The following is the text of an email I received from my grandfather today:
"Fifty Years of Math 1959 - 2009 (in the USA )
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl
took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my
pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3
pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her
discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters , but she
hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to
her, she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this? Because of the
evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price. What is his profit ?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price, or $80. What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
$80. Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80
and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and
inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the
preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20.
What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class
participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels
feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if
you feel like crying, it's ok. )
6. Teaching Math In 2009
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la
producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?"
...what the hell am I supposed to do about this? Like, not necessarily in an "I feel like I have to take action!" sense. Because frankly, one incredibly depressing conversation with him about his views on the Arizona law in which he repeatedly insisted his views were not at all racist and I was ultimately reduced to responding solely through sarcasm which he completely and utterly missed and led my mother to chastise me severely later on was enough. It's just so incredibly weird to me because in all other respects he's an incredibly progressive guy. He barely blinked an eye when my brother came out (and like the *entire family* except me knew years before he was told), he's got an affectionate-head-shaking attitude towards my father's extreme religious commitment, and he was incredibly supportive of my grandmother starting her own business in the 60s and of women's rights in general. But refer to someone as African-American in front of him and you'll get a 5-minute speech on how annoying that term because "they" only invented it so they could grab up all your tax dollars. Like...how does that happen? Is being in the workforce for 50 years so soul-crushing that it inevitably leads to this kind of blatantly economics-motivated myopia? Are racist views on immigration a little-known side effect of lupus? Beats me, but it's made for some hella awkward moments at family gatherings recently. (And also given rise to an inside joke between me and my siblings that must sound so off-color if you don't realize it's making fun of my grandfather and not minority groups.)
Anyhow. I should definitely be packing or working on my syllabus right now instead of writing this, but whatever. I failed so completely at most of my summer objectives that I feel like I've reallllly got to come through with my resolution to blog/journal more. I wrote 1300 words on a Stickie last night between 1 and 2am alone. Go me!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Songs I Forgot to Mention
"Past and Pending," The Shins: Never fails to make me feel peaceful in my life, if only for five minutes and twenty-two seconds.
"Electric Feel," MGMT: The theme song to my trip to LA, the best vacation I've ever had. I could count on my fingers the number of times I've listened to it since then - it's a wonderful song, but it evokes the feelings of that trip so strongly that I'm reluctant to weaken that power by invoking it too often.
"The Dream of Evan and Chan," Dntel: Can't believe I forgot this the first time around. How can a song be both a perfect account of the sensible nonsense that is the most vivid and emotional of dreams and also so incredibly universal? It's always perfect until something rings to bring you back to this world of concrete and pragmatism. "I won't let go, I won't let go/even if you say so oh no..."It's a wrenching anthem to snooze buttons, essentially - the heartrending description of why you wish you could have slept just a few minutes more, why you tried so hard to stay asleep a little longer. To the best kind of dreams - the ones that inspired Inception, the ones that serve as the subconscious spark to the castles you build in the air when you just can't read anymore and need to lean back in your chair and shut your eyes.
I think it's telling that at this current place in my life, these three songs evoke the strongest emotional response of any of those I've listed in this blog - the three I forgot. This actually could serve as a litmus test for how well people know me - putting a finger on the reason the songs that move me the most did not get discussed in my initial posting.
...well, maybe "the strongest" is in itself a little strong. Because now I'm listening to "Alone in Kyoto" and lord in heaven do I wish I could Delorean myself back to that evening. I might have felt even lower then than I do now, but at least it was a low that held a future inside it.
"Electric Feel," MGMT: The theme song to my trip to LA, the best vacation I've ever had. I could count on my fingers the number of times I've listened to it since then - it's a wonderful song, but it evokes the feelings of that trip so strongly that I'm reluctant to weaken that power by invoking it too often.
"The Dream of Evan and Chan," Dntel: Can't believe I forgot this the first time around. How can a song be both a perfect account of the sensible nonsense that is the most vivid and emotional of dreams and also so incredibly universal? It's always perfect until something rings to bring you back to this world of concrete and pragmatism. "I won't let go, I won't let go/even if you say so oh no..."It's a wrenching anthem to snooze buttons, essentially - the heartrending description of why you wish you could have slept just a few minutes more, why you tried so hard to stay asleep a little longer. To the best kind of dreams - the ones that inspired Inception, the ones that serve as the subconscious spark to the castles you build in the air when you just can't read anymore and need to lean back in your chair and shut your eyes.
