What is the true purpose of posting a series dedicated to a person who is not only not yet born, but at least 10 to 15 years away from appreciating it in any way at all? A span of time in which the format of the proceeding entries may not even survive. If I wanted to create a true artifact for my daughter, why not write an actual book? something of substance that can be felt and carried, held on to, accessed without a data connection. If the point is to create something personal that has meaning to me, for my daughter, why publish it for any person to see? Is there an aspect of our culture that expects you to share everything? Is it a bad thing? How do I format the selections? Should they be written to my daughter even though I am knowingly, without any delusion, posting them in a public space for anyone to read? Isn’t that faux-sincerity weird? or is it the bedrock of social media? What I struggle the most with is the amount of egoism it requires to post personal information on a public forum. I’m not saying it requires a lot, and I’m not saying anyone who shares personal information in a public format is a megalomaniac, but it requires some. This series for me represents something that I am not entirely comfortable sharing because I believe it falls into the category of “too personal.” With that being said however, I know if left to my own devices of follow-through, I would not complete this. I’m using tumblr as an accountability partner, and to show all of you how shitty your taste in music is and how kick-ass mine is.
Moving on.
The most vivid memories I have of my father all include music, good and bad: Creedence, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Rod Stewart, Brooks and Dunn, Toby Keith. When I remember my dad now, I remember the music he listened to. The music I rebelled against as a teenager, embraced in my mid-20’s, and am now including in this list, for you to listen to, rebel against, and eventually, hopefully, god-willingly, embrace.
