Tag Archives: Past Blogs

The Oxford Dictionary, as usual, added a new word to the 2009 edition.

It’s not that I have a problem with that. Our language is always changing, and without adding a word a year, we’d be missing out on some pretty key words: muckraking (1906’s word), pizza (1935, thank God!), and karaoke (1979), for example.

It’s the word they chose that I have an issue with: unfriend (definition: to remove someone as a ‘friend’ on a social networking site such as Facebook).

Without some of the words added over the years, we’d be lost. “Non-stick” was added in 1927. Before then, what adjective would you have used to describe your cookware that’s pre-conditioned to come clean easily? Without 1998’s addition, what verb would you use when telling someone to search online for something? (“Google” is the word, FYI.) And what would we call those awkward years between about 9 and 12 without the addition of “tween-age” (which, strangely enough, found its way into the dictionary in 1938, long before “tweens” became a recognized age group)?

But un-friend? I’m not so sure. It bugs me that Facebook and virtual “friendships” have become so much a part of our culture that we need to put a word for, essentially, an online break-up into our dictionaries. Then again, maybe people felt the same way about “TV” in 1948 — “How has that electronic picture-box become so important to our society that we need an abbreviation for it?! Why can’t we go see shows in person, or spend our time socializing with real people, not engrossed in imaginary words of our favorite shows?” they must have said.

Honestly, though, what bugs me most (alert, alert: Angela’s about to get anal-retentive right here)? The word is “de-friend,” not “unfriend,” at least based on what I hear people use (and, OK, OK, use myself). And, if I were to use “unfriend,” I’d hyphenate it.”

Well…this is odd. I’m not sure if I should virtually wave hello or spend some time making sure none of my personal contact information is available online, so if (when?) I (inevitably? If I haven’t already with that last post) make someone mad, they can’t come find me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, hey, I’m Angela, and I’m pretty psyched about the opportunity to blog on this site. Actually, I’m just excited to have a way to direct traffic to my writing, instead of just putting it out there and hoping someone other than my friends stumble across it. Hopefully you’ll find what I have to say at least sometimes (I make no promises about ‘all the time’) entertaining and insightful.

The posts that are in this blog so far were imported from my personal blog, which I’d kept since January of this year. I’d kept other blogs before it, but, trust me, what was in them isn’t worth noting. My mind works at a rate of approximately a million miles a minute, so there are plenty of thoughts and posts forthcoming. I hope you’ll keep visiting and enjoy them. PS–I enjoy a good conversation, so, despite what that last post might have you thinking, comments are much encouraged.

In the meantime, you can track me down on Twitter, MySpace, Facebook, etc. etc., or, if you’re interested in a little insight about what I think, do in my spare time, and some humorous background on my relatively short 21 years of life, you can take a look at this Facebook-popularized list of “25 Things You Should Know About Me” (complete with pictures! I’m such a dweeb!)

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1.) The only real reason I began keeping a blog – and why I still keep a Twitter, despite my best intentions to delete it – is because I’m fairly certain I’d go crazy and start talking to myself if I didn’t. I have so many thoughts spinning around in my head, all the time, so I need to either write them down or tell someone. The latter option isn’t really an option because I’d be incessantly calling/texting/talking to people, which I can imagine would be utterly annoying for both of the involved parties, so writing was really my only option. The fact that people read what I write (and, every so often, actually care) is just a nice bonus.

2.) Despite this incessant chatter, I’m actually quite shy. Maybe shy isn’t the best word – I just dislike small-talk. If I can strike up a conversation with you that’s not based around the weather, I’ll be talking your ear off in no time, and you won’t possibly be able to understand why I’d ever say I’m shy. But if I don’t really know you and am just exchanging pleasantries, I probably come off quiet, shy or stuck-up. It also doesn’t help that looking people who I’ve just met in the eye often makes me feel weird, so I often avoid people’s gazes without realizing it – which pretty much perpetuates the quiet, shy, stuck-up image. I swear that impression of me is the absolute opposite of what I’m really like.

3.) I also hate talking about myself. Don’t be fooled by the fact that I’m actually filling this out; I am honestly my least favorite subject. This, of course, means that interviews are a problem because they require you, in essence, brag about why you’re so wonderful. So while I may be a great interviewer, when the roles are reversed, and I’m the interviewee, it’s a struggle. If you don’t get what I mean, find a copy of Chuck Klosterman’s “Eating the Dinosaur” (and all his other books if you haven’t read them) and read the first chapter; he explains perfectly.

4.) I have been told I’m less awkward on the phone than I am in person. That’s probably true, but it also probably depends on who I’m having a conversation with, how long I’ve known them, what the relationship is, etc. People probably get that impression because they can’t see me on the other end of the line, where I’m probably using my hands to talk and talking the same way I talk in person.

5.) I love purses. Mine are usually big, bright, and from Target. I have a couple really interesting ones – one is made out of a license plate, and the other is shaped like a Chinese take-out container. And despite how big my purses are, I never seem to leave the house with just one bag.

6.) Speaking of purses, you will always find a few things in mine, besides the usual wallet and keys: my planner, a notebook, my camera, my cell phone and my iPod. You’ll also find a lint comb and lots of Chapstick (we’re talking like two or three sticks, at least). I often also have my voice recorder with me as well.

7.) I drive a 2000 Chrysler Cirrus, and I am absolutely in love with it. It’s not the sportiest car ever, and it’s not particularly special, but it’s really and truly mine, unlike the van that was just the family car I got to drive. I owe my parents money on it, but I still paid the majority of the cost, pay for the insurance and the upkeep, and it’s officially registered in my name. I registered it the day after my 21^st birthday, which definitely ranks as one of the milestones in my life so far.

8.) I am a Buffalo Sabres fan, but I am also a hardcore Boston Bruins fan, thanks to my year-and-a-half internship with the team while I was in school in Boston. It was – and will always be – one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and one of my most favorite jobs with some truly incredible people. I was more upset about leaving that internship than just about anything else, except my friends, when I came back to Buffalo; my last day at the Garden was the most tearful out of all my final days in Boston.

9.) I graduated from Boston University a year early because, to be honest, I stopped seeing the point of classes. Journalism is about doing, and you can only go through so many assignments to “learn the technique” before you just want to get out in the real world and do that stuff for real. I wanted to write things for publication, not for grades.

10.) I do miss school a little bit. I’m not sure if I actually miss the homework and the classes, or if it’s just that now I have been forced to find a different “something” to organize my life around, instead of just organizing it around school like I’ve done for the majority of my life. I have considered taking a couple courses in video editing or graphic design because I would like to learn more, and taking a class, rather than just goofing around with Final Cut and Photoshop, seems like a decent idea.

