The music industry has forsaken me.
It's been four years since I finished my last paper, wrote my last exam, handed in my last assignment. I finished my time at the U of C and proudly went out into the world, thinking that I had finally arrived and damn it, everyone would continue to cater to my needs and wants and desires for the rest of time.
Imagine the rude awakening this has resulted in. Here's the thing - the world has changed. No one cares what 26 year old employed women in a relationship but not yet engaged or married want. No one, not even fashion magazines, care what I think or what I need. I don't use acne products, I haven't yet faced facts and started shelling out for anti-aging eye cream. I have no need for lip gloss that will bring all the boys to the yard, I perfected my "I don't give a damn" hairstyle years ago, and aside from the occasional spa visit to rip out all of the visible body hair below my scalp and to get my heels buffed, I'm super low maintenance. I drive your average Japanese 4-door sedan, I go on occasional vacations, and my boyfriend picks the movies we go to because it's just freaking easier that way.
Given the choice between something blowing up and a couple overcoming obstacles through dance, the explosions are going to win. I don't want to drag Gary to see Step Up Part 62, especially if he's going to be miserable the whole time. Also, most of the time the actiony films have cute shirtless guys in them. Win-win!
No one cares what I want or what I'm going to buy. Purchasing decisions are made by mothers and teenagers, and I am neither.
I realized this morning that all of the music I listen to is old. We're talking OLD, people. Most of it is 15 odd years older than me. I was raised on a healthy diet of Lennon, McCartney, Zeppelin, Jagger and Van Morrison. This is what I still listen to. Right now, my iPod is running a playlist of music that only gets airtime on the AM dial.
When I workout, I listen to Madonna. Old Madonna. Good Madonna. The Spice Girls. ABBA.
I stopped buying music about three years ago. I can count on one hand the albums I've purchased in the past two years - Ray LaMontagne's Gossip in the Grain, who sounds like my golden oldies; and the first two volumes of the Glee Soundtrack.
Which, for the record, are mostly covers of old songs I already love.
The music industry has completely abandoned me. Or I abandoned it. Somewhere along the line I stopped tarting up and going to the club to get shake it. I stopped binge drinking and going home with strangers (KIDDING! I never did that, stop hyperventilating, Mom!) and cruising around with the windows rolled down and the stereo blaring.
That's bad for your hearing, and gas is expensive.
I knew it would happen. I knew the day would come when I would spend all my time listening to Bon Jovi and singing along to Journey and bopping embarrassingly in the passenger's seat to Britney Spears, circa 1999, and on the rare occasion that I turned on the Top 40 Radio station, I'd have to ask after every song, "Who is this? Why are they singing about drinking Jack and Coke? Aren't they 15?"
I just thought I'd have pre-teens in the backseat to torture when I did it.