The World I Know
- Christina
- 2 days ago
- 8 min read
“So I walk upon high, and step to the edge, to see my world below. And, I laugh at myself, while the tears roll down, cause it’s the world I know. It’s the world I know.” – Collective Soul
On May 9, 2025, I experienced a moment of nostalgia so intense that it knocked the wind out of me and left me a sobbing mess for the entire day.
Young & Dumb, the new song by Avril Lavigne and Simple Plan reminiscing about being up-and-coming artists doing their first tour together, seemed to open a portal two decades old, where I came face-to-face with my 14-year-old self. It was a sweet, emotional, full-circle reunion that I was not expecting but very much welcomed and appreciated. To understand why, let’s venture into that portal now. Get your CDs, lava lamps and best emo look ready!
In June 2002, my musical world was about to quake beneath me in seismic fashion. In the millennium’s infant years, radio and music television were dominated by pretty pop queens: Christina was parading around in a boxing ring in her underwear bragging about getting Dirrty; JLo was trying to convince the world that fame and money had not gotten to her in Jenny From The Block, and Britney was bragging about her submissive qualities in Slave 4 U.
As a gangly, far-too-skinny flat-chested teenager with serious body confidence issues, I couldn’t relate to these beautiful, seemingly perfect women. My still-developing brain was also causing my hormones to go wild; this meant that for the next three years, I would be a moody, sulk-ridden mess, ready to fight anyone who so much as looked at me the wrong way. So, to say my tastes were shifting is putting it mildly.
Summer had returned to the prairies, and this Vauxhall vixen had just wheeled herself three blocks from the high school to her family home. I was indulging in my usual after school routine watching videos on Muchmusic when then-VJ George Stromboulopoulos said, “And here’s a new artist we are very excited about – Napanee Ontario’s own Avril Lavigne.”
What happened next would ignite a firestorm inside me. I watched as a small, spunky woman dressed in black track pants, a white tank top and tie confidently ride her skateboard toward two young men, and coyly ask “You wanna crash the mall?” Then, proceed to strap on a guitar and sing Complicated.
During those four minutes and five seconds, my vision of what a female artist could be and represent was forever transformed. Here was a young woman, not much older than me, shattering all the status quos of 2000s pop music by keeping her clothes on, wearing her own style, playing her own instrument, writing her own songs (with depth and meaning), being outspoken and unapologetically herself. All while being a Canadian girl from Ontario, my home province. I was sold, happy to use my ticket to ride the Avril Lavigne train forever.
I immediately introduced Avril’s music to my two best friends (the spunky twins referenced in my earlier blog post Queens of the Stone Age), who shared the same excited feelings that I did. We immediately adopted Avril as our role model. Her take-no-shit attitude fit perfectly with where we were at in our angsty, angry teenage lives; we armed ourselves with black eyeliner like war paint, and Converse sneakers like combat boots to fight in the rebellion of our lives. Avril was front and centre, leading the charge.
We spent hours together, listening to Avril’s debut album Let Go, and sophomore album, Under My Skin, memorizing and absorbing the songs into our lives. We made slideshows of Avril’s coolest outfits, fantasized about going to her concerts, and what it might be like to meet her someday. We were the dorky kids drinking slurpees at the Shell gas station, flipping through the teen magazines to check out the posters that would inevitably plaster every inch of the walls in our bedrooms.
In my bedroom, Avril dominated: full size posters, tiny clippings from magazines, song lyrics with bolded lines that were especially meaningful to me. There was literally no Avril-related content that was too small or insignificant to earn a coveted spot on the wall that my dad insisted I not wreck with my constant taping to hang things up. In hindsight, this was the truest form of hero worship, which creeped out my oldest sister in the best way when she declared: “I hate going into your room… there are a tiny heads everywhere!”
I watched every single interview Avril gave, every performance, and even wrote several letters to MuchMusic declaring my undying love for Avril and begged them to allow me to meet her (at the time, shows like Gonna Meet a Rockstar were huge on the station, so I thought I had as good a chance as anyone). My letters went unanswered, but that didn’t dampen my passion. Over the next four years, the twins and I continued navigating our teenage lives together, letting Avril, and Simple Plan (another Canadian band we loved), be the soundtrack.
Simple Plan was one of many pop-punk bands to rise in the early 2000s, providing a stark and welcome alternative to the bubble-gum boy bands to dominate the scene thus far. But more than boys with guitars who knew how to rock, Simple Plan’s songs spoke directly to the teenage experience and turmoil of growing up; as girls who were living in that turmoil up to our necks, we were deeply moved. The way Welcome To My Life was a child speaking directly to a parent with the words, “No, you don’t know what it’s like… welcome to my life.” The way they knew exactly how we felt when they sang: “I’m just a kid, and my life is a nightmare…” The way they understood the pain of unrequited love with the words: “I’m trying to forget that I’m addicted to you.”
