Mixed tape.

My ex-boyfriend and I made each other CDs like it was our jobs. Music was our thing. It's how we first connected. We were so musically connected. Our relationship had a soundtrack. And damn, it was good. The soundtrack. Not... the, uh... relationship. In the end. Music tends to ruin everything, I've learned. Or maybe relationships ruin everything. Hmm. That's something to ponder.

Regardless, I'm one to associate songs with memories and events and people, and when those memories and events and people turn sour, so do the songs. Songs that were once upon a time, like, the-best-songs-ever-omg. I've, at times, had entire stacks of CDs I haven't been able to listen to for fear of vile retribution, gag reflex and ripping open pink, puffy wounds that would inevitably lead to me in the fetal position under the covers.

Some classics: "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy. "Everything We Had" by The Academy Is... " Some song by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill from my teenage, puppy-love years.

Oh, le sigh. My sentimentality is a flaw. I associate everything with something with feelings with the heart that is attached to my sleeve.

I can proudly say, however, that there is not one song or CD or band currently in the musicsphere that I cannot handle. I am quite proud of this progression. Aw, our little Krista is growing up. In fact, all of those horrid, pit-in-my-soul songs are all fair game. Not only can I listen to them, but I like them again.


Anyway, on my way to and from my parents' house tonight, I was listening to one of the infamous mixed CDs that once defined a relationship. "Songs You Can't Skip," he named it. Dammit, it's good. So many great, great, great songs. I forgot how much I loved the songs on that CD back when we used to lay in the dark in his room listening to it on the boombox that sat on the floor. (Dear Mom, of course we had the door open and his parents were in the next room...)

Songs you can't skip, indeed. Too bad I couldn't have kept the CD and just skipped the relationship.