The butterfly effect is approaching cliché status in media; several films, video games, and novels now explore how one diminutive moment ripples across time and space and throws reality into a frenzy. Yet
November 3, 2017, remains, to this day, one of the more extreme instances of this phenomenon.
The day I created my first official monthly playlist was like any other. In average Portlandian fashion, I’d awake to the droplets of early morning rain reflecting the sun’s hazy glimmer. At thirteen years old, I was already insufferable and made it my mission to make that known to my peers. With the turn of the revolution (which some might simply call the “Art hoe” fashion movement), I was ready to expand my horizons… How could I find a way to be more pretentious in the stormy waters of seventh grade?
With my striped shirt and embroidered mom jeans, I was armored and ready to be sanctified in the hallways of suburbia’s provincial middle school.
Once there, I went through my day listening to music through my beat-up Airpods. I played the same seven songs on a repeated queue from class to class— until I suddenly realized I could simply make a playlist that encaptured my month.
And so my manifesto… my proclamation… my first monthly playlist… was born.
Light radiated off my glowing playlist, much more vibrant than any regular phone screen. Each decibel emitted from my small phone speakers was thick with flavor and richness. Each note was heavy with emotion.
Since then, I’ve created 84 monthly playlists.
Some might say that my first monthly playlist was disastrous in its ability to prove one of the most agitating phrases to hear: “I knew that song way back in 7th grade.” Others, still, argue that the worst inadvertent effect of this event was that it fueled my desire to find an artist with the least monthly streamers to add to my playlists. Yet despite the accusations regarding my ‘pretentious’ nature, the most fantastic consequence of this small event became my ability to experience time travel in any environment of my choosing. With one scroll, I can select any month of my life from the past 7 years and feel everything as deeply as I did during the peaks of my emotional development. The intensity of my big firsts–learning to drive, going on a real date, opening my college acceptance letters– is articulated perfectly through musical storytelling.
Admittedly, the songs weren’t always as underground as I had perceived them to be in my underdeveloped brain. Pseudointellectual lyrics with obvious 2014 Tumblr poetry influences warped my neuroplasticity. Even so, those same compositions of melodies and harmonies are among the best highs one can experience. Not for being revolutionaries, but for representing a period of realness in which life was saturated with feelings pertaining to that moment.
Playlists appear consistently throughout mankind’s time on the planet. Whether it be under names such as ‘symphonies,’ ‘mixtapes,’ or my playlist aptly titled ‘november 2017,’ people immortalize their musical epiphanies because people will always indulge in the occasional nostalgia.
84 playlists hold 84 moments in time. 84 will turn to 85 and 85 will turn to 100, and eventually, those 100 playlists will form innumerable time ripples in one huge stream of consciousness.
Someone out there will be starting their first time capsule, unleashing their butterfly effect. It probably won’t be as good as mine though.
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