I bought eight CDs today. I'm listening to my favorite album of 1990, The Sundays' Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic. I love Harriet Wheeler's voice and the songs are mesmerizing. I also brought home a two disk anthology of Dave Edmunds' work, collected hits of Huey Lewis and the News, Roxy Music, and Green Day, the latest No Doubt release, and a strange little combo CD that has five songs each by Missing Persons and the Motels (their big hits from the 80's) so I can beef up my Big Hair playlist. I was so excited when I picked them out, and I listened to a few songs from everything except Dave Edmunds; I'm saving him for a separate listening session. I'm afraid all this didn't come without a price, and I don't mean financially. I had a panic attack this evening, the first one in a long time. It was frightening, as always, and I realized while it was coming on that I'd come pretty close to one yesterday but had sort of passed it off as strain from the back pain. I went to bed at 7pm to try to cope with it. I wanted to think about why it had happened. I guess it's not that easy to go from denying myself music to reveling in it. There has to be a little more transition. In some backwards way it seemed self-indulgent beyond permission to buy so much music and love it so much. God, I haven't heard Roxy Music in years, but it brought back sitting on the floor in Mia Rose Wu's apartment in 1976, painting our nails with glittery polish, smoking Sobrani cigarettes, and listening to "Love is the Drug." I was in awe of Bryan Ferry's sophisticated vocals. I knew a lot about guitar rock music, but I knew nothing of discos or synthesizers or British glam until Mia played me Siren. Oh, that first year of college, what discoveries I made. Moon boots and David Bowie, Schubert lieder and menthol cigarettes, Ned Rorem's diaries and Ciara perfume. It was the first time I felt like I was finally living the life I was always meant to lead. It's the memories that caused the problem. Like scent, music locks in memories of certain places, people, situations. Of course listening to old favorites created an emotional reaction, of course it did. I probably should have thought about that, but I didn't. I wasn't entirely prepared. The old subroutine hasn't been magically shut down just because I finally identified it; it'll probably keep trying to start up again for a while. Change takes time. Fine. I know what I have to do. I have to stop confusing my lifelong love of music and the tremendous drive to pursue it with the vague but crippling notion that I disappointed everyone by failing to graduate from college in 1980, and not continuing my music career much beyond leaving school. When I was in Palm Desert last month my father specifically told me he never felt bad about me not graduating. I don't think it made me a failure in his eyes. I was 21. Obviously I needed to get a job and get sorted out instead, like lots of other 21 year olds. I didn't do what I started out to do, but so what? I regret I made a federal crime out of it all these years. I always was a drama queen. So while I lay in bed struggling against the physical symptoms of panic attacks tonight I talked to myself about how to turn this around. I have consciously decided to think of the time I spent as a music student and a musician as a gift. No more shame about failure, or fear of disappointing my family, no guilt over indulgence or doing exactly what I most wanted to do. It was nothing short of wonderful to study music night and day, so fulfilling and joyful to sing here, conduct there, play in makeshift chamber music sessions on my lunch hour, take lessons in three instruments, learn music history and composition, be in operas and choirs, and listen, listen, listen to as much music as I could. I am so grateful my parents made that possible for me. I am taking back those memories, discarding the clutter of negative emotions that I added later. I loved being a music student. I love music. That's the only thing that matters.
So maybe I'll listen to mostly the new stuff for a few days. I'll give myself a little more transition time, work up gradually to delving among the memories with my newfound viewpoint. I still think my idea of rewarding myself with music instead of food is nifty, but that doesn't mean I'm going to buy CDs every week. I'd go broke! But I'll be keeping track, and every month at least I'll acquire a little more. Today was unusual, and I'm sorry it caused problems, but I'm not sorry I bought the music. I bought it because I wanted it. I need no other reason.
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