Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average Joe. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student.

January 28, 2000

So there I was, walking home Saturday night after my first experience with ’80s cover band Saved By Zero, when I thought back to the previous 36 hours and the musical diversity I had enjoyed in just a day and a half.

The weekend began with Boner leading the F.A.C. crowd in sing-along favorites ranging from Barenaked Ladies and the Samples to Poison and Kenny Rogers. He’s about the only guy who can go from Billy Joel to Bon Jovi without missing a beat.

After getting some supper in me, I came back to kick it old school with The Confidentials. Their horn section alone is enough to keep me swing dancing with anyone who dares to come near, and I walked home that night with a $5 CD of their party favorites.

Eddie, Carl and I tried to spark the Cyclones to victory over Oklahoma on Saturday by blaring AC/DC instead of listening to the commentators, and while it was good enough to bring them back to force overtime, the CD ran out before the game was over. And for some reason, there was a James Taylor CD next in the rotation.

Don’t get me wrong, I dig on James Taylor as much as the next person, but when he’s following “Highway to Hell” and you only need three more minutes of instant energy, “Fire and Rain” just doesn’t cut the mustard.

And that’s when we headed out to People’s for Saved By Zero. All ’80s, all night long. There’s just something about hearing Prince and George Michael sung by a guy with more mousse in his hair than my entire freshman homeroom that seems to make everything right in the world.

Therein lies the power of music.

I’ve often sat and watched movies and wondered what my life would be like if I had a soundtrack playing leading up to and during all of the major experiences in my life.

Of course, I’ve also sat and wondered how the Coreys — Haim and Feldman — could make so many movies without losing all self respect, but that’s not important right now.

I look back on my years in college — which tends to take a while — and I realize how certain types of music defined different eras.

There was my freshman year when I only listened to the crap that was spoon-fed to me by the radio stations. This explains my single of “Informer” by Snow as well as the rest of my Club MTV Party to Go collection.

Then I found out about Martin Zellar and the Gear Daddies just in time to get dumped by my first girlfriend. That lead to a couple weeks of “Statue of Jesus” as well as assorted Concrete Blonde and Counting Crows tunes that could put me in the proper state of depression.

Right before my 21st birthday, I got into hip hop and club music so I’d be ready for doing “The Train (C’mon and Ride It)” at Tazzles and The Dean’s List.

Then came “Macarena,” and I joined dozens of other drunkards in first learning the dance, then jamming to it four or five times a night, until finally we just sat around and made fun of the DJ that would play such a stupid song. And aside from an occasional “Strokin” at a wedding, that was the end of my line dancing career.

These past couple years have been a time to explore new and un-exploited bands and enjoy listening to them at bars rather than paying $50 to see Top 40 stars in concert.

The atmosphere is better, the musicians are closer, the beer is cheaper and I don’t have to deal with lovestruck teenagers crying and screaming because Joey or Donnie or Bucky just pointed at them.

And although I enjoy listening to several of today’s bands, sometimes it’s fun to pull out some old CDs and have a heavy metal road trip with Cinderella and White Snake or an old school jam with Digital Underground and Naughty by Nature and think back to the times when they still topped the charts.

Looking back, I realize a lot of the stuff I listened to was crap. But I can’t help but fear the day when Britney, Backstreet and all their clones become oldies but goodies. I just hope Boner doesn’t add them to his mix.