There are many ways to define oneself: clothes, hair, makeup, friends... But one that is often overlooked in high school is music. I think it all started for me in 8th grade when Micah, Simon and Anthony listened to heavy metal Christian rock (isn't that a paradox?). I had this huge crush on at least two of them and wanted to be cool. So I bought some P.O.D., some Project 86 and flaunted it. "Whoa you have the new Project 86 CD?!" Oh yeah, I was so cool. I hated the screaming, the screeching guitars made my ears bleed, but I proudly blared it from my headphones, using it as a status symbol.

The change from 8th to 9th grade meant private school to public and it wasn't cool anymore to listen to Christian rock. Rap was the weapon of choice, and junior year we got out driver's licenses and began the battle. A battle of whose speakers could hold out the longest. I don't think I ever won with my factory speakers, but it didn't matter I proudly turned up "Double-You-Ay-Em-Oh! WAMO 106.7" anyway.

The transition from senior year to bottom of the barrel freshman meant yet another change.
At the organizational fair I saw a table manned by a bespectackled blonde boy. I rushed over to the college radio station spot;

I noticed a flyer with all these Indie bands on it (at the time I didn't know
what they were, maybe diseases: Flaming Lips, The Shins, Neutral Milk (Hotel),
Imogen Heap, Sufjan...)

I introduced myself to the guy behind the table as Jessica, "You know any of these bands?" "Umm....The Killers!" So that was that, with one recognition I was in. "See you at the meeting next week Isobel!" He remembered my name! I was in.

I soon realized that anyone who's anyone at college listens to Indie music. I didn't know any, maybe 3 bands and they were even considered borderline mainstream. I was in bad shape. But I slowly trudged onward learning more and more bands, and while it is so painful the first time you listen to a CD without knowing any words, it is certainly educational. Soon I even started hanging out with the tight pants (aka Hipsters, but they don't like being called that). You know, the boys at every college campus with long-ish hair, old-man-plaid shirts, Chuck Taylors, and most importantly tight pants. They have a laid-back sort of vibe and you know they listen to bands that no one has ever heard of. This is the epitome of cool.

But now I'm back home, in the town of my high school, and I've been re-submerged in the sounds of Top-40. Heaven forbid. I'm trying desperately to remain faithful to my worn out goodwill tees, little girl barrettes, ballet flats, and plethora of skirts. It's funny though when I pull up to the gas station I turn a lot more heads than I used to; I suppose everyone is expecting Jay-Z but instead I blast Nick Drake.