Googlosity #2

Why is curiosity sometimes so disatisfying? No need to answer. Curiosity killed the cat, I know. It's like a disease, in some ways. Here I am, minding my own business and I hear the tail end of a song that I remember liking when I was in high school. A song, mind you, that I wouldn't have necessarily admitted to liking, since it wasn't in my canon of cool. "All I Want" reminds me of liking a boy who liked me for awhile, and then gave up when a friend explained that I'd mentioned I wasn't interested in seeing anyone. Very nice, wasn't she? So, I hear this song and...ahhhh...the days of high school heartache. I download the song from iTunes. It's as pop-ee and sentimental as I remembered it to be and I still dig it! What happens next? O, the cursed google. Do I find information on this old crush who I only got to make out with once, to learn, a few days later, that he had already moved beyond his crush on me and was in process of pursuing another girl? (Did this stop him from the kissy kissy tongue gymnastics? No. Typical.) Wade Myers, for that is the boy, is mentioned in someone else's blog. A list of friends' (belonging to that blogger) picks for flawless albums. Wade lists this band's album as one of his. Zowie! Now I'm in google obsession mode. It's so easy to fall into that. I go from Wade (for whom I find nothing on except the aforementioned blog) to general curiosity about peeps from my past. I'm back to my Sarah Combs monomania, only now it's not her. It's a category, rather than a person. And I am as likely to satisfy my curiosity regarding the latter as I am to learn about her. What is this? My version of the annual late summer cold? What is important to note is that I don't necessarily want to contact these folks, I just want to know what they're doing. Where they are. What they look like. Basically, I'm a coward. I'm secretly searching, afraid to admit that I'm curious. Do they wonder about me? The "I was just a dork in high school" side of me is certain that no one gives a rat's ass about my current doings. But maybe there is a song that plays and they, too, start to google. How would I ever know?

I'd like to read this book, based on the review. I heard that durn song, and suddenly, just as the reviewer says, the movie in my mind of that particular moment of my life is playing. In fact, I might even blame that review for sparking this whole new found goofiness--googleness. Because reading that article is what reminded me that I wanted to buy that song from iTunes. Yeah. That's how it all started! And I wax nostalgic and even have dreams starring these people, looking exactly as they did 14 years ago. Though I, lucky me, look like I do now. Phew.

And I'd like to say, just in case Wade happens to stumble upon this, that I hope you're doing well. I wonder, do you still have that copy of Leaves of Grass I gave you?