I think it's telling that at this current place in my life, these three songs evoke the strongest emotional response of any of those I've listed in this blog - the three I forgot. This actually could serve as a litmus test for how well people know me - putting a finger on the reason the songs that move me the most did not get discussed in my initial posting.
...well, maybe "the strongest" is in itself a little strong. Because now I'm listening to "Alone in Kyoto" and lord in heaven do I wish I could Delorean myself back to that evening. I might have felt even lower then than I do now, but at least it was a low that held a future inside it.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I Solemnly Swear I am Totally Awesome
From GChat:
Jamie: you, madam, really know how to take an idea and run with it
...four years later, and I've still got it. Miss those guys so much.
------
Also, on a totally unrelated note: One of my major, major pet peeves is when TV or movies show people enhancing images in a way that's COMPLETELY unrealistic. The best example I can think of off the top of my head is in FlashForward, where the FBI image tech enhances a frame of a man in a baseball stadium taken by a stadium security camera from the other side of the field enough to see the ring on his finger. I mean what the fuck. Even my 4-year-old cousin knows how megapixels work. Come on.
However, I just watched The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and was pleasantly surprised to see the main character coax hitherto unnoticed detail from an old photograph in a more or less realistic way. I think he even uses iPhoto (apparently the Swedes love Apple stuff, btw). I knew the scene was coming and was all primed to call bullshit (or "shenanigans" as my new blog obsession would say), but it actually looked like something one could recreate in real life.
The whole movie was like that, actually - eerily real-looking. The actors are handsome/pretty when appropriate. People have pockmarks, wrinkles, signs of aging - even the "sexy" female characters. And on and on. Given the nature of the film, this lends everything a suuuuper creepy sense of possibility. Hollywood take note.
Jamie: you, madam, really know how to take an idea and run with it
...four years later, and I've still got it. Miss those guys so much.
------
Also, on a totally unrelated note: One of my major, major pet peeves is when TV or movies show people enhancing images in a way that's COMPLETELY unrealistic. The best example I can think of off the top of my head is in FlashForward, where the FBI image tech enhances a frame of a man in a baseball stadium taken by a stadium security camera from the other side of the field enough to see the ring on his finger. I mean what the fuck. Even my 4-year-old cousin knows how megapixels work. Come on.
However, I just watched The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and was pleasantly surprised to see the main character coax hitherto unnoticed detail from an old photograph in a more or less realistic way. I think he even uses iPhoto (apparently the Swedes love Apple stuff, btw). I knew the scene was coming and was all primed to call bullshit (or "shenanigans" as my new blog obsession would say), but it actually looked like something one could recreate in real life.
The whole movie was like that, actually - eerily real-looking. The actors are handsome/pretty when appropriate. People have pockmarks, wrinkles, signs of aging - even the "sexy" female characters. And on and on. Given the nature of the film, this lends everything a suuuuper creepy sense of possibility. Hollywood take note.
How does "Dr. Rebecca Murphy" sound?
Sorry NPH, but you've been dethroned. (At least for the time being - let's be realistic here.) I'd be all over this man in the hottest of hot seconds. Yikes. I'm actually thrilled I had no clue he was going to be in the movie - I was so excited I almost squealed when he came on.
I mean no I didn't! I behaved in a demure and totally cool way as is befitting the future wife of such a tall, dark and hunky dude.
Oh yeah - all the non-Cillian Murphy bits of Inception were awesome as well.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Music Affairs: Albums that are Made of Awesome, Part I
Disclaimer: Don't interpret the following long and self-indulgent stroll down my musical memory lane as an indicator that I think I'm so interesting and cool that you'd all want to read a novella about my taste in albums. I just really enjoy thinking about this kind of thing lately and having a record to look back on later. And it's cathartic as all hell.
I guess that applies to my entire blog - and most people's, I would hazard. I could and likely will eventually write a meta-esque entry about how I think keeping a journal is the best thing since sliced bread, but for now - albums!
I guess that applies to my entire blog - and most people's, I would hazard. I could and likely will eventually write a meta-esque entry about how I think keeping a journal is the best thing since sliced bread, but for now - albums!
-------------
Looking at the list now, even this half, I'm thinking I should arrange them in some kind of order. But that's a lot of cutting and pasting for this lazy girl, so I'll leave it as it is - in the order I thought of them. Part II forthcoming.
