Mar. 29th, 2009

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So I went by my dad's house the other weekend to pick up some of my old stuff so that they could repurpose my old room. I'd had to do this at my mom's ages ago; it turns out that the second time around it's way easier to distance from the emotional "oh my god I don't live at home anymore" impact and move on to the sheer hilarity inherent in the stuff as I sort it out this week.

For instance, I have just found a bunch of dearly beloved old CDs. I have a pretty decent memory for lyrics (though nothing else) so when I pull out the Celine Dion that I totally adored in fifth grade or something like that, I definitely can belt out every word. Which really helps amp up the total epic drama of this CD -- I'd forgotten the sheer quantities of sound effects in "It's All Coming Back To Me Now". (And also the fact that that song is like seven minutes long, seriously.) I can definitely see how ten-year-old me listened to this practically daily.

In fact this has been so much fun that I'm really half tempted to rip the old spice girls cd to my work laptop for listening tomorrow. Has it been long enough yet that I can pretend to be liking "Say You'll Be There" ironically?

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godream

August 2010

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