Discovering new bands used to be like Christmas. Except it could be at any time, sometimes when you least expected it. Nowadays, my look-into-and-buy list is ten times longer than my already-own-and-like list. It's so bad! It's gotten to the point that if I'm buying stuff on amazon.com I will second guess myself silly, until I end up either buying nothing, or buying something I wasn't initially intending on getting.
You have to ration things out, I get that. Especially when you're a poor college student mooching primarily off your parental units, or using financial aid. It only gets worse when you have a job. Cause then you wanna be REALLY careful.
But! There are still rare moments when I'll come across something, either by accident, or happenstance, and totally fall in love. Sometimes it's gradual, sometimes it takes a while to get used to, but then those become the favourites that last so long, you forget what life must have been like without it.
I swear I'm not talking about relationships.
So! What have been my true loves lately? What's left me dancing in the middle of a hardwood floor living room, head banging in the car, crying on my bed, and crooning like the silly sonofabitch that I am? I'm composing a small list for your enjoyment!
I should explain, first, how I come to find music I like. I know absolutely nothing about what's popular. The last time I listed to the radio (voluntarily) was... 2005? ish? It's been a long time. I don't keep up on magazines with the newest albums and the only thing I know about The Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus are their religious preferences. Nine times out of ten, someone asks me who's that playing on the radio, I shrug and say sorry honey, can't help you. The the fuck is Lady Gaga? The only reason I recognize Pink's voice is because, well, she has a recognizable voice and a consistent song type. And the craze stream of singer-songwriters has produced so many goddamn women who sound exactly the same that I can't tell who's gained a boyfriend and who's shouting woe-is-the-world. What. The. Fuck?
So all that to say, when I hear a band/musician's name, the first thing I do is find a stream of one of their songs and listen. Preferably find some lyrics, too. One thing I'm terribly about is actually knowing who the band consists of, or who the person is. I'm not one to immediately jump on wikipedia or google and read all the bios and find out who they are, which is a bit of a handicap at times. But regardless, I usually prefer to judge first by sound and lyric content/quality.
Without further rambling, onto the list!
1. Okkervil River. Came across these guys via a web comic called Octopus Pie. The artist had put together different playlists that the primary characters would most likely listen to. I love, love, love their sound. Admittedly, I'm a sucker for folk rock-esque bands, and this is no exception. The musicianship is rather intricate, and I can get lost in following each instrument's part. Lost Coastlines (on The Stand Ins album) is by far my favourite song of theirs so far, and that tambourine line... mm! That in combination with the bass line I think provides a fantastic foundation of a heartfelt, and beautifully crafted song.
2. Ani DiFranco. Okay, obviously she isn't someone no one has heard of, and it's already common knowledge that she's pretty much totally awesome. But I wanted to highlight her first album, self titled, which was released on the year of my birth, go figure! If you have listened to only her later work, this is quite a bit different, as it features only her voice and her guitar. There's one track that is spoken word, almost a slam-poet kind of feel, which is really quite powerful if you let the words roll over you like wind on a tentative summer morning. But this album illustrates one of the things that I respond to in the folk rock category. One, the guitar skills are inspiring for an amateur like me, and two, the range of lyrical mastery is something that can only be appreciated through multiple listenings. It's like reading a really good book over and over again; new things show up, and new connections are made, or something will hit you differently and shock you, because you thought you knew exactly how it was already.
3. Balkan Beat Box. What to say, what to say. I picked up the Nu-Made album at a record store in Sac-town kind of on a whim. It was different, and from listening to it a bit on the sample thing, I thought, why not? I need something I can groove to. According to wikipedia: They established their own unique sound by fusing the musical styles of Jewish klezmer, Mediterranean and Balkan traditions with hip-hop and dancehall beats. And that pretty much describes the vibe. Take the old and create something new. If you read the entire wikipedia article, it's rather inspiring what they've done. I admire the passion and creativity it took to make something like this, and especially end up with something that's just damn fun to listen to.
4. The Builders and the Butchers. Another damn fun band to listen to. It is impossible for me to sit still and play Salvation is a Deep Dark Well. It reminds me of a hybrid of rock and American roots music. They have all the bluegrass and blues instruments, and the types of story-songs, but it's amped up. It channels one of the things I like about Okkervil River; a strong percussion foundation. It's the kind of thing that sinks deep in your bones and shakes you until you have to move because there's so much goddamn energy bursting from your veins. The first time I went all the way through Salvation, I loved every single fucking song. Which is rare. I haven't spent enough time with the album to carefully pick through the lyrics and discover the band from that angle, but until then, I will happily listen on.
5. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Oh man. Do me a favor. Find Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! somewhere on the internet, and listen to the song (it's also the name of the album, except fewer exclamation points). I am in love with the way the lyrics are crafted. The poetry makes my entire body tense up because I want to catch every single bit of it. It's so raw and tangible. It almost sounds textured; like you could touch the words and the meanings themselves. The sound itself is an intense and eclectic blend of... everything I love? Blues, punk (or post-punk, depending on your point of view), rock 'n roll. It's like a Christmas present that has more surprises the more you open it. It took me a while to get into them, but once I did, I was hooked. It's violent, dirty, sexy, addicting, but not to the point of being completely obnoxious and unbearable.
6. Imogen Heap. I swear to God, I am in love with this woman. I didn't listen to Speak for Yourself for a while, because the album had some memories surrounding it, with the traumatic falling out between a close friend and myself. When I finally did stumble across her again, the power was no less than before. I don't love every single track on the album, or on Frou Frou's “Detail” album, but there is enough. More than enough. Hide and Seek is probably my favourite, of all time. It never fails to make me cry. The harmonics produced are haunting. It's the kind of song you either love, or you hate. But for myself, it's heart stopping.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
In my last ten minutes of internet tonight.
I want to write a story about an intergalactic creature named Larry, and then write a song about him.
I want to paint squares on the edges of my mirror, write my limitations and obsessions inside them, and then paint over them.
I want a huge canvas so I can paint little pieces of it over time. Nothing profound, or at least intentionally so. Accidental moments of beauty are always the best.
I want to paint squares on the edges of my mirror, write my limitations and obsessions inside them, and then paint over them.
