I received word today from a friend, to the effect that I will soon be receiving a mixed cd by mail. This instigated immense happiness. Not only that, but the friend described the selection of music as "most random mix ever." This pushed my status closer to ecstasy.
What on earth makes these little plastic discs so endearing? Someone puts what they think they like on a playlist, burns it, and sends it in the mail. The artists and sometimes even genres clash with one another. Album art is either non-existent or done in Sharpie. There may or may not be a tracklist with artist names. I certainly won't get lyrics. It might last a year before it starts to skip. But I'll keep listening to it until it dies, passing over the ruined tracks for the few that still work. (You, on the other hand, might be a careful person, in which case I think the disc life might be extended. Still, you're bound to put your mixed cds through some elevated wear and tear in the name of love.)
I never feel the same way about other gifts. Cookware, maybe. Sweaters, movies, books? Forget it. I'll visit them occasionally over the years and remember the giver, but they won't become daily companions. Even cds that are legitimately bought and given in their plastic wrappings aren't as special. There's something about the time it takes to select the music and the way music helps me interpret life that make me want to scream, "I'm hip! I'm valued! Listen, world, someone out there thought of me, and when they did, they thought MUSIC. This might even mean I'm creative!"
Of course, I'd never say that out loud. No. No, I wouldn't. But whenever I'm driving and you mention you like the music, it won't take me two seconds to volunteer the information: "Yeah, my friend made this mix for me." And then we just keep driving. You, quietly pondering the fact that I have unknown friends somewhere out there who are probably pretty cool. Me, quietly pleased with myself and with the fact that I have a (virtual) posse.
I'll probably turn up the volume and point us towards a highway.
Posted by nickles at October 31, 2007 09:29 PM | TrackBack