Rufus Wainwright, Release the Stars: Yet another album I came to love in Limoges. It's interesting to me how many albums there are from my year there on this list. Songs too, really. I think it's because I spent like 40% of the time I wasn't sleeping or working walking around the city listening to music. I spent more time listening to music in those 10 months than in any other, and it shows on both lists. The moral is clear, I guess - want to find music you adore? Listen to a lot! - but somehow I haven't gotten back on that wagon. Anyways...kind of like with Crane Wife, Release the Stars doesn't necessarily have my favorite Rufus songs on it. In fact, it positively does not. (BTW, in no real order: "Poses," "Do I Disappoint You," "Greek Song," "Beauty Mark"...ok there are way too many to list, but "What a World" is probably tops.) Part of the reason this album has such a place in my heart is because it's clearly not his masterpiece. Yeah, there's some impressive stuff here. For example, "Do I Disappoint You" is a really, really complex and impressive track; I seem to recall reading that it has an ungodly number of tracks and that the Roofster himself mixed them all as well as writing all the instrumental parts. "Between My Legs" (though I vaguely recall critics being down on it) is a different style for him that, through its complex layers of tracks and rising and falling energy and engagingly weird lyrics ("...and I'll shed a tear between my legs" - what. the. fuck). But unlike Want One or Want Two, this album sticks in my mind not as the vehicle for a few great tunes, but as one whole thing. Which is to me what defines a favorite album. Yes there's the inevitable "Nobody's Off the Hook" or two, but (and I'm quickly realizing this is almost as much a function of how I approached the album as of its contents) when at the end of any given song from this album, my brain fills in the beginning of the next track and is shaken for a fraction of a second when I realize that no, you're not listening to the album, the next song is actually "Shake Your Groove Thing." But I love Release as much for its musical merit as for its nostalgic mystery - even if there are for sure some weaker spots. (I mean, it's not Sam's Town - see below.)
Fiona Apple, Tidal: Hands down one of the most formative, influential and beloved albums of my life. I forget if she gave me a copy or if I bought my own, but either way it was my friend Laine who got me into the album. And we *loved* that CD. It was perfect for us at the time - musically rich, controversial (see: "Criminal" video, aka the sexiest music video of all time), and FULL of emotional songs about dudes. And as will come as zero surprise to most people who know me, I was *constantly* emo about some dude (usually my first bf, upon whom I was "totally crushing!" for years). And Laine was too. So between us we must have "OMG I've been listening to [insert song] all day because it TOTALLY sums up things with [insert dude]" over at least 2/3 of the album. I think possibly even the song that I realized later is blatantly about the time she was raped. So that's weird. But I do genuinely love this album for its own sake. Her voice is so beautiful, and the songs just kind of...wash over me when I listen to it. It's stilling and stirring all at once. I sang "Never is a Promise" in my school's big talent show senior year, and various others for various other concerts...they're good solo candidates because they make it so easy on you. The emotion is written right in.
Pete Yorn, Musicforthemorningafter: Imma come right on and say it - I love Pete Yorn. I love him. I even loved Nightcrawler, despite it's being *incredibly* uneven. I know a lot of people are like "meh, another singer-songwriter," but I love his voice and I love his lyrics. And his guitar. And his sexy, sexy hair. True story: I *finally* had tickets to see him this fall and then forgot until the day before that it was a Tuesday and I had to work in the Writing Center. *sob* Like many of these, it combines genuine musical appeal with good associations; I bought this album my first summer in college, a summer of waiting tables, hanging out on the Cape, and feeling independent. They also played it in Tryst (my favorite DC coffee place), so it smacks of evening work sessions and delicious, delicious chai. The MOST delicious chai. And everyone knows that's what gives an album staying power.
The Postal Service, Give Up: For sure on of my Desert Island Discs. There's so much going for it, especially to me personally: opens with a song about DC, light and easy to listen to as background, good lyrics, and original (or it was at the time). And perhaps most importantly, it was (along with Yoshimi and the Garden State soundtrack) music I fell in love to. I actually stopped listening to it for almost a year for just that reason, but that only gave it staying power. And despite the nostalgia factor, it has really aged well for me. Back then my favorite tracks were "Nothing Better," "Natural Anthem" and "Such Great Heights;" now it's "District Sleeps Alone" and "Brand New Colony" all the way. God, "District." I'm still not sure I entirely understand what it's about ("And I am finally seeing/That I was the one worth leaving"...what exactly does that mean?) but damn can it fill me with slightly melancholy-tinged peace every time. (But my all-time #1 Postal Service song is "The Dream of Evan and Chan," which is possibly the perfect song and, I am realizing now, a glaring omission from my earlier music post.)