I want a huge canvas so I can paint little pieces of it over time. Nothing profound, or at least intentionally so. Accidental moments of beauty are always the best.
Hmm!
It's been a while.
Yet it goes that way, sometimes. My post-Georgia life has been a bit of a roller coaster, and the most intense bits have occurred in the last 24 hours. Right after I got home, a rowdy bout of pms caught me unawares and resulted in some downer days a couple days after settling back in to the home-routine. I've lost track of how long ago that was, to be honest. It feels like an entire month has disappeared because days of the week and dates weren't really important until I came home. So starting August halfway through? Where the fuck did the time go?
I created a three week health-and-fitness boot camp for myself, which includes limited internet and computer usage. Partly, I have a massive summer reading list that I'm just NOW starting, and I spend so much time doing nothing on the intarwebs, that I sat on my butt and thought, “How the hell am I going to read all this?” So, twenty minutes a day of internet, forty minutes general usage (time that I use to write blogs like these, for example), and then no internet on weekends, with 30 minutes general use on Saturdays.
It's not easy, I can tell you. You never really realize how much you use the internet for until you're limited to 20 minutes five days a week. Who knew checking up on daily comics could be so time consuming? Luckily I'm not the world's most popular person, so I AM enjoying the time away from myface-suck.
The rest of the boot camp consists of regulated calorie intake for every day, coupled with an increasingly intensive exercise routine. I've started out a little easier this week, but come next week the pace will be stepped up significantly. My goal is to officially be lower than 170 come my birthday on September 20th, because the last time I was as low as 170 was the day I turned 13.
So the real reason for my roller coaster-ness is Davis. Yeah, that whole school thing. That not-so-little thing that nags at the back of your mind, and causes you to have dreams where you're walking through the halls naked, forgetting that you have a big exam because of the cold draft wafting between your legs and up your once-were-private parts.
Regardless, it's a shit-pain in the ass. I love school, don't get me wrong, but it's specifically the learning part that I enjoy. The stimulation of the mind and flexing of the creative juices. The tests, the money, and the red tape I am not so fond of.
I should explain. Two years ago (ish) I entered Davis at either 15 or 16 (I can't remember which at the moment and don't care to do the math) years of age. I was young, and really didn't know what the fuck I was doing, so I just, you know, started taking classes. Looking back, I think I was immediately at a disadvantage because I entered in Winter quarter; Fall quarter was when all the beginning classes were that I probably needed to begin the stack-on method of class taking (each passing quarter some different classes are offered at higher levels of skill; so if you take beginning drawing in Fall, intermediate drawing might be in Winter, etc, etc). Not knowing this at the time, of course I had a shitty time getting into classes. Half of them conflicted with each other, or were canceled, on top of that.
Now that I was back at Davis this time around, after going through the readmission process, my intention was to go the Cultural Anthro route and fuck art because it was impossible to get into classes. Needless to say this last quarter was an amazing and beautiful nightmare. I had classes I came close to hating, even if I loved learning the material, and it was becoming clear to me that Cultural Anthro was not the way to go. However I did meet a couple of people who I suspect will turn out to be long-lasting friends, and my poetry class was an amazing happenstance that I am still reeling over.
So summer goes by, I flip flop between the two majors, and finally end up deciding that I ought to try art again, because in all honesty, I miss it. A lot. Especially with the self discoveries I've made in the process of several months. I met with an advisor today to talk about what it would take to graduate, because in addition to all of this fanciful stuff, I've come to the point where school is draining me emotionally and mentally, more and more which each passing quarter. In short: I'm sick of it. I need a break, badly.
She was a very nice lady. She was very helpful, too, in showing me what had to be done in order for me to potentially graduate in a year. The quick and dirty summary is: the most reasonable and easiest route would be Cultural Anthro, partly because of the time limitations I was putting on things, but also because of the “unit cap.” Meaning? I have a lot of units completed. And to finish with an Art Studio degree would go over the unit limit, so it would require lots of petitions, and testing out of a class, etc, etc.
So, okay, I thought, then let's look at the Anthro option.
Oh, more science classes. Oh, two science classes this quarter, otherwise I probably won't be graduating in a year.
Well, you gotta do what you gotta do, I suppose.
I called Mom after the appointment, and gave her the short version of what the woman had said. I was actually on my way to change majors right then and there when it suddenly hit me how overwhelmed I was. I couldn't make this kind of decision right away. This was insane. I needed to think about this before going with the what-someone-else-said option.
It slowly came on me how huge of a decision this was going to be, as I was walking to my car and getting ready to head home. The jaw started to clench and the breath went a little gaspy with each successive step, and by the time I was pulling onto the freeway, the leaky tear ducts were in full spray. I cried the entire way home. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, “What the fuck are you doing? Cultural Anthro isn't going to make you happy. That was made clear last quarter. What's another year of that going to do to you?” I was thinking things like, well, then what if I just don't finish? But I have a lease for an apartment. Maybe I could try and find a job?
I crashed once I came home. I watched TV, took a nap; avoiding anything that would make my brain think too much.
Then Mom came home. What would one ever do without a parental figure? We went through a brainstorming session over dinner, her with her fish and veggies with hummus, me with my fruit smoothie. I spent time trying not to cry, and spent more time not succeeding at it. She drew out three columns: Longterm goals, short term, and dreams, and filled each one in in different colored pen as I talked haltingly in a voice that resembled breaking glass. I said that I felt like I was “finishing” at Davis for the wrong reasons, that it was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. A queer peg in a straight hole. The things I wanted to do, now, didn't include a career or degree in Cultural Anthropology, or really any specific degree at all. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and it had been clear for a long time that Davis, as a school and a place to get a degree, wasn't a good fit for me. I had too much exploring to do.
So what were my options? If I didn't want to continue at Davis I could try and break the lease, and stay at home, get a job. I could go forward with the petitions and try for Art Studio; stay in school so I could get the aid to pay for housing. I could try to find a full time job and just work to pay rent and live in Davis.
Or I could fuck Davis's requirements and take whatever the hell I wanted for a year, have the money to live away from home for that period of time, and then finish my degree somewhere else.
Which is what I decided to do.
