My High School Playlist

Essay Writing

3.2.09

“My Stupid Mouth” John Mayer

The summer before my freshman year of high school, many things about me changed. Out were my pastel-colored sweaters and caring around a stack of books in preparation for my long study hours after school.

My heart had been broken at the beginning of the summer by a boy I’d crushed on for two years and had become close friends with. In my boredom and immaturity, I started my plan to become a different person, so that he would come to like me. I donned black t-shirts with rock band names and pictures on them. I stopped wearing khakis and shorts, replacing them with jeans. Some of the jeans were dark and tight, others were light and ratty. I found the shoe of my dreams: a pair of Chuck Taylor converses. Most importantly, though were my eating habits. I stopped eating lunch, cut down snacks and ate as little as possible at the table.

The boy in question had dismissed me on the last day of school with a written note that he couldn’t spend time with me any longer because he couldn’t be in a relationship. Since we had become such close friends, I knew exactly what he was like. I knew which bands he listened to, what he would say if I asked his opinion, etc. In our time together, we discussed our love for music and he got me interested in bands such as Creed and Evanescence. My sister had bought a Creed album hastily and then passed it along to me when she realized she didn’t care for it. It was his voice in my mind, the only thing I would listen to. It was the playlist of the summer.

Upon entering high school, I returned to all of my past friends. Our small high school was connected to the junior high, so there wasn’t much to be desired in making the crossover. My main excitement for being in high school was to leave the beginner band and join this boy in the high school band. As I returned to school, people talked, as they do in small towns. I was losing weight, I dressed different, I was not the same person.

Suddenly, this boy wanted to talk to me and I couldn’t be more thrilled. His mother had taken an interest in me when she learned I had a crush, so she encouraged things to move along between us. She was a teacher in the same building where my mom taught. The two were good friends, so she convinced my mom that she needed an extra tutor in her after-school class. The only other helper she had was her son.

That autumn, Tim and I helped the children with their activities, then were usually left alone as his mom herded the kids to the cars and conveniently got caught up in conversations with other teachers that had stuck around. We used this time to discuss the craziest kids of the bunch, teach each other games, listen to music or dance. On one tutoring afternoon, his mom took us to the local gas station, got us snacks and let us have time together. There we were, ages 14 and 15, spending our time together talking about teachers and listening to John Mayer’s album “Room for Squares.”

We were both shy and didn’t mind empty space in our conversations. We had the ability to simply listen to music and enjoy it together.

“My stupid mouth got me in trouble, I said too much again to a date over dinner yesterday,” John sang as we stumbled over our words.

“And I could see she was offended, she said ‘Well, anyway,’” when we learned to recognize each other’s nervous ticks.

“Oh, it’s another social casualty, score one more for me, how could I forget, momma said think before speaking. Oh what’s a boy to do,” sang to the boy with the coolest mom on the block. She could listen to him ramble for hours, but we were barely teenagers. We struggled with our conversations.

“We bit our lips, she looked out the window, rolling tiny balls of napkin paper, I played a game of chess with the salt and pepper shakers,” when we wanted to spend time together but didn’t really know how to deal with things at hand.

“Ms. Independent” Kelly Clarkson

When sophomore year came around, a new confidence seemed to appear suddenly, though I’d later realize that Tim had built it through the past couple of years. I stopped looking at my feet while walking down the hallway, I spoke my mind and I didn’t make decisions just because my friends wanted something. I apologized less.

My group of friends always spent lunch in the band hall, eating yogurt, drinking sprite and watching American Idol on our new projector. Kelly Clarkson’s songs were my anthem. She was a small girl with a big voice and an even bigger attitude, which was optimal in my opinion.

“Ms. Independent, Ms. Self-sufficient, Ms. Keep your distance, Ms. Unafraid Ms. out of my way, Ms. never let a man help her…” These were all the things I wanted to become. Tim & I continued our rogue friendship. Things grew between us. We were best friends, but I never liked to be seen as dependent or needy. He thrived on this; loved being around someone who could deliver the punch lines right back to him. He didn’t seem to mind my shove-when-pushed attitude. He simply cherished my reactions.

“She’d never ever feel rejected…” At this point, I thought I could protect my heart by not letting guys too close, but didn’t realize simple friendships would lead to the same emotions.

