You're not the song I thought you were
Hmm, the song I bought this CD for wasn't the one I thought it was. Oops. Oh well, for £1 and a mistake I'm being introduced to Télépopmusik and the Von Bondies.
I'm listening to more music, as I may have mentioned before, and I'm trying to go through my collection and winnow out the chaff. It's not going so well. I've returned some of my dad's CDs. I realise it's taken me 3 years to notice that a friend had left a heap of them in my room, but when I'm about to be sorry I remember a coversation we had while I was studying for my exams:
Me: "My door's shaking!"
Him: "."
Me: "My DOOR is SHAKING!!!"
*runs down stairs and stands in front of father who is nodding along to the 1812 Overture played at full volume*
Me: "MY DOOOOOOOOR IS SHAAAAKIIIIIIIIING!!!!"
Him: *turns down volume. Puzzled look.*
Me: "My doooo-" etc. Except that he'd just used up all the sound we had for the week, so I still couldn't hear myself think, so we went out to lunch, and nicked some sound there. Restaurants always have spare.
I've also given to a charity shop - and they said thank you, admittedly without looking to see what they were - the Peter Andre CDs I was given back when he had abs the first time. A friend was "cooling up" his collection (although he never tried denying going to that Spice Girl's concert - some stuff sticks, even after you've shaved your head). Somehow, I've never quite gotten around to listening to them, and looking down at the lurid purple cover and the sort-of dreads, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it now, either. Not even in case I was missing out on something, a surprisingly enduring motto which has led me into doing even more stupid things than going on a six hour scramble in the wrong shoes.
The next problem is a matter of technique: to listen or not to listen? I'm inclined to listen - otherwise I might be missing out on 6 hours of "fun and blisters" (tm), right? But I also have a confession. I still like the first two CDs I bought, and this is less because I had staggeringly, enduringly, good taste, than because my lack of discrimination between media products has not changed a great deal. OK, I buy different stuff now, but I still happily listen to Susan Vega or Savage Garden. And sing along. Or Britney from back when the covers were pink, rather than post-apocalyptic. And I'm slightly concerned that if I start listening to the other lurkers, the ones I never got around to putting on my computer, so didn't have a hope through the drought years at uni when I didn't have a CD player, let alone space for CDs, I'll either go all mushy, or, more likely, remember why I liked them, and keep all the CDs I should be binning. And you never know, I might want to get some street cred some day. Or be able to move rooms without a pantechnicon.
To be honest though, if I was just trying to clear some space I'd probably be better off doing the books, as they take up about ten times as much space, and are easier: will I reread this? Nah. Do I love it? Nah. Does it mean anything to me? Ye--Nah.
I'm listening to more music, as I may have mentioned before, and I'm trying to go through my collection and winnow out the chaff. It's not going so well. I've returned some of my dad's CDs. I realise it's taken me 3 years to notice that a friend had left a heap of them in my room, but when I'm about to be sorry I remember a coversation we had while I was studying for my exams:
Me: "My door's shaking!"
Him: "."
Me: "My DOOR is SHAKING!!!"
*runs down stairs and stands in front of father who is nodding along to the 1812 Overture played at full volume*
Me: "MY DOOOOOOOOR IS SHAAAAKIIIIIIIIING!!!!"
Him: *turns down volume. Puzzled look.*
Me: "My doooo-" etc. Except that he'd just used up all the sound we had for the week, so I still couldn't hear myself think, so we went out to lunch, and nicked some sound there. Restaurants always have spare.
I've also given to a charity shop - and they said thank you, admittedly without looking to see what they were - the Peter Andre CDs I was given back when he had abs the first time. A friend was "cooling up" his collection (although he never tried denying going to that Spice Girl's concert - some stuff sticks, even after you've shaved your head). Somehow, I've never quite gotten around to listening to them, and looking down at the lurid purple cover and the sort-of dreads, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it now, either. Not even in case I was missing out on something, a surprisingly enduring motto which has led me into doing even more stupid things than going on a six hour scramble in the wrong shoes.
The next problem is a matter of technique: to listen or not to listen? I'm inclined to listen - otherwise I might be missing out on 6 hours of "fun and blisters" (tm), right? But I also have a confession. I still like the first two CDs I bought, and this is less because I had staggeringly, enduringly, good taste, than because my lack of discrimination between media products has not changed a great deal. OK, I buy different stuff now, but I still happily listen to Susan Vega or Savage Garden. And sing along. Or Britney from back when the covers were pink, rather than post-apocalyptic. And I'm slightly concerned that if I start listening to the other lurkers, the ones I never got around to putting on my computer, so didn't have a hope through the drought years at uni when I didn't have a CD player, let alone space for CDs, I'll either go all mushy, or, more likely, remember why I liked them, and keep all the CDs I should be binning. And you never know, I might want to get some street cred some day. Or be able to move rooms without a pantechnicon.
To be honest though, if I was just trying to clear some space I'd probably be better off doing the books, as they take up about ten times as much space, and are easier: will I reread this? Nah. Do I love it? Nah. Does it mean anything to me? Ye--Nah.