11.) Most of my writing recently has been sports-related, but I originally wanted to (and still want to? I think?) be a music writer. For Rolling Stone, specifically. That dream is still alive, but now I know I can be happy with my career even if I don’t get a byline “on the cover of Rolling Stone.” I just need to get a byline on the cover of Sports Illustrated (kidding, sort of).

12.) I can thank my dad for the Rolling Stone dream. When I first started writing, he made me watch “Almost Famous,” and I think that’s what really solidified the writing thing. That movie, by the way, is my absolute favorite movie ever. My friends and I can quote most of it, and nothing but the “Untitled,” unedited, nearly-three-hour extended version is worth watching.

13.) If my mom hadn’t pushed me to apply to write for The Buffalo News NeXt during freshman year of high school, I’d have probably gone to college for law or something like that. I would probably have not made a very good lawyer. Actually, I don’t know what I would have majored in because up until that point, it was either law or becoming a vet, and I don’t like the idea of either of those. Sociology, perhaps?

14.) If I could bring one person back from the dead, it would be Jack Falla. He wrote a bunch of hockey books and pieces for Sports Illustrated, and when I started interning at the Bruins, all the BU-trained sportswriters raved about how great a teacher Falla was. My boss told me (jokingly, I think?) that I wasn’t allowed back unless I signed up for his class. Well, I did, and Falla passed away of a heart attack two weeks into the semester (on my birthday, nonetheless). My biggest regret is that I never got to learn more from him. If you enjoy hockey at all, you should read his work, especially Home Ice and Open Ice.

15.) My first big journalistic moment came in the summer of 2003, almost a year after I started writing for NeXt. The Goo Goo Dolls are my favorite band, and they were playing a concert that August at Darien Lake. I decided I was going to get myself an interview with them to publish in NeXt. Lo and behold, I dug up their publicist’s contact info, got in touch, and landed an interview with Robby Takac. We talked for almost an hour; I still have it taped, and I have a signed copy of the story framed in my room. That was when I proved to myself I could really do this.

16.) Another cool NeXt moment: in the tradition of the section’s “school swap” articles, a friend and fellow writer, who went to the all-guys St. Joe’s, and I shadowed each other for a day. He danced with a girl in our senior lounge, while I experienced an incredibly awkward health class – a room full of guys, me as the lone girl, and a discussion about childbirth – and it all resulted in two of the funniest, most fun days of high school I can remember. A serious thanks goes out to NeXt editor Jean Westmoore, for giving me a chance to take my crazy ideas and run with them, and for giving me some seriously awesome stories.

17.) My most embarrassing journalistic moment: I’ll be the first to tell you that, when I first started my Bruins internship, I knew very little about hockey, besides the basics of the game. One night, Andrew Ference gets in a fight with a player on the opposing team, and we decide that’s going to be my story. I’m talking to him in the locker room after the game, and I ask how the fight started. He tells me that during the previous face-off, he – get this! – ASKED the other player if they could fight. I thought he was joking, and I, or so my boss tells me, let out a rather loud, rather high-pitched, “NO WAY! SERIOUSLY?” that you could hear quite clearly around the whole locker room. I found out later, upon consultation with my boyfriend, that, indeed, it’s common knowledge that players do that to hype up the crowd. Many, many thanks to Andrew Ference for (always) being a gracious interview and not laughing at me at that moment, and to my boss, John Bishop, for not giving up on me at that point, and for making sure I will always remember the hilarity of that moment. I still have the interview taped on my computer.

18.) My top three concert moments, in no particular order, and with the understanding that the third moment changes pretty much daily and depending on my mood: The Goo Goo Dolls, 2004 Fourth of July outdoor concert – I was second row and stood in ankle-deep water for eight-plus hours, but it was totally worth it, because you can see me and my friends on the DVD.

Garth Brooks, September 1998 – one of my very first concerts, and still one of my favorites. The tickets were a birthday gift from a friend, and they were a total surprise because the last I’d heard was that her friend who went to get them had gotten out of line at the box office (this was when you still had to actually stand in line to get tickets!) and didn’t get them. We were on the side of the stage, second-to-last row in the whole arena, but it was incredible, amazing, and all those other words. I pray he does just one more tour, because I would go see him again in a heartbeat.

Any of the Klear shows I went to in high school – Back when Club Infinity was not just a place to host “teen night,” Klear still had their original line-up, and I was fully convinced they were going to be the next big thing out of Buffalo. They played a few of the best club shows I’ve been to, and they really knew how to involve an audience. I don’t know if anything will ever seem as good as that.

19.) For my 19^th birthday, two of my best friends at school and I took the Greyhound bus to New York City for the day. We did EVERYTHING – Times Square, the Met, Central Park – and kept running into totally random things along the way – a German Parade outside the Met, and Italian Festival in Little Italy, a farmers’ market. We also had the most amazing dessert I have ever tasted at Max Brenner’s.

20.) Unlike a lot of people, I really don’t have a favorite food, favorite color, favorite number, etc. I think it’s because I can be very indecisive. I also just don’t really think about those things all that much.

21.) I do, however, have a favorite season – fall. I love the weather, the clothes, the “fall” smell in the air, leaves, pumpkins, etc. I’m always grateful after winter to have spring, and I still get giddy when I see the first snow, but fall just makes me happy. It sort of reminds me of being younger and in high school, and I’m extremely happy that I get to spend fall in Buffalo for the first time in three years.

22.) I also have a favorite holiday – New Year’s Eve. I know, it’s a totally random one, but it’s because we had some really awesome celebrations when I was a kid. First, we had the New Year’s tradition of fondue – we’re talking cheese, oil AND chocolate; my family did it up right – and my sister always ate all the maraschino cherries. Then, for a few years, we rented out an ice rink at the Pepsi Center and invited, oh, about 100 of our closest friends. We began that night at a different family’s house for dinner with everyone, then ended it ringing in midnight at our house with everyone after skating. For the past few years, I’ve been everywhere from Ellicottville to downtown watching the ball drop – this year, I’ll be in Boston for the Winter Classic – but I’m always with friends, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

23.) Two of my stupidest, strangest injuries have also occurred on New Year’s Eve. In fourth or fifth grade, I chipped a tooth on a friend’s head. It’s a long story and involves demonstrations so you can understand how something so weird could happen. Then, in sixth or seventh grade, I jumped from one of the last steps into our basement and smacked my head into the low ceiling I conveniently forgot was there. And, clearly, I was stone sober for both of these incidents. I’m just a huge klutz.