DC Talk, Jesus Freak: Yeah yeah I used to listen to contemporary Christian music and even had a subscription to CCM back in the day. A lot of the music I liked back then was crap I would not be caught dead having in my iTunes library let alone in my ears. But I actually think Jesus Freak is a pretty sweet album. And I'll admit it - I still occasionally listen to some stuff off it. "In the Light" is a great 90s song! Plus I have soooooo many fond memories of watching Tim King playing it at youth group and feeling the Spirit/lusting after him. (Sometimes I think as much as 30% of my religious fervor back then was just repressed longing for all the *incredibly* hot Christian dudes with whom I was constantly surrounded. Man they were smoking. But as a result I've come to associate any guy holding a guitar with enforced abstinence.) It's exactly what a Christan album should be - fervent, stirring, and secular-sounding enough to be relateable for people under 30. I mean, they manage to rap the story of John the Baptist in a way that isn't (entirely) laughable. It might even be a better verse than those of "Empire State." (It also refers to the Pharisees as "tripping," which I adore.)
Maroon 5, Songs for Jane: The position of this album on the list is tenuous, because GOD they overplayed it. However, the musical boner I had for this when it came out would make Lexington Steel blush, so I felt it had to be included. I used to go out for drives at night just so I could listen to it (since that was back when I could fill my gas tank with the change I found in the couch cushions). And it's full of great tracks - it made them famous for a reason, I feel. "She Will Be Loved," despite being so overplayed my ears bleed anytime it comes on, is beautiful. True story: right after they played this when I saw them at 930 Adam pointed out a couple that had been making out through the whole song; we all thought he was going to embarrass them horribly, but in fact he said he dug it, and that's why he wrote the song. (I too may have fogged a few car windows with that baby playing.) And I still work out to "Harder to Breathe" from time to time - by FAR one of the sexiest songs I can think of. And then there's "Sunday Morning." And "Not Coming Home." I couldn't contain my love for this album and pushed it on everyone I saw; I actually have a memory of giving a mid-40s gas station attendant the hard sell. (Who am I kidding - I do that kind of thing all the time. See: the Kindle, my hairstylist, living on the East side, minoring in Comp/Rhet, etc.) The best part is that I got into them like ten minutes before they blew up, which put me in the rare position of being able to play Musical Elitist. For all my scorn of those people, I completely understand them - the warmth I feel inside when someone I've loved blows up is both shaming and incredibly sweet. Also, to use an Andyism: Adam Levine looks like someone I'd like to go on a bad date with. So. Hot. Jamie and I went through a period sophomore spring (aka The Best Semester Of All Time Ever For Serious) where we watched the video for "This Love" conservatively once a day for two weeks.
Gavin Degraw, Chariot: Now here's someone I was legitimately listening to for ages before he got big. And though I know he's not an artist who gives my musical taste a lot of cred, I will freely admit to thinking he's sweet. (Though his newer stuff is less impressive.) I saw him open for Maroon 5, then went out and bought his CD immediately the following day because I could not get "Chariot" out of my head for love or money. And like nearly all the albums on this list, nearly all the tracks are really strong. And of course, at the time there were two or three of them that made me all "oh em gee, this totally describes some aspect of my current 19-year-old life!" (I'm looking at you, "Follow Through.") He's also really great live - big smiles, makes his audience feel involved and loved, funny, and just generally looks like he loves what he's doing. (Except for the time he played at the AU student center, when he was not nearly as into it. I lost a little love then, but it's hard to blame him - at that point he was at the height of his popularity, so I can see how playing for an audience of 100 college kids in a glorified food court might not get the adrenalin pumping.) [Edit: So I just realized I left out my #1 story about Why Gavin Degraw is a Cool Dude: when I saw him at 930 the second time, he waited around after the show for at least 2 hours so that everyone who wanted to could meet him. At this time I had a *major* crush on him, bigger than I have ever had on a musician since. Like, rivaling Jessie's love of Andrew Bird. So when I met him I tried to play cool, but my friend Kate outed me and was basically like, "she's playing it cool but in fact she wants to have your babies." And I was like "...yeah, it's true. I even did The FanGirl." Which he then asked me to demonstrate (rapt look, one hand on heart and the other extended towards the stage, usually while shrieking). Upon seeing this he laughed, gave me a huuuuge hug and a heartbreaking smile and ruined me for other men. So that's why he rocks.]