“Miss if you want to use that line, you better not start. She miscalculated, she didn’t want to end up jaded, she went in a new direction, but oo..she fell in love.” As I realized that Tim was not going to ask me out, even as much as he seemed to like me, I decided to take a different approach. I developed smaller, less meaningful crushes and ended up dating a couple guys. It was an old trick that too many people use, but I thought maybe Tim would be overcome with jealousy if he had to hear about these guys. I’m sure it would have worked better if I had actually had lunch with these guys instead of continuing to spend it with Tim.

“It took some time for her to see how beautiful love could truly be,” Kelly sang. At the time, I was just coming to realize that love shouldn’t involve jealousy and pettiness.

“This is the Last Time” Keane

My first relationship that took my mind off of Tim for a little while came in autumn of my junior year. It didn’t last long, three months or so, but it changed both of us. This other guy was a much more involved musician. He was not simply a spectator of the musical sport, but a participant. He was my bass accompanist in Jazz band, a creator of beautiful chords.

The entire school year was filled with moments that I thought would be the last time I had done something. Several of my friends had graduated and those remaining were graduating at the end of my junior year.

“I remember the first time, the first of many, sweep it into the corner or hide it under the bed, say these things will go away, but they never do,” is exactly how the last time that I would remember the last night spent at Becka’s house. All we did was play ping-pong, listen to oldies radio, and watch a movie about girls roping guys into marriage. It was fabulous, though. It was one of those things that you just can’t forget, even if you don’t want to think about it. You know things like that will never happen again in the exact same way.

“This is the last time that I will say these words,” Keane sang. This is the last time that I will say these words, I thought as Nino and I went to Los Montanos together, eating Mexican food and speaking in short, mismatched phrases of broken Georgian. It was the last time we celebrated our Friday night together before she returned to the Republic of Georgia.

“You fall on me for anything you like, and years make everything right…and I, I don’t mind. Tread it into the carpet or hide it under the stairs, but some things never die. And I try. I try.” Tim and I went to Thanks a Latte on its closing night, during its last few hours of business. We were in despair, not knowing how long it would take for the Underground coffeehouse to get organized before opening.
He was there for me in all ways possible. He was there after two breakups, telling the guys that they should have listened to me. They should have given me flowers. They should have been sitting across the dinner table from me and introducing me to their parents, as he came to do all of these things himself. That summer after junior year, he tread it into the carpet, trying to keep our relationship subtle, even though we were spending all of our time with each other. But some things never die.

“Fully Alive” Flyleaf

Slinking into my senior year, I felt that Tim and I became a unit. He was all I had to hold on to, since I would have to start my fourth set of friends in high school and he would have to find friends at the community college. I had been friends with so many people, but the group changed each year as people graduated out. My struggles were found in dealing with the graduated friends moving on, finding their way at college and not looking back.

“Dying lay a story spoken, about how all her bones are broken, hammers fall on all the pieces.” As I walked the endless laps in my last hour gym class, I listened to Lacey’s powerful words and felt their impact. A group of rude boys were obviously curious why I didn’t care to interact with the others in the class, so they would take to saying rude things about me as they passed me on the track. They only thought I couldn’t hear them, since I had my headphones on. Sticks and stones…

It had been the toughest year of my high school career. The boys in gym spoke about me. The boys in Spanish ridiculed me. The girls spread rumors about me because they didn’t know a single thing about me.

Hammers fell on all the pieces, but I fought back. I had no record, so the teachers let me slip by when I broke. Ripping off my headphones, I yelled back equal insults to the boys in gym class. I threw back enough witty comments to the boys in Spanish class that they became friendly, awaiting my quick answers that kept them entertained. I let the rumors fly, spent a day in in-school suspension, relishing the quiet, the peace, and the Harry Potter book I had brought along.

“All her complaints shrink to nothing, I’m afraid of all my some-things, she’s good for one day of comfort, only because she has suffered. Fully alive.” After the change in attitude, I became much more content with my life. I was okay without many friends at school. I had survived this far, so I would make it to graduation.

So, I walked my laps.

I made witty comments.

I walked my laps.

I listened to Flyleaf.

I walked my laps.

and I waited for my weekends with Tim.