WP2: The Soundtrack to My Life
Opening Track
I have never been musically talented — my friend Milla genuinely thinks I’m tone-deaf. Yet, my love for music has always burned bright within me.
Growing up, when I watched movies or shows with my parents I noticed that my mom’s feet would bounce to the beat of each and every soundtrack. Before I knew it, my feet would be bouncing in sync with hers. Music isn’t just something that my mom and I hear, it is something that we feel. It moves us — in more ways than one.
I like to dance. I always have. Tapping my toes with my mom at a very young age, I knew I was inclined to move to the beat. I began dance classes when I was very young and joined competitive dance teams as I got older. I let one bad experience at my studio deter me from further pursuing dance — this is one of my deepest regrets. Without a studio or team, I developed and practiced my own routines with some of my friends. I have always found ways to dance. I hope to always find ways to dance. For me, it is one of the most enjoyable activities this world has to offer.
In addition to physical movements (dancing), the physical sensations music can arise in me are part of what draws me to it. I’m not just talking about feeling the beat of the bass from speakers as they crank out tunes at full volume — although this is sometimes one aspect of music that makes it so enjoyable. What I am really talking about are emotions. The physical, bodily sensations arisen by certain feelings. When actively engaging with music, each and every song has the potential to strike an emotion in me. Emotions make me feel truly alive. If I am not feeling, I am not truly living.
Music is a very meaningful aspect of my life and serves many purposes. It is a versatile tool. Music connects me with others, myself, my past, my present, and my future. It is perhaps the only thing in life that I could incorporate into anything I do, and I love doing just that. For this project, I created all new playlists that focus on music’s connection to my relationships with myself, others, and important places in my life.
Camp
After months and months of me begging, my parents sent me off to camp. It was the same camp my grandmother, her siblings, my mother, and her sister all went to. It was a family tradition that I desperately wanted to be a part of.
This was in the summer of 2014, which meant I was in the Upper Inter division at camp — approximately 4 years after many of the girls had started. When I arrived, this long standing connection was evident. I felt like an intruder. Unwanted. Instead of trying to disprove this perception, I let it control me, to my own detriment.
That summer, I hardly talked. Can you believe it? Most people who know me now have a hard time comprehending this, as I am now a very, very talkative person. However, that summer, I was scared to talk. I was scared that the girls would not like me if I said something wrong. Instead, it turns out that the girls did not like me because I didn’t say anything at all.
Instead of connecting with people, I connected with music. My iPod was my best friend that summer. I have recently rediscovered two songs that I would listen to on repeat that summer, and I still love them now just as much as I did then — “Maps” by Maroon 5 and “Am I Wrong” by Nico & Vinz. Looking back, I believe these songs spoke to me so much because of their content: the concept of having someone so close to you whom you care for deeply. I wanted so desperately to find this. I was longing for human connection. But instead of actively seeking it, I settled for a second-hand experience from music and remained in my shell for the rest of the summer.
For some reason that remains a mystery to this day, I told my parents I wanted to go back the next summer. And so, hesitantly, they sent me back. In addition to music, this summer I also connected with people. But what perhaps left a deeper impact on me is that I also found a deeper connection with music through dance.
Many of the songs featured on this playlist I had routines to, whether through zumba, MTV night, or competitive dance. Through dance, that summer I finally felt like I had a place. I found a place at camp that I felt I belonged. While I struggle most trying to remember the steps to the “Counting Stars” routine, the memory of it sticks out to me the most. This was the primary routine for the competitive team at camp — a team which only took the camp’s six best dancers, and I was one of them. I was happy to have made the team, but even more than that, I was happy to be dancing. When I was dancing, I felt truly alive — a feeling I scarcely found outside of music and dance these summers.
In a way, music and dance saved me that summer. They were the glimpse of sunlight I found in the dark cave that was camp. My interactions with music these two summers changed the way I experience music.
Second Home
I was raised in two homes: my house in Bala Cynwyd and my school in East Falls. This second home was the William Penn Charter School, where I was a student from September of 2008 until June of 2021. Kindergarten through 12th grade. Five through seventeen years old.
The Penn Charter community is my family. I was raised by its members, on its Quaker values. I embarked on a 13 year long journey and made it to the end with around 20 other kids. We will forever share a bond that not many can or do.
Most of the songs on this playlist I associate with people from PC, some being from classes. In our mandatory 7th grade improv class, we had a project in which we had to turn the lyrics of songs — such as “Here” by Alessia Cara and “Apologize” by OneRepublic — into conversations and scenes. In our 8th grade art classes, Mr. V would play the same short playlist every class, consisting of “Castle on the Hill” by Ed Sheeran, “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John, and “Lean On Me” by Bill Withers. In our 8th grade chorus class, we sang “Day-O” by Harry Belafonte and “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” by the Beatles.
