The first time she heard the song she asked the room who sang it, they all glared at her. She never knew music, it just had never been important to her, never crossed her mind in day to day life. Trained in Ballet and often found on the dance floor of any club or bar, you would think that music would have had a more lasting effect on her life. She didn’t own an iPod or any mp3 player, before that she hadn’t had a portable CD player, walkman or diskman. Walking to school or sitting on a bus you would never see headphones in her ears. The only CD’s she owned were gifts from distant relatives or ill advised new boyfriends. It isn’t that she doesn’t like music, it just isn’t something she does. It is something that is done for her. Someone else will put it on, someone else will pick the track, someone else will make the playlist, someone else will choose the station. She knows words to songs and can sing along, just from hearing the overplayed ones off and on around town, but she never knows their titles or the artist. It really just isn’t important to her, it isn’t a part of who she is. People find it shocking, they never understand it. She always has a hard time explaining this strange relationship with the thing that means so much in everyone else’s life. The real oddity is that there isn’t a single song on her computer. Her 4 year old laptop is completely pure, clean, free from any music. She asked again who sang the song, then sheepishly asked what it was called. Maybe, just maybe this one would make it onto her hardrive.
A Fiction Workshop Jump Start: Write a Memoir "The first time I/She/He heard the song ….. by …..” While the above is fairly accurate in my life, I did take slight poetic license of course.