This is the Remix

I am driving. A Ja Rule song comes on. I love Ja Rule’s voice, and I can imitate it perfectly. So while in stop-and-go traffic on the 10, all my windows down, slowly creeping past a car, I start to sing:

“Where would I be without my baby?
The thought alone might break meeeeee
And I don’t wanna go crazyyyyyyyyyyy
But every thug needs a ladyyyyyyyyyyyyy”

I sing this, of course, in Ja Rule’s deep, guttural voice, only to re-encounter that same car when it takes its turn passing me. But this time, I’ve moved onto a different verse. This time I’m yelling from deep within my stomach:

“Where would I be without youuuuuuu
I only think about youuuu
I know you’re tired of bein’ lonelyyyyy
So, baby girl, put it on meeeeee”

Now it’s my turn to pass the car. The song on the radio station changes to “Africa” by Toto (all you LA locals, this eclectic radio station is 104.3. They play the most random, uncurated playlist of songs, and I love them for it).

As I pass the same car for the third or fourth time, I’m now yelling, still in Ja Rule’s voice:

“I bless the rains down in Africaaaaa
I bless the rains down in Africaaaaaaaaaa
I bless the rains down in Africaaaa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had, ooh-hoo”

My phone starts ringing. I see all ten digits light up on the screen. I turn the radio down and pick up.

“Helllloooooooo,” I answer, still in Ja Rule’s deep voice.

“…..Is this Jennifer Donahue?” a timid voice responds.

“Hello! Yes, this is she!” I say back in my normal voice. And then: “Apologies, I’m driving,” as if that explains why I picked up the phone and Ja Rule answered.

It is a potential job calling to schedule an interview. I remind myself to stop picking up unknown numbers. I wonder if this will make me stand out in the candidate pool.

The song changes to “Crawling” by Linkin Park.

I turn it up and yell:

“CRAWLING IN MY SKIN
THESE WOUNDS THEY WILL NOT HEAL
FEAR IS HOW I FALL
CONFUSING WHAT IS REAL”

I see the number 111 pass by on a car’s license plate. I point to it so the angels know I saw it and sing:

“THESE WOUNDS THEY ONEEEE ONEEEE ONEEEEEEE”

I switch the station, and TLC’s “Creep” is playing. I turn the volume up for my anthem. I sing all the words perfectly. In my head, I am on stage, wearing baggy ’90s clothing and performing the dance moves. My performance is perfect. I was born to wear these oversized clothes and sing these lyrics about a woman who cheats on her unfaithful boyfriend, keeping her affairs secret because she loves him but needs attention he isn’t giving her.

I realize I may be confusing this with Radiohead’s “Creep,” which is about intense self-loathing, alienation, and unrequited obsession — being a misfit who doesn’t belong in someone else’s world. I hum to myself, “I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo,” and yes, this is the correct “Creep” that is my anthem.

I am absolutely more Thom Yorke than T-Boz, although I wish it were the opposite.

The next song they play is LL Cool J’s “Headsprung.” I am in a club when the beat drops and everyone goes crazy. I am going crazy. I am alone in my car, crawling along the freeway at 5 mph. I turn it up even louder.

“THEY CALL ME BIG L’Y
BIG SILLY, BIG MONEY,” (I sub out “Big Billy” and replace it with) “BIG JENNY”

I am reminded of college. I’m in my dorm room on my bed, next to my roommate, who is asleep. I’m hiding underneath a blanket so the glare of my computer screen doesn’t bother her, my headphones in, listening to “Headsprung” on repeat while writing a paper on the decline of feudalism.

I got an A on that essay.

The station goes to a commercial break, so I switch to another.

“Sillllllllverrr bellllllllsssssssss”

“NO CHRISTMAS!” I yell angrily and immediately switch the station.

Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” is playing on 101.1, the oldies station. Is this an oldies song? I used to request this when my dad drove me to kindergarten. I would have him play the CD and turn it way up, and I would sing.

Much like I am… still doing now.

I think of my dad peeking at me in the rearview mirror while a miniature version of myself is belting out:

“Life is a mystery
Everyone must stand alone
I hear you call my name
And it feels like home”

I peek at myself in the rearview mirror, my eyes lit up by the red taillights, and sing:

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer
In the midnight hour, I can feel your power
Just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there”

I am imagining myself in a large choir. We are all dancing. Madonna is there with us. My dad is also a dancing choir member.

I switch the station to 105.9. Fabolous featuring Nate Dogg’s “Can’t Deny It” is playing.

I turn it up. My car is pulsing.

I’m imagining myself skateboarding through all this traffic.

“And you know I brought my gang with me”

My gang is Fabolous and Nate Dogg (RIP), of course. They are also skateboarding. We weave in and out of all the cars. We are incredible skateboarders.

“Yo, if they want it, cowards get it, they still wonder how I did it”

I imagine Fabolous and Nate Dogg upset over this whole thing: white girl fans.

A commercial comes on, so I switch to 106.5. Wet Leg’s “magetout” is on. I start to cheer with them:

“Good job, give you an A. A golden star. You think you’re clever? Good God. She took a break. Made a mistake. Get lost forever”

I realize part of the song is her repeating:

“You’re standing in my light”

over and over.

I listen to it at first, then say it with her.

Something changes in my physiology.

The song ends and goes to a break. I switch the station.

Cali Swag District’s “Teach Me How to Dougie” is on.

I’m back on the skateboard, weaving through traffic with whoever Cali Swag District is. I wouldn’t know who they were if I saw them in real life. But now we are all grooving through traffic, rebels outside the cars, on the same road, traveling the same direction but in a different way. Passing cars. Passing bored, uninterested people trapped inside them. We are having fun. We feel free. We are waking them up. We pass them while singing:

“Duh bitch, you can’t tell me nothin’”