Other songs are related to my past romantic interests. “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz was the favorite song of the boy in second grade whose mere presence made my heart skip a beat. “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals was the song I played in the car with my last Penn Charter crush as we were forehead to forehead, nose to nose, heart to heart, and I wished for the moment to never end. When I hear these songs it is like going through a time machine. I am brought back instantly to the imagery, emotions, and sensations of when my memories of them were made.
Other songs are related to sports. Soph Reagan introduced me to “My Band” by D12 on the iconic Wawa stop when driving from the Philadelphia Cricket Club for morning practice to Penn Charter for afternoon practice during water polo preseason. Darby Visco introduced me to “Close to Me” by Ellie Goulding, Diplo & Swae Lee on the pool deck during a home swim meet. Zion Weeks introduced me to “Gaims” by KAMAUU in the van pulling up to F&M for the first day of competition at the Easterns Swim Meet my junior year. Milla Frieman introduced me to “Thunderclouds” by LSD (Labrinth, Sia & Diplo) on the bus ride to a swim meet, which became our obligatory hype-up song for every meet.
I could tell a story about each and every one of the songs on this playlist. These are the songs of my childhood: the songs that represent my memories of growing up at Penn Charter. They tell a story that only I can fully understand — the story of my life.
Ride or Die
Multiple broken bones and broken hearts. Boyfriends and breakups. Friendships and friendship-ending fights. Since I was 5 years old, Averie has been there for (and with) me through quite literally everything. Riding shotgun in her Ford Escape, she introduced me to a song whose message could not be more fitting: “My Life Would Suck Without You.”
Up until this past August, I have done everything with her. We went to the same school, from the first day of Kindergarten through our 12th grade graduation. We formed a band together in 4th grade. We started our tradition of dining out together in 8th grade, going on countless brunch, lunch, and dinner dates since. We played water polo together. We got the same summer job. I take her on getaways with my family. We have traveled the world together. There is one aspect that unites all of these experiences — music.
My car ride jam sessions with her have their own special place in my heart. The first memory I have of music in her car is from 4th grade. Her mom, who I call Dons, was driving us home from school for a playdate after dance enrichment. At dance, we were learning a routine to the song “Some Nights” by Fun. It was one of the most popular songs at the time so I, naturally, knew all of the words. As Dons and Averie were recapping the day, I sang along to the line “I miss my mom and dad for this?” Dons turns around, concern in her eyes, and asks me “you miss your mom and dad already?” I am laughing so hard I am unable to explain to her it was just a lyric. Many minutes later, as my abs ache from laughter, I am finally able to spit it out. Now we all start laughing. This marks my first distinct memory of countless fits of laughter we have shared together over the years.
Six years later, we find ourselves walking the streets of Ocean City, New Jersey on a hot summer day — a trip that has become a summer tradition for us. Where we were coming from and where we were going are matters I can’t recall. However, what I do remember is that we were singing. She started singing a song called “Die A Happy Man,” and I began to sing along. Little did I know, she was singing the original song by Thomas Rhett, whereas I was singing the remake by Nelly. This became evident when we sang in unison the line “oh but that black dress.” As her line ended, I continued the line with “shawty.” She burst out in uncontrollable laughter. While at the time I didn’t know what was funny, I started cracking up, too. Her laugh is contagious. The origin of this fit of laughter is also the origin of our adoption of the term “shawty.” Shawty has come to be an almost endearing nickname we use for one another. Averie is my shawty.
Around 6 months later, in the heart of winter, we found ourselves snuggling in her bed. She searches her computer for yet another tear-jerking love story for us to watch as I respond to messages on my phone. Out of the blue, at the same exact moment, we both sing the same line of Miley Cyrus’ “When I Look At You.” Talk about being on the same wavelength. It often feels like Averie can read my mind. She knows what I am thinking before I even do. She can predict my feelings better than I can. She knows me better than I know myself. People search a lifetime for a friendship like ours.
Since the first days of our friendship, it was inevitable that one day our lives would separate. We knew from the beginning that this would likely be due to different college choices. This moment always felt so far away. It was nothing I needed to worry about now. I tried desperately to push off my acceptance of our parting, and I succeeded. Even as we walked across the stage and received our diplomas, I knew there was a whole summer ahead of us to spend together. With each week of the summer that passed, there were still weeks ahead of us to look forward to. As we dove into the final week, still desperate to not comprehend our parting, I changed my mindset from weeks to days. I still had days left with her. Until I didn’t. Until it was our last day together. She picked me up and we went to help Camille, the third pea in our pod, with her last-minute packing before both Cami and I took off the next day. After about an hour of us trying to act like things were normal, it was finally time for us to accept the truth. We all piled into the car for one last car ride together. The radio turned on to Bruno Mars’ “Just The Way You Are.” We all immediately pour our hearts into the song, singing every word with tears in our eyes, looking at each other for what felt like one last time. Our group performance of this song was our trio’s final goodbye.