24.) I am a horrible flier. I absolutely hate take-off and landing, and any turbulence whatsoever sends me into a panic attack. I got a little better about it during college, when I was flying home for breaks and visits, but when I recently went back, I spent most of the flight with a death grip on the armrests, forcing myself to breathe normally. I also almost cried. I don’t care if statistics show you’re more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash – I still don’t feel safe.

25.) That childhood stuffed animal/blanket everyone has? Mine is a dinosaur that I found in my grandparents’ basement. I lost my darling Sara (a triceratops, if you must know) in a store, and Dino (aren’t I creative with the names?) became my replacement. His stuffing is hard as a rock, and he was already pretty beat up when I found him – my grandpa is a pack-rat, like me, so Dino was probably a garage sale purchase – but he came home with us and has stayed with me ever since. For Christmas one year, my dad had a drawing done of Dino; it’s still hanging right above my bed. Dino came to college with me and made friends with my freshman year roommate’s Baby Pink Bear (no, I’m not kidding) and a new addition to my bed, a Build-a-Bear bunny from my boyfriend (I think they might secretly dislike each other and be competing for my affection; again, I’m not kidding). When I spent the night in a study lounge because of an oil spill in the basement of my dorm last year, I went back for a pillow and blanket – and had to grab Dino and Little Dave (the bunny) as well. Dino now watches over my room from a chair in the corner, but he will never, no matter how old I get, be one of those stuffed animals I box up in the basement.

Dear every self-righteous, sick, sad, malicious, feelingless nutjob that posts comments on any Internet forum they are able,

KINDLY SHUT THE EFF UP. YOU HAVE NO SENSE, LITTLE EMOTION, AND — HEY, GUESS WHAT? — YOUR OUT-IN-LEFT-FIELD STANCE ON WHATEVER YOU’RE COMMENTING ON IS MOST LIKELY WRONG, BASED IN NOTHING BUT HEARSAY, DEVOID OF PRETTY MUCH ANY FACTUAL BASIS, AND JUST PLAIN RUDE. ARE YOU DONE NOW?

Thanks for your time. No love,
Angela

I’m not sure if it’s the anonymity the Internet affords people, or if these people honestly think they’re correct. I’m not sure if they, like every wacko political radio host out there, just like having a forum to voice their baseless opinions. For all I know, they’re just truly afraid the world is going to hell, believe America is ruled by a Muslim terrorist socialist, are self-righteous enough to honestly say they/their children would never break a law/do anything wrong, and really mean it when they say all these horrible news stories out there really do happen to people who “got what they deserved” (I’m looking at you, Michael Crook, you four-letter-word thing that’s most certainly not going to be hanging with the Big Man Upstairs when you, oh-so-sadly, leave this world).

But, really, people, even if you do have it in your minds that all those things are true, don’t you have at least a shred of human decency to not voice your opinion on a news/blog site that the whole world can see? Don’t you get it that people have different opinions? That people make mistakes? That there are loved ones of the people involved in those tragic stories that are reading and don’t need to read and feel worse because of your pea-brained comments about how the war is wrong wrong wrong WRONG (even if that might be true), or how you think this guy that shot up Fort Hood is a Muslim terrorist (which probably isn’t true), or how the girl that died in a car crash because the driver was speeding knew what she was getting into and wanted to die (which DEFINITELY isn’t true, and you DEFINITELY shouldn’t MYSPACE MESSAGE HER TWIN SISTER AND TELL HER SUCH A THING, MICHAEL CROOK!)

While I’ve got your attention, did you ever stop and think that you might, just might, be wrong? When you make a snap judgement based on someone’s skin color or race or anything else, you’re just feeding into the social perceptions. You may think that your grammatically-incorrect proclamation that the soldier that killed all those people today probably was a terrorist, and Obama probably knew about it, and he was probably the one that personally promoted him, and socialism is taking over the country, so we need to stop this healthcare thing and stop guns and… — you might think you’re voicing an important opinion and getting the word out about these evil things, but really? Really, you know nothing about the situation this man was facing, and you’re just feeding into mass hysteria and distrust. And it needs to stop.

I suppose you’re just following what you see on TV. After all, we have people in positions of governmental power who say things like a public healthcare option is “more dangerous than terrorism”? Really, Representative Foxx? REALLY?! It’s statements like yours that help cause all that distrust and political polarity. It’s people like Rush Limbaugh that disseminate these crazy ideals and keep this cycle going. And you, Internet comment-posters, by posting your asinine opinions on a comment board below a story? You’re not helping things.

Part of the problem comes from the simple fact that comment boards and radio talk shows and other forums of public opinion often only attract the extremists. You get the people who are very strongly pro-whatever commenting, and you get the people who are very strongly anti-whatever. But you rarely get the 98% of the population that’s somewhere in the middle, because they just don’t care. They read or listen to the story, they absorb it, and they might share their opinions with friends or write about it in their blog. But they don’t feel the need to let every other reader know what they think. I know that 98% is out there somewhere; I just wish they’d pop up a little more often. In fact, I applaud those of you in that 98% who do try and add meaningful dialogue to comment sections. But they are few and far between, and they usually get ignored or flamed, and we’re left with all these far-out comments that are slowly but surely destroying my view of human beings as, for the most part, sane and rational.

What really kills me is most of these commentators with these extreme views (and I’m talking on message boards, comment sections, radio, whatever) can’t even acknowledge that someone else might have a different opinion. Or they’ll say that everyone’s entitled to an opinion, but when you try to disagree with them, they tell you that you’re wrong, and they try to make you see it their way (see flaming reference above). And then, they get so worked up (*cough*Mr. Limbaugh*cough*), and they won’t stop until you walk away or give in.

I’m not, by any means, saying people shouldn’t have opinions or shouldn’t voice their opinions. I’m not saying a debate (key word: “debate,” which is not defined as “one party yelling at another until they give up, give in, or walk away,” as you can see) on political and social issues isn’t a good thing every once in a while. I’m not saying Republicans are right; I’m not saying Democrats are right; I’m not saying Muslims, Christians, Jews, etc. etc. etc. are right. And I’m not saying they’re wrong, either.

All I’m saying is that, when you open your mouth or put fingers to a keyboard, for the love of God, please think before you speak or write. Think about how your statements will make you sound, and think about how they will make other people — ESPECIALLY those involved with the event — feel. I don’t care what you think. I don’t even care (OK, maybe I do because it’s a little extreme) if you really do think Obama is a Muslim socialist hell-bent on executing acts of mass terrorism in this country, running it into the ground, and then leaving us all for dead.

But, honestly, is it REALLY necessary for you to share that opinion with the rest of the readers? Do you really have that much hate in your heart and such low self-esteem that posting cold, cruel comments is going to make you feel better about yourself or your opinion? You’re probably just hoping to get people riled up and want to watch how they react.