Yet it goes that way, sometimes. My post-Georgia life has been a bit of a roller coaster, and the most intense bits have occurred in the last 24 hours. Right after I got home, a rowdy bout of pms caught me unawares and resulted in some downer days a couple days after settling back in to the home-routine. I've lost track of how long ago that was, to be honest. It feels like an entire month has disappeared because days of the week and dates weren't really important until I came home. So starting August halfway through? Where the fuck did the time go?
I created a three week health-and-fitness boot camp for myself, which includes limited internet and computer usage. Partly, I have a massive summer reading list that I'm just NOW starting, and I spend so much time doing nothing on the intarwebs, that I sat on my butt and thought, “How the hell am I going to read all this?” So, twenty minutes a day of internet, forty minutes general usage (time that I use to write blogs like these, for example), and then no internet on weekends, with 30 minutes general use on Saturdays.
It's not easy, I can tell you. You never really realize how much you use the internet for until you're limited to 20 minutes five days a week. Who knew checking up on daily comics could be so time consuming? Luckily I'm not the world's most popular person, so I AM enjoying the time away from myface-suck.
The rest of the boot camp consists of regulated calorie intake for every day, coupled with an increasingly intensive exercise routine. I've started out a little easier this week, but come next week the pace will be stepped up significantly. My goal is to officially be lower than 170 come my birthday on September 20th, because the last time I was as low as 170 was the day I turned 13.
So the real reason for my roller coaster-ness is Davis. Yeah, that whole school thing. That not-so-little thing that nags at the back of your mind, and causes you to have dreams where you're walking through the halls naked, forgetting that you have a big exam because of the cold draft wafting between your legs and up your once-were-private parts.
Regardless, it's a shit-pain in the ass. I love school, don't get me wrong, but it's specifically the learning part that I enjoy. The stimulation of the mind and flexing of the creative juices. The tests, the money, and the red tape I am not so fond of.
I should explain. Two years ago (ish) I entered Davis at either 15 or 16 (I can't remember which at the moment and don't care to do the math) years of age. I was young, and really didn't know what the fuck I was doing, so I just, you know, started taking classes. Looking back, I think I was immediately at a disadvantage because I entered in Winter quarter; Fall quarter was when all the beginning classes were that I probably needed to begin the stack-on method of class taking (each passing quarter some different classes are offered at higher levels of skill; so if you take beginning drawing in Fall, intermediate drawing might be in Winter, etc, etc). Not knowing this at the time, of course I had a shitty time getting into classes. Half of them conflicted with each other, or were canceled, on top of that.
Now that I was back at Davis this time around, after going through the readmission process, my intention was to go the Cultural Anthro route and fuck art because it was impossible to get into classes. Needless to say this last quarter was an amazing and beautiful nightmare. I had classes I came close to hating, even if I loved learning the material, and it was becoming clear to me that Cultural Anthro was not the way to go. However I did meet a couple of people who I suspect will turn out to be long-lasting friends, and my poetry class was an amazing happenstance that I am still reeling over.
So summer goes by, I flip flop between the two majors, and finally end up deciding that I ought to try art again, because in all honesty, I miss it. A lot. Especially with the self discoveries I've made in the process of several months. I met with an advisor today to talk about what it would take to graduate, because in addition to all of this fanciful stuff, I've come to the point where school is draining me emotionally and mentally, more and more which each passing quarter. In short: I'm sick of it. I need a break, badly.
She was a very nice lady. She was very helpful, too, in showing me what had to be done in order for me to potentially graduate in a year. The quick and dirty summary is: the most reasonable and easiest route would be Cultural Anthro, partly because of the time limitations I was putting on things, but also because of the “unit cap.” Meaning? I have a lot of units completed. And to finish with an Art Studio degree would go over the unit limit, so it would require lots of petitions, and testing out of a class, etc, etc.
So, okay, I thought, then let's look at the Anthro option.
Oh, more science classes. Oh, two science classes this quarter, otherwise I probably won't be graduating in a year.
Well, you gotta do what you gotta do, I suppose.
I called Mom after the appointment, and gave her the short version of what the woman had said. I was actually on my way to change majors right then and there when it suddenly hit me how overwhelmed I was. I couldn't make this kind of decision right away. This was insane. I needed to think about this before going with the what-someone-else-said option.
It slowly came on me how huge of a decision this was going to be, as I was walking to my car and getting ready to head home. The jaw started to clench and the breath went a little gaspy with each successive step, and by the time I was pulling onto the freeway, the leaky tear ducts were in full spray. I cried the entire way home. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, “What the fuck are you doing? Cultural Anthro isn't going to make you happy. That was made clear last quarter. What's another year of that going to do to you?” I was thinking things like, well, then what if I just don't finish? But I have a lease for an apartment. Maybe I could try and find a job?
I crashed once I came home. I watched TV, took a nap; avoiding anything that would make my brain think too much.
Then Mom came home. What would one ever do without a parental figure? We went through a brainstorming session over dinner, her with her fish and veggies with hummus, me with my fruit smoothie. I spent time trying not to cry, and spent more time not succeeding at it. She drew out three columns: Longterm goals, short term, and dreams, and filled each one in in different colored pen as I talked haltingly in a voice that resembled breaking glass. I said that I felt like I was “finishing” at Davis for the wrong reasons, that it was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. A queer peg in a straight hole. The things I wanted to do, now, didn't include a career or degree in Cultural Anthropology, or really any specific degree at all. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and it had been clear for a long time that Davis, as a school and a place to get a degree, wasn't a good fit for me. I had too much exploring to do.
So what were my options? If I didn't want to continue at Davis I could try and break the lease, and stay at home, get a job. I could go forward with the petitions and try for Art Studio; stay in school so I could get the aid to pay for housing. I could try to find a full time job and just work to pay rent and live in Davis.
Or I could fuck Davis's requirements and take whatever the hell I wanted for a year, have the money to live away from home for that period of time, and then finish my degree somewhere else.
Which is what I decided to do.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
On the way home
I'm not usually one to judge by first impressions, but I'm not sure how friendly the passengers at Atlanta airport are. I arrived at my gate a few minutes ago (about an hour before my flight leaves) to find the seats rather crowded (not a huge surprise, but potentially challenging nonetheless). I'm wandering through with a mildly curious, searching look on my face (this look is either Scrunched Up Nose or Wide Eyes and Head Cocked to the Side; the latter is my own case) and am disheartened to see that some people are taking up two seats by sleeping sprawled out. I'm all one for snoozing if you have more than an hour before your flight, but once it starts getting crowded, how about lending someone a seat?