Writing up this list has really highlighted how much the death of Napster changed my music habits. The fact that you downloaded single songs as opposed to albums meant that when you fell in love with a new artist and wanted to dl all their songs, you didn't necessarily end up with any complete albums - and it certainly was not in order. So while I absolutely loved Elliot Smith and listened the crap out of many, many of his songs, I never had a sense of his work as being albums. Same goes for everything by Ryan Adams that's not Rock and Roll, a lot of Ben Folds, pre-Keep it Together Guster (which will be making an appearance in part II), every Beyonce track I've ever had, and on and on. God. Napster was the shit, wasn't it? It also makes me realize that I should go to more concerts. Like I needed reminding.
Next time: the rest of the Limoges collection and the Summer of Love, plus a few newbies. And the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack, oddly. But I stand by it!
Pete Yorn, Musicforthemorningafter: Imma come right on and say it - I love Pete Yorn. I love him. I even loved Nightcrawler, despite it's being *incredibly* uneven. I know a lot of people are like "meh, another singer-songwriter," but I love his voice and I love his lyrics. And his guitar. And his sexy, sexy hair. True story: I *finally* had tickets to see him this fall and then forgot until the day before that it was a Tuesday and I had to work in the Writing Center. *sob* Like many of these, it combines genuine musical appeal with good associations; I bought this album my first summer in college, a summer of waiting tables, hanging out on the Cape, and feeling independent. They also played it in Tryst (my favorite DC coffee place), so it smacks of evening work sessions and delicious, delicious chai. The MOST delicious chai. And everyone knows that's what gives an album staying power.
The Postal Service, Give Up: For sure on of my Desert Island Discs. There's so much going for it, especially to me personally: opens with a song about DC, light and easy to listen to as background, good lyrics, and original (or it was at the time). And perhaps most importantly, it was (along with Yoshimi and the Garden State soundtrack) music I fell in love to. I actually stopped listening to it for almost a year for just that reason, but that only gave it staying power. And despite the nostalgia factor, it has really aged well for me. Back then my favorite tracks were "Nothing Better," "Natural Anthem" and "Such Great Heights;" now it's "District Sleeps Alone" and "Brand New Colony" all the way. God, "District." I'm still not sure I entirely understand what it's about ("And I am finally seeing/That I was the one worth leaving"...what exactly does that mean?) but damn can it fill me with slightly melancholy-tinged peace every time. (But my all-time #1 Postal Service song is "The Dream of Evan and Chan," which is possibly the perfect song and, I am realizing now, a glaring omission from my earlier music post.)
DC Talk, Jesus Freak: Yeah yeah I used to listen to contemporary Christian music and even had a subscription to CCM back in the day. A lot of the music I liked back then was crap I would not be caught dead having in my iTunes library let alone in my ears. But I actually think Jesus Freak is a pretty sweet album. And I'll admit it - I still occasionally listen to some stuff off it. "In the Light" is a great 90s song! Plus I have soooooo many fond memories of watching Tim King playing it at youth group and feeling the Spirit/lusting after him. (Sometimes I think as much as 30% of my religious fervor back then was just repressed longing for all the *incredibly* hot Christian dudes with whom I was constantly surrounded. Man they were smoking. But as a result I've come to associate any guy holding a guitar with enforced abstinence.) It's exactly what a Christan album should be - fervent, stirring, and secular-sounding enough to be relateable for people under 30. I mean, they manage to rap the story of John the Baptist in a way that isn't (entirely) laughable. It might even be a better verse than those of "Empire State." (It also refers to the Pharisees as "tripping," which I adore.)
Maroon 5, Songs for Jane: The position of this album on the list is tenuous, because GOD they overplayed it. However, the musical boner I had for this when it came out would make Lexington Steel blush, so I felt it had to be included. I used to go out for drives at night just so I could listen to it (since that was back when I could fill my gas tank with the change I found in the couch cushions). And it's full of great tracks - it made them famous for a reason, I feel. "She Will Be Loved," despite being so overplayed my ears bleed anytime it comes on, is beautiful. True story: right after they played this when I saw them at 930 Adam pointed out a couple that had been making out through the whole song; we all thought he was going to embarrass them horribly, but in fact he said he dug it, and that's why he wrote the song. (I too may have fogged a few car windows with that baby playing.) And I still work out to "Harder to Breathe" from time to time - by FAR one of the sexiest songs I can think of. And then there's "Sunday Morning." And "Not Coming Home." I couldn't contain my love for this album and pushed it on everyone I saw; I actually have a memory of giving a mid-40s gas station attendant the hard sell. (Who am I kidding - I do that kind of thing all the time. See: the Kindle, my hairstylist, living on the East side, minoring in Comp/Rhet, etc.) The best part is that I got into them like ten minutes before they blew up, which put me in the rare position of being able to play Musical Elitist. For all my scorn of those people, I completely understand them - the warmth I feel inside when someone I've loved blows up is both shaming and incredibly sweet. Also, to use an Andyism: Adam Levine looks like someone I'd like to go on a bad date with. So. Hot. Jamie and I went through a period sophomore spring (aka The Best Semester Of All Time Ever For Serious) where we watched the video for "This Love" conservatively once a day for two weeks.