Do what you gotta do, I guess. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking you’re the reason muzzles were invented. I’m entitled to that opinion, you know. I just won’t post it on every comment board out there. And I’ll listen if you have a different view.

At the start of college, I learned my life had been a little different.

Growing up in Buffalo, we don’t really think twice about that other country we can stare at across the Niagara River. It’s second nature that we sing the Canadian national anthem, as well as the American one, at hockey games (I really don’t know why that’s not custom everywhere else; a year and a half interning with a hockey team and I’m still confused). Toronto is a fun place for a class trip – just remember your birth certificate/passport/enhanced license! Every visitor wants to see Niagara Falls, even though we’ve all been there enough times to last us a lifetime. We cross the border for a day at the beach or good Chinese food, and our 19th birthdays are a big deal.

I was unaware any of this was worthy of much wonderment. I sighed as I explained Tim Horton’s and Niagara-on-the-Lake to my new-found friends in Boston. I knew all the words (some in French) to the Canadian National Anthem, and I got CTV at home, and they were in awe. Canada may not be Europe or Australia – but I could still just up and decide to go to a different country any time I wanted.

They clearly didn’t understand that Canada is passé, nothing new, nothing special. That I swore years ago that if my parents made me visit the Falls one more time with a family guest, I’d probably throw myself over the edge in a barrel. Yeah, I cross the border all the time – and your point is?

I will admit, however, that I felt just a teensy bit cool on my 19th birthday explaining that I could wait to go home and go party in a different country.

My freshman year roommate found this excessively cool, and she made me promise that when she came to visit me that summer, we’d spend a day across the river. Yup, fine, whatever. I picked out the barrel for my plunge.

So visitation time came, and I dedicated an entire day to the wonder that is Canada. It began simply enough, where every Buffalonian’s Canadian tour starts – the Canadian side of the Falls (because, really, what is there to see on our side?).

Actually, it began when we didn’t take the Robert Moses Parkway exit and ended up driving into Canada. There were squeals of joy (i.e., shrieking phone calls to friends that, likeomigod, we were officially in Canada) from my friend as we passed the American and Canadian flags on the bridge, and squeals of worry from me, as I realized I had no clue where we were, we didn’t get cell phone service, and my friend who was driving up in a different car was no longer behind us.

Fortunately, my uncanny sense of direction (read: “OK, well the river is that way, and the Falls is that way…so let’s follow this street that sort of, maybe, kinda goes that general direction, and we’ll see where we end up.”) led us back to my friend and the Falls. After a quick stop and promises to return (to my chagrin), we drove along the river up to Crystal Beach — and, again, some time spent lost. GPS companies rejoice that there are people like me in the world.

We found the beach, “Canadian lemonade” (not sure what makes it “Canadian,” but that’s what the menu said) was bought, Tim Horton’s was eaten, and waves were played in. And I still did not understand how living by Canada was so great – minus Tim Horton’s.

But then my fellow Buffalonian friend let us in on a little secret. It’s a little secret, mind you, that has become a secret weapon to impress out-of-town friends on our side of the Falls – the Three Sisters Islands.

The American side of the Falls has one thing on the Canadian side, and that’s the Niagara Falls State Park. It’s good for a nice walk along the river and pretty views of the Falls. But if you venture over to the Three Sisters Islands and do a little “exploring,” you can find yourself ankle deep in the Niagara River, within view of the mist at the edge of the Falls.

I’m not in any way advocating wading into the river, because the currents are strong. Even dipping our toes into the tiny bit of water among the rocks we were on felt dangerous enough for us. But there were other tourists doing the same thing, so we figured, why not? And now my Bostonian friend could say she had stood in Niagara Falls, so she was happy.

Okay, and I thought it was pretty cool, too.

But we weren’t done yet. Back over to Canada we went, to see the lights on the water, watch fireworks in the giant Ferris wheel, and visit all the tourist-trap-y things on Clifton Hill. Our Canadian adventures concluded about 12 hours after we’d first headed to the Great White North. My friend was exhausted and giddy that she’d finally seen Canada. I was just exhausted. And maybe slightly amused and perplexed that we’d managed to spend an entire day in Canada/Niagara Falls – and I’d enjoyed it.

Living across the river from Canada still doesn’t thrill me the way it does out-of-town visitors. I don’t get giddy when I cross the border, or when I see the Falls – or when I see the land across the river and realize, yes, that is, in fact, another country. I would never willingly head up to Clifton Hill for a night to hang out in the wax museums and arcades, and now that I’ve hit the magical age of 21, Clifton Hill’s main use (bars) can be found and entered on this side of the border. And I still don’t think it’s strange that I’d rather go to Canada for Chinese food and the beach than just go in my own country.

But now I can realize that living here gives me the unique chance to do all those things if I want to, whenever I’d like. And it’s nice to see that people really do see Niagara Falls as one of the Wonders of the World, not just something they’re dragged to with visitors. I was beginning to doubt it.

It started out simply: a group of friends, post-dinner-party boredom, and a computer. It escalated from there into friends-against-friends warfare and furious mouse-clicking.

I don’t know whether I’m ashamed or strangely proud to admit a bunch of 20-year-olds were fascinated by an online encyclopedia for two hours.

You can debate the legitimacy and research-source-worthiness of Wikipedia all you want, but as a game and time-wasting tool – especially when you want to procrastinate finding real, worthy research sources, but still feel like you’ve accomplished something – there is no more legitimate, more worthy (and, probably, more unexpected) website.

It was last December, and a group of friends and I had just finished a nice (save my failed twice-baked potatoes, but that’s for a different time), pseudo-fancy “dinner party,” and we were bored. We were in food comas, it was too cold to go outside, and there wasn’t much on TV – the entertainment possibilities were limited, to say the least. But it was early, and to go home already would have been to admit defeat and lameness. Then again, I’m still not sure if surfing Wikipedia at a party still makes us lame or not.

Anyways, “Six Clicks to Jesus” saved the day.

It’s a deceivingly simple premise, a friend explained: Begin at the Wikipedia homepage and click the “Random Article” link on the sidebar. Said link will take you to your beginning page. From there, the game is exactly how it sounds – using the links within the articles to go from page to page, you have up to six clicks to get to the page on Jesus (and no, the pages on God, The Holy Spirit, Allah, Yahweh, etc. don’t count). Bonus points on the non-existent scoreboard if you make it there in less than six.

Were the “random article” link to lead to you a page on the Bible, or Jerusalem, or Christianity, you’re golden. But when you land on the page about York Peppermint Patties or shopping malls, you’ve got a long way to go in those six clicks.

