A bizarre realization has manifested in my consciousness during the latest epoch of my life.

I completely disregard sex and/or gender in pop music.

Now, I have always done this, and I have always been aware of the fact that I do it. But an alarming number of people apparently do not.

In narratives, we’re supposed to put ourselves in the position of the protagonist.

What’s in their pants doesn’t matter.

Unless it’s somehow relevant to the plot.

I always communicate this challenging concept to dudely dudes through Aretha Franklin’s Respect, which was originally written and recorded by Otis Redding.

Most men have heard Franklin’s version. And are prepared to hear it again.

At a Chili’s.

Or maybe a strip club.

The point is, they all hear it and empathize with a person’s desire for respect. Not simply in relationships, but in all aspects of life. Perhaps relationships aren’t even on their minds.

But the hook is ace.

So they identify with it. However they can.

This is just how I interpret lyrics.

Maybe I’m the only guy in the world who, upon hearing Katy Perry’s I Kissed A Girl, imagined himself coming to grips with drunkenly snogging another dude. I guess all other guys were just salivating over the thought of her making out with another chick.

Which is a fair interpretation, I suppose, but not immediately where my mind goes.

Although, maybe it should be. I mean, what am I?

Gay?

All too often, our perceptions of gender roles tend to be just that limited.

This is exactly what Gwen Stefani was talking about when she observed, “I’m just a girl in the world. That’s all that you’ll let me be.”

When Just A Girl came out, I was a confused boy being raised in a pretty religious yet aggressively feminist household, constantly confronting a world that was neither of those things. The pressure to be something other than myself was unyielding and immense.

Just like the protagonist’s experience in the song, the dominant force in my world was not what I wanted, but what everyone else demanded. Regardless of how it was packaged, it was always obvious to me that Just A Girl had very little to do with sex or gender.

It’s about the way we relate to our own individuality within a broader social context. Even if the goal is to express the uniquely female aspects of this experience, the song communicates that message to a wider audience effectively by being more general.

The girl is everyman, and her experience is universal.

Or it could be just a feminist anthem.

If that’s all that we’ll let it be.

Let’s say you’re an alchemist.

One, uncommonly-normal night, you get mind-bendingly, blackout drunk on ergot-tainted barleywine that a pitiable traveler traded to you in exchange for a cuneiform scroll, which you lacked the knowledge to read, anyway.

Stirred on the morrow, with the sun already plummeting towards the horizon, you find your laboratory in perfect condition. All of your equipment has been well cleaned and properly stored. However, you are missing a wide assortment of raw materials.

Most notably?

All of your lead.

Apart from this, the only thing out of the ordinary is a conspicuously-large pile of gold on the floor next to your work bench.

Alone on the hearth, you find a corner from a page in your notebook.

It is singed quite badly.

You’re distraught over the escaped enlightenment, but resolved to cherish the gift.

That thirty bucks just disappeared into the night. And it really is my fault.

I shouldn’t have tried to fill a prescription in a parking lot at two in the morning.

Obviously.

But then again, I’m pretty friendly with calculated risks. And even closer to consequences. Frankly, I’m relieved he wasn’t a cop.

The fact is, these meds are really tough to come by. The guy grifting me knew that, and I was just drunk enough to let him get my hopes up.

I never did catch his name. Someone said it might be something along the lines of Smurf. It’s not much to go on, but I’m mildly inclined to hunt him down.

I would let the whole thing go if he hadn’t speculated about my motivation.

“People usually want that if they have down sickness.”

down sickness

I’ve got a good idea of what he meant by that, as I am intimately familiar with the broader parameters of this phenomenon. It’s why I was looking for an off-label solution for the treatment-resistant variety.

Now maybe, for my situation, this is an unecessary and ill-advised course of action.

But I don’t really have a problem bringing a gun to a knife fight.

My personal experience tells me it’s an effective approach. And Smurf seems to have some observational wisdom that confirms this.

It’s an indigenous knowledge, not necessarily more or less correct than any other knowledge. It’s likely incomplete, but undoubtedly unique enough to offer a fresh perspective on an exhausted topic.

Rather than retribution or vengeance, if I’m going to pursue this guy for anything, it’s that.

Either way, as far as I’m concerned, a few bucks ain’t a bad price for a valuable lesson and a mildly interesting story.

Metaphors evolve with technology.

Just because you’ve burned some bridges doesn’t mean you can’t send a couple texts across that (ever-expanding) gulf.

Maybe we don’t think in terms of bridges anymore.

Maybe we think in terms of electronic reality.

Curiously enough, when I envision a burning bridge, the image in my mind is from Chrono Trigger on Super Nintendo.

That’s me. Just a game being played.

I’m bound to get boring.

Eject me.

Play another one.

Reset and jack up the difficulty.

It can be every bit as fun, but you’re going to need to step up your game.