In some ways, I am still 14

I traveled a lot as a kid. My parents were divorced, and both remarried at some point, so I had four sets of families to travel to see. My father set me up with a portable file box full of tapes, and I would spend cross-country plane trips with headphones on my ears and ginger ale in my tummy.

When I got older, I was even more of a recluse. Suddenly surrounded by someone else's children, a ready-made family I couldn't yet call my own, my headphones became that much more important to me. There were three albums that I listened to on a loop: Pearl Jam's Ten and Vs., and Live's Throwing Copper. I had transfered the albums to tape with my boom box, and listened to them with my walkman. I don't know how I kept a steady supply of batteries, but I don't remember that ever being a problem.

I listen to different stuff today. I'm no hard rock aficionado; my favorite Pandora stations are James Taylor and Lori McKenna. My Lori McKenna station has become very country these days. But while reading NPR this morning, I was reminded of Cameron Crowe's new documentary on Pearl Jam: PJ20. While watching a brief clip, I realized to my surprise that nothing has changed for me in the past fifteen years. I still love them just as much as I did when I was fourteen. Vedder's voice still inspires me like no other, and puts me back in a car driving up I-5 towards the Oregon border, staring out the window, wishing I were somewhere else, and someone else.

I know it's extreme, but teenagers are extreme. At this time in my life, this music saved me, kept me going, gave me something worth hoping for and fighting for. It helped me believe that there was more to life beyond my limited view. It kept the fight in me. I would like to put up some lyrics, but looking at them makes me remember how dark my life was, how depressed I was, and how close to the edge I lived my life, never quite sure I wanted to stay, and today, I'd like to stay hopeful.