Needless to say, we all had to prove we could conquer the vast Internet wasteland that is Wikipedia. And so the game evolved into a new-fangled, technology-driven party game. The group divided into two teams, and it became a race – each team begins on the article assigned via the “random article” link and must click their way to a previously-designated page before the other team. Winners get bragging rights – at least until the next round ends – and get to choose the next ending page.

Don’t go trying this game out just yet; you click away from me now, I’ll never get you back. I know it, because I’ve fallen victim to Wikipedia’s charms many a time. Even when I’m by myself, I get caught up – head over to look up the meaning of Semisonic’s “Closing Time” (I’m telling you this because I want you to do it; the lyrics don’t mean what you think they do.), and, an hour and a half later, I’m on the phone with my friend, telling him all the cool facts I’ve learned that have somehow led me to the page on printers. Forget school; Wikipedia’s taught me an awful lot of useless things I’ll never need to know, except for in a game of Trivial Pursuit.

I’d love to have my own Wikipedia page someday. Or, rather, because anyone can create a Wikipedia page, I want to be able to create a page about myself without it getting flagged for removal. Then, you know you’ve made it.

I’ll make sure there’s a really easy, direct link to Jesus’ page, too.

Working retail gives you a whole different outlook on the world.

You start to become accustomed to your life having a constant Muzak soundtrack, for one. I used to love “Her Diamonds” by Rob Thomas and “Second Chance” by Shinedown – but now that I get to hear them every day I work? No thank you.

More importantly, though, working retail gives you an entirely different outlook on strangers and the world around you. Because of retail, I have learned that, in general, people are whiny, obnoxious, rude, self-centered, stupid and mean. And that’s the short list.

Maybe I’m jaded. Definitely, I’m exaggerating. But peel away my layers of sarcasm and bitterness from being stuck in a kiosk in the middle of a mostly dead mall, listening to that awful Muzak and the sounds of a fountain for eight hours a day, 40 hours a week (and this is just for the last few weeks), and the same facts remain.

I’m not claiming to be a saint. I know I have my bad days where, come in contact with me, and you’re liable to have your head bitten off (they’re rare, I swear). However, even on my worst day, I would never dream of being rude to the people that serve me food, cash me out at the store, or the ones I just come in contact with throughout the day – people I don’t know. They always get an “I’m fine, how are you?” and a “Have a nice day,” no matter how un-fine I am or how much I may want their day to suck so that maybe, just maybe, the higher powers that are making my day bad will focus on someone else for a minute or two.

This pleasant demeanor, however, I have found, is not the case of some of the other six billion or so people on this planet. Yes, I get the sweet old folks, and the really friendly thirtysomethings that make me laugh, and the little kids who are too adorable for words that come up with their parents. I get a lot of them. And I am incredibly glad they, too, aren’t rude, obnoxious, etc. – but being the way I am, I just assumed this is the norm, and that I shouldn’t have to say that I’m thankful for people using common courtesy. Clearly, I was wrong; clearly, I should start throwing a prayer of thanks the Big Guy Upstairs’ way every so often.

It’s that small percentage of people who disregard that common courtesy that make me understand how waiters would want to spit in customers’ food. They make me understand how sites like WaiterRant and NotAlwaysRight can exist.

There was the woman who interrupted me while I was with another customer, argued with me about me ruining her watch, and then insisted I charge her less for a battery because her watch “got ruined in water, so clearly it’s not water resistant” (even though the watch said “water resistant” on the back, and it was probably not the water that did it because there was no water damage, but whatever).

There was the man, last Christmas who screamed at me about not being able to do a return without “his girl’s” credit card, and no, he couldn’t get it and come back because he was “at work” during this whole ordeal. Yes, sir, I said to him (with much, much more than a hint of sarcasm that he, in the middle of his turning-red-from-rage rant, somehow didn’t detect), it clearly is my fault, and I clearly am incompetent. Oh, and you should probably be fired for being here right now, but, yes, I’m the one in the wrong and should not follow company policy, just for you.

And then there are just the people who can’t bother to respond to my greetings when they walk up to look at our watches. Yes, a one-syllable “hi” clearly is too much to expect. I know, I know, how dare I?

They make me want to smash their watch to bits, hand it back to them, sweetly and sarcastically say, “Have a nice day [possibly insert a for-now-censored word here],” and walk out of this little box, never to return. Fortunately, I have some sense of decency – or, you know, I’d just like to keep my paycheck – so I suck it up while they’re around, swear under my breath as they leave, and call it a day. It’s working out so far, minus the whole jaded and sarcastic thing.

What I just simply cannot understand is how, how in the world, someone can deem it okay to act so rudely towards a person they have never met before. A person they will probably never meet again. A person – and, actually, this one should matter – who has control over their restaurant order, or who is handling their expensive, precious watch. What gets me more is that some people will even do it when there are other customers around. You do know we talk about you after you leave, right? Because, guess what, it’s just not me who thinks you rude and inconsiderate.

There’s a special place in the afterlife for people like this.

And then there’s the deluge of stupid comments I get. No, miss, I am not making a backhanded comment about your money situation by asking you if your Gucci watch is real. I actually need to know, because, if it is, I cannot work on it.

Yes, sir, batteries really are $12.95. I know it’s expensive. No, if you keep asking me, I will not lower the price.

No, ma’am, I do not want to “just try” to work on your very expensive Coach watch because I’d like to keep my paycheck (see above). If you’d like issue me a weekly check when I get fired for going against company policy and breaking your watch, and if you promise you won’t get mad at me when I do break it, then, yes, by all means, I “just try” your godforsaken Coach watch. You’ll thank me later, when you have your watch done at a jeweler’s and get it back in one piece and working.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, your fellow species. I am begging you (seriously, picture me down on my knees, clasping my hands, and say this in a pleading voice) – be nice to those you encounter. Didn’t we learn this in, I don’t know, like, Kindergarten? It’s really not that hard, and you know that if the situation were reversed, you’d want people to be nice to you.

You don’t have to compliment me, tell me how wonderful I am, or tell me how spectacular our batteries are, but, for the love of God, say hello. Wait your turn. Don’t whine or throw a temper tantrum. Say please, thank you, and have a nice day. And don’t push me to give you a discount, or work on your watch if I can’t.

When you don’t find spit in your food, when your watch comes back not in a zillion pieces, and when you don’t earn a reputation of being a person to avoid, you’ll see my point.

You can thank me later.

So remember when I live-blogged the Grammys? I don’t have much (read: anything) to do tonight, so live blogging’s BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! (Please, hold back the excitement.)

And without further ado — here we go!

8:54 — “The show hasn’t actually started yet — but it will start.” So says the blonde VJ talking about the VMAs taking over Twitter. Thank you, darling, for cluing us in. And THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is why MTV and the VMAs make me want to punt a puppy — awful VJs.

