that we were participating in. We didn't make the choice to listen to Michael Jackson's "Bad" album, or wear any of those items previously alluded to, because we appreciated their particular aesthetic. We just liked pink stretch pants. But now...90's music has its own genre! I had never dreamed that Counting Crows and TLC could ever realistically be bound together believably, but there it was, on my the XM radio in my father's car, this morning as I drove to the gym! I thought, "A whole station just for 90's music? That's impossible. Not that there isn't enough of it....but...giving a decade constraint to any music station automatically asserts a certain type of audience. An older type of audience, an audience that appreciates that station because they actually lived during that long-ago decade that has to be defined because it certainly isn't current. A 90's station?! Why? Isn't it just like...regular music? You know?" And then The New Kids on the Block came on over the XM and I decided that...well...maybe they had a point. I remembered how, in second grade, my best friend Kelly and I had sleepovers during which we tried to decide which New Kid we liked best. It was serious stuff. Necessitating hours, if not days, of careful attention. You couldn't just go giving your heart to the WRONG New Kid! We even had a few of those fan books- the ones that like, gave short biographies of each of the guys, and had little quizzes that told you which one was right for you...- and Kelly had the NKOTB sleeping bag. And holy crap, I was jealous. And all of that was a long, long time ago...

But I think I might love the 90's station, in a weird way. Finally, a station to commemorate that weird decade in which I grew from an awkward 7 year old into an even more awkward 17 year old. One that plays that awesome Portrait song that I used to have on a mix tape that my cooler older cousin made me. And that awfully slow song that they used to play at junior high dances, when the majority of my girl friends and I would stand in our group, nervously eyeing an equally nervous contigent of boys from across the room. Or the Billy Joel that used to come on in the school bus early in the mornings, while I trading stickers or playing string games with my buddies. Or that crappy song that nobody liked, but that we sang at the top of our lungs after our 7th grade softball team *almost* beat the eigth graders in the 1996 diocesen championship game.

So, sorry Indie, Jazz, Bluegrass, Top Tracks, etc...next time around with the XM, I might just want to listen to some Kriss Kross, or some C& C Music Factory, or maybe even some Presidents of the United States of America.

Don't take it personally. It's just that I've never wanted a sleeping bag that featured any of the members of Modest Mouse, Herbie Hancock, or the Soggy Bottom Boys. Just Danny, Jordan, Donnie, Johnny, and Joey... :::shrug:::

A few open letters:

1. Bums of Westwood: STOP PEEING ON WESTWOOD. No, wait. Let me be absolutely clear: STOP peeing on the grossy knoll on that corner across from the Coffee Bean on Weyburn (where I am obliged to walk, often shod in only a pair of flip flops,) and, most especially, STOP peeing on Westwood IN FRONT OF ME. I have seen you three times now, bums. Cut it out.

2. Girls at the gym: STOP answering your cell phones WHILE YOU ARE USING FITNESS EQUIPMENT. In particular, could you please cease doing this as part of a tripartite endeavour that also involves watching the gym TV's and listening to your iPod through the ear bud that remains in the ear opposite the one you are using to listen to your friend talk about what happened at Friday night's frat party. This violation of common courtesy is (one should note) especially heinous when you use your time on the phone with that friend (when the frat party discussion has subsided, of course) to DESCRIBE to him/her WHAT IT IS THAT YOU'RE WATCHING ON TV!! Listen, it's not only that I'm uncomfortable with the inevitability of eavesdropping on your conversation- which I am- it's also that I'm worried about you. Worried because you might do a harm to yourself on that fearsome equipment while you're not paying attention. And worried that you'll be forever caught in a feedback loop/vortex of media compelled and technologically supported reflexivity from which you have no chance of escaping. You report on the media via another huge infrastructure/system of information transferance, your friend may, in turn, report on something that he/she is watching- the point is that it could go on forever. You could be there for hours, one earbud swinging erratically against your elbow as you, with one hand fixed to your ear, try to maintain running/biking/ellipticalling posture while sort of rocking out and watching the Tyra Banks show. I'm telling you, STOP.

3. Cute purple shoes: stop being nearly $30! How do you expect me to be able to buy you, and give you a nice home, if you will not give over this $30 business? It would be much better to stop being so stubborn, and be only...maybe...$15. Or better yet, free. If you would just show up in my mailbox one day, I promise to not be angry with you anymore.

4. People from high school that haven't seen me in a long, long time: Stop bumping into me when I look crappy at the gym, supermarket, or while dropping off/ picking up siblings. STOP. If you will not refrain from meeting me while I am sweaty/gross-looking/have just woken up/am wearing sweat pants, you will have no chance of knowing the REAL me. Because the REAL me involves a modest amount of make-up, a shower, and *usually* cute shoes (see above.) So...yeah. Just warning you.


Alright...homework time!