Led Zeppelin: “Good Times, Bad Times”

Look, I’ve never been one for introspection, stubbornly clinging to the idea that ‘personal growth’ sounds like a tumor, but my upcoming birthday and accompanying move to a Brand New Decade has led to more than a little soul mining.

Digging my diaries out of the closet today made me realize that I’m essentially the same person I was before I started shaving my legs and it’s made me wonder if there should’ve been some kind of arc to the story, you know?  Like maybe I should be rolling into Act 2 with a different attitude or—at the very least—a different set of band t-shirts.

Unfortunately, after spending the morning on a looping cursive trip between ‘93 and ‘97, it seems like everything—from my musical stylings to my insecurities to my fumbling attempts at relationships—have remained unchanged, like I was grabbed on my way to Earth Science and encased in amber for fifteen years.

It’s not like I haven’t attempted to update my personal operating system; I’ve tried to break out Version 2.0 every time I moved into a new dorm or was fired started a new job or met new people, but within a few weeks I always realized that it was pointless.  I’m always, it seems, going to be categorized with the same Breakfast Club-ish labels like “The Princess” or “The Basket Case” or “The Girl With Bad Skin Who Should Probably Start Wearing Longer Skirts”.

Or, as Robert Plant sang:

Now I’ve reached that age
I’ve tried to do all those things the best I can
No matter how I try
I find my way to do the same old jam

It’s taken me almost thirty years to figure this out.  It took me less than three hours—and an unplanned detour down the back roads of my memory—to make peace with it.

So.

Here’s to another serving of the same old jam.

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