8:56 — Sway, please be quiet. You too, British boy standing with the real-life moonman.

9:00 — Oh, hey — the show’s starting. Blonde VJ was right!

9:01 — “I think he got the short end of the stick.” Actually, I can’t make fun of this one. That was a good way to put it. I’m awfully sick of the MJ stuff (it’s over two months later, people!), but I hope Madonna’s monologue is the last tribute we have to hear because it was better than any of the ones there have been. Simple and classy, and that’s all you need.

9:07 — I really, really wish I knew the “Thriller” dance. Add that to my list of things to do in life.

9:10 — Yeah, Janet! That was great, and I love seeing the whole audience go nuts. It hits home how respected MJ is among musicians and the industry, despite everything.

9:14 — Katy Perry (or at least I THINK it’s Katy Perry?) covering Queen? It’s…well, I like her, but she doesn’t have the voice for it.

9:16 — Russel Brand is an asshat, and I don’t know why MTV invited him back to host again. He also looks like Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka. And that is not a good thing. End of story.

9:19 — Can you even understand him with the accent? Oh, wait, we can all still understand the dick jokes. Ugh, I strongly dislike this man.

9:22 — No laugh for that Lady GaGa joke. Finally he shuts up. Now we just have to listen to cheesy, teleprompter-read awards presentations.

9:24 — Yes! Taylor Swift in me-in-fourth-grade geeky glasses wins!

9:25 — Wait wait, WTF was that Kanye? That CANNOT have been planned. People were booing, and they cut her off mid-speech. I take back the asshat award for the night — Kanye gets it now. Poor Taylor.

9:28 — We’re in commercial — I think an unplanned, cut-because-of-Kayne one. General Twitter consensus? That was NOT planned. And everyone seems to be on Swift’s side. Congrats, Kayne, for crossing the no-turning-back line of being an asshole. I hope this doesn’t psych Taylor out for her performance.

9:33 — And now Brand’s trying to fix it by making sex jokes about Beyonce and T. Swift, and ending it with “in memory of MJ.” Oh, my God, man, SHUT UP!

9:35 — OK, new award. Let’s move on with the night and not give Kanye the attention he wants. Green Day wins. Good for them, though I’m not particularly wild about that song. But, Billy Joe Armstrong = love.

9:37 — And thanks to Billy Joe for pushing the “play more videos.” Sincerely.

9:40 — T. Swift rocking the subway. Good girl. I know it’s taped, but she finished the live part of the performance very well for someone who just got what can only be explained as the shock of a lifetime (seriously, what would be more of a shock than that?)

9:42 — Anyone find it ironic the Rhapsody commercial was about Taylor Swift? Sorry, I’m still reeling over what an asshat Kanye is. Checking the Rolling Stone and MTV blogs, and they all basically say everyone in there thinks he’s scum now. This commercial break left us with the thought of what Lady GaGa will wear, though, so I’m sure we’ll have plenty more to talk about when the show returns.

9:47 — 3oh!3 does not sound good live. Which is a shame, because I think they would be fun to see. This isn’t a new development, though, and I don’t think it’s just because the sound in there is wired to try and make it sound good both on TV and in there.

9:51 — My verdict was out on Lady GaGa before now, but she sounds pretty good. I am, however, a little (read: a LOT) confused about this whole hospital-themed performance. Rolling Stone says it’s an homage to Madonna’s famous “Like A Virgin” performance. I don’t buy it. Still, on sound alone, thumbs up.

9:56 — Commercial. Kanye has now taken over Twitter AND Facebook. Oh well…it’s all negative. I’m re-watching the clip; it’s like a car crash, when you can’t look away. And Beyonce looks so caught in the middle. Aww…

10:01 — Every time Russel Brand speaks, I want to kick the TV. Did that Lil’ Wayne thing even make sense? But I’m feeling pressured to keep watching because I want to see Beyonce and Green Day.

10:03 — Oh, hey, Kanye, of Beyonce doesn’t win Best Pop Video, are you gonna storm the stage again? MTV, if you’re smart, you’ve got him chained to his seat. Or just kicked out — that would be better.

10:04 — Aw, Britney’s acceptance is taped. Kanye can’t ruin that. Fail, Kanye, fail.

10:06 — Thanks, Adam Brody, for putting absolutely zero emotion into that. You could have at least tried. Meanwhile, Green Day is reminding me why I should have sucked it up, paid the $80 and driven to Hamilton to see them. Oh, to be up on that stage.

10:11 — I just realized how much I really don’t even care who wins any of the awards. And that none of my comments are even about the winners themselves, just what’s going on in the show. We’re hitting right to the point of why awards shows annoy me: They’re all about the spectacle, and not really about the music. Just in case you didn’t realize that within the first 15 minutes of the show.

10:17 — Oh, so much shrieking. Am I the only one in the world who doesn’t even care to see this New Moon trailer? Instead, boyfriend and I are in a text debate over the Kanye incident — he says isn’t not as big a deal as everyone’s making it out to be, and that it’s just him giving an opinion. I say, that’s fine, have an opinion, but use some tact.

10:21 — I am not in the least a fan of Beyonce’s music, but she is, without a doubt, very talented. I do wish I could dance like her though. Add the “Single Ladies” dance to the list of dances I should learn. And she looks like she’s just having a good time up there — that’s nice to see.

10:27 — Ugh, should probably stay up for Muse. 11pm is cut-off time, I think. If I had HBO, I’d be flipping to Entourage right now.

10:31 — Oh, hot damn, Diddy. Too soon for the Kanye jokes! I know it’s your script, but this would be one of those times you DON’T USE IT!

10:32 — “We Made You” by Eminem is seriously catchy. That beat is great; so unexpected. I can’t tell if Kanye got boo’d more during his video.

10:33 — Oh, snap, with Diddy’s reaction, I thought Kanye won. Props to T.I. for winning awards from jail? (*confused look*)

10:35 — I don’t understand how Muse’s popularity hasn’t made the jump across the pond. For real, people, please listen to that performance, hear the crowd’s reaction, get their music, and start loving! That guitar riff is straight out of some classic song I can’t think of right now (but I am hearing in
my head…), and they have a seriously rocking sound. It’s slightly epic, once again like a few bands I can’t come up with right now (exhaustion setting in). Next time they’re anywhere near here, I’m so there.

10:40 — Can I ask what’s up with these Tracy Morgan/Eminem things? I’m really lost.

10:41 — I’m ready to hit the hay, and MTV is pulling me in with that “more Muse in three minutes” teaser. This is the longest I’ve stayed with a VMAs in years, and I blame the teasers. While we’re in commercial break, can we focus on how creepy the Beatles Rock Band commercial is, with those odd Beatles look-alikes (that don’t really look anything alike)?