Their music made us feel far less alone and completely understood. I even dedicated a poem to Simple Plan and their profound impact on my life at the time.
So, Avril and the boys from Montreal dominated the stereo as our lives progressed: they were there when the three of us had too much to drink and we couldn’t hide it from our parents; they were there when we got our hearts broken by people we thought we loved; they were there when we felt confused and angry, making sense of those turbulent, adolescent years, that we colourfully referred to as “six years of hell.” They were there when all we wanted was each other – and this wonderful thing called music – to lean on, to confide in, to share our lives with.
Even though I reference that time in my life as turbulent and terrible, in hindsight, I look upon those years as some of my best. Yes, growing, changing, learning and feeling was difficult, but there were a lot of wonderful memories too: me at peak physical strength and independence, burning rubber as I wheeled myself all over town; many nights with friends, talking, laughing and getting into as many ridiculous shenanigans as possible; experimenting with clothes and makeup, convinced that being grown enough to make our own decisions would solve everything.
Well, inevitably, I did grow up and soon learned that you only trade in one set of problems for another, and those new problems make you wish you could go back to staring down your old problems instead. The girls and I went our separate ways and didn’t speak for many years; not intentionally, but life has a way of leading you in different directions and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. We reunited in 2020, rekindling our lifelong friendship like we’d never been apart.
In February 2023, a post online would wake a fire that had been long-dormant inside each of us; Avril announced her Greatest Hits tour, WITH Simple Plan. They would be making several stops in Canada, including Calgary. I immediately got a message from the twins saying, “Let’s do this!”
After many back and forth rounds of “Are you serious?” and “Could we really do it?” and “Do you really mean it?” I managed to score tickets. The girls and I were in disbelief. Even though the concert was nine months away, something that, at one time, was nothing more than a fantasy floating on the wind, was becoming something concrete, real and palpable. The 14-year-old girl inside me screamed with delight. She may not be proud of how lame the ancient 30-something version of herself had become, but if she could do one thing right, THIS was it!
Over the next several months, we planned our adventure, making travel arrangements, purchasing outfits and finding special ways to mark the occasion.
When the calendar finally made it to September 18, 2024, we could barely hold it together. We were all up ridiculously early, chattering excitedly in my tiny bathroom, crafting our hair, clothes, makeup and accessories (which included an insane number of temporary tattoos!) Our 14-year-old selves were on full display!
As we watched people crowd into the Saddledome later that evening, I was amazed to find the venue packed to the maximum capacity of 13,000. Every side of the arena was filled to the top, and it was clear that everyone there would be reliving their own special history with Avril that night.
For my twin cousins and best friends, the experience was especially surreal: this was their first concert EVER, and they couldn’t believe they were part of this living, breathing throng of humans about to experience the sacred ceremony that is live music.
Fefe Dobson opened for Avril instead of Simple Plan, which we were mildly disappointed with, until Fefe came out and blew our minds. She is another great female Canadian rock goddess, with many hits we all recognized. When it was finally time for Avril, the three of us, and my friend Leah, all looked at each other, smiling and clutching hands excitedly.
When Avril came out and belted the opening lines of Girlfriend and several other hits throughout that epic two-hour powerhouse of a show, we were enthralled. Her voice was stronger than ever, and we were amazed that this 40-year-old firecracker still didn’t look a day over 21. I thought, “This bitch is going to rock forever!”
While she sang all the songs that meant so much to us, she was amazing at engaging the crowd, who were singing along SO LOUDLY to every word. My husband Peter and I have been to many concerts, but he admitted that Avril’s concert was one of the best he has ever been to, gaining a newfound appreciation and respect for her.
Like so many of life’s special moments that take months of planning and preparation, the concert went by in a blink. But the effects of what we experienced and the feelings we were left with remain strong and permanent.
So, when I heard Young & Dumb on that May morning eight months later, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably when the two artists I’d spent my formative years idolizing sang:
“I’ve been thinking about that summer, when we had each other, back when we were young and dumb and we knew everything/we said, this will last forever, can’t get any better, back when we were young and dumb and we had everything. These are the best nights, living our best lives.”
But my emotional reaction was so much more than a seismic wave of nostalgia. It was a full-circle moment in my journey with these artists. Those words perfectly described my teenage era with my two best friends: for five years, we were definitely young, dumb and 100 percent sure we knew everything, making core memories and living our best lives together.
I was also emotional for my 14-year-old self. She would have KILLED for a collaboration between Avril and Simple Plan in those days. They meant so much to her. Hearing the song felt like a wonderful gift to that girl.
But most of all, it was the realization that we were living parallel lives with our musical heroes at the time we loved them most. These people we put on a pedestal, seeming so far beyond our reach, were just kids like us, plowing through life, one rebellion at a time. The settings were drastically different, but at the end of the day, they were going through the same experiences, emotions and growth processes as us.
Those 14-year-old-girls were closer to their heroes than they ever imagined, and I wept with joy at the thought.
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