Odes are

I bought the soundtrack from the Devil Wears Prada. I know how that sounds, but I liked the combined six minutes I heard from sampling each track on iTunes. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I hope the soundtrack is somewhat of a preview to the movie itself. Anyway, I was listening to it while trying to do a set of push-ups tonight. I do them whenever I feel like crying, or when I am crying, although I try to stop it before it gets to that point. It's an easy way to feel pain physically rather than emotionally, because I'm convinced that's the better way to go through life. Emotional stress can do some really terrible things to my mind and without that, well, what do I have. No future at UPenn, that's for sure. It was at the point when I realized I had carpet fuzz in my mouth that I started to collect my thoughts on music, though. And here I am to write about it, still sore in the arm region.

Music. It's a big part of my life. I make it a big part of my life. I was talking to a friend earlier tonight, I was trying to explain what happens when I even see people dancing or hear beautiful singing. Simply, I get the chills. Even down to my toes if it's really good, and more importantly, if I recognize that I can mimic whatever I'm seeing or hearing. Why do I always have this reaction? I couldn't tell you, but I know that singing and dancing are very important to me, though I didn't know it back in tap class when I was 4. I wanted to quit classes because I was chunkier than the other girls and slow on learning new steps. So then I joined my sisters in piano lessons.

And I've been trying to find a piano to play on in Philadelphia for a week now, but I can't find one a) for free, or b) open when I can play it, and still get home in one piece. If you know of a place, do share.

But earlier on the floor, I was thinking about association. There are certain people that come to mind no matter when or where I hear certain music, or musical groups. I hear any song by Third Eye Blind and I remember Ember, one of my best friends who's bombing around Europe until October. If U2 comes on, I automatically think of Kit, still making his trek from Chile to the US (and I hope he's doing well. Kit: your posts are fabulous).

If I hear the Decemberists, the New Pornographers, or the Arcade Fire, I think of a friend who moved to California this summer and who still means a great deal to me, if only for all he's taught me.

If I hear Dave Matthews Band I remember my friend from high school who was a DMB fanatic, and with whom I ran (yes, actually ran, I was in shape) through almost 2 miles of parked traffic to get to Riverport to catch the best DMB show ever in STL. I haven't talked to him in years but I loved that night and all the other concerts we went to over the span of a great friendship. With us at some of those concert events was another great guy, who I will love forever and ever and ever, and of whom I think anytime the Urge comes on. Granted, it's not often on the radio here, but you know I have it on the pod.

I hear Red Hot Chili Peppers and I remember my best friend from grade school. Josh Rouse, two of my very best friends back in Columbia. The Pet Shop Boys, Paul Oakenfold, Ambulance LTD, the Shins, or Interpol, my sisters. The Who? A friend from last summer. We tried to listen to the badly-burned tracks on my iPod on our way to the Mall of America one very hot summer day. Coldplay, another friend from last summer, and an exboyfriend from high school. Oh man, we were so young. Our "song" was Yellow.

There are songs I hear too many people in to sort out, as with songs by Wilco, and Jeff Buckley. And there are also songs I only hear myself in, and those are the groups, the performers, who I have the strongest loyalty to: Ani DiFranco, Wilco, Notwist, Bjork, Massive Attack, Four Tet, Sigur Ros... If you're wondering the list goes on, and on. I can't scroll through my music without finding more connections.

We did an exercise in 4040 earlier this Spring, the networking exercise. And I can't help but wonder what my picture would look like if I tried to map all my connections from music to people in my life. Even if I tried to link only the people who are currently in my life to the music that makes me think of them, it'd probably be impossible. It'd be great to illustrate how I've learned about music, from whom I've been influenced, and who I have shared with, but just as pointless as it sounds, probably. Too many people have had a hand in shaping my musical palette, and there's no way to acknowledge them all, or to thank them. And I am thankful. Thank you to everyone who has taught me to sing or to dance, or given me the background to sing or dance to. And with this rare nostalgia, I'll go back to stretching, and remembering when I was in shape enough to run past idling cars, to listen to Dave improv.