Regardless, I found one, parallel to and slightly facing this one guy with bald head, stocky build, and a sullen, grumpy expression. Clearly he did not get his beauty sleep. Now I may look rebellious, me and my kitschy zebra print shrug, faded blue and green hair, and nose ring, but I'm not that annoying to be around (unless, you know, you're my friend), and I certainly wasn't invading his personal space. Perhaps my water bottle was a smidge too close to his fancy (not) black carry on bag, or he noticed the spattering of what cat hair on my black tank top. Whatever the reason was, after a minute or two he swiftly stood, grabbed his back, and scurried off to a different seat, not three feet away from me.
I showered, I swear! I don't smell funny!
;)
Not seriously though. The employees here have been wonderful so far. I checked my big fat suitcase stuffed with thrift store purchases, the hand-made elephant I named Oglethorpe, and varying other crap I brought with me at one of those outside check-in places. I don't know why more people don't take advantage of the things. There was no line at the particular counter I went to, and I was helped by a charming older man with a spiffy hat and a lovely Georgia accent. “Your gate is A26, Miss Weatherly,” he drawled as he pointed out the circled number on my boarding pass, “Have a nice day.”
It's hilarious. If someone says that in Sacramento, it comes off condescending and fake (Have a nice day? Psh. Up yours, ass hole.), but here, it's just part of the language. Normally I don't like being referred to as Miss, but I made an exception in this case. The friendliness is right up my sweet, charming alley!
Random tangent: An obese woman across from me just polished off a donut with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I am mildly tempted to offer her my bag of pistachios, but will resist.
Zone 1 is currently boarding. I'm zone 3, so I suspect I'll have to pack up soon.
I got no sleep last night. Maybe an hour or so. I blame the large amount of chocolate and chai tea I consumed last night at 10pm. Silly me. But! Hopefully that means I'll get to sleep a bit on this flight. I'm not really looking forward to the whole butt-goes-numb-after-5-minutes-no-matter-what-position-you-sit-in thing.
~
Hey, here I am on the plane! Amazing. Supposedly there's wi-fi on the plane, but my computer can't seem to access it. Figures. Oh well; it gives me a chance to finish this, do some reading (Happy Yoga, many thanks to Miss Jordan!), and sleep, most importantly. If my ears don't give me much trouble I might be able to nod off.
~
Goddamn I'm gonna get spoiled. The seats on this particular plane are either a hell of a lot more comfortable or the jeans I'm wearing made a shitload of difference. Not only that, but they played a free movie: the new Star Trek film.
Booooyaaaah! I think I like the flight home a lot more than I liked the one to Atlanta. Still can't seem to access the wi-fi properly, but I'm not really sweating it. I think we're somewhere over Nevada at the moment. We should be arriving in San Fran in a little over an hour. I tell you, even though my ass is more comfortable than it could be, it'll still be happy when I get off it. Poor tail bone! It gets so beat up with this silly sitting business.
I suppose I could, you know, not slouch, so I could ease it a little but I would be breaking my facade as an impudent teenager, right? Blue hair and nose ring?
Hehe, rawr!
It's kind of trippy being able to see the map up on the screen. It shows the detail/texture of the landscape (geography/geology junkies care to tell me what that's called? I can't remember), and confirms that indeed, we are flying over a bunch of rocks.
Commonly known as mountains, but they LOOK like a bunch of rocks from way up here.
My bed is calling so sweetly from its location. It's almost like a men's choir serenading me across state lines, and they're all in various states of undress. I suspect I may sprawl most enthusiastically upon it and then promptly fall asleep. Aah, sweet bliss!
Regardless, I found one, parallel to and slightly facing this one guy with bald head, stocky build, and a sullen, grumpy expression. Clearly he did not get his beauty sleep. Now I may look rebellious, me and my kitschy zebra print shrug, faded blue and green hair, and nose ring, but I'm not that annoying to be around (unless, you know, you're my friend), and I certainly wasn't invading his personal space. Perhaps my water bottle was a smidge too close to his fancy (not) black carry on bag, or he noticed the spattering of what cat hair on my black tank top. Whatever the reason was, after a minute or two he swiftly stood, grabbed his back, and scurried off to a different seat, not three feet away from me.
I showered, I swear! I don't smell funny!
;)
Not seriously though. The employees here have been wonderful so far. I checked my big fat suitcase stuffed with thrift store purchases, the hand-made elephant I named Oglethorpe, and varying other crap I brought with me at one of those outside check-in places. I don't know why more people don't take advantage of the things. There was no line at the particular counter I went to, and I was helped by a charming older man with a spiffy hat and a lovely Georgia accent. “Your gate is A26, Miss Weatherly,” he drawled as he pointed out the circled number on my boarding pass, “Have a nice day.”
It's hilarious. If someone says that in Sacramento, it comes off condescending and fake (Have a nice day? Psh. Up yours, ass hole.), but here, it's just part of the language. Normally I don't like being referred to as Miss, but I made an exception in this case. The friendliness is right up my sweet, charming alley!
Random tangent: An obese woman across from me just polished off a donut with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I am mildly tempted to offer her my bag of pistachios, but will resist.
Zone 1 is currently boarding. I'm zone 3, so I suspect I'll have to pack up soon.
I got no sleep last night. Maybe an hour or so. I blame the large amount of chocolate and chai tea I consumed last night at 10pm. Silly me. But! Hopefully that means I'll get to sleep a bit on this flight. I'm not really looking forward to the whole butt-goes-numb-after-5-minutes-no-matter-what-position-you-sit-in thing.
~
Hey, here I am on the plane! Amazing. Supposedly there's wi-fi on the plane, but my computer can't seem to access it. Figures. Oh well; it gives me a chance to finish this, do some reading (Happy Yoga, many thanks to Miss Jordan!), and sleep, most importantly. If my ears don't give me much trouble I might be able to nod off.
~
Goddamn I'm gonna get spoiled. The seats on this particular plane are either a hell of a lot more comfortable or the jeans I'm wearing made a shitload of difference. Not only that, but they played a free movie: the new Star Trek film.
