I’m kind of skipping ahead here, but I haven’t really had much to say about the bands I planned to write about these past two days. That, and I was too tired[1] to write, so I gave myself a little break. However, it’s a beautiful, warm, sunny day, and I’m sitting in my sun-filled living room with my sleepy cat, and I think today’s album is a perfect match to my afternoon.
When I listen to this album, I
think of my time in New Zealand. I was there for five months, and it was the first
time I went into a new environment using they/them pronouns. I decided to be as
unflinching as I could be in defending myself and correcting people when they misgendered
me. It felt like a practice run; a long-term experiment that I would get to back
out of at the end of the semester. A test, to see if I could live as myself in
a new environment with my support system on the other side of the world and in
a completely opposite time zone. It was hard, and most of the time I was deeply
depressed, but as always, I look back on that time now with romanticized nostalgia.
I lived in Palmerston North, in the
dorms at Massey University. Every week or so, I would hop on a bus that took me
from the campus into town. I’d pack my bags full of groceries and drive through
the suburban houses nestled in lush mountains back to my tiny dorm room. Often,
I would make the trip with friends, but on the occasions I went alone, I always
played this album. “The Bus Song” is, of course, the anthem for my time on the
bus back and forth from campus to the city center. Jay Som has the ability to
make such dreamy music. It feels like I’m always put in a trance of some kind
when I listen, even if it’s a faster-paced song.
While I was in New Zealand, I was
also falling in love. James and I were writing letters and sending care
packages to each other between New Zealand and Baltimore. Despite being as far
away as I could possibly be, my feelings for him were getting stronger. This
album feels like the soundtrack to that tentative, giddy, growth of the time.
The next few albums I write about
will be based on my time in New Zealand. All of it feels marked by the
beautiful landscape, the strange adventures, and the people I met. Each album
corresponds to a snapshot of a place I have in my brain, whether it’s the bus,
the tunnel below the overpass that led to my dorm, or the walking trails around
the campus. My time there was lonely and difficult, but it also had a massive
impact on who I am and how I stick up for myself. I learned how to advocate for
myself while living there, so even if I cried at least every week[2],
it was worth it.
Listen to Jay Som. And while you
do, think about the ways you can stand up for yourself. Think of the ways you
transition, whether it’s on a bus from campus to town, or within your body from
one gender to another.
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