Sleepovers & Hotel Paper

I don’t repeat gossip…so listen closely.

My boyfriend and I have recently started to collect CDs again. We began by purchasing our current favourites as well as our childhood favourites. When pondering what albums from my youth I needed to re-purchase, I couldn’t stop thinking about Hotel Paper by Michelle Branch.

My childhood copy of Hotel Paper still exists and is doing really well, thanks for asking. However, I don’t like to take any of my CDs and DVDs from my childhood home. I like to keep my things there as if it’s some kind of time capsule. I want every scratch on every disc to stay exactly how it was. I want the fingerprints of my youth to stay imprinted on the liner notes of my favourite albums. I want my old Avril Lavigne fan letters to stay hidden between the lounge cushions where I left them in 2003. I basically want my hoarding issues to be someone else’s problem.

Anyway, I went searching for Hotel Paper everywhere. I was shocked and appalled when I learned that it was no longer in print. Don’t people know that it’s a classic!? I said aggressively to my boyfriend, as if he was personally responsible for the issue. Michelle Branch being underrated is a whole other conversation but let me just say, none of your favourite 2000s rom-com soundtracks would be complete without the genius that is Michelle Branch. We searched everywhere online and couldn’t find a copy that was reasonably priced. These sellers knew it was no longer in print and were taking advantage of vulnerable people like myself who were willing to pay anything for this collectors item.

One day, on a whim, we decided to head over to our local Vinnies. I thought at best I could find an old copy of Black Eyed Peas’ Elephunk or Maroon 5’s Songs About Jane (Full disclosure: I did find these, and of course, purchased them). Much to the surprise of all the innocent shoppers trying to live their lives, I squealed in the middle of the store. Were my eyes deceiving me? I wondered. I had spent weeks talking and dreaming about finding this album and all of a sudden it was…here? Everyone in the store looked over at me. I’m sure the Depop vintage girls were seething, thinking that I had found a tartan skirt or an oversized denim jacket. Little did they know, I had something far more valuable. Not a single scratch on the disc, no fingerprints on the liner notes. I almost felt sad for it. This album was clearly not loved by its previous owner. Thankfully it was now going to a loving home.

Since I’ve revisited this album, it has taken me back to when I was falling in love with it for the first time. Let me set the scene for you: it was the summer of 2003. I was getting ready for my first sleepover at a friend’s place. My Mum had taken me to Coles on the way there. She bought me a toiletries pack that came with travel-sized essentials for a night away from home. Miniature toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant and some floss that went unused. She also let me buy a face mask for me and my two friends. Can we put cucumbers on our eyes like in the movies? I asked. A simple yes Kayla was all I needed to hear from my Mum, before I continued rattling on about how we were going to stay up until midnight.

My friend who was hosting the sleepover was a talented singer, really loud and confident. She would sing Superstar by Jamelia during awkward silences and share her Thins Sour Cream and Chives chips with me. She had a vivid imagination and would often come up with stories about people that were incredibly fascinating but dangerously untrue. The other friend that was invited was new to our school. She loved Eminem, so I would pull out all the Eminem posters from my magazines and give them to her. For her birthday a few weeks before, I bought her the CD singles of Stole by Kelly Rolland and Cleanin’ Out My Closet by Eminem.

My Mum parked our car in my friend’s driveway and her and her parents greeted us at their door. After I said goodbye to my Mum, I followed my friend around her home. My bare feet felt cold on the tiled floor. There was lots of space to run around and she had a king-sized bed like a grown up. I noticed her Mum had a sign by their home phone that read I don’t repeat gossip…so listen closely. Her Mum was always very involved in the politics of the school playground. It seemed to me she was more interested in finding out gossip to share with other parents than taking a genuine interest in our lives. None of that bothered me because she would make the most incredible potato bake. Sour cream, potatoes, bacon bits, cheese. What a Girl Wants by Christina Aguilera was written about this potato bake.

We watched the movie 8 Mile together. I remember liking it and thinking Lose Yourself was the coolest song ever. Cut to: the grown up scenes. Ewww skip it! Skip it! We screamed while covering our eyes and laughing. Meanwhile we were secretly peeking between the couch cushions for a glimpse.

Later on, we were hanging out in her bedroom. I remember wishing my bedroom wall was painted purple like hers. I noticed a picture hanging on her wall. Who’s that? I asked. It’s Jesus, she said. His solemn expression and dark eyes followed me as I reached into my bag to get my CDs. I had brought one of my new favourite albums, Hotel Paper by Michelle Branch. I thought the album was a masterpiece. My favourite songs were Tuesday Morning and ‘Till I Get Over You. You know, the B-sides that only the real fans knew. I was all about the liner notes. I would analyse all the song lyrics and froth over the pictures of Michelle Branch taken during golden hour. I sat on the floor of my friend’s bedroom, with my back against the wall where her CD player was plugged in. I began playing track by track, pausing for my own commentary and analysis of the lyrics like I was a professor giving a lecture. Except nobody signed up for this. Here’s a brief snippet of my lecture in action:

Track 10: Where Are You Now.

🎶 I’ve been all over the world, I’ve seen a million different places but through all the crowds and all the faces I’m still out there looking for you… 🎶

My scholarly interpretation: So I think this song was written about a fan… what do you think?

My disengaged student: I’m bored. Can we go downstairs?

Okay, yeah, sure! I replied, a little shaken by the sudden rejection.

My stomach churned, but I couldn’t work out whether it was caused by the rejection or the potato bake. I followed my friends downstairs, but made a mental note to give them both an F for their failure to see the fun in decoding Michelle Branch lyrics.

Later that night, her Dad came into her room and made us all pray together before bed. While my hands were pressed together, I was asked by her Dad what I wanted to thank God for. My friends, I said. As I looked side to side at both of my friends and smiled. Her Dad had asked if I usually pray before bed and I shook my head. I thought it was kinda weird to pray together. At that point in my life, I thought of God like Santa Claus. Only ever praying when I wanted something. I thought if I prayed with other people my wishes wouldn’t come true. Just like how your birthday wishes won’t come true if you tell someone what you wished for.

I woke up in the middle of the night. The bedroom door was open and the room was lit up only by the lights on out in the hall. I was sleeping on my side and facing the wall. I could hear chatter and quickly realised my two friends were awake. Kayla is so annoying … I wish I didn’t invite her. Nobody likes her. I could feel the tears fall down my face. Without much consideration, I sat up and sarcastically said well, I’m glad that’s what you think about me. They were stunned. They didn’t say a word. I turned back around and went back to sleep. In the morning I acted like nothing had happened. One of the them asked me if I remembered sitting up and saying anything to them the night before. I laughed and said did I do that? I must have been sleepwalking. I had thought about dissolving the friendship but thoughtfully considered the repercussions of doing so. One of the biggest setbacks was me needing to decide whether I would be willing to give up her Mum’s potato bake.

I never told my Mum what happened that night. When I got home from the sleepover, I closed my bedroom door and listened to Hotel Paper. As I collapsed onto my bed, my pillow was quickly soaked in tears (it was very Sam Montgomery not getting accepted into Princeton).

I ended up staying friends with those girls until we graduated primary school the following year. We all went on to different high schools and now I like pictures of their babies on social media.

I’m glad that at a young age I collected a toolbox of coping mechanisms that helped me survive my adolescence. Even now, indulging in my favourite albums brings me immense comfort during hard times. Thankfully, I grew up to find my people, more specifically, a boyfriend who decodes song lyrics with me and will happily browse through a discounted CD bin. I still cry into my pillow though, but a Michelle Branch deep-cut will do that to you.