Story by Alex
It may
surprise you to know that I have not always been the super cool, cynical and
somewhat aloof person I am today. There was a time, many years ago, when I was
enthusiastic, naive, and, dare I say it, undignified. There was a time, many
years ago, where I was unselfconsciously obsessed. Blindly. Utterly.
Completely.
It was 1997. I was 13. Discmans (discmen?) were the cutting edge
of portable audio technology. Only 7.4 percent of Australian households were
connected to the internet. It was the year that three blond brothers from
Tulsa, Oklahoma took the world (and my young heart) by storm. Love them or
loathe them, there was no escaping the nonsensical chorus of their infectious
debut single. I speak, of course, of Hanson. Of MMMBop. Of innocence
personified.
I proclaimed my love in many ways. Scrawled over my school
planner, my pencil case (the ones where you cut out the letters of your name to
put into the little plastic slots), in the condensation of bus windows. Shouted
out of train windows to friends waiting on the platform. Wallpapering every
single inch of my bedroom walls with posters, pictures and magazine articles.
Turning up the television as loud as it would go when one of their songs was
on. Generally, just being an obnoxious and insufferable pain in the ass.
Thankfully,
for all involved, this phase did not last forever (despite my earlier vehement
protestations that I would love Hanson until the day I died – to the extent
that I had issued instructions as to which of their songs would be played at my
funeral). After the pictures came
off my walls, I took to the CD with my house keys, destroying the disk with
deliberate scratches, whilst Korn played on in the background.
On the odd
occasion now when I hear MMMBop, it conjures feelings of brightness, sunshine,
and blue skies. And I can’t help
but to smile.
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