The shirt that still fits

Ah yes, if I can't think of something to blog about every Wednesday you can be assured I'll think of some obscure, metaphorical title. After all, that's half the fun of blogging isn't it? Not only thinking about something to post, but also conjuring up an interesting title to pop up in your follower's blog reel and make them tilt their head and think "what?"

Well anyway, I believe that was just a rambling of sorts to stall the inevitable explanation behind said peculiar title. Why do I have to stall, you ask? Well, because sometimes I come prepared with a blog idea already neatly written out - somewhat mind you - stacked, stapled and ready to thumb through while other times - okay, most times - i end up just sitting here in front of my laptop, that ever-blinking cursor like tapping fingers on a desk edge, until random dog-eared pages fall into my lap, or onto the floor, or all around me. And I catch a snippet of something, of an idea, of a sentence, of a strange title, and my mind, seeing all these confetti-like sheets of paper fanned out around me, starts skipping across the sagging floorboards layering the narrow hallways weaving in and out of the labyrinth of filing cabinets in my mind. Pulling a few sheets from one, a whole stack from another. Most of them aren't labeled, but it finds them easily enough, and what am I left with? A sheath of haphazardly stacked pages with curiously connected letters resembling sloppy, new-age cursive acting as my outline.

Such is the reason behind today's blog post title. I was sitting here, on yet another Wednesday - already March! :) - when suddenly my mind sprung forward, snatched a corner of a sheet that was probably sticking out of one of those overstuffed cabinets in the back labeled 'miscellaneous' and let it slip through the floorboards, where it sits now, somewhat translating to my blog. The last few blog posts, you see, I've been focusing on music. And granted last week's was on old houses, I'm turning once again to music, and the peculiarity of YouTube and it's ability to suck me back into the music I listened to as a middle schooler and early high school student.

I can't remember exactly when I gave away all of my Jump5 albums, but it was definitely a defining moment for me. Did I feel any more mature afterwards? Did I immediately start rocking out to Journey and Pat Benetar like I do now? No to both questions. The thing is, even after giving away my Jump5 collection, I still loved their music. But it wasn't in a 'listen to every day' kind of way anymore. It was more of the way one views the scenic countryside from an airplane window or a helicopter. At one time - back in middle and early high school - I was skipping through those swaying, patchwork fields, and feeling the wildflowers fling their scent gaily in my direction as they bent with the satin wind.

But now, I'm like that passenger staring down at the countryside unmarred by a film of clouds. Those same patchwork fields and heady scented wildflowers are now golden and multi-colored squares sewn by man and time into the shifting skin of the earth. No longer do I purposely fling myself into their depths, but view their beauty and meaning from afar, still feeling that tug somewhere inside me.

Then along came YouTube, and whether I purposely set foot in said fields of wheat and wildflowers, I didn't even have to cross the threshold and there they were, literally folding over it, filling my room with their equally organic and perfumed scents, drawing me back, even as I stay planted amidst my steadily humming glass globe of Journey, Pat Benatar, Heart and Peter Cetera. How did these fields come to inch across my threshold of newly discovered music? And more importantly, why am I not closing the door?

One reason is, to go back to the whole airplane metaphor, even when I had distanced myself from those fields - Jump5's music - I still a place in my memory for its importance. Like traveling far away from your family's home, to attend college, or start a new job. There could be hundreds, even thousands of miles between you and them and yet you feel that tug, those fields whispering in the back of your mind, tumbling down your own narrow corridors, slipping between the cracks, raining down on you in your sleep, or when you lean back in your chair, taking a few minutes to travel back to that threshold, and step gently over, embracing the memories that live there.

So with that said, even though I have sold all of my Jump5 albums, and will probably never own them again - perhaps I'll end up selling all of my albums now that I think about, after all I primarily use my iPod and the speakers I can attach it to - I still find myself hunting down that threshold amidst the ever-expanding walls and room of the mansion I call my music tastes. And perhaps another reason why I will never forget - or abandon - Jump5 entirely is because of the fact that most of their music came out in the early 2000's, which - being so close to the 90's and all - is another era of music I place gingerly behind the most elegant built-in, lead diamond mullioned hutch in my mansion, where - like my iPod, at least I hope - it can be sheltered from the tumultuous, free-for-all music industry that is currently lapping at the freshly painted clapboards of my mansion, itching for a way in.

Okay, I promise I'll halt the old house metaphors and stop confusing those of you who are wondering why I am comparing my music tastes to an expanding, historical mansion. That's a metaphor that goes back to the beginning of my days on Pandora, which is a long story, so I'll just move on! There was a time when I thought I loved every Jump5 song that ever came out, and perhaps then, and more so today, I realize that could never possibly be true.

