music library

When I browse through my music library,
I realize that 98% of the music was given or suggested to me by other people. I realize that I never get rid of music that has been given to me. I realize that some bands, albums, and songs I initially and legitimately despised, but over time they’ve grown on me. Likewise, the people who gave me this music I, at one time, equally loathed, but like their music, they too have grown on me in an amazingly inexplicable way. Then I go on to realize that there were some songs I instantly enjoyed and found myself humming on a daily basis, and it seems as if those who gave me this part of my music library, I found myself drawn to even before the very minute I met them, and I can honestly say I could enjoy their company daily. I realize that in life there are many guilty, innocent pleasures, and many of them can be found in my music library. I realize I am my mother’s son, because when things get stressful, I catch myself listening to The Beatles; and I realize that I am my father’s son, because I find inspiration in Bob Dylan. I see my friends in my music; I remember the story behind each song, and I remember the very first time I was compelled or forced to that particular song. I realize my roots. I realize how I got here. I realize that there’s more to come. So if you’ve ever burned a cd for me or casually suggested some no-name band, know this: When the band starts to play and I hold my headphones tight to my hears in an attempt to hear every beat and strum and I try to sing along with the song the best I can and I hum when I can’t, I remember you; and as foolish as it sounds, I like your style (and your music too). And I guess what I’m really trying to say here is—“Thanks. You rock.”