Booooyaaaah! I think I like the flight home a lot more than I liked the one to Atlanta. Still can't seem to access the wi-fi properly, but I'm not really sweating it. I think we're somewhere over Nevada at the moment. We should be arriving in San Fran in a little over an hour. I tell you, even though my ass is more comfortable than it could be, it'll still be happy when I get off it. Poor tail bone! It gets so beat up with this silly sitting business.
I suppose I could, you know, not slouch, so I could ease it a little but I would be breaking my facade as an impudent teenager, right? Blue hair and nose ring?
Hehe, rawr!
It's kind of trippy being able to see the map up on the screen. It shows the detail/texture of the landscape (geography/geology junkies care to tell me what that's called? I can't remember), and confirms that indeed, we are flying over a bunch of rocks.
Commonly known as mountains, but they LOOK like a bunch of rocks from way up here.
My bed is calling so sweetly from its location. It's almost like a men's choir serenading me across state lines, and they're all in various states of undress. I suspect I may sprawl most enthusiastically upon it and then promptly fall asleep. Aah, sweet bliss!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Life is exciting!
Well, this is my last night (now it's morning, but oh well) in Georgia, and I'm sitting here writing while Murray the cat licks (and bites) Kitty's hand. It has been an amazing adventure and I am truly grateful for the experience. I've made tasty food, eaten too much sugar (surprised?), shopped at thrift stores, toured downtown Athens, longed for a bed of my own, been angered by obsessive gossip, worried about what will happen after I move, worried about where I want my education to go, and wondered what the fuck is going on with my financial aid ad Davis.
Sounds like a lot?
I'm used to it. It's the way my brain works ;)
The last few days feel like a blur now. Maybe because I'm ready to get home, and am just enjoying the sensation of living and being adventurous. And my belief that everything I do and experience and learn creates the opportunity for a new lesson, or an expansion of myself has been firmly supported with this expedition.
It's not that I'm being overly optimistic. But I do think I have a choice as to how I respond to what situations I am dunked in. I can be a spoonful of vinegar, and make the drink bitter, I can be salt and make the drink harsh, I can be sugar and make it too sickeningly sweet and unrealistic, or I can be a spoonful of honey with a dash of cinnamon. Not too sweet and a satisfying edge to whatever comes my way.
I feel I've developed a healthy outlook upon myself, and am ready to get back to my yoga and healthy eating lifestyle. I'm ready to make new places for myself and create friendships with kindred spirits who add their own spices to life. I'm ready to make mistakes and not be ashamed of them. I'm ready to tackle new challenges, be they physical, intellectual, or emotional. I'm ready to continue to let go and explore with a sense of curiosity that I'm sure is at the core of who I am.
Good night, friends, and good luck, though I don't think you'll need it!
Amazing pizza recipe!
Kitty and I made this tonight, and it was so amazing and delicious that I decided to write up the directions (we spliced two different recipes and added our own creativity) and share it with you!
Preheat oven at 375 degrees.
This recipe makes two cake pan/casserole dish sized pizzas.
Phyllo dough
4 garlic cloves
Italian seasoning (or your herbs of choice)
Shredded mozzarella cheese (and whatever other cheese you prefer)
Olive oil
Ten layers of phyllo (fillo) dough per pizza
Generously spray one rectangular cake pan with cooking spray. Lay down one layer of fillo dough, pressing into the edges (most fillo dough comes in huge sheets; you may want to cut the sheets in half so they fit in the pan without too much overlap). Lightly brush with olive oil (or butter) and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese, or the cheese of your choice (be stingy, you're going to repeat this nine times!). Place another piece of fillo dough down, and press so the top sheet adheres to the bottom. Repeat until you have laid 10 pieces of fillo dough down.
Lightly brush the last sheet with olive oil.
The sauce I use is comprised of a half a can of your basic tomato sauce, plus four cloves of minced garlic (I like it with lots of garlic, and remember, this is for two pizzas; use a quarter of the can and two cloves of garlic for one pizza), and basic Italian seasoning (use whatever spices you want if you prefer your own blend). Lightly spread over the fillo dough layers and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese.
Next come the toppings! For my version, I cut up:
1 cup of onions (½ cup for each pizza)
½ of a large can of black olives
One medium sized plum tomato (or similar), sliced thinly
¾ cup of frozen or canned spinach (approximately), rinsed, drained, and pressed dry
½ cup of crumbled feta cheese (of more, if you prefer)
Slide them in the oven and bake for about 28 minutes. I set the timer for 25 minutes and checked it, so just be aware of how hot your oven runs and plan accordingly. The oven I used runs fairly hot, hence the careful time setting.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Musings on death, and math geek humor.
I think death is beautiful. Without it, nothing could ever be born, or created.
I think the tendency in our culture to make it out as such a tragedy isn't all that healthy in some respects. Now granted, I'm not saying that we should all go out and kill ourselves, or kill other people. Far from it. But throughout the span on time, living creatures and this earth have been dependent on death. If you want to talk cliches, the “circle of life” is a good old die-hard (like my pun?) that is nevertheless rather apt in its description. It's ying and yang, it's dark and light; you cannot have one without a variation of what really is the same thing. Death is simply a state of being, a type of energy, when you get down to the atoms and basic building blocks of matter and energy.
So if we celebrate birth, why not celebrate death as well? A friend once told me that he wants his "funeral" to be a big party, and he wants people to laugh and celebrate, and I agree with him.
I also think suicide is a highly misunderstood phenomenon. While I know I would be distraught and sad if someone close to me did commit suicide, I feel the bravery required for such an act goes woefully unrecognized.
It's interesting, too, that it's a form of taking control of one's life. It's ironic. One takes control of one's life by making the decision to take it away, when one feel powerless in the day to day life. Now from a evolutionary perspective, sure, no creature should purposefully extinguish their own existence, and therefore limit their reproductive success. And yet, the very nature of living things... we are not immortal beings. We live for a time, and then we die. We usually don't have a say one way or another WHEN this occurs. There's a quote in firefly (the TV show) I really like: “Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you.” It's just a matter of how long it takes to find you, and how long you can outrun it.
It's quite poetic and true, I think.