Honestly, there were some songs they produced that - to me at least - were just awful, and don't get me started on their last album, which of course I was so excited for. Only to find out they had completely changed their style and sound and Hello & Goodbye ended up collecting dust on my bookshelf, while I turned to their older albums for solace. Why you ask, if I claim not to listen to them anymore, am I bringing such a fact up? The truth is, I have no idea, I guess it still annoys me! But at any rate, Jump5 did have some amazing songs, and more than one has managed to stick in my mind like a persistent sticky note clinging to the haphazard surface of a fridge amidst the children's scrawled masterpieces and the constant shifting of bodies back and forth against it.

One of those songs, if I may temporarily admit my obsession with what was termed as - and might still be? - bubblegum pop, was their song All I Can Do. Now I know most of my readers probably haven't listened to Jump5, or maybe never even heard of them. But trust me when I say this: that song alone literally dominated the soundtrack to my middle school years. Think of a stubborn tape stuck in your old car's tape deck, and every time you start up the car it starts playing a certain song, over and over again. Before you even turn the key in the ignition you know it's going to start playing, and you groan inwardly, or perhaps curse. But eventually, when enough hours have spun by beneath your wheels and the wind has danced on your shoulders and face, you find yourself singing along, not minding its constant repetition, like a carousel ride that keeps going around and around, the same scenery somehow becoming new, all of the horses changing colors, prancing beneath you.

Well, that rambling string of metaphors was kind of like what that song did to my head back in middle school. How my parents - and not to mention my CD player - handled it's constant repeat is beyond me. A couple months ago I favorited the music video for All I Can Do on my YouTube channel, 'just for the heck of it' I thought, and I preceded to listen to it. Again, and again. Now granted, this isn't an every day occurrence but I guess the point I'm trying to make - and ironically having to shove my own thoughts out of the way to do it - is that the possibility for that obsession is still there, those fields are right outside my door, waiting for me to slip between their swaying depths, and dive deep.

Am I saying I'll go back to listening to Jump5? Definitely not! But a certain fellow blogger of mine who says she works out while listening to Jump5 has led me to wonder if I shouldn't download a few of their songs onto my iPod while I work out just to give me some different pumped-up music to listen to than Def Leppard, Heart and Bryan Adams. Albeit granted, I know I wouldn't restrict myself to only listening to them while working out. After all, when they played such an important role musically in my middle and early high school years, how could I not turn back to them occasionally? And along those lines, in my blog post entitled Break out the bubbly every once in a while I crave that sweet, tantalizing festive pop of that bubbly, sugary and addictively sweet music tumbling down my throat, and refreshing my mind. Sure most of the songs are full of meaningless lyrics like candy is full of meaningless calories, but that doesn't matter. Jump5 made wholesome and non-offensive music that I still appreciate today.

And the whole 'sugar comment' isn't to say that all of their songs were like All I Can Do, or the whole album for that matter, a lot of their songs had substantial meaning, and an important message to convey, and I appreciate that as well. So, with all of that said, I still feel like I haven't effectively explained the title of today's blog post. Well, here it is then. I thought about my recent habit of favoriting Jump5 songs on YouTube and adding them to my channel and then that got me thinking about the whole idea of how I thought I had 'outgrown the Jump5 shirt' only to find it crumpled and just a bit neglected on the floor of my closet, tried it on out of pure curiosity - the death of all, right? - and found *gasp!* that it still fit! Hence, today's blog post title. Ta da! And please, no comments on how it took me until the very end of today's post to explain it. At least I managed to out run my thoughts and actually say something on my own for a change, right? :)

It's Growing On Me

I'm not sure where I was exactly, but somewhere between last Wednesday and today I had an idea for my next blog post. Now, if you've been following my last two to three entries you would know that I've been coming up empty when it comes to ideas. Which happens to all writers, and people in general. Even to the best of us! But this week is different. This time I have com prepared. So, let me begin!

Unfortunately this fact may be universal but have you ever heard a song played on the adio so much you actually started to like it? Even though the first time you heard it you instinctively shut the radio off? Or perhaps you just convinced yourself that you liked it, or sometimes even forced yourself to like it just so you wouldn't have to endure that odious sinking feeling whenever it first starts playing...over...and over again.

I've been there before, and yes, I've actually convinced myself to like a song just so I wouldn't have to switch stations every time I heard it. Sometimes I let myself believe that I'm just being closed minded about new songs. After all, if you know me you'll remember that I love country music, but mainly the stuff from the 90's. Today's country music has blended so seamlessly with modern, main stream pop and rock it's like there was never a dividing line to begin with! so maybe it's not such a surprise I'm subsequently so turned off - no pun intended - to today's country music. What's even more depressing is that whenever I do hear an older song played on the radio I'm momentarily taken aback. It shouldn't be that way. Today's radio stations, country or not, shouldn't be dominated by whatever was just released. If I still listen to the old stuff, why shouldn't it still be played?

