Fiona Apple-dotes

Last week I saw Fiona Apple at the Orpheum in Minneapolis. I saw her when I was 17 and listened to her incessantly from ages 14 to 19 (not that I ever stopped—the incessant just became a little more cessant...) so the nostalgia was inescapable.

It was impossible not to think about the old days and compare them to the present days. I've compiled this handy chart as guide.

Sure, sure... I'm feeling a little wistful about the aging process if you haven't noticed. But the thing is—I think it's wasteful to undercut your teens and 20s by breathing cliches such as "Life doesn't begin until 30." Dumb dumb dumb. Being 30 or 40 or 50 is completely arbitrary. They exist only because of the years prior. So sitting in the audience with Apple's growl washing over me I thought to myself—not here's to my 30s—but rather here's to being 17. Because my 30s will only be what they'll be because I was once 17. And... because I'm not 17 any more.

Thank gawd.