Part I:
Ah, the mixtape. It's diminished in the face of the Internet's all-night buffet with a chocolate fountain, but there's still a healthy amount of respect out there for those who take the time to do one up right. Matching the gains, balancing the rock anthems with the ballads, digging out the B-sides that should have been A-sides, and squeezing as much as possible into one album... it's an art.
And in high school, we were all artists. Not that we were all equal -- those who took the time to throw some choice movie quotes into the mix were superstars -- but we all spoke the language. And as artists, the mixtapes were our gallery showings. Critics would come from everywhere, and analyse the reasons for your choices as much as they'd listen to the music itself. A baring of the artist's soul, best navigated by those with a prior understanding, but wide open for any fool to tread upon. Just like art.
And last night, while digging through boxes of memorabilia, I found one such cassette buried among some 3.5" floppy disks. Its title is "The Altruistic Voyage", and I'd never seen it before in my life. My best guess is that it's something my brother cobbled together in 1995.
Part I:
The Waltons - The Boxer
Cheap Trick - I Want You To Want Me
Gandharvas - Downside
Wannadies - You and Me Song
U2 - Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me
Our Lady Peace - Big Dumb Rocket
Live - Lightning Crashes
Part II:
Smashing Pumpkins - Today
Oasis - Wonderwall
Gandharvas - Watching the Girl
Neil Diamond - I Am I Said
Genesis - Mad Man Moon
Song 2 - Blur
Sarah McLachlan - Ice Cream
Genesis - More Fool Me
Yow. Was there any mixtape in 1995 that didn't have "Lightning Crashes" and "Song 2" on it? That kind of shoots down my original argument a bit... on the other hand, our parents didn't like Neil Diamond half as much as we did, and mom hated Paul Simon.
You take your rebellion where you can find it, I guess.
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
16.4.08
24.6.07
Nostalgia is not kind to 90s fashion.
Credit reports get you thinking about privacy and the exposure of your personal life. But if you really want to know that feeling, sign up for a Facebook account. It's a perfect double standard in action: it's thrilling to leaf through the pages of all your old theatre chums, but when someone you haven't seen since high school tags you as a friend, you get a slight chill -- as though your phone number's been written on the door of the wrong bathroom stall.
(Is there a "right" bathroom stall? Probably not, but some stalls are more wrong than others. Rent Desperado if you don't believe me.)
The second problem with Facebook is its objectifying nature, e.g. I've got friend F from the biology dept. at the U of R, but I knew friend G even better, so I should add G as well. Now I've got two friends from biology, but that's disproportional to the number of chemistry friends I had, so I'll start adding everyone from chemistry, even if I didn't know them... and so on, and so on. After a while, you feel like your "facebook" isn't complete until it's filled with everyone you ever knew, no matter how minor their role in your life. You start treating your friends like Pokémon, in other words.
This all came to a head last week, when someone from my old high school contacted me. (Interjection of reassurance to those concerned: Relax. I'm not talking about you.) You see, in my four years there, I'd never had lunch with the guy, never joined the same sports team as him, never ridden in his car, never borrowed a quarter for the phone, etc. The closest interaction we had is that he'd throw things at me in Mr. Johnson's Grade 10 English. And now, he wants to list me as his friend. Clearly, the man is suffering from Facebook Pokémon Syndrome, a.k.a. Pokébooking.
I thought long and hard about whether or not to play along, and I was undecided right up until today. You see, my parents stopped by for a visit this morning, and my mother brought along some old family photographs. I'm used to the embarrassment by now, but it was something different this time.
I saw some pictures of me, as I would have appeared in Mr. Johnson's Grade 10 English.
You know what? Anyone who knew me when I looked like that, and is still kind enough to acknowledge me? If they weren't my friend then, they're friend material now.
(Is there a "right" bathroom stall? Probably not, but some stalls are more wrong than others. Rent Desperado if you don't believe me.)
The second problem with Facebook is its objectifying nature, e.g. I've got friend F from the biology dept. at the U of R, but I knew friend G even better, so I should add G as well. Now I've got two friends from biology, but that's disproportional to the number of chemistry friends I had, so I'll start adding everyone from chemistry, even if I didn't know them... and so on, and so on. After a while, you feel like your "facebook" isn't complete until it's filled with everyone you ever knew, no matter how minor their role in your life. You start treating your friends like Pokémon, in other words.
This all came to a head last week, when someone from my old high school contacted me. (Interjection of reassurance to those concerned: Relax. I'm not talking about you.) You see, in my four years there, I'd never had lunch with the guy, never joined the same sports team as him, never ridden in his car, never borrowed a quarter for the phone, etc. The closest interaction we had is that he'd throw things at me in Mr. Johnson's Grade 10 English. And now, he wants to list me as his friend. Clearly, the man is suffering from Facebook Pokémon Syndrome, a.k.a. Pokébooking.
I thought long and hard about whether or not to play along, and I was undecided right up until today. You see, my parents stopped by for a visit this morning, and my mother brought along some old family photographs. I'm used to the embarrassment by now, but it was something different this time.
I saw some pictures of me, as I would have appeared in Mr. Johnson's Grade 10 English.
You know what? Anyone who knew me when I looked like that, and is still kind enough to acknowledge me? If they weren't my friend then, they're friend material now.
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