129/365

I’m working from home today. This isn’t exactly a happy option, more the one I’ve gotten stuck with. I’ve been nauseated all week, but it had been a vomit-free kind of nausea. Up until last night, that is. And this morning. And into the afternoon. It’s now 3:00 and, while I’m still nauseated, I’ve been vomit free for two whole hours now.

Between dealing with that, some coming-up-empty research for work, and sleeping, I’ve been hanging out on You Tube. Yesterday, while firming up plans for my trip to visit him in San Francisco at the end of the month, my friend Schuyler and I got to talking about that first CD purchase.

Now, let me get something out in the open here: I’ve always envied people with cool older brothers and sisters. Not that I don’t like being the oldest, but I often feel like I started on the whole good music thing way too late. If you ask someone what their first CD was and the say something like Smashing Pumpkins, The Pixies, Zeppelin, or something of that nature – you know, poppy in some respects, but also totally respectable – I’ll be willing to bet a dollar that they have an older sibling who digs good music, or that they come from a family that’s musically inclined.

While you can always count on my dad to have some good classic rock on hand, I mainly grew up listening to the oldies station and country. So when I discovered pop music, my taste was, at best, really, really questionable.

The first CD I ever bought was Aquarium by Aqua. And I. Freaking. Lovedit.

After talking about it with him, I went into major binge mode. I listened to the whole CD on YouTube. Twice. And then again later in the evening.

Then it got me thinking about other music I loved when I was around that age (11, I think?). Schuyler’s first CD was Eiffel 65’s Europop. So I went onto 20sb.net and started a conversation there. It was awesome.

Longest blog post of my life after the jump.

This is where I started going crazy. I’ve been listening to trashy 90s pop music for about a full day now, and it’s making me question everything about myself. Here’s the playlist I’ve developed, the one that 100 percent defines my music love from about 1996-1999. I’m excluding some of the obvious additions: Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Backstreet Boys (umm, not *NSync, kthanx), Ricky Martin. OK, I lied, I’m totally including Ricky Martin.

Doctor Jones, by Aqua: a completely manic, electronic pop explosion about summer lovin.

Back Here, by BBMak: Australian boy band, this song filled my preteen head with delusions about what it must be like to have a boy like you. I’m still confounded as to how I thought this shit was real life.

I Want You, by Savage Garden: While “Truly Madly Deeply” also filled me with warm fuzzies about an imaginary kind of love, this had the added benefit of dance-ability; my friends and I took full advantage.

I Need to Know, by Mark Anthony: Shameful fact: I used to sing this in the mirror, thinking of a boy named Mike Buck that I was never brave enough to talk to.

Get What You Give, by New Radicals: I still listen to this all the time. That is all.

Kiss the Rain, by Billie Myers: This was a major fave with me and my friends. It is a terrible, terrible homage to a bad long distance relationship. The video? Even better.

Livin’ La Vida Loca, by Ricky Martin: This song is effing epic, and YOU CAN’T DENY IT. I’m getting the giggles listening to it right now. In case you were wondering.

Steal My Sunshine, by Len: This is so effing summertime, it’s ridiculous. Just try not singing along. Seriously, I dare you. I’m still giggling because I can totally see that you’re singing along. I told you.

Every Morning, by Sugar Ray: One time when my friends and I were hanging out at the club, we had a dance party to this song over, and over, and over again.

Push, by Matchbox Twenty: I’ve never told anyone this before, but I definitely had a crush on Rob Thomas.

Torn, by Natalie Imbruglia: My mom had a panic attack when I was singing this and came to the “shamed and naked on the floor” part.

Say You’ll Be There, by Spice Girls: Who didn’t want to be a Spice Girl? Not you? You’re lying. One time at the end of Sports Camp, my friends and I got the Spice Girls award. So I was one, and you’re jealous. Oh, and there’s this from my NYC trip in 2007:

~~interlude while jami gets totally sucked into one Spice Girls song after another. stop right there, thank you very much, i need somebody with the human touchhhh. pure fucking bubblegum brilliance.~~

Jumper, by Third Eye Blind: Yeah, this was totally appropriate for five preteen girls to run around singing at the top of their lungs.

~~another interlude as i hit the back button and run into more spice girls. swing it, shake it, move it, make, it, who do you think you are?~~

Sorry. OKAY LAST ONE.

No Scrubs, by TLC: I bought FanMail twice because I lost it. TLC was DEFINITELY my favorite group up until like 2001. Just saying.

Don’t deny it, I totally brought you back just then.

Now, my friend from this same time in my life, Jenny, would have a different list. Sure, she was a Spice Girl, too, but she also had an older brother who introduced her to grunge and all the awesome alternative rock that was going on around the same time that I was listening solely to my bubble gum awesomeness.

Nowadays, my music collection is kind of insane. I know a pretty good deal about music, its relevance in society, rock history, blah, blah, blah, but I never talk about it.

I think it’s because I like a lot of really, really bad music. I have so many guilty pleasures. 311. Hanson, anything poppy, dancey and crazy on alternative radio. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot in my collection that music aficionados would tip their hats to, but I also have abunch of stuff that they’ll raise their eyebrows at.

My ex and I would get into sparring matches about the radio. Since thats all I have in my car, it did get pretty repetitive, but I had my presets down pat. I’m usually stuck on 94.7, the alternative station, and a damn good one as far as alternative stations go. So all of a sudden, “That’s Not My Name” by the Ting Tings would come on, and his finger would automatically reach for the classic rock station or the hard rock station. And I would turn it back to the Ting Tings.

I don’t really like the Ting Tings all that much. But that song makes me wanna move, so it fits in nicely with my collection, to be filed under “Dance.” And I’ll put it in a playlist that will play really loudly over and over again while I brush my teeth, get ready for work or bed, or any other time I have a tendency to bust out my serious white girl dance moves.

So I would get mad when he would change the station again. “I like that song!” I’d said to him. “Why?” he would ask me.

And I would tell him about its place on my dancey-time mixes. And he would challenge me. Not in a mean way or anything, just a friendly debate kind of way, which is typically some thing I like to do.

But I hate doing it with music. I can’t defend 311 or Hanson someone who doesn’t get it. There’s no point.

A lot of times I can’t even tell you why I like good music. Occasionally I can bust out some historical relevance, or something like “phrasing” and “tone,” but for the most part, all I know is whether or not I like it. I hate saying why because half the time I’m talking out of my ass, something I don’t do well.

Jenny can talk about music. So can my ex. They both had older siblings whose musical tastes kind of rubbed off onto them, so they grew up liking cooler music that me.

I guess it’s more of a coincidence than a cold hard fact, that younger kids have better taste in music because they have older siblings, but I have plenty more examples that lead me to believe there’s a pretty direct correlation.

I think it’s resting time because my stomach hurts again. How’s that for a thought provoking conclusion?