Last week the pop/punk trio Blink-182 announced they are going on hiatus of an indefinite length: \While there is no set plan for the band to begin working together again, no one knows what tomorrow may bring,"" the band's management said in a statement on Blink's website. Rumors of a permanent breakup swirled the Internet, and when I read the rumors, I almost passed out.
Flashbacks rushed through my head like that scary montage in ""Willy Wonka."" Images of me gasping for breath when I heard Elliott Smith killed himself, or shedding tears when I heard Ben Folds Five was no more. But after those events, I always thought Blink-182 would be there. Posters of them covered my bedroom walls-two currently hang in my apartment. I have shirts from their tours and ticket stubs from four of their concerts. Every piece I have seems like an artifact now. No longer souvenirs to remember moments, but souvenirs to remember a chapter in my life.
The first concert sticks out in my mind. My dad drove my friends and me more than two hours to Tinley Park, Ill. The stage was hardly visible from where we were, but the songs came through so clear I felt like I was standing on stage. I could hear everything loud and clear. I sang at the top of my lungs, but I could hardly hear myself over the deafening music. I belted out every note of every song. My father, who had never heard me swear, caught wind of me cussing, flipping the bird and laughing hysterically at jokes about mothers.
And now it might be over. No more trips to Milwaukee (sans Dad) for summer concerts. It used to be the highlight of my summer. I skipped class just twice last spring semester, both in an attempt to get Blink tickets. Not because I wanted good seats, but because Blink-182 stands for more than good music. Blink is summer. It's fun. It's being with your friends in the car. It's kissing to the sounds of a wicked bass solo. Their music is the soundtrack to the past seven years of my life. I have gotten into Franz Ferdinand and renewed my love of Morrissey, but no band can fill the space Blink has in my heart. You can't just replace your teenage obsessions. Some of you may have been Leo fans, or Freddie Prinze Jr. I was a Mark, Tom and Travis fan.
I find it fitting however, that on the year I will proverbially ""start again"" at 20, Blink may split up. I got my first Blink album for my 13th birthday. It was symbolic of every teenage trait I aspired to have-spontaneity, risk-taking and a wealth of inappropriate jokes at my disposal. Blink provided me with that and more, but if it's over, I am willing to accept it. This year, I'll ring in 20 and with it, a new decade of college debauchery, self-discovery and maybe finding a career or something.
I'll face the coming years with fades of Blink-182 echoing in my ears. ""And we've always thought / That this could never happen, you see / That it's so hard / You gotta get up on your feet / 'Cause the only way, I gotta say / Is to move on through the week.""
erincanty8285@hotmail.com.
