When I was one year old, I was a ladybug, too plump to do any flying. Next came Elmo, then Snow White, then Roo. My cousin was Kanga and my mother was Tigger. When I was five, I had my first year of dressing up as Belle from The Beauty and the Beast, my favorite Disney princess. I was a princess again at six, Cinderella, and a sleeping beauty when I was seven. My mother made my Aurora costume herself, complete with a tiara heavy with rhinestones. Next came Princess Leia, my long hair braided and looped on each side of my head. I was a generic "autumn princess" the next year - the result of an overdose of Disney, but still yearning for a ballgown. When I was eleven I had a pumpkin costume I could tuck my head into and hide inside, and when I was twelve I was a mercury spill with silver hair. I was an eighth-grade Indian, the same as every other girl in my class. Fifteen was a sugar-skull bride, wedding gown and all. This year I was a fox; roadkill, limping along on crutches.
Potion of Aging The shine from the wings of a dragonfly Half of the wrinkliest prune in the bag A lock of hair that has gone out of style Groans from random joint pain, distilled Powdered aspirin, for taste Stew in a mixture of one part filtered water and two parts liquid nostalgia; mix counterclockwise for 20-30 minutes, or until beige. Each eight-ounce dose ages approximately ten years. Use with discretion. May produce wrinkles, gray hairs, and pains, with none of the advantages of wisdom.
I was putting on my Halloween costume when I heard something moving in my closet. It was a soft scrape, a whisper, the kind of sound you question hearing. I stood in the middle of the floor, staring at the slats in the door, glimpsing soft fabric. I can only think of Biology, and Mr. Moore telling us how nearly every case of rabies in America is transmitted by bats, with their thin, skeletal bodies and leathery wings. He told us about a little girl who was scratched by a bat when it entered her room, an imperceptible scrape that wasn't identified until it was too late. By the time the symptoms of rabies show, you're done for. I could look inside the closet, satiate my curiosity, find the source of sound. Or I could just pretend I never heard it, pretend it never existed; a trick of the nerves. I could crawl into my bed, tuck my legs and arms and head all under layers of blankets, a barrier, and stay there.
Teachers aren't Yoda. Their only purpose is not to guide us, the students, on our respective journeys. They have lives, too, and bills and friends and families and sometimes they even go out on the weekends. I think that we sometimes forget that. They probably weren't groomed from birth to be a teacher, their fate solid from the time they started lecturing their fellow three-year-olds: they've probably had a tumultuous journey. Maybe some did know they wanted to be a teacher, certain by the time they left high school that they would end up there again. Or maybe they didn't even want to be a teacher. Maybe they wanted to be a musician, or a marine biologist, or a writer, and they ended up teaching by (happy) accident. (Do you think Yoda had musical preferences?)
Either way, teachers do listen to music. I have proof.
I started by asking some of my favorites what music reminds them of their childhood. I talked to Ms. Self, my AP English Lit. teacher, and Mr. Moore, my AP Biology teacher. Ms. Self said protest-y folk music. Mr. Moore said that songs from Captain Kangaroo reminded him of his childhood, so of course I had to go home and look that up. It was this old PBS show that ran from 1955 to 1984, and it was kind of adorable, though the main character had a terrifying mustache. My childhood was full of Hillary Duff, who I cringe to listen to now, and Billy Joel, who I still love.
Here he is with a rock for some reason.
Mr. Moore's favorite artist is Chris Tomlin, a contemporary Christian singer, which kind of surprised me. For whatever reason, I never really thought of Mr. Moore as religious. Ms. Self's favorite song was "Roll With the Changes" by REO Speedwagon. I actually really like REO Speedwagon, I grew up listening to them, though my favorite song by them is definitely "One Lonely Night".
I was going to show a picture of the band members, but the hair was just too bad.
My favorite song of all time, though, is probably "The Boxer". It was originally done by Simon and Garfunkel, which is amazing, but I'm in love with the Jerry Douglas and Mumford and Sons version. If you haven't heard it, you need to.
Next, I asked Mr. Moore about controversial music when he was growing up and he said that Elvis used to be considered offensive. I probably shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. It's interesting that all the pelvis thrusting, the shimmying and shaking Elvis was famous for, just kind of seems tame now. I mean, compared to Miley Cirus, Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines", and "Anaconda", simulating sex onstage really just doesn't have the same shock factor it used to.