Gavin Degraw, Chariot: Now here's someone I was legitimately listening to for ages before he got big. And though I know he's not an artist who gives my musical taste a lot of cred, I will freely admit to thinking he's sweet. (Though his newer stuff is less impressive.) I saw him open for Maroon 5, then went out and bought his CD immediately the following day because I could not get "Chariot" out of my head for love or money. And like nearly all the albums on this list, nearly all the tracks are really strong. And of course, at the time there were two or three of them that made me all "oh em gee, this totally describes some aspect of my current 19-year-old life!" (I'm looking at you, "Follow Through.") He's also really great live - big smiles, makes his audience feel involved and loved, funny, and just generally looks like he loves what he's doing. (Except for the time he played at the AU student center, when he was not nearly as into it. I lost a little love then, but it's hard to blame him - at that point he was at the height of his popularity, so I can see how playing for an audience of 100 college kids in a glorified food court might not get the adrenalin pumping.) [Edit: So I just realized I left out my #1 story about Why Gavin Degraw is a Cool Dude: when I saw him at 930 the second time, he waited around after the show for at least 2 hours so that everyone who wanted to could meet him. At this time I had a *major* crush on him, bigger than I have ever had on a musician since. Like, rivaling Jessie's love of Andrew Bird. So when I met him I tried to play cool, but my friend Kate outed me and was basically like, "she's playing it cool but in fact she wants to have your babies." And I was like "...yeah, it's true. I even did The FanGirl." Which he then asked me to demonstrate (rapt look, one hand on heart and the other extended towards the stage, usually while shrieking). Upon seeing this he laughed, gave me a huuuuge hug and a heartbreaking smile and ruined me for other men. So that's why he rocks.]
Writing up this list has really highlighted how much the death of Napster changed my music habits. The fact that you downloaded single songs as opposed to albums meant that when you fell in love with a new artist and wanted to dl all their songs, you didn't necessarily end up with any complete albums - and it certainly was not in order. So while I absolutely loved Elliot Smith and listened the crap out of many, many of his songs, I never had a sense of his work as being albums. Same goes for everything by Ryan Adams that's not Rock and Roll, a lot of Ben Folds, pre-Keep it Together Guster (which will be making an appearance in part II), every Beyonce track I've ever had, and on and on. God. Napster was the shit, wasn't it? It also makes me realize that I should go to more concerts. Like I needed reminding.
Next time: the rest of the Limoges collection and the Summer of Love, plus a few newbies. And the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack, oddly. But I stand by it!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
You know what song I hadn't thought about in ages but is still one of the sexiest ever?
"Criminal." Daaaaaaaaamn.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFOzayDpWoI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFOzayDpWoI
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Note to Self:
Never be unemployed again. Seriously. You're nigh-on useless without firm-time-sensitive responsibilities to fulfill. For fuck's sake.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Oh So Educational
So I was killing time relaxing this afternoon by reading through the archives of my new favorite blog, 2birds1blog, and I found this entry about a sex manual written in 1969. The whole post is worth a read, but my favorite nugget is this one, from a section about male homosexuality:
Isn't homosexuality kind of dangerous?
Homosexuals thrive on danger.
"S and M"? What does that mean?
Technically, sadist and masochist. Literally, trouble. Those who combine homosexuality with sadistic and masochistic aberrations are among the cruelest people who walk this earth. In ancient times they found employment as professional torturers and executioners. More recently they filled the ranks of Hilter's Gestapo and SS.
Now, I'm aware this is depressing and more than a little sick, but...admit it, it's also kind of hilarious. Especially because I have a gay friend who's slightly into BDSM and the mental image of him in an executioner's hood, medieval-style, makes me laugh to the point of tears.
But the best thing about this is that I too own a laughably outdated sex manual by David Reuben, MD. It's slightly more up-to-date, having been published in 1974, but it is still so. Incredibly. Funny. It answers questions such as "what kind of surprises come with nipple-pinching?" and "but *why* do adults masturbate?" This thing is for sure making an appearance at the next Happy Hour I host. Hours of fun.
