Your Royal Know-It-All

I remember my first catalytic "hipster" moment. Of course, I didn't realize that anything people did would later identify the typical modern Seattle hipster. I just lived my life, ya know?

It was freshman year, and I was sitting (by myself) in the cafeteria eating a sandwich or something. (I'm so tempted right now to compose an entire epic on the contents of my lunch and tie it all together to form a triumphant conclusion, but I honestly don't remember what I was eating. So I won't pretend to. Just so you know.)

The dreaded Senior Guys were sitting at the table next to mine. Obviously, they weren't there when I sat down, good heavens. I kept my distance. High schoolers were one thing. Tall, boisterous, male ones were another. Scary times, my freshman year...  Anyways, the point of all this is that one of them started busting out the song So Much Love, by The Rocket Summer.

Now, you have to understand. I had come into this high school from a tiny, private middle school. Throughout the years, there were five people in my grade at the most. It's hard to understand, and it sounds weird, but music was my social life, in a way. Oy... it sounds even weirder here than it did in my head. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I didn't talk to my friends. Having the same few people in your class from 1st through 8th grade has its pros and cons, but the consistency can go either way. However, it was so constant that there were no real opportunities to meet new people and form new relationships. I must have channeled that into, among other things, my love of music. There were many hours spent finding new songs and bands to fall in love with. They were just... mine.

I must have known I wasn't the only fan of these bands. It's not like they could function off my support alone.  Probably couldn't even buy a pizza, unless it was Little Caesar's; then maybe. Nevertheless, when that Senior Guy started singing one of my songs, I about dropped my seed-bread tomato basil sandwich. (Just kidding, I really don't know what it was.) But I almost dropped it, and did choke a little. This DUDE was singing MY artist. MY Rocket Summer. Did I leave the CD lying around or something? How could he possibly know that song?

Friends, that was the day I found out The Rocket Summer was a lot more popular than I gave him credit for. It was also the day that knocked me off my metaphorical high horse of musical know-it-all, and spilled my rye BLT all over the floor on the way down. Something like that.

Therefore, it is with true joy that I share with you, gentle reader, a favorite song from middle school. I hope you enjoy it now as much as I did then. And if you don't, kindly refrain from telling me. Cheers!