Kurt and Courtney never sounded right in my ears. I couldn't hang with NWA (have you seen me?!?). Unlike most of the kids I knew, I didn't really have a musical outlet to stroke my early adolescent mood swings. My musical taste just wasn't deep enough, and instead I tried to wallow along to TLC and Jodeci and Bobby Brown. The only time I ever felt anything to the songs I was listening to was when my seventh-grade boyfriend, Randy, got stiff while attempting to awkwardly grind on me to CeCe Peniston's 'Finally'.
We can all feel fortunate that I didn't discover the joys and sorrows of Northern and/or rare soul music until my mid-twenties, thus saving everyone from the world's angsty-est teenager. Nothing conjures up happier and sadder feelings at the same time, and I didn't need to throw any gas on the coals of unrequited love, bad skin, and hormone-fueled turbo-emotions during my pre-adult years.
I love being an adult, because I'm finally emotionally balanced enough to handle feelings and soul music at the same time.
Here's a fun game: go grab yourself a package of these Tiny-Size Chiclets, and then do your best to bum yourself out. Just try it!
I usually imagine sad tigers pacing their small cages at the zoo, or an old-timey British orphanage with mean owners where all the kids are chimney sweeps, but you any unpleasant thought of your choice will do. Try to make yourself sad with a package of these delightful confetti-like sweets by your side.
... Of course, you can't do it. Of course. Come on now. You're not a monster.