But the real cherry on top here is how I got ahold of the book: I stole it from the Jail Reading Group donations bin. I'm not exactly proud of this fact, but come on - how could you not??? The cover alone informs me that it's "the most important contribution to my sexual happiness," penned by the author of "Any Woman Can!" If that's not good salesmanship I don't know what is.
Isn't homosexuality kind of dangerous?
Homosexuals thrive on danger.
"S and M"? What does that mean?
Technically, sadist and masochist. Literally, trouble. Those who combine homosexuality with sadistic and masochistic aberrations are among the cruelest people who walk this earth. In ancient times they found employment as professional torturers and executioners. More recently they filled the ranks of Hilter's Gestapo and SS.
Now, I'm aware this is depressing and more than a little sick, but...admit it, it's also kind of hilarious. Especially because I have a gay friend who's slightly into BDSM and the mental image of him in an executioner's hood, medieval-style, makes me laugh to the point of tears.
But the best thing about this is that I too own a laughably outdated sex manual by David Reuben, MD. It's slightly more up-to-date, having been published in 1974, but it is still so. Incredibly. Funny. It answers questions such as "what kind of surprises come with nipple-pinching?" and "but *why* do adults masturbate?" This thing is for sure making an appearance at the next Happy Hour I host. Hours of fun.
But the real cherry on top here is how I got ahold of the book: I stole it from the Jail Reading Group donations bin. I'm not exactly proud of this fact, but come on - how could you not??? The cover alone informs me that it's "the most important contribution to my sexual happiness," penned by the author of "Any Woman Can!" If that's not good salesmanship I don't know what is.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Happily AU After
So I'm about to go clean my apartment and myself so as to be presentable for people tonight, but I have something to say that can't wait -
Maeve is the greatest. The. Greatest.
The greatest what, you ask? There are so many answers to that question. The best hostess. The best interior decorator. The best at performing well in academia and corporate America. (Honorable mention for EV here.) The best shopping buddy. And the best friend I've got within 1200 miles.
Now, Maeve is always all these things. But I appreciate them extra right now because I just got home from a 2-night trip to visit her in Chicago. And what a trip it was. Despite making the plans with me at the very last second, Maeve arranged to "work from home" Friday and spent the day shopping and gossiping with me, as well as staying up late Thursday to fill me up with delicious food and her brother's wine. And...the whole visit was just so, so much fun. Maeve and I don't visit nearly enough considering how close we live, and every time I see her I think how much we need to get together more. I'm hoping this will be the trip that finally gets that all the way into my thick head, and I think it will be - I'm already planning a follow-up to this visit (possibly with a friend or two in tow? stay tuned...)
However, the #1 reason Maeve wins the Friend of the Month (possibly Season or even Year, depending on how her carpet and sheets recover) is because of how incredibly solicitous, gracious and chill she was when I woke her from a sound sleep by scratching timidly at her door at 1am last night, then whispering "Maeve? I'm SO sorry...but I kind of threw up ALL OVER your apartment."
Of course, I don't remember her being any of those things at the time. But she was still all those things - even making gentle and well-deserved jokes at my expense! - this morning when I woke up on her couch. I actually laid there for 30 minutes or so debating whether or not I could get away with leaving a note and some money for a carpet shampooer and sneaking out to avoid the inevitable mortification. But then she and Pete woke up, Pete went out for liquids and McDonald's, and the choice was made for me. Like I said, she seemed genuinely willing to laugh about it, and in retrospect it is pretty hilarious now that the cleaning part is (mostly) over.
I'm going to place 30% of the blame on Pete though - mostly because I can, and because I love quantifying things like blame. We'd all been drinking together on the back deck and I was fine then - Maeve actually was the one who faded first, heading to bed. But I really wanted to go for a walk, and so Pete went out with me. And took me to a bar.
I can sympathize with being destination-oriented; I used to be that way myself. And Pete doesn't know me that well, and couldn't have known I would insist on us doing a shot after our drink. However...the last thing I needed was what one typically finds in a bar. And it's after that ill-advised Kamikaze that things get reaaaaaaally hazy, nauseous and ultimately tragic. I mean, dude. I've thrown up before - I'm a 26-year-old ex-frat groupie. But not since college (or possibly once or twice early MA year when we were all acting like we were in college). And never, ever in a room whose floor is covered in anything but linoleum tile. For realz. And I've never needed someone to clean up after me. Ever.
