It was summer 1996 when I became a scorned woman. I was 18, my heart was broken and I had an anthem: Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know. Truth be told, I wasn’t physically intimate with the guy. I wasn’t scratching my nails down anyone’s back. He didn’t tell me he’d hold me until he died. There were no random acts of “you know what” in a theater. However, for some reason I felt connected to the anger she so clearly expressed through her lyrics. I was rejected; I wasn’t chosen. So whenever it played, and especially when he was around, my friend and I would perform it as though we were Alanis in the video. I’m sure we looked crazy. Music and relationships are like Marc Antony and Cleopatra; Sid and Nancy; Mickey and Minnie; they just fit!