2,700 miles of physical distance has done the inevitable — we have begun to drift apart. While I know our friendship remains strong and nothing in our hearts have changed, we know less about each other’s lives. We talk less. This glimpse of life apart has proven Kelly Clarkson’s words to be true: my life would suck without her. I miss her more than I can put into words. I am counting down the days until Thanksgiving break when we can finally reunite. Despite the distance, she will always remain closest to my heart. It is me and her forever. She is my ride or die.
Speechless
How am I supposed to unpack our relationship in words? I don’t think I can. Our bond has long been unspoken. A conversation through our eyes. A message through our actions. A connection through shared time. A project like this was designed for a relationship like ours.
Rents
As Billy Paul sang “Me and Mrs. Jones” over the speakers, my dad held me — about the size of a football — in his arms as he and my mom sang along to the tune. Inspired by my small size, they changed the words: “me and peanut, peanut jones,” they sang, as they admired their little, peanut-sized baby girl. And thus I was named again: Peanut Jones. Sometimes just Peanut. Sometimes just Jones. Sometimes Peanut Jonesey. Sometimes just Jonesey. This name and its variations have stuck ever since.
I can only imagine the love, care, and admiration in my parents’ eyes that day as they looked upon me. I picture my dad rocking back and forth, tears in his eyes, singing softly. I picture my mom gazing at him, gazing at me, with tears in her eyes as well. My parents are the most loving and caring people I know. I am beyond thankful to have been raised by two such incredible people.
My mom is the most empathetic person I know. She has taught me so much (more than I realized) about relationships. She is a therapist. An incredibly good one, too. I know this because she acts as my therapist when I need her to be. The advice she has given me over the years sticks with me everywhere I go, interacting with any person. Over the past year I have noticed that not many people understand the lessons she has taught me. Each time I notice this, I am all the more grateful that my mom taught me such important things.
My dad is the most level-headed person I know. His ability to consider all factors of a situation to make the most well-informed decision is a trait of his I have not picked up on so easily. I admire this quality of his — it is one aspect of who he is that makes him so dependable. My dad is my rock. I know I can count on him for anything, through anything. He is my protector. “Nobody puts Jonesey in a corner,” he says — again putting his own spin on famous lines.
What I love most about my parents is their love for each other. It was never hidden from me that my parents are two people who fell in love, and continue to fall in love with each other everyday. The overlapping songs that are featured in both playlists are dedicated to their love. I play “Inside Out” by Eve 6 when I want to remind my parents, or maybe even more so remind myself, of when they first fell in love. I forget the exact story they told of this night, but I have a very clear scene in my head: it is the 1990s and my parents are walking home from the bar with their friend through the streets of Old City Philadelphia, singing this song acapella-style. Their smiles radiate newfound love and the hearts of their youth. While this depiction may be logistically inaccurate, I know one part is true: my parents are in the process of discovering a love they share that is unlike anything they have ever known.
Their flame is ever-burning. With each anniversary comes a reminder of the depth of their connection. Various anniversaries are remembered in our house — their first kiss (June 19th), their engagement (March 24th), and — of course — their wedding anniversary (February 23rd). For their wedding anniversary, my parents typically have a weekend getaway in the city (downtown Philadelphia). However, due to the limitations of COVID-19, I was able to spend this special February day with them this past February. We ordered takeout from the same restaurant they always eat at for this occasion, and listened to music over the speakers in the kitchen. My parents kept spitting out song after song that they associated with their romance as I rushed to keep the queue up to date with their requests. I will never forget the last song we played that night. After nineteen years of putting blood, sweat, and tears into their marriage and family, my mom serenaded my dad to Blood, Sweat & Tears’ “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy.” Holding hands in my dad’s lap, endless love being exchanged through their eyes, my mom sang to my dad in tears every word of that song. As he watched and listened to my mom sing her heart out, my dad was brought to tears. Witnessing their raw emotion and deep affection surfacing, I was crying as well. Reliving this moment, I am brought to tears again. It was surreal. I am so lucky to have witnessed a moment of such pure love.
My parents are my idols. Since I was very young, I have known I want to grow up to be like them. I want a love like theirs. I want the empathy of my mom. I want the level-headedness of my dad. I want to raise my children the way they raised me. I am the luckiest kid in the world.