10:44 — Wait, does that audience get an entire Muse concert? Forget the VMAs, I’d so much rather be in that venue.

10:47 — Why, oh why, is Tyson Ritter covered in glitter body paint? Seriously — why?

10:48 — Another catchy song? “Right Round” by Flo Rida. Any song that can sample a pretty bad ’80s song and make it good is cool with me. Asher Roth, however, is a fail. Congrats to Em for the win; I’m serious, that “We Made You” backing track is sweet. And I will always love him.

10:51 — DJ A.M. tribute via that guy who references a zillion songs (“Whatever You Like,” for example) and samples “Pokerface,” while still managing to call his song “original” (Whatever you say…). I still have no idea what his name is. For real, who is he?

10:54 — Caitlin and I are Twittering a love of Eminem. I recall many a good awards show performance from the man. Plus, right, he’s kinda hot (weirdly enough?).

10:55 — Apparently that unnamed guy from the DJ A.M. tribute is Wale. Good to know?

10:58 — And, finally, the Tracy Morgan/Eminem things make sense. GaGa wins whatever award it was…and, um, What. The. Eff. is that girl wearing? It looks like it’s topped off with a red chef’s hat? Oh, wait, but there’s her face — much better.

10:58 — “And it’s for God, and for the gays.” Um…OK, GaGa.

10:59 — Because MTV just couldn’t stay away from controversy for much longer, Serena Williams is out to introduce P!ink. And references her little screw up.

11:01 — Past my bedtime for real, but P!ink is getting all acrobat on us. There’s a Rolling Stone piece on this in this month’s issue. Props to the girl for being able to sing upside down and while doing flips, you know, 50 or so feet up in the air.

11:05 — She’s down and looks relieved. I would be, too.

11:06 — More commercials and a dying computer means it’s bedtime for this blogger. Be sure to let me know ASAP if I miss any more major moments (preferably not involving Mr. West).

…but not really. Well, maybe a little bit.

For the first time in 15 years, I don’t get a first day of school. I don’t get to go school supply shopping, I don’t get a book list, I don’t get to pick out a first day outfit, I don’t get homework, tests, articles, and I don’t get that weird mix of joy for a new school year and sadness because summer’s over. For the first time in three years, I’m not moving into a dorm, I’m not headed down Comm Ave at 8am with Starbucks in my hand…and I feel like I’m not a kid anymore.

I didn’t expect to be this melancholy over not going back to school. It’s not that I miss the 8am classes or the homework assignments or the not-so-glamorous dorm rooms. It’s not that I miss Boston or my friends there (I do; don’t get me wrong, I REALLY do; but that’s not why I’m in this strange mood), and it’s not that I don’t like being home at this time of year for the first time in three years (which, yet again, I really, REALLY do).

I just don’t think you can ever prepare for that moment when you really and truly realize, mainly because everyone else is going back and you’re not, that something that’s been a constant in your life for most of your life is no longer there. Many older people (parents, grandparents, etc.) have told me recently that they still get nostalgic for their school days around this time of the year. I’m going to be really bummed if this feeling never goes away.

I was always that kid who LOVED school shopping. I would beg and plead with my mom to go to Target and get all my school supplies, then race home to organize them all. I loved (still do love) the smell of new paper, folders, markers, and all that stuff. In college, the day my booklist was available online was like Christmas. It was the best part of new classes — seeing what I’d be studying in each class and hunting down bargains on the books (actually reading some of them — just some — was NOT, however, the best part). Oh, and the day BU put the course schedules for the next semester up? Forget about any other homework I had to do; the semester was months away, but planning that schedule was the most important thing.

But now, “Back to school” time is now nothing more than “fall” to me, and not having school as the main piece of my schedule is a big adjustment. I’ve been kicked out into the “real world” (for real this time; leaving home for college was nothing compared to this), and, even though I’m only 20, I guess I have to be an adult. I have to get used to having a full-time job (one that I don’t really want, mind you, but that’s for another time), where I’m busy all day, but my nights are free. I’m going to probably have many a solitary night at home, when my friends are busy with homework — which, weirdly enough, the more I think about it, I do sort of miss (but give me any to do, and I’d remember right away the reasons I shouldn’t miss it). I’m going to have to find a lot of good books to read to keep myself still feeling like I’m learning, and maybe a class at Buff State, too. I’m also going to have to get used to missing a different set of people like crazy, while getting a chance to be around the people I used to miss during this time of year.

It’s a lot of adjustments to throw at a girl all at once. I feel like summer was sort of my grace period, where I could just kind of pretend this all wasn’t happening. I think I’ve run out of time for that, and now I’m curious to see how I’m going to handle all these changes. I’m getting some time to slowly acclimate myself to everything, and I think it will be okay — but, as always, I’m still waiting for the breakdown.

Four days after the fact, I am now quite certain that last Thursday night’s Phish show was simultaneously one of the weirdest and most amazing concert experiences I’ve ever had.

I’ve heard the stories of the caravans and huge lines and people abandoning their cars and walking to get to the venue in time to see the show — but, quite frankly, I even still totally and completely underestimated the fanatical level of devotion Phisheads (my new name for them; I’m sure someone’s used this before) show. I always just assumed a Phish show would be similar to a Dave Matthews Band show, in both atmosphere and general crowd behavior. That’s close, but it still doesn’t quite describe it.

Afterwards, I compared it to a party with 20,000 of your closest friends — that’s also close. My dad called it a cult — I think that’s closer.

Ironically enough, it was the Woodstock Anniversary weekend. I say ironically because I’m fairly certain a Phish show is the closest I’m ever going to get to Woodstock. Not only did ’60s VW vans abound in the parking lot — seriously, I counted at least five, and that’s a low estimate — and that general “peace and love” attitude (and lots of pot) flow through the whole crowd, but over in one far corner of the parking lot (with a few others scattered throughout the rest of the area) was an entire group of vendors. Or, perhaps more appropriately, a group of Phisheads who, I can only imagine, have spent their summer following the band from venue to venue and sell food, clothing, beer, jewelry (most of which I would have bought in a heartbeat; it was all beautiful), bongs, etc. to finance their trip. I could have spent the night just people-watching in the parking lot and listening to the concert from outside the gates, and I would have been content. I also would not have gotten a contact high and felt like death the next morning — but that’s beside the point.

That was the “most amazing concert experience” part. And as cool as it was, I think the weirdness might be even more worth documenting.

