A Young Gypsy: Janis Joplin and Bobby McGee

Michelle Merica

This could be the hysteria of post-midterms, a 40% on a psychology exam and a C on a paper speaking, but sometimes I feel like I‰’m not supposed to be in college. More times than not, I am plagued with some sort of crisis where the only obvious answer to cure it is dropping out of school. My future would be fine without a college degree. I could play in a band and travel the country until the day I die. The fact that I lack musical talent doesn‰’t deter me from pursuing this fantasy.

I desire freedom. I am disturbed by the fact that I can be overwrought with giddy joy when I have two hours to eat and sit in between my classes. Or that I consider going to a club on a Tuesday night as reckless.

I look around this campus and I see ambition. But where is the jubilation of being young? Yes, alcohol seems to bring out a youthful recklessness. But where are the random acts of impulse caused by simply being happy to be alive? Does recklessness really constitute hooking up with your friend‰’s ex-boyfriend or not doing the assigned reading?

Janis Joplin could teach us a thing or two about throwing caution to the wind. She might have died prematurely of a heroin overdose at the age of 27, but in that short span of life she LIVED. She refused to adhere to social constitutes and embraced the grey area that scares so many of us. As seen in her beautiful hybrid between blues, country and rock, “Me and Bobby McGee,‰” she sings of the man she loves as “I’m calling my lover, calling my man‰Û, refusing to force him into any sort of box. Bobby McGee is a Whitman-esque figure, containing multitudes and contradictions. She can belong to him but also be free. He can be a man of mystery and disguise but also someone who “shared the secrets of my soul‰Û. He does not need to represent anything to her, he simply just needs to exist. The color grey has never looked so colorful.

As we are introduced to Joplin in the song, we find her “nearly faded as my jeans‰Û. Then she embarks on a road trip with her man/friend Bobby McGee for no reason at all. Simply just because. She has no ulterior motives or worries; she just wants to wear a red bandana and drive to New Orleans. I wonder in my neurotic psyche why she got into a car with a man she hardly knows. For Joplin there is no reason, per se. Happiness is the goal. She lives and revels in the gamble. She simply does because she wants to without any sense of temporality as she beautifully sings, “You know feeling good was good enough for me/Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee‰Û.

This song is jovial. She loudly sings “La la la, la la la la, la la la, la la la la‰” repeatedly proving her dedication to crafting the art of whimsy. There are gospel-like qualities to the song, praising this concept of freedom. Yet, Joplin is known as a notoriously sad person. As she said herself, “Audiences like their blues singers miserable.‰” Joplin suffered with bouts of depression. Oftentimes, she turned to drugs and alcohol for solace. In “Me and Bobby and McGee‰” Joplin sings as though she knows the feeling of exuberance is fleeting. For a beautiful 4 minutes and 30 seconds, Joplin has left her own self-doubt and she lets the happiness take over her.

So here I was, waiting for inspiration about who to write my article about while walking back from the library at two in the morning. It was cold, a radical departure from earlier in the day when it was 60 degrees. I played music to try to distract myself. “Me and Bobby McGee‰” came on. I smiled. And in that simple moment, feeling good was good enough for me.