Another aspect of this doesn't involve radio, but long forgotten songs on albums you bought in the store. Now obviously before iPods, CD's were the reigning source of music for people, and I was no exception I liked one song on an album I would buy said album and then listen t all the other songs. Sometimes I'd like all of them, sometimes none, sometimes just a few. IT was like playing a game of cards. You took a chance on not wasting your money by buying an album where you'd only like one song.

But if you did happen to like one or more songs on that album, then you gained that much more music to enjoy. Once the iPod arrived though artists could no longer sell the album as a whole, but rather rely on singles released months, sometimes a year in advance of the album it was supposed to be on. Therefore fans of said artist and song could go to iTnes and download, all while sampling other songs on the album. Now you have the power to pick and choose, instead of buying the entire package and taking that chance. I think this has inadvertently eliminated something that I've found myself doing the past year or so.

When I would buy albums by certain artists because I liked one or two songs, listening to the ones I didn't already know was like an adventure. If I liked all of them, or even some, then great! If I didn't, well, that's the cost I paid I guess. But what I'm trying to get at is this. After falling into the habit of literally bringing my iPod and listening to it everywhere my CD's lay forgotten in their case stashed in my closet. Sometimes while cleaning my room or tiring of the radio's incessantly airplay of shabby, cross-over country songs I would pull out said CD case and riffle through it, popping a few into my stereo.

Have you ever bought a CD, listened to it a handful of times, then forgotten about it completely? Then a few months, or even years, later you unearth it and pop it in? Perhaps when you first listened to it you didn't like most of the songs and wrote the album off as a waste of money. But now, listening to it you find...you like some of those songs! That's what I experienced with one of Jo Dee Messina's greatest hits albums. I bought it because there were about three or four songs on it that I really loved and because although iPods had invented for a while then, I didn't yet have one. I listened to it completely through and ended up mildly liking a few other songs that I didn't know. This is another thing, you may decide that, yeah okay, I might grow to like this song eventually but...I don't like it as much as the others. Then, presto! a few years later you dig it back out, pop and in and find...man! That song, or songs, I didn't really care for back then is amazing now! And you find yourself putting it on your iPod and listening to it.

With Jo Dee Messina's album I had popped it into my stereo to listen to while I was taking refuge from the radio's blatant disregard for the era in country music that I love, and found out that...songs I didn't really allow to grab me per say had now firmly taken hold and weren't letting go. Said songs are now on my iPod and I'm left to wonder, why didn't I like them sooner? Why did it take this long for them to grow on me? Or for me to realize that I like them after all? Perhaps it's the timing, or perhaps it's just not the right time for us to her that song and really appreciate it for what it is. Now, that may seem ludicrous to you because after all it's just a song right? Yeah, it is. But you can't look at such a scenario and not consider the time factor in it all.

Speaking of factors, after typing all of that I'm really starting to wonder why exactly I write so much about music. I mean, obviously I love it, although like I mentioned before, no way am I one of those people that unconditionally loves all types of music. Nope, I'm pretty closed minded when it comes to that! I stick with country and rock. In fact I could narrow that further and say I stick with country, and most recently ventured back into rock.

That could be another thing! My tentative journey back into rock music. Just as when I first listened to Jo Dee Messina's album I vaguely noted that I liked two or three songs, but never acted further upon it, when I would ride around with my Dad and brother and they would be listening to older rock music I noted that...okay, I like some of this stuff. But of course never acted upon it until late last year. Now that had more to do with the fear of what my parents and brother would say to me about it, then anything else! After all, my reasoning was that that was the type of music they listened to, not me. Obviously I have shed that notion ad now am glad for the refreshing change in music. Does my brother think it's odd? O course he does! but only because he's accustomed to me listening to country music.

Well, somewhere along the line I had intended to talk about other things that have a tendency to grow on us. Like perhaps, the notion of signing up for a Facebook account - like I did somewhere late in 2009, or starting to accept one of your annoying, snobbish cousins and actually making an effort to be kind to her. Or even attending a different school that at first you had gladly snagged every effort to resist said change and resented everything about it. Or it could be something simpler, like receiving a sweater or shirt for Christmas that at first glance you thought I'm never wearing this! but a few months later found that it matched a pair of your earrings perfectly and you received warm comments when you wore it.

Whatever has grown on you throughout your life, I would love to hear about it! I regret that I've just rambled on about music - again - but such is the case with my blog! At least, that's what I'm coming to believe. Perhaps I relate to music more than I know, or love it more than I know. Perhaps I should just ask a shrink or something and end this mystery! Either way I'm glad some songs have grown on me, and other things as well. Because most of the time, it's for the better.