From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The static on my Discman finally gives way to Ja Rule’s gravelly voice, and I crank the "I'm Real" remix high enough to drown out the sketchy engine rattle of my mom’s minivan. I’m leaning against the cold window, watching the blur of low-rise jeans and chunky highlights pass by while I try to ignore the weird, heavy tension still hanging over the autumn air. Mom hands me a crumpled buck and three cents for a loaf of white bread, and I swear, I almost let out a total squee when I see the new iPod display near the register. It’s so sleek compared to this bulky plastic player, but for a whole **$1.03**, I can barely even afford a candy bar, let alone the future of music.