97/365: 1978-1979

Sunday, 31 August 2008.

 

40 Years in 40 Days [ view the entire set ]

An examination and remembrance of a life at 40.

 

For the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, I intend to use my 365 Days project to document and remember my life and lay bare what defines me. 40 years, 40 qualities, 40 days.

 

Year 11: 1978-1979

 

By this time, the school had hired my dad as a full-time Special Ed teacher. They demanded that he cut his hair first, and food being more important than hair, he did. He worked primarily with learning-disabled and behaviorally-disabled junior high kids, an age group which is already behaviorally-challenged, at best. There probably ought to have been some sort of hazard pay.

 

I had started taking band in the 5th grade, but I was frustrated and uninspired. I'd chosen to play the french horn because the director had said it was one of the hardest instruments to play. I often chose the hardest thing to do because I felt invincible. The french horn, however, beat me. Over the summer, I decided to switch to the tenor saxophone (which I felt was a much cooler instrument, anyway), and when the new year started, my love affair with music began in earnest. There was something about the saxophone that spoke to me in a way that the crisp coldness of the french horn never could. It spoke in reedy, guttural, and imprecise tones. They say that the two instruments that most closely approximate the human voice are the violin and the saxophone. Where the violin is ethereal, the saxophone is libidinous, firmly anchored in the body and all its sordid humours.

 

The 6th grade also marked the point at which they decided we should start learning about the sordid humours. I was sick on the first few days of the sex ed curriculum, so my mom sat down with me and made me look through Our Bodies, Ourselves, while I ate my normal sicktime regimen of 7-Up and Jello. When I returned to class, the teacher verbally quizzed everyone on the previous days' information, and I raised my hand for every question, giving answers that were not only correct, but needlessly thorough. I think the teacher, who was a friend of my dad's, was a little embarrassed.

 

Who am I?

 

I am someone who craves new music.

 

I can't help it. I adore old favorites and timeless classics, but they just aren't enough for me. My husband is the complete opposite. For the most part, he's quite happy with his collection of late 70's/early 80's alterno-pop, and early 90's grunge and accessible industrial. It's not bad stuff, mind you. I love that stuff. I mean, has there ever been a better pop song than Cheap Trick's "Surrender?" I think not. It makes me want to throw my hands in the air and run around singing at the top of my lungs. Budokan is certainly on my Desert Island Discs list.

 

But it's not enough.

 

I usually get my fix through the Sirius satellite radio channel, Left of Center. It's mainly indie, with some crossover radio-pop stuff that started out indie. They have a playlist like 99% of radio stations do, but the playlist changes regularly, and the stuff is good. I crave it. I just feel like the day I stop taking in new music is the day I become spiritually dead inside.

 

Texture Credits

 

"Rain for Textures" by KaCey97007

 

[ view previous | view next ]

 

 

Done