Nobody puts baillee in the corner

(I know it’s a stretch, but I was pleased with myself).

It’s funny how a song can take you back to an entirely different life, per se. The idea that a simple collection of notes and sounds can evoke some of the strongest emotions possible fascinates me. 

“Forever” by Papa Roach reminds me of a night when I was 14 and at a friend’s house in a hot tub, sitting around and talking. I can tell you who all was there. I can tell you what I was wearing (a skull bikini top and Corona board shorts). I can tell you how the water felt. We were dripping with water and adolescence and absolute stupidity regarding what the future held.

“I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry reminds me of a girl I had feelings for and makes me yearn for a time that no longer exists and can no longer exist because jealousy has a nasty grip. 

“Moonshine” by Bruno Mars reminds me of an old friend I’ve been thinking about recently and riding home on I-35 from their apartment late at night, still slightly tipsy from the drink du jour. 

“Let Her Go” by Passenger reminds me of someone I’ve already written too much about because they used to sing it in a Salad Fingers voice. Now, they’d probably deny it or not remember or couldn’t care less.

Don’t get me wrong; all of my memories attached to songs aren’t bad. 

“Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” by Fall Out Boy reminds me of my old best friend growing up and how we changed the lyrics to “I’ll be your number one with a mullet! A loaded gun complex, coccyx and pull it.” We would scream these lyrics in our bedrooms, and I would make us mixed CDs we would listen to for hours. 

“Hey Baby” by Bruce Channel reminds me of high school marching band and how we would scream the chorus in-between playing. How our parents proudly clapped along in the stands. The sweaty smell of 135 teenagers mixed with concession nachos and freshly cut grass. Those were some of the best days. 

“And We Dance” by Macklemore reminds me of one of my residents from my senior year, my favorite year of being an RA. We would listen to that song on every car ride, whether it be to the gas station for cigarettes or all the way to the mall. 

“Inside Out” by Spoon reminds me of SuperSouth and my favorite job I’ve ever had. There was something magical about that place, and I’ll always stand by it. I made one of my best friends there. I started to grow up between those walls. I read the best Stephen King there and wrote some of my first blog posts there. And a little piece of my heart will always be in that building. 

I’ve always likened myself to be more of a movie person, but I’ve always been more inclined to attach songs to people and experiences, instead of movies. I don’t know if it’s because music is easier to share because it’s shorter or more universal. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve surrounded myself with people who love music. I don’t know if it’s because I’m just a sentimental person. Every sentence I type to try to explain it sounds contrite or absolutely insane. 

It’s like I’ve created this weird playlist that is specifically tailored to me. Some songs I skipped that I probably shouldn’t have; others, I let play on too long. Some songs I fast-forwarded through; others, I paused in the perfect spot. Some songs were one-hit wonders; others, I have entire discographies of. See? It sounds insane. On that note, I’ll leave you with the only thing I’ve learned for certain. 

My playlist is growing everyday with every experience and person in my life, and let me tell you, the shuffle is different each and every time I hit play.