At last, that firey feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if there is something that I need to release into words on a page! So here goes…
Anyone that knows me could tell you that I am a sucker for anything Eighties. The music, the movies, the ridiculous mis-matched loud and fluorescent clothing—all of it—I absolutely love it! But why? Is it just because I haven’t found my real-life John Cusack to sweep me off my feet yet? Is it because I secretly wish that perms were still “in”? Well, that’s a no-brainer, but no, that’s not why.
The truth is, is that I had a pretty damn great childhood (despite some setbacks growing up in a divorced family scenario). And when I hear music that reminds me of dancing around the house with my Mom, playing with my brother and friends, or watching a movie that my Grandma and I had watched together hundreds of times (Dirty Dancing, incase you’re wondering)—it brings me the purest form of simple (and uncomplicated) joy.
Born in the second month of 1980, I like to say that I was there to kick off the decade. Ten awesome years filled with wonderful memories, and the music is what takes me back when I hear it. To me, the Eighties was wonderful because it’s the time before shit got real—when the biggest worries of my life involved things like: making sure I caught an episode of Alf before heading to bed, playing Nintendo, roller-skating on weekends at the rink, getting too muddy outside, or getting my spelling homework done before going to school the next day.
The time before boobs, boys and bullies, is the time I wish I had more of. Before I knew I could be anything but happy or feel good about myself. Before I could learn to associate a song with a breakup, or another sad event or feeling. Before the world around me taught me I wasn’t good enough unless I looked a certain way, or did X, Y and Z like so-and-so. Before I had a limited time in this life to spend with my Mom.
Back then, disappointment was going to bed early or getting grounded. Nowadays, disappointment runs way deeper. Being an adult can suck, and so now when the world today stresses me out and I get anxiety (which can be quite often), I tune into some Lionel Richie on my Pandora, or pop in Dirty Dancing, and I’m instantly taken back to a simpler time when I truly and unconditionally loved life, and loved what surrounded me.
And as I fantasize about a tie-dyed world that no longer exists, hoping for the moment a John-Cusack-like character blasts “In Your Eyes” from a boom box outside my bedroom window—rather than the actual real-life guy that thinks inappropriate selfies via text messaging will get my attention—I will continue to find my happy place in my vivid daydreams stuck in the Eighties. Reminding myself that somewhere deep down, that little girl that loves to laugh, and loves to live, is still in there.
And for the record, John Cusack aged very, very well. He can stand outside my window any day. Still waiting for a guy like that! Funny, cute, what’s not to love! Still. Waiting…
The song featured on this post is dedicated to my Mom, Dad (yes, him too), Grandma and Brother—Thanks for making my earliest years wonderfully unforgettable!
Song of the Blog:
(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life | Dirty Dancing | circa 1987
