The 80s weren't that great . . . sorry.

I’m sorry, 80s music, but I have no room for you in my life.

We used to be close, 25 years ago when I graduated from high school. I knew all your lyrics, all your melodies, all your moods. 

I’d dance to anything by The Communards. 

I went grunge before Curt Cobain tore his first jeans.

(Yeah, they make COSTUMES of the period. And people have 80s parties. And that's not good.)

I was so immature.

That’s what hits me every time an 80s tune drifts my way: what a teenager I was.

So I cringe.

I have friends who have downloaded every 80s hit, from the punk and alternative to the cheesy and the techno-whatever-it-was-called. 

And I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why.

Yep, the music's reached "that" status: fat oldster stuff.

Every beat from that era reminds me of my high school dreams.

And they were shallow.

Each melody makes me think of my plans.

And they were self-serving.

Every lyric recalls my philosophies.

And they were simplistic, silly, and short-sighted.

Why do I want to be reminded of where I was so long ago?!

Please, no.

I don’t!

My ipod is loaded with 850 pieces of music, nearly all of them from movie soundtracks. When I go walking, it’s to the sweeping orchestras that breathed life into movies like “Pirates of the Carribean,” “Transformers,” “How to Train Your Dragon,” and every Harry Potter.

The musicians I now idolize are the ever creative Hans Zimmer, Danny Elfman (another 80s soulmate who’s matured over the years), Patrick Doyle (had his 80s moments, too), John Williams, Nicholas Hopper, Thomas Bergersen, Rohan Stevensen, Henry Jackman, Alexandre Desplat, Michael Giacchino, Harry Gregson-Williams, Howard Shore, James Horner, and anyone else who creates depth of emotion, not just a catchy beat.

I confess, there are a handful of songs hidden in my music, placed there by family members who just couldn’t believe that I willingly gave away over 100 dvds of 80s classics years ago. Those tunes by Thomson Twins and the B-52s jar me every time I hit them while “shuffling” my music. It’s as if I’ve been thrown back in time 25 years ago, and I need to brace myself to face my teenage idiocy again.

But when it happens, it’s not so bad.

I see myself as I used to be, and I realize just how far I’ve come. In a way, it’s good for me to occasionally remember the 80s.

(And I thought those stuck in the 60s were sad.)

I just no longer want to live there.