We even die on a moment to moment basis; I am never the same person as I was a minute ago. A tree has to die in order for new trees to grow. People die at every second of the day and night. So to say that "so many people have died lately" is a little silly. People die all the time, and they are also born all the time.
Now this is not to say that everything is perfect, but I do believe that it is not as earth shattering as we make it out to be. The sun still rises, the earth still spins, and the universe is still expanding. As much as we want to hold on to even our closest friends and family... we are not them and can never realistically hold on to them, because control is a fleeting and mystical being that we never really touch.
And now for something completely different!
Good night! More updates on my trip to come soon!
I think the tendency in our culture to make it out as such a tragedy isn't all that healthy in some respects. Now granted, I'm not saying that we should all go out and kill ourselves, or kill other people. Far from it. But throughout the span on time, living creatures and this earth have been dependent on death. If you want to talk cliches, the “circle of life” is a good old die-hard (like my pun?) that is nevertheless rather apt in its description. It's ying and yang, it's dark and light; you cannot have one without a variation of what really is the same thing. Death is simply a state of being, a type of energy, when you get down to the atoms and basic building blocks of matter and energy.
So if we celebrate birth, why not celebrate death as well? A friend once told me that he wants his "funeral" to be a big party, and he wants people to laugh and celebrate, and I agree with him.
I also think suicide is a highly misunderstood phenomenon. While I know I would be distraught and sad if someone close to me did commit suicide, I feel the bravery required for such an act goes woefully unrecognized.
It's interesting, too, that it's a form of taking control of one's life. It's ironic. One takes control of one's life by making the decision to take it away, when one feel powerless in the day to day life. Now from a evolutionary perspective, sure, no creature should purposefully extinguish their own existence, and therefore limit their reproductive success. And yet, the very nature of living things... we are not immortal beings. We live for a time, and then we die. We usually don't have a say one way or another WHEN this occurs. There's a quote in firefly (the TV show) I really like: “Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you.” It's just a matter of how long it takes to find you, and how long you can outrun it.
It's quite poetic and true, I think.
We even die on a moment to moment basis; I am never the same person as I was a minute ago. A tree has to die in order for new trees to grow. People die at every second of the day and night. So to say that "so many people have died lately" is a little silly. People die all the time, and they are also born all the time.
Now this is not to say that everything is perfect, but I do believe that it is not as earth shattering as we make it out to be. The sun still rises, the earth still spins, and the universe is still expanding. As much as we want to hold on to even our closest friends and family... we are not them and can never realistically hold on to them, because control is a fleeting and mystical being that we never really touch.
And now for something completely different!
Good night! More updates on my trip to come soon!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Cuts, inside jokes, guitars, and zucchini!
Kitty and I made “inside jokes” t-shirts yesterday. We decided to go through a bunch of Whose Line is it Anyway videos on youtube and then pick a quote we liked to put on the front of the t-shirt. She chose “I'm not doing very well as a part time giraffe choreographer,” a Colin Mochrie line from a game called quick change, and I chose “Loving you and your pants makes me existential,” a brilliant collaboration from a game called Three-Headed Broadway Star (three people make up a Broadway love song one word at a time). I had a black t-shirt, so I tried a bleach pen for the letters on the front. It didn't turn out how I expected, but I do like the result. On the back, Kitty had the idea of using acrylic paint to imprint our hand prints (one each) in such a way that it looks like wings. Then, we wrote a bunch of inside jokes at the bottom.
All in all, I'd say the project was quite creative and nerdtastic, and I am very pleased with the result. We got all dressed up that evening to go to the grocery store for junk food and makings for chocolate chip cookies (“dressed up” here means: pseudo-punk. I was sporting black capri leggings, my new t-shirt, and a lime green pleated mini skirt. The ensemble was completed with a pair of rainbow socks, and black high tops. It's funny; the lime green skirt is something that is “totally me” but I'm not used to wearing that kind of thing. I guess it reminds me of something a 13 year old would wear. I may have to add something to it so I don't never wear it again.)
Even after nearly getting sick on junk food and cookie dough last night, I woke up this morning feeling really happy. I managed to sleep in long enough that Kitty had already gotten up and left the room, which was just so peaceful. I need my recharge time; I can't be around people all the time with a constant level of energy; I wear down after a day. So being able to have a moment to myself (that wasn't me sitting on the toilet or in the shower) was wonderful. My back was killing me something fierce, but I finally figured out a way to shift the dining room table so I can do yoga; I got in a good 45 minute yoga session. After that, I was pumped up and felt amazing (granted, I was super greasy and sweaty, but that's okay), since I haven't exercised in about a week. It was kind of silly; Dolce came over to me twice while I was yoga-ing, and tried to flop down underneath me so I could pet her. Sorry sweetie, unless you want to join me, you have to get off my yoga mat! ;)
Afterwards I finally got out Kitty's boyfriend's Silvertone acoustic guitar so I could restring it. I suspect the old strings had been on there for years, if not decades. I didn't dare try to tune it with the old strings; I was deathly afraid of getting my eyes poked out by breaking and flailing strings. I put a set of lightweight bronze strings I bought downtown (I picked up an additional pair for my Johnson at home). The tuning pegs for strings 6-4 were a little sticky and hard to turn (I assume due to age), so I was careful as possible. It sounds pretty decent with the new strings on, though I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough to give a dissertation on the sound quality.
Kitty's boyfriend's mom did ask me to try and find out what it was worth, and as a result, find out what year it was, etc, so I took the opportunity to do some digging and see what I could find out. The guitar has a black body with white blocks on the fretboard, instead of dots. I searched for a half an hour or so before I came across a website that listed info on vintage Silvertones from the 1940s to the 1970s. According to the website, this guitar was made somewhere between 1962 and 1966 (I didn't try to locate the serial number) because the white blocks were replaced with dots post-1966.
I made a half-hearted attempt to do some research on value, but honestly, I don't know enough to really be able to come up with a conclusive estimate. I found online sellers wanting everything from $300 to $50.
I finally fulfilled my (other) birthday present to Kitty: I bought a 2 pound bag of henna powder off ebay to dye her hair with. We mixed it up a couple days ago (I think; the days of the week are a little fuzzy to me) and I slathered her hair with green goo the consistency of old yogurt. It was SO much fun, and I even got used to the smell after a while. Her hair is now a lovely shade of reddish copper. It'll settle down to a more solid red in a few days after the dye oxidizes.
