Do you know what Alanis Morissette is up to lately? She’s doing lots of interviews, talking about connectedness and purpose. Apparently she was inspired by a trip to India. I know this because I am presently in Bali, sharing a hotel room with my two daughters. They go to bed early, so I am spending quality time with my friend, Internet.
Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill album was released in 1995, the year I was supposed to graduate from college but instead was waitressing at Legal Seafood and doling out meds at a psychiatric facility in Somerville, Massachusetts. I was listening to a lot of female artists who were pissed off and addicted to heartbreak – Ani DiFranco, Juliana Hatfield, Veruca Salt, and the wonderfully irate Alanis Morissette:
And every time you speak her name, does she know how you told me you’d hold me until you died, till you died. But you’re still alive.
My daughters and I were at the beach earlier today. It is hot in Bali and the sun here is best friends with the sun in Perth; they are like Kate Winslet and the girl who is not Kate Winslet in Heavenly Creatures and want to kill us. The ocean in Nusa Dua is calm and warm. It is the kind of water that inspires the word lap. Our bodies sank into the sand and the warm water lapped at our feet.
Since we moved to Perth in January, my mother has been mailing me her issues of The New Yorker. In the table of contents she circles her favorite articles and sometimes adds little notes like “Read!” and “Who knew?” She and my father used to do this for each other, and I love that she’s doing it for me now. I brought two issues to the beach today and after I was lapped out, I plopped down to read an article about invisibility.
After awhile, I looked up to see my girls playing in the water. Simone looked red. I grabbed the SPF 50, walked over to her and said, “I’m here to remind you to put on more sunscreen.” Walking back to my beach chair, I sang to myself:
And I’m here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away.
Just now, in the dark, I watched a video of Alanis singing You Learn a few weeks ago in San Francisco. She looks happy.
I am 41 years old and I am in a hotel room with two sleeping girls who have their own soundtracks in front of them. When they are heartbroken or pissed off, perhaps they will find comfort in a song. I hope it’s a catchy song, because it will come to them, 20 years later, on a beach with their children.