There was the part where a very drunk, probably mid-20s guy offered my (enjoying this whole thing, but, honestly, sort of old and out-of-place in this crowd) dad a drink or drugs or something. He also called him “sir.” There was also the part where I got indirectly told I look like I am 16 (I’m taking solace in the fact that I think they were both incredibly blazed, drunk, or both).

And then there’s this phenomenon of bringing whole families to the concert. I’m talking the WHOLE family — two-month-old, can’t hold their own heads up, babies, toddlers, five- and six-year-olds…everyone. A lot of the people that were following the band from show to show had little children with them, too. Now, I’d say I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to taking little kids to concerts. I think it’s a great idea. I’m all for exposing kids to music at a young age. I certainly don’t have kids of my own yet, but when I do, you can be sure they’ll be going to concerts with me — HOWEVER, 1. they’ll probably be at least seven or eight, dependingon the show. I won’t start bringing them when they’re newborns. It’s called a babysitter!…and 2. you can be damn sure I won’t be taking them to a show where it’s possible their mother will end up with a contact high, because God only knows what sort of damage that would do to a baby.

Then there’s the whole part about tickets. Taking a family of four, two adults and two kids, to that Darien show, would have run you over $200. I’m sorry, I’m sure these parents love their babies — but no two-month-old is worth a $50 ticket for a show they’re going to fall asleep during and not understand. And can you imagine how that adds up if you follow them for a summer? How do they afford this? I honestly want to know. Selling chicken fajitas and beer to the tailgaters pre-concert isn’t gonna pay for all of that.

I did, however, tell my dad he had really deprived me when I was little because my family didn’t spend our summers in a VW van following Phish. I also told him I’d need a lot of therapy to get over it. I was mostly kidding.

Oh, and remember that part about the concert being a party with 20,000 of your closest friends? If you don’t know all the words (seriously, every single last word to every song, and, if you’re really good, all the musical parts, too, so you can air guitar or air drum along to the music) and aren’t going to dance like a stoned, drunk, white person (I specify white because 1. I have to doubt that there was anyone of color in that audience and 2. no self-respecting, actually-has-rhythm-and-moves black person would be caught dead dancing the way Phisheads do. Stuff White People Like should do an entire entry just on this phenomenon.), you’re going to feel like that kid at the party who no one really knows and spends the whole night leaning on the wall, pretending like he’s having a good time by himself just listening to the music. It’s a little awkward.

This is not to say that I didn’t enjoy the concert. The show was wonderful. Just sitting there and listening to the band and watching the crowd was well worth the $50 ticket. I could have done without my allergy attack and the post-concert contact high, but, hey, you win some, you lose some.

I’m just saying — I think I totally misjudged Phisheads. They are truly fanatical, like nothing else I’ve ever seen. I apologize for comparing you to DMB fans. There was not a drunken frat boy with a popped collar in the house.

And, I’ve gotta admit, for never having a Top 10 album and for never gaining much commercial fame — it’s all pretty impressive.

Every generation has gotten their “growing up, moving on” songs. I’ll call them “milestone moment” songs for the purpose of this rant.

Saying every generation might be an exaggeration — but the 1990’s were full of them, and that’s the decade this whole argument stems from.

Teenagers in the ’90s had their pick of songs for senior proms, high school graduations, and the final days before college. Green Day (“Good Riddance”) and Semisonic (“Closing Time”) have two of the most famous of these songs, and what’s ironic is they weren’t even meant to be about those life-chapter-ending times. One was about a breakup and is written totally sarcastically, one is, strangely enough, about birth, not about the closing of a bar. Hey, if the song fits, I suppose.

Then, of course, you have the songs that are supposed to be about growing up and moving on — Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You,” Eve 6’s “Here’s to the Night,” and, most appropriately, Vitamic C’s oh-so-cryptically-titled-and-written “Graduation Song” — which also hold their place in that “last dance at prom” or “the song I listened to with all my friends the night before we graduated” hall of fame. I could expand the list to tracks by LeAnn Rimes and Michelle Branch, if I really think about it.

It’s not that I don’t like these songs. In fact, with probably the exception of Vitamin C (just because, really, it’s a song with such a narrow usefulness), they all hold a spot on my iPod and, to be cliche, a special place in my heart. I used all of these songs in an eighth grade class video and listened to at least one of them in the days before I graduated high school and college and the night before I first went to BU. They tug at my heart strings and take me back to those milestone moments and, sometimes, make me cry (Wow, I really am a dweeb).

But these songs are old hat (and so is that saying). Basically all of them, with perhaps the exception of “Closing Time,” “Good Riddance” and “I Will Remember You” because they were from the early-mid ’90s, were recent enough to qualify as those “milestone moment” songs for my generation (and even those three we used and made ours anyways).

But I’m not sure how much longer teenagers can get away with using them.

True, they still fit for graduations and proms today (As it should be with any good song, their message doesn’t wear out through the years), so I suppose I would call them (or at least the three oldest) “classics” in the broadest sense of the term, meaning that they are still relevant and popular. However, that sentiment of, “I’m growing up and moving on to bigger things, but I want you to know this time/your friendship/whatever has been special to me, and I hope we remain in touch” certainly isn’t something no one experiences today (I’m pretty sure we all experience it at one point or another), so why haven’t the artists of the 2000’s come up with any brilliant “milestone moment” songs?

I feel like they’re making this generation miss out on something. I want the teenagers of today (and future teenagers, I guess, if we feel like getting really old-woman-y here) to have their own special songs for proms and graduations. Partly, it’s because I’m getting tired of hearing the same songs used at proms and graudations. And, strangely enough, I think it’s also partly because I want those songs that were special to me to be special to only me and those that shared those moments with me. I know the point of a good song, a classic song (emphasis on “good” and “classic”) is (we just went through this, but in case I have to refresh your memory) to mean something to a lot of people and cross generational, racial, culture, etc. gaps, while still being special somehow to each individual person.

I think I’m getting too deep here and should save this for another post — but either way, I think it’s time these songs ended their run. Give some other songs a chance.

So this is a call to all the artists out there who will probably never read this blog — write a song to fill that gap. Be this generation’s Green Day or Semisonic (perferably for you, Green Day, because that would mean you’ve been highly successful and, hell, are having a musical created out of a wonderful, wonderful album). Find a way to write a song that will mean to the teenagers of 2009 what those songs meant to the teenagers of 1999. Give me another song to add to this list.

I don’t know if they can do it. I honestly don’t think I have faith in most of the popular bands out there to create one of these songs. I certainly can’t see Lil’ Wayne writing one. Miley Cyrus or the Jonas Brothers, maybe — but if it has staying power, I lose all faith in the music business.

Or do you think I’ve totally missed the mark — Is there a “milestone moment” song out there for the class of 2009 and beyond, and I’ve just failed to see it for one?