I've gotten a chance to try out some new food! We had zucchini pancakes (kind of like potato pancakes, but with shredded zucchini) last night, and they were amazing. Tonight's menu was stuffed green bell peppers (filled with couscous, feta cheese, garlic, and white beans), which was equally delicious. I'm going to copy down the recipes for home; add to my stack of recipes that I still need to put in a book (or box)!
Kitty has also exposed me to the TV show Firefly. I have heard about it for ages, but just never got the chance to view it. All the episodes (all of one season, yay for the scifi channel canceling awesome shows? Haha) are on hulu.com, so I can watch them when I'm NOT in Georgia, too. Amazing! I love the show, even if a few of the male characters piss me off on a regular basis, hehe. It's addicting though; it took me quite the effort to turn off my computer last night (well, morning, but who's watching?) and not opt for seeing another episode. I'll have to see the movie once I'm done with the episodes. :)
When Kitty and I came back from the grocery this afternoon, the dogs came bounding up to the front door with their usual rambunctiousness. Noel (the bigger dog) has the tendency to jump on people when they come back home, and as luck would have it, I was wearing a short skirt. I have a nice three inch scratch/cut on my right knee now. I'm all for joyful greetings, bu I would prefer not to bleed in the process!
I'm still enjoying my stay here. There's been some tension and stress in the household lately, but it hasn't really been affecting me (rather, I haven't been letting it affect me). There are moments where I get irritated, but I've decided I don't need to hold onto it. There are a couple things that I will have to speak up about the next time they happen, but I'm choosing not to dwell on them for the time being. Despite my good time, I will be happy to be home when the time comes. I miss the freedom to come back to my own room and enjoy the quiet and peace of my own company. I miss having my own car so I can come and go as I please, I miss being on my own schedule, my own smells, my own irritations.... pretty much everything that revolves around my own space and freedom. I'm writing this while tuning out other people by listening to music via headphones, and it is so very blissful. I am greatly enjoying this moment of mine. I'd love to share this feeling with you, you reading this. I definitely advocate taking a moment for yourself, to feel what needs to be felt, think what needs to be thought, let go of what needs to be let go of, and just breathe.
All in all, I'd say the project was quite creative and nerdtastic, and I am very pleased with the result. We got all dressed up that evening to go to the grocery store for junk food and makings for chocolate chip cookies (“dressed up” here means: pseudo-punk. I was sporting black capri leggings, my new t-shirt, and a lime green pleated mini skirt. The ensemble was completed with a pair of rainbow socks, and black high tops. It's funny; the lime green skirt is something that is “totally me” but I'm not used to wearing that kind of thing. I guess it reminds me of something a 13 year old would wear. I may have to add something to it so I don't never wear it again.)
Even after nearly getting sick on junk food and cookie dough last night, I woke up this morning feeling really happy. I managed to sleep in long enough that Kitty had already gotten up and left the room, which was just so peaceful. I need my recharge time; I can't be around people all the time with a constant level of energy; I wear down after a day. So being able to have a moment to myself (that wasn't me sitting on the toilet or in the shower) was wonderful. My back was killing me something fierce, but I finally figured out a way to shift the dining room table so I can do yoga; I got in a good 45 minute yoga session. After that, I was pumped up and felt amazing (granted, I was super greasy and sweaty, but that's okay), since I haven't exercised in about a week. It was kind of silly; Dolce came over to me twice while I was yoga-ing, and tried to flop down underneath me so I could pet her. Sorry sweetie, unless you want to join me, you have to get off my yoga mat! ;)
Afterwards I finally got out Kitty's boyfriend's Silvertone acoustic guitar so I could restring it. I suspect the old strings had been on there for years, if not decades. I didn't dare try to tune it with the old strings; I was deathly afraid of getting my eyes poked out by breaking and flailing strings. I put a set of lightweight bronze strings I bought downtown (I picked up an additional pair for my Johnson at home). The tuning pegs for strings 6-4 were a little sticky and hard to turn (I assume due to age), so I was careful as possible. It sounds pretty decent with the new strings on, though I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough to give a dissertation on the sound quality.
Kitty's boyfriend's mom did ask me to try and find out what it was worth, and as a result, find out what year it was, etc, so I took the opportunity to do some digging and see what I could find out. The guitar has a black body with white blocks on the fretboard, instead of dots. I searched for a half an hour or so before I came across a website that listed info on vintage Silvertones from the 1940s to the 1970s. According to the website, this guitar was made somewhere between 1962 and 1966 (I didn't try to locate the serial number) because the white blocks were replaced with dots post-1966.
I made a half-hearted attempt to do some research on value, but honestly, I don't know enough to really be able to come up with a conclusive estimate. I found online sellers wanting everything from $300 to $50.
I finally fulfilled my (other) birthday present to Kitty: I bought a 2 pound bag of henna powder off ebay to dye her hair with. We mixed it up a couple days ago (I think; the days of the week are a little fuzzy to me) and I slathered her hair with green goo the consistency of old yogurt. It was SO much fun, and I even got used to the smell after a while. Her hair is now a lovely shade of reddish copper. It'll settle down to a more solid red in a few days after the dye oxidizes.
I've gotten a chance to try out some new food! We had zucchini pancakes (kind of like potato pancakes, but with shredded zucchini) last night, and they were amazing. Tonight's menu was stuffed green bell peppers (filled with couscous, feta cheese, garlic, and white beans), which was equally delicious. I'm going to copy down the recipes for home; add to my stack of recipes that I still need to put in a book (or box)!
Kitty has also exposed me to the TV show Firefly. I have heard about it for ages, but just never got the chance to view it. All the episodes (all of one season, yay for the scifi channel canceling awesome shows? Haha) are on hulu.com, so I can watch them when I'm NOT in Georgia, too. Amazing! I love the show, even if a few of the male characters piss me off on a regular basis, hehe. It's addicting though; it took me quite the effort to turn off my computer last night (well, morning, but who's watching?) and not opt for seeing another episode. I'll have to see the movie once I'm done with the episodes. :)
When Kitty and I came back from the grocery this afternoon, the dogs came bounding up to the front door with their usual rambunctiousness. Noel (the bigger dog) has the tendency to jump on people when they come back home, and as luck would have it, I was wearing a short skirt. I have a nice three inch scratch/cut on my right knee now. I'm all for joyful greetings, bu I would prefer not to bleed in the process!