But if the milestone had to be crossed, I'm glad it was with her. Because if that story's going to be told, at least it's by someone whose version makes me sound like a cute and forlorn 6-year-old, not the aging boozehound I'd inevitably be if the story was being told by, say...Justin.
Oh God I'm glad it wasn't Justin. He makes my momentary drift onto the shoulder of 95 into a brush with almost certain death at the hands of a mortally incompetent female driver, so God knows what would have happened here. Plus he'd have had no idea how to clean the carpet.
So yes. I had a wonderful, mature, heart-warming escape from Madison with Maeve this weekend that concluded by chowing down on double cheeseburgers and fries with my hungover best friend in the Midwest and her even more hungover boyfriend. Epic.
And PS - want to meet this wizard of awesome? Pick a weekend, baby. Because she's planning a huge party at the end of the summer and has extended an open invitation to all my Madison buddies. Because she's the coolest ever. BECCA AND MAEVE 4 LIFE!!!!11
Maeve is the greatest. The. Greatest.
The greatest what, you ask? There are so many answers to that question. The best hostess. The best interior decorator. The best at performing well in academia and corporate America. (Honorable mention for EV here.) The best shopping buddy. And the best friend I've got within 1200 miles.
Now, Maeve is always all these things. But I appreciate them extra right now because I just got home from a 2-night trip to visit her in Chicago. And what a trip it was. Despite making the plans with me at the very last second, Maeve arranged to "work from home" Friday and spent the day shopping and gossiping with me, as well as staying up late Thursday to fill me up with delicious food and her brother's wine. And...the whole visit was just so, so much fun. Maeve and I don't visit nearly enough considering how close we live, and every time I see her I think how much we need to get together more. I'm hoping this will be the trip that finally gets that all the way into my thick head, and I think it will be - I'm already planning a follow-up to this visit (possibly with a friend or two in tow? stay tuned...)
However, the #1 reason Maeve wins the Friend of the Month (possibly Season or even Year, depending on how her carpet and sheets recover) is because of how incredibly solicitous, gracious and chill she was when I woke her from a sound sleep by scratching timidly at her door at 1am last night, then whispering "Maeve? I'm SO sorry...but I kind of threw up ALL OVER your apartment."
Of course, I don't remember her being any of those things at the time. But she was still all those things - even making gentle and well-deserved jokes at my expense! - this morning when I woke up on her couch. I actually laid there for 30 minutes or so debating whether or not I could get away with leaving a note and some money for a carpet shampooer and sneaking out to avoid the inevitable mortification. But then she and Pete woke up, Pete went out for liquids and McDonald's, and the choice was made for me. Like I said, she seemed genuinely willing to laugh about it, and in retrospect it is pretty hilarious now that the cleaning part is (mostly) over.
I'm going to place 30% of the blame on Pete though - mostly because I can, and because I love quantifying things like blame. We'd all been drinking together on the back deck and I was fine then - Maeve actually was the one who faded first, heading to bed. But I really wanted to go for a walk, and so Pete went out with me. And took me to a bar.
I can sympathize with being destination-oriented; I used to be that way myself. And Pete doesn't know me that well, and couldn't have known I would insist on us doing a shot after our drink. However...the last thing I needed was what one typically finds in a bar. And it's after that ill-advised Kamikaze that things get reaaaaaaally hazy, nauseous and ultimately tragic. I mean, dude. I've thrown up before - I'm a 26-year-old ex-frat groupie. But not since college (or possibly once or twice early MA year when we were all acting like we were in college). And never, ever in a room whose floor is covered in anything but linoleum tile. For realz. And I've never needed someone to clean up after me. Ever.
But if the milestone had to be crossed, I'm glad it was with her. Because if that story's going to be told, at least it's by someone whose version makes me sound like a cute and forlorn 6-year-old, not the aging boozehound I'd inevitably be if the story was being told by, say...Justin.
Oh God I'm glad it wasn't Justin. He makes my momentary drift onto the shoulder of 95 into a brush with almost certain death at the hands of a mortally incompetent female driver, so God knows what would have happened here. Plus he'd have had no idea how to clean the carpet.
So yes. I had a wonderful, mature, heart-warming escape from Madison with Maeve this weekend that concluded by chowing down on double cheeseburgers and fries with my hungover best friend in the Midwest and her even more hungover boyfriend. Epic.
And PS - want to meet this wizard of awesome? Pick a weekend, baby. Because she's planning a huge party at the end of the summer and has extended an open invitation to all my Madison buddies. Because she's the coolest ever. BECCA AND MAEVE 4 LIFE!!!!11
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