No surprise, I'm about grunge. It's what I grew up listening to and in some way that I can't articulate properly, it's who I am. All kinds of music are interesting (wish I was more educated about Classical--I can't tell an oboe from a lute so I'd totally flunk Jeopardy--but I put on the classical station sometimes when I'm driving home from work, because it's peaceful).
Stuff that sounds depressing, soft or introverted makes me super happy, because I was always that kid in the classroom who was looking out of the window, trying to escape and getting yelled at for not paying attention. A completely clueless moron as a child (and to a certain extent, as an adult), I went to public schools, and I had a few really bad teachers, people who really didn't like kids at all.
But I also had some really great teachers (I'm talking to you, Mr. B), people who really wanted to enable us to open our minds and develop our own thought processes.
(Seriously, there's no way I should have been allowed to graduate from 12th grade--I rarely showed up and when I did, I had no idea what anyone was talking about. It is only through the extreme kindness of many of my teachers that I got the document).
And ummm...Pot has always been an issue with me, and I don't completely understand its effects on my life. First time I got high was when I was eight.
(note to babysitters and siblings: don't ever get kids stoned, that's not a good idea and very harmful, potentially so please, just don't do that).
On the other hand, some of my favorite people are stoners.
One of the greatest, most touching conversations I've ever had was with a really nice guy at work (just a truly nice, thoughtful straight guy whom I had a massive crush on--in retrospect, I'm sure he was aware of it, but he never let on) and he came from very similar circumstances.
One day, RW said something that made me stop cold:
"Who do you think we'd be without weed?"
And I'm standing there over a garbage can, just totally happy to be having this conversation with this guy and I realized that he's never going to like me that way.
But looking at his brown skin, brown hair and eyes (I'm an idiot for any man with brown eyes) I felt like it was enough.
Just a sweet, melancholy moment that I was lucky enough to share with this great, amazing person, who is no longer in my life.
I sort of worry about him-I hope he's doing OK.
No shade, no cloud.
Shannon Hoon (September 26, 1967 – October 21, 1995)