Sorry, Elvis. Maybe try sticking out your tongue more?
Finally, we talked about dislikes. Mr. Moore doesn't like dirty rap, which is understandable. For me, though, sometimes I need some Afroman, Dirty Heads, Lil Wayne, Tupac. It's a palate cleanser, like pickled ginger for sushi, but with expletives. I don't get offended easily, and the innuendos are just too clever to pass up. Ms. Self doesn't like country, a disdain we share. Country is the bane of my soul. Too dramatic? Maybe, but the hate is real. Its never-ending presence at my work is literally the worst part, and I work in a fast food place. I feel bad dismissing an entire genre, but there are very few songs I can stand to listen to on country stations. I love folk and bluegrass, but country... Never.
Music isn't something I can easily write about. It's so easy to slip into the familiar cliches. Words are beautiful, wondrous things, but music isn't meant for words. Words can pierce and cut, tear and soothe, wax eloquent and snap short. But they can't do anything for music. Music is words, the best ones, ones like "indelible" and "vagabond" but with the words stripped away. Music is emotion, trapped and reduced to its simplest form, packaged and sent out to the masses. Music is more. Sometimes it's being with your friends, dancing with them, sharing a moment of simple joy, "Banana Pancakes" by Jack Johnson. Other times it's forever ago lying on a cheap carpet, staring at the bumps on the ceiling, inexplicably crying while listening to the live in L.A. performance of John Mayer's "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room". Music is catharsis. Sometimes it's "Spread Too Thin" by The Dirty Heads and everything feels crazy but alright and sometimes it's dirty rap or hip hop or electronic or Whatever but it doesn't matter if it lets you feel.
Some songs are like fuzzy slippers. You don't wear them for a while and then you slip them on and exhale, like you've been holding your breath this whole time. You know every inch of them, and they fit you perfectly. Here are some of my fuzzy slipper songs:
The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room - John Mayer
Mad World - Gary Jules
Skinny Love - Bon Iver
Gymnopedie No. 1 - Erik Satie
Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap
The Lady is a Tramp - Tom Bennet and Lady Gaga
Gravity - John Mayer
The Trapeze Swinger - Iron and Wine
If any song is poetry it's "The Trapeze Swinger".
A verse:
Please remember me, my misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
and chasing trains
The colored birds above there running
In circles round the well
and where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright on cinder gray
in spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"
This is my song. It's almost ten minutes long, but it never approaches boring. I can fall asleep, write, clean, or do homework to this song. It's melancholy, inspiring, bitter, hopeful, regretful, relaxing, stunning, and just perfect. It's simple and complex and there's an unexpected slide whistle feature there at the end that sounds like the croaking of a swing-set; the perfect touch of nostalgia.
I love movies, but I really don't watch them as often as I would like to. I don't pay for TV, so my options are Netflix or the theaters. Let's be real here: most of the movies on Netflix are crap. There is a time and place for crappy movies, but I would much rather read a book. There are a few gems on Netflix: it kind of reminds me of shopping at a flea market, picking through a thousand useless things until you find a quiet treasure. The movie theaters are great with friends. Sometimes I go movie-hopping, where I pay to see one movie and stay and watch two or three. My favorite movie is probably Les Miserables, because I'm a sap and it's one of the few movies that makes me cry every time. That coupled with the incredible soundtrack...perfection. I'm also in love with Ferris Bueller's Day Off: I watch it every time I don't quite make it to school.
There are my results from the quiz:
YOU ARE 33% EXTROVERTED.
You are moderate in activity and enthusiasm. You enjoy the company of others but you also value your privacy.
YOU ARE 50% AGREEABLE.
You are generally warm, trusting, and agreeable, but you can sometimes be stubborn and competitive.
YOU ARE 42% CONSCIENTIOUS.
You are easygoing, not very well organised, and sometimes careless. You prefer not to make plans.
YOU ARE 42% EMOTIONALLY STABLE.
You are generally calm and able to deal with stress, but you sometimes experience feelings of guilt, anger and sadness.
YOU ARE 100% OPEN TO NEW EXPERIENCES.
You are open to new experiences. You have broad interests and are very imaginative.
If my life was a movie, it would be weird and over-complicated, with little coffee cups hidden everywhere.
