Stuck In The 60s

             "Alright, everybody!" came a loud voice, "That was the top song on the charts! Now, why don't we play a new song that I know everybody will love?!"

             The new song came on, a rap song, with a strange, crazy techno beat in the backgroud. "Yuck," I thought, standing in the middle of the gymnasium floor. I certainly did not love this. I didn't understand why they could not play a Beatles song, or a Monkees song at one of these school dances, anyway. In my mind, I answered my own question. "Because kids these days have no taste, that's why."

              I suppose saying that the kids of 2012 had no taste was a bit harsh. In their own minds, they had taste. But, not mine. I love the 1960s more than anything, and the only thing that I can't figure out about my peers is why they like the crap they call music. As I said, though, it's joyous to them, and I probably would have been a fan, too, if I had listened to it more. Growing up, from when I was about two years old, my parents played oldies music. Even on the radio, we only listened to the oldies station. It's  the only music I know of. 

             What I have realized, is that I don't like today's music becuase I am, well, a loner. In this whole, big middle school that I attend, I have one friend. And, when you don't hang out with people who like the music of today, you don't get hooked on it. All I have to say to being a loner is, lucky me. 

          "Alright, kids, that song was pretty tight, eh?" the disk jockey had screamed over the talking kids. "We gonna take a little break now, so stay right where you are!"

          "Finally," I thought, and wandered around the gym, like I'm always forced to do at these dances. After all, when you're as shy as me, no one even bothers. And, quite frankly, that's why I don't bother. 

          I felt the need to leave the craziness of what was in the gym, so I walked out the big wooden doors, and walked up two flights of stairs, until I reached my locker.

         My locker. I have the messiest locker in the whole school. I have never been an organized person, although I try to be, but sometimes, it's quite hard to commit to it.

        But, although it's messy, in my opinon, it's decorated quite nicely. I unlocked the blue lock on my blue locker, opened my locker, and stared at the inside of the door. That beautiful door. From top to bottom, the inside door of my locker was covered in pictures of my two favorite bands, the Beatles and the Monkees, mainly Mike Nesmith, a member of the Monkees, and my biggest crush ever. All the men in both bands were, in my opinion, much more attractive than any actor or musician in this era, and clearly a gazillion times more talented. But, hey, that's just another result of only listening to 60s music. 

       I stared at the pictures I had of Mike, and by just staring at them, I wished more than anything to live in the 1960s. What a beautiful time period, with beautiful fashion, beautiful music, beautiful men. I got frustrated with myself, then, becuase I knew that it would not happen. No transportation devices, yet. I'd like inventors to create one, though.  With a transportation device, not only could I go back to the 1960s, but I could also transport to any place. That means I could transport myself to places like Abbey Road Studios, the Beatles' recording studio, or maybe on the set of the Monkees'  television show. With a transportation device, I could go where ever my favorite bands went. "That would be amazing," I said out loud, dreamily. I turned my head to the left, and then to the right, just to see if anyone else was in the hallway, and might have heard that. Luckily, I was the only one. 

      "Drat," I thought, realizing the time. In about 15 minutes, they would be locking up the school. I kissed all my pictures, twice for my big Mike picture at the top, and ran down the stairs until I reached the gym on the first floor. I pulled open the doors with great force, and heard the loud, booming music once again. 

      I quietly murmured an "ick" noise, and slowly walked towards the middle of the gym, where I had been before. The popular kids were in a circle, giggling and talking. "Double ick," I thought. I hate the popular kids, yet I just can't help feeling a bit jealous of them.

     The music that was playing had clearly been autotuned. The concept of the song was very confusing, and I couldn't keep up with it's strange beat. With 60s music, I could understand everything. The beats where genius, with cool guitar riffs, and amazing drum solos. Nowadays, people don't even use a guitar, and there's no need for drums. I sighed in sadness, realizing what our world has come to. 

     The disk jockey spoke. "Alright, everyobdy, that just about wraps it up for tonight! This is Peace, the DJ! See you soon!" Peace made his signature peace sign with his hand, and walked away from his turn table. 

     "Finally," I thought, "This damned thing is over." Standing alone in a gym, listening to crappy music wasn't really my idea of fun, and I suppose I was a bit stupid for even going. Did I really expect people to talk to me? Did I even think I was going to have a good time? Maybe. And, the depressing part was, the highlight of this whole thing was my locker visit. At least I got to see pictures of cute boys while visiting.

     I struggled as I pulled on my jacket, as I always do, and pulled my backpack onto my back. I slightly turned my head towards the turn table. I couldn't resist.

     I slowly walked over, looking over my shoulder every few seconds to see if anyone was watching. Of course, they were too consumed in their daily teen drama to be noticing me.

      I had reached the table, and stated quite loudly, "Piece of shit." I somewhat lightly kicked it, as if kicking it were a punishment for playing what was in my opinion distasteful music. I quickly rolled my eyes, and walked out of the wooden doors before the school locked up for the night.