So I woke up this morning in what has become pretty normal fashion since I’ve been living on my own the past few months. I was on my stomach and had a cat wedged nearly up my ass, sleeping in a position that she seems to feel is fairly comfortable. I personally disagree, but anyway.

Almost right off the bat I somewhat remembered what I was just dreaming. For me, it’s quickly fleeting, the memories from the night but I mostly remember at least bits and pieces. Most won’t end up on here because, well, let’s just say they wouldn’t make the new work-safe version of Playboy.com. Hell, I’m not sure if they’d be safe for platinumstrippermoms.com. But I digress.

Right now, after a full (read: did nothing) day at work, I don’t remember what those dreams were. What I do remember is the music that was playing when I woke up. I’ve taken to wearing headphones while sleeping lately, mainly so I don’t have to hear F’ing trying to break into the closet at night. Sidenote: F’ing is actually short for Fucking, as in it’s my fucking cat.

As I woke up and removed F’ing from my buttocks, I started to think along with my all-time favorite song playing on my phone. Alive by Pearl Jam. So, you say, I must have been like, “Great. Alive. What an awesome way to wake up and get the day started,” right? Nah. I immediately started thinking about my funeral.

I think about death probably a normal amount. I guess. I don’t know. How much do you think about death or your funeral or other people’s deaths? It’s not like it’s every day and not like it dominates my waking hours, but I think about it enough. Getting older makes you think about it a little. Actually, when I was growing up, like as a teenager, I honestly never thought I’d live to 30. It just didn’t seem like I’d ever reach that number. But I have. And I’m pretty happy about that. Other than the cat in the ass part.

What that did was made me think about how when I die, I want to be cremated, but I want my friends to throw one shit-crazy wake to celebrate. Celebrate my life? Sure. Celebrate my death? Whatever. Their call. I just hope I give them one last reason to party.

And from that, it becomes clear where this is going (really, there is a point even though I’m just rambling): Waking up hearing Alive, it made me think, “What is the soundtrack of my life?” That’s a tough one. Lot of choices. I can probably remember some music from when I was 8-9-10 years old, but not a ton.

But as the day went on, I’ve come up with a few that I’d say definitely have to be played before my dust is sprinkled on the outfield ivy at Wrigley and at home plate in the baseball stadium at ECU. These are in no real order except the first and last, and there are probably a few more that could be added in between.

Alive, by Pearl Jam… It’s almost spiritual for me, listening to this song. I feel like I am who I am because of how it makes me feel. If you can’t relate to something like that, then I can’t explain it.

Too Fast for Love, by Motley Crue… A wrestler buddy gave me a cassette tape (oh yeah, one of those) of Motley’s 1981 debut and it blew me away. I didn’t hear it until like 1986 while getting pumped up before a meet. Stellar way to get the juices flowing. And this was a precursor to my affinity with Metallica’s Garage Days Re-Revisited, et al. And besides, any pre-glam, thrash metal that is based around a cow bell is alright in my book.

Nothing  Else Matters, by Metallica… We used to listen to this every afternoon of my junior year of college, full blast, over and over while watching Saved by the Bell. Untold shots were consumed during said hours. I loved college, or at least the parts that didn’t involve class (take that how you want).

Welcome to the Jungle, by Guns ‘N Roses… Right place, right time. This song, and album really, blew me away. This was exactly the right way to finish the last couple years of high school. Fast and furious and pissed off, and with a little lipstick.

Ring of Fire, by Johnny Cash… I don’t remember that much about my dad other than he worked a lot, worked hard, wanted the best for me — whatever that meant — and died when I was 16. The years have really put a distance between my memories of him, but I do know that he liked Johnny Cash. Since I never knew him after I became a man, I’ll just say I think he was pretty cool for that.

Callin Baton Rouge, by Garth Brooks… I saw him live two nights in a row when I was interning at Southern Illinois. And I hated country. Despised it, and still don’t really like much of it even though it’s more rock/pop/country nowadays. But he won me over when he played AC/DC’s Highway to Hell during his second encore on the first night. Rodeo could also go here.

That was a Crazy Game of Poker, by O.A.R. … Extremely new to the list, this song sits in my mind right next to my friends. I’ve been playing poker with some of the same guys for nearly 23 years. That scares the shit out of me, since 16 seems so long ago. But I’ll be playing with them till I die, so it’d be only fitting if it was played at my wake. And it has the one line of one song that I can call my motto on life: “They can take all your money, they can take all your gold; they can never take your heart, they can never take your soul.”

Bizarre Love Triangle, by New Order… My best friend in college was a great guy and his family was also loaded, giving him a chance to help the poor kid at the $16,000-a-year private Lutheran college (remember this was 1989-93) experience some new things, including sweet post-punk music. Added note: How awesome was he? He also paid for most of the tattoo I got to celebrate a Thursday afternoon; he bought my ticket to Metallica on the Black Album tour because he wanted to go and had no other friends who listened to them; and he paid for the gas and drove me to Lollapalooza 2 in Alpine Valley on my birthday in 1992.

Uncle John’s Band, by Grateful Dead… Everyone goes through a Dead phase, right?

You Give Love a Bad Name, by Bon Jovi… This was the start of my love of power rock. I remember the first time I ever heard this song. I was driving my stepmom to her night job. I was 15 and I had my learner’s permit and it was the first time she ever let me drive her anywhere. Now, we didn’t get along all that well when I was growing up, and this song didn’t help. I immediately loved it and didn’t really pay attention to driving for about three minutes, just long enough to about run off the road twice and hit the median once. We got there in one piece, but I didn’t drive her again until I had my actual license.

Hey Ladies, by Beastie Boys… Anyone who can put Sadaharu Oh in a lyric is a genius. There was several others from the Boys that could be on this list.

It’s Tricky, by Run-DMC… I was never really a big lady killer, but let me say, when Raising Hell dropped in 1986 and this song exploded, well, I was the man.

More Than a Feeling, by Boston… This was one of the three 8-track tapes my stepmom had in the car she drove, along with something from the Statler Brothers and Foreigner. No, really. Anyway, the song always seemed dreamy and pretty mellowing, which also makes me associate it with the however many number of times I saw family members rolling joints or packing bowls in the late ’70s and early ’80s. I’d guess it was a great concert band too.

Alive, by Pearl Jam… Because I can.