Never Was A Cornflake Girl* (How Could I Forget About Tori?)
A few weeks ago Geo mentioned Tori Amos when we were hanging out, and it was a sudden jolt to me, because it’s been months, maybe even over a year since I thought about or listened to my Tori Amos collection, which is absurd in itself because there was a while when all I listened to was her.
I first heard Tori on a Metro Transit bus, heading somewhere with Dawn, either to my house or her house and she gave me one of the ear buds to her walkman and told me to listen. The song was Crucify from Little Earthquakes, and the few moments listening to it was enough to devote me. I’ve been to two of her concerts, one in Vancouver and one in Toronto and I have almost all of her CDs, expect for her latest (The Beekeeper), which is a huge oversight on my part because I had all but forgotten about her which is bizarrely odd because some of my stronger memories are associated with Tori – in fact, when I grabbed my collection and began converting everything to MP3s, I began listening to the songs of long ago and I’m left wondering, how could I forget about Tori?
I listened to Little Earthquakes the entire summer of 1994; I was spending a lot of time in IRC chat rooms – my ‘online tagline’ was from Precious Things and said, So you can make me cum that doesn’t make you Jesus, and without even knowing it, that would set the tone for the rest of that summer. 1994 was the summer of the AC group, a bunch of IRCers that had all met in real life, and after working all day, I’d stay up all night chatting on the channel but also privately chatting with some of the guys I had met through the group.
It was the summer when I chatted with one guy until 5:30am and then logged off so I could get ready to go to work. When I got off the bus downtown a couple of hours later, he was there waiting for me so he could walk me to work.
It was the summer that I was involved with him, but also involved with his friend and they either didn’t know or knew and didn’t care, either way it didn’t really matter to me. I remember volunteering at the hospital one night and having both friends show up – one was planned, the other came by because I had been talking to him all night the night before and he wanted to make sure I was okay.
It was the summer where I went for a walk with a male friend who openly had a crush on me – we walked to the lake and I asked him to swim with me, stripping down to my underwear and bra (I remember it still, white with lace trim and tiny pink polka dots). He wouldn’t (or couldn’t) come in the water with me and I remember swimming in the darkness and feeling his eyes on me every second.
It was the summer of emails from guys that I had met through friends and going to their parties – sitting at the kitchen table with a bunch on people and having one roommatewith his hand on my thigh, and then an hour later locking myself in the bathroom with a different roomate while my girlfriends hammered on the door to get me to come out.
It was the summer when I was involved with another guy and had made plans to hook up at a party with him, but when someone better came along on the way to the party, I quickly denied that I was involved with anyone when asked. I snubbed the first guy when I finally got to the party and spent the night sitting on the back porch with the second guy, ignoring the first guy’s attempts at eye contact and conversation.
It was the summer where I felt bold and strong and confident and restless. It was the summer where I didn’t care what anyone thought, when I was selfish and thought only about myself. It was the summer where I received more than I gave, and it was the summer where I grew both bored and frustrated with my virginity and briefly debated throwing it away.
In some ways, it was probably the best summer of my life – not because it was fun and crazy and irresponsible but because I found Tay at the very end of it – Tay who quite probably brought me back to my senses. It was definitely my Tori summer though, and I just have to listen to Little Earthquakes and it all comes back to me, my summer of Precious Things.
(Never was a cornflake girl, thought it was a good solution hanging with the raisin girls).
Damn, you’z were a crazy gal! That sounds like a pretty wild summer. It’s funny how music can jog your memory. I was thinking about my ex from that summer who was listening to Tori. I can practically feel that summer again. It was a big year for me too. I was somewhat surprised by your early entrance into intarweb geekdom though. It works both ways. When I was trying to figure out when I was online I thought about what music I was listening to at the time. Then I looked up the year those records came out. http://www.discogs.com/release/110026 If I had met you instead of the other gal who was on the internet at the time my opinion of intarweb galz would have been different. 😉
It’s so funny you mention this here. I also found my Tori Amos collection not to long ago and was brought back to the same summer. We were both a little wild. I would definately say that it was the best summer of my life up to that point, and that CD along with Counting Crows brings back a flood of memories, most good, some alright, some downright bad, but amazing all in the same time. I met a lot of people that summer, found a lot out about myself that summer and learned more life lessons in that short time than any other, up to that point. It was that fall I met Rob, and thanks to you and your cold balcony listening to laughing ducks I built up the courage to ask him out. Crazy what a song will bring back.
It’s amazing how song and scent can warp you back through time. For me Tori Amos reminds me of that farting woman (remember her?), and hanging out at your Spring Garden apartment. I associate those two albums with you, you know. Perhaps it really was your anthem…
To, me that time in yoru life seems to be a time when I hardly knew you… but I’m glad you have such fond memories. And its true, it only takes one note of a song to bring back intense memories…
That was a time in my life when I barely knew myself – seriously, I was like, who are you and what have you done with the other Tawny?
Stace (http://www.crazyfistshaker.blogspot.com) @ 02/08/2006 21:39:
Everytime I hear Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, I’m reminded of driving home at 830am on Sunday morning from Halifax. Those Saturday nights when Kat and me would frequent the dome until close (I believe this particular Saturday night I was kicked out), walking up Spring Garden for McDonald’s, and falling into bed at 5am. Those Sunday mornings driving home to get ready for a 12 hour shift at the theatre with the sun shining and all I wanted to do was head to the beach. Most afternoons though I managed to leave half an hour after being there, not having to return until 6. Can’t beat summer weekends like that 🙂