hippie love.

I went on an iTunes spending spree tonight. I love a few things about iTunes: first, you can pick and choose which songs you want to buy off an album, instead of wasting money on those lame filler songs that all too often show up. Second, if you already have a song purchased off an album, iTunes has a "complete my album" option that discounts the price. Lastly, I love not having actual CDs to mess with. When it comes to books, I love the feel of paper and the weight of the book in my hands. When it comes to music, I'm a firm believer that MP3s are the best thing to happen to mankind. But I digress...

So, my spending spree. I purchased music from the following artists: The Steve Miller Band, Tommy James and the Shondells, Neil Diamond, Scott McKenzie, and Phish. With the exception of the last artist, you probably noticed a pattern. Dig through your parents' old record collection and they probably own the vinyl of those cats. It's not a surprise to anyone who knows me, but I adore '60s music. I mean, I straight up love listening to it, along with the stories my parents tell me about growing up in the '60s. When I was a little girl, the only thing I ever wanted to listen to on the radio was 93.3 (the oldies station in Des Moines) and I remember hiding records when my dad was selling them in a garage sale; I managed to save Aretha Franklin, Lesley Gore, and the Supremes. One of the major reasons why I splurged on satellite radio in my car is the channel "60s on 6" and my friends will attest to the fact that I can sing along to nearly all of the songs they play. I could go on, but I think you get the point.

I'm not one of those people who will admonish the state of music today compared to "back then." I can't do that in good faith, because I admit that I actually like Ke$ha (I really don't mind if you judge me). I just recognize that you can't compare Ke$ha to, say, the Doors. I hope you laughed at the thought, because that is exactly my point. Why do people get so pretentious when it comes to music? I listen to both kinds of music at different times depending on my mood. If I'm bummed out at work, you better believe I'm rocking to Ke$ha. If I'm on a road-trip, there is nothing better than the Eagles or Tom Petty. God bless the iPod, fo'real.

But back to my love of '60s music. Another reason why I love it all so much is because I really, really wish I had been alive during that era so I could have been a hippie. I absolutely would have been a hippie. In some ways, I think I am one now. Don't get me wrong; I do love technology and want to have a real job someday, but I also really dig the happy-go-lucky, be natural and love the earth, be good to each other and be idealistic mindset. I would have been that girl in San Francisco with flowers in her hair (and sans mustache, Scott McKenzie is not bad looking either). Plus, things just weren't as serious in the '60s. I'm not saying that things like Vietnam and the assassinations of prolific national leaders were knee-slappin' good times, but consider something like the environment. People care about the environment today because we have really, really screwed that shit up. In the '60s, I wager that most people cared because they just loved the earth. I wish people would care about the earth just because its beautiful and the right thing to do, not because we're all terrified what will happen if we can't drive our SUV to the grocery store 3 blocks away to buy overly-packaged food chalk full of preservatives fresh from South America. But, that's another story for another day. No, the 60s were tumultuous, but they were still considerably more chill than life today.

Maybe tomorrow I will dig around in my boxes of childhood mementos for the Halloween costume I insisted on wearing three years in a row: a hippie wearing an bohemian shirt, bell bottoms, Lennon sunglasses, and a ribbon around my forehead. Or, maybe I will just update my iPod's "Golden Oldies" playlist with all my recent purchases on iTunes, and happily sing to myself in my cubicle at work. It will probably be the latter, so I hope my neighboring co-worker is prepared to hear my rendition of Steve Miller's Jungle Town. We can only hope.