I'm still enjoying my stay here. There's been some tension and stress in the household lately, but it hasn't really been affecting me (rather, I haven't been letting it affect me). There are moments where I get irritated, but I've decided I don't need to hold onto it. There are a couple things that I will have to speak up about the next time they happen, but I'm choosing not to dwell on them for the time being. Despite my good time, I will be happy to be home when the time comes. I miss the freedom to come back to my own room and enjoy the quiet and peace of my own company. I miss having my own car so I can come and go as I please, I miss being on my own schedule, my own smells, my own irritations.... pretty much everything that revolves around my own space and freedom. I'm writing this while tuning out other people by listening to music via headphones, and it is so very blissful. I am greatly enjoying this moment of mine. I'd love to share this feeling with you, you reading this. I definitely advocate taking a moment for yourself, to feel what needs to be felt, think what needs to be thought, let go of what needs to be let go of, and just breathe.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Belated updates are lengthy!
I realize it's been a few days since I updated. Partly due to the fact that I've been in South Carolina for the last few days.
We drove up to SC to Kitty's boyfriend's grandparent's house for her 22nd birthday. They have a lake house up there, so we were able to go “swimming” (meaning that she and I were on floating things and splashed around; I didn't really want to completely get in because it smelled too much like fish poo), and get a couple of boat rides. The last boat ride was this afternoon before we left to come back to Georgia, and it was raining. There was one pocket of rather heavy rain, so it felt like getting pelted with little rain paint balls (granted, I've never actually been hit by a paint ball, but it's what I imagine getting hit by a paint ball would feel like).
De, Kitty, and I also drove to Newberry to go antiquing on Kitty's birthday (Friday). I kept finding these awesome “African carvings” that I wanted to take home with me. But I highly doubt my suitcase would have had room for anything else by the time I'd packed all of them. There was one guy for 5 or 10 bucks (can't remember which) that was squatting and had this crazy grin on his face. I loved him! He will remain in my heart for a long time.
But while we were there (Newberry), it absolutely POURED. As in heavy rain, lots of wind, and thunder and lightening. Hello southern weather! At least I got a chance to get rained on during that last boat ride. Kitty and I were giggling and singing merrily (guess which song), and were mildly disappointed when we dried off considerably before we got back to the dock.
On the way back from Newberry we stopped at a grocery store called Piggly Wiggly (oh yes) to pick up a few things (including Parmesan Garlic Cheez-its, which were uber delicious and far too addicting for our own good). Apparently I'm a celebrity there now, because I received three enthusiastic compliments on my hair:
Number 1: A girl came up to me and said “I LOVE your hair!”
Number 2: Kitty saw/overheard a woman smack her husband on the back and say, “Will you look there! That girl has all different colors in her hair an' it looks good!” (Imagine in thick, Georgian accent.)
Number 3: The checker gave me a huge grin, and kind of laughed giddily, saying: “You're hair is so cute! I love it!”
I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up in the local newspaper.
Being here has made me realize how much I really want a cat. I'm going to look into it when I get back, hah. My favourite has been the chihuahua/jack russell/shih tzu mix named Dolce. She is super cute, and is quite the snuggler. She rolls over on her back when you pet her so you can scratch her tummy, and her eyes roll back and then close. You can practically hear her say “Ooooh, yesh yesh, more plz. I luvs you!”
Today, after we came home, Kitty and I ventured back out again to pick up some things and get dinner. (Did I mention that I'm driving a van for the first time? That's the car that's available for me to drive [it happens to be De's] while I'm here, so Kitty and I can go places. It actually isn't too bad. I've only run over a curb once!) My beloved yoga pants have finally met their doom, as the drawstring has broken and they're too big for me to wear without it. Therefore, I needed new ones, as well as new pj bottoms, as my yoga pants also doubled as pjs. My old ones broke the night we got to South Carolina, conveniently, so I had to wear jeans to bed and then sneak them off after people had left the living room and gone to bed. I decided to buy men's boxers as my new pj bottoms, because I've always found them to be outrageously comfy and more fun than your average bottoms from the women's section. So I traipsed over to see what kind they had, and there they were. Marvel Comic Superhero boxers.
Dare it be true?
Are they the right size?
Well, they were a small, but a men's small fits me fine; snug with enough looseness to be comfortable. 8 bucks for this incredible nerdiness? I think I can afford that.
We also came across fake facial hair at a quarter-toy dispenser thing outside of Dollar Tree. Of course we thought it would be hilarious to get some and wear them.
So far my general thoughts on Georgia is that it really isn't that much different from home. Athens is a college town, so I don't notice much difference, except maybe the weather (and the humidity hasn't bothered me much so far). It's almost like a mash up of the places from California. I see pockets of Nevada City/Foresthill, some more suburban-y Rocklin/Roseville, and Davis-esque pieces (especially once you get to downtown where the college is. The only difference is that it's very very hilly, and not flat). What's interesting me are the increased number of baptist churches and the more equal ratio of black and white people. Since Placer County is SO white-dominant it's refreshing to have a change. Even if I had to come to Georgia to experience it for the first time!
Kitty and I are being very silly (big surprise) and lots of giggling has been a result. Her boyfriend has a guitar he was given, and I bought new strings to put on it, so I can use it. Kitty and I have had a running list of silly songs we're planning to write ever since we came up with the “C-Tab” joke, and decided it would make a great band name. (C-tab was developed because we used to send each other <3s (hearts) on instant messenger, and then started sending each other LOTS of hearts, which looked like this: <333333. One of us remarked that they looked like curly butts, and the other said that they were Curlier Than Average Butts. Therefore, C TAB was born.) So we're hoping to get at least a few of them done!
My food issue hasn't been an issue, either, which I'm grateful for. The Kroger's that's near the house has a decent organic section, and there's a Whole Foods-esque place in downtown Athens called Earth Fare that has everything else I need. So, yay!
More later; that's all I can think of at the moment!
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