Just imagining 9-4-09

  I’m a child of the ‘80s and all its frizzy, hair-band glory. But I was born in the later part of the decade, and therefore my first prominent memories are from the ‘90s.
  First election? Bush #1 vs. Clinton in ‘92. First international conflict? The Bosnian War from 1992 to 1995. First understanding of the power of the paparazzi? Princess Diana’s death in ‘97.
  Now it’s almost the 2010s - how are we even supposed to pronounce that? - and I’m still stuck in the ‘90s. While I enjoy a wide range of music, my absolute favorite comes from the ‘90s. I grew up listening to New Kids On The Block, Gin Blossoms and TLC. Now, when I hear a little “Quit Playing Games (With My Heart),” there’s no force on earth strong enough to keep me from being nine years old all over again.
  Sure, I love me some Journey, but they’re from the ‘70s. I also dig Incubus and ‘NSYNC, but more of they’re music from the new millennium. But hearing a little Hootie and the Blowfish or En Vogue is like a catalyst thrusting me back to 1995, watching my sister head to a high school football game in acid-washed jeans and with hair full of bright scrunchies.
  I remember jelly shoes and slap bracelets better than I do Madonna’s beaded necklace-and-lace craze. When I collapse in bed after a long day and flip on the TV, I choose “Fresh Prince” and “Friends” more than anything else. (“The Golden Girls” is an exception, as is my new old favorite, “Cheers.”)
   I think about 1995 as the year I was introduced to female angst in the form of Alanis Morissette; the legal system with O.J. Simpson’s trial; and the first time I actually cared what was on the radio. Michael Jackson still looked fairly normal (depending on how you define normal, I guess). MTV was still playing music videos, and Britney Spears was not on TV, the news, radio waves or anywhere on the Internet. (We call those the good ol’ days.)
  ‘95 introduced me to No Doubt and Seal, and made me an even bigger Mariah Carey fan than I already was. In fact, she and the Spice Girls dominated our grade school slumber party soundtracks. At home, I remember my sister and I playing card games and singing “Gangsta’s Paradise.” I didn’t know who Coolio was and definitely had no clue about “gangstas.” But at the time, all that mattered was spending time with my sister.
  Maybe that’s why I love the ‘90s so much. It’s a reminder of a kind of carefreeness I have not had in years. At the time, I wasn’t concerned with the state of the economy or if my family was going to need a new car next year. I thought money grew on trees and cars cost $100.
My biggest choices were if I should get a guinea pig as a pet and which game to play on the playground at recess.
  A friend once told me she tries to act like a kid at least one per day. And really, I can see the benefits. Telling (or laughing at) a corny joke, playing freeze tag on your lunch break or coloring between tasks relieve stress. Childlike laughter may add a few more lines to your face, but its can also add years to your life. So isn’t that worth cutting loose and acting a little silly?
  These days, it takes very little for me to get nostalgic, but nothing throws me back in time more than coming across a little nugget of the ‘90s. It reminds me I can be simpler, because I used to be. I can live a life without worry, because a long time ago, I hadn’t a worry in the world. Sure, circumstances change, but nothing is so serious that lighthearted memories of your childhood, or any happy experience, can’t cure.
  My very first (and last) Twitter post a few days ago was an inquiry into the mind of the hard-working adult, and it  sums up this whole train of thought:  
  “When did summer become about balancing two jobs instead of playing in a sandbox?”

  Quote of the week: “There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes."
                  - Doctor Who

  Song of the week: “Real World,” 
                  - Matchbox Twenty

    Jodi Keen can be reached at jodi.keen@murraystate.edu.

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