you're so last summer.

Spotify’s ‘Throwback Thursday’ playlist this week is curated by none other than Dashboard Confessional to ‘mark 20 years of music that shaped the emo scene!’, and I’m suddenly transported to the cozy confines of my college radio studio, WRFW FM, in River Falls, Wisconsin. Or WRST FM, in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Pining for my life to begin. Mourning the losses of loves that never began. Feeling such sorrow and pain for crushes that I never really had to begin with. It’s comical, really. How self absorbed and clueless, protected, from the ‘real world,’ I was in those tiny Wisconsin college campuses. Listening to burnt cd’s, scribbled in marker. Dashboard Confessional. Get-up Kids. Taking Back Sunday. Saves the Day. Sunny Day Real Estate. Straylight Run. Thursday. Reggie and the Full Effect. Alkaline Trio. All this pop-punk/emo/mish-mash. I was positive, meant something. My undereducated, overapplied fluorescent eye shadows. Fakeass furry winter vinyl coat from the Mall of America. Chopped, overgelled, flippy spikey ‘punk’ hair. Eyebrow piercing, then later, lip piercing. (and if I need to be completely transparent, completely unnecessary and highly regrettable, double nipple piercing. This 5+ year breastfeeding mother is so not impressed).

I remember having less than $100 to my name. Sitting in dusty dorm rooms, listening to Limewire. Posting ‘deep’ and overly personal and lengthy blog posts on MySpace, wishing I had me an emo boy to take me away. Scrimping pennies to see shows at First Ave in Minneapolis; and then later, scrimping dollars for gas money to drive to the Rave in Milwaukee, where I’d be on the guest list for whatever flavor of the week emo band it was that burned in my veins.

It’s so funny. And adorable, maybe? I wish I could go back to college me. And give her a big shaking, hug, or crisp $20 bill. And tell her to fucking enjoy it. The freedom to nap. Living with best friends. Opportunity to exercise brain cells. Yearn. Because now it’s just not the same. Sure, you still dream as an adult. But mostly just about your next opportunity to go to sleep to dream for real. And man, I wish I could live with the same nonchalant attitude when my bank account falls below my safetynet level, (which might have an extra couple 0’s in it these days).

It’s like I’m being taken back in time, not quite 20 years ago, but almost. And does that make emo music ‘oldies’ now? Am I really that old? Did time really fly that fast? I’ve met tons of people, established myself as an individual and matriarch, professional, and hopefully, friend at this point in my life. But I still can remember the taste of powdery microwaved cheesymac, and bitter sweet sting of UV vodka. prepping for hangs at the 'basketball house.' (not to be confused with the 'football house.')

My five year old has started reporting current events to me. He was singing ‘old town road.’ He keeps name dropping ‘john cena,’ like that’s supposed to mean something or impress me. he told me how ‘ebreebody’s talking about how kobe Bryant passed’ yesterday at bed time, which led to a discussion on what ‘passing’ means, and what ‘famous’ means, and why everyone is interested in a deceased basketball player. All of a sudden, the kid’s a teenager? And I’m old? And not hip with the current times?

Ah. And I’m not even 40 yet. But I guess I’m closer to 40 than 30?

What a world.

Now, get off my lawn. I’m listening to ‘screaming infidelities.’