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Showing posts from August, 2010

17

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17 is an age for many things - the first kiss for late bloomers, the thrill of getting a driver's license and the almost certain subsequent first accidents, applying for college and the fear of rejection.

It's also one of those perennial ages, where everything is life and death and life itself throbs with the unfulfilled desire of being caught between freedom and captivity. There is nothing more emotional than being a teenager, of being stuck between what your parents want of you, what your friends expect of you, and what you yearn of you.

And listening to a mix CD labeled "Meghan's Birthday Mix - May 9th, 2003" brings me back into the thick of it.

I was in the heady, passionate thrall of my love of late-night heavy metal radio shows, leather and electric guitars, concert t-shirts from the 80s bought off Ebay for exorbitant sums, and wearing glittery royal blue eyeshadow.

To put it in its proper pop-culture perspective, 2003 was the year Ruben and Clay battled it out…