'cause it already is.
It doesn't quite belong on the All-Timers list, but "For Nancy" is a pretty epic song in my personal music history. Suggested by Jefferson, began my still-strong love affair with Pete Yorn, explained a song reference I'd wondered about for ages, led me to "Undercover," which was a major track on my Limoges soundtrack.
Plus, talk about words I should live by.
----
Cape party was fun. Less crazy than I'd expected, but still really fun. There was running around shirtless in the rain (not on my part, but on others'), a host on stilts, beer margaritas (which, honestly, tasted like normal margaritas to me - which is fine in my book), and people I hadn't seen in awhile and was happy to catch up with. Also, after talking to Paul and Andrew about their experiences at Burning Man and shooting Jamie a text, I think there's a chance that the vow we made sophomore year to go together someday might actually be carried out next year. After all, she's finally moving back, back within a single day's drive of me. We *have* to do something epic to celebrate her first year back.
Been reading old LJ entries. Makes me feel nostalgic, yes, but also good. While many of the entries do highlight just how painfully naive I was about the world, they also remind me that despite losing some of that naivite and growing up, I have not become a different person. I'm the same Becca I was then - I write journal entries more or less the same way, I react to things in fundamentally the same way, the same kinds of things make me happy now that made me happy then. I'm just older now - and better at a lot of things as a result.
Go summer. Still gotta find something to drive my daytime hours, but really...I'm getting a lot of what I needed most anyhow. Gotta stop staying up until 3:30 writing and having dance parties in front of my mirror though. It doesn't help with the whole "getting up at a reasonable time and doing stuff" thing.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Coming Up Milhouse
The last few days have been really great.
Like every year in Madison so far, this summer is not unfolding the way I imagined it beforehand, but in a way that actually ends up being better for me. (Not necessarily better, though.)
And I really want to hit a Mallards game with people. Gotta make that dream a reality ASAP.
Like every year in Madison so far, this summer is not unfolding the way I imagined it beforehand, but in a way that actually ends up being better for me. (Not necessarily better, though.)
And I really want to hit a Mallards game with people. Gotta make that dream a reality ASAP.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
...Wow
So I have already had trouble sleeping soundly (due to seeing a motherfucking earwig on the floor next to my bed), and it seems now I may have trouble eating too. Because I found one tonight *on my kitchen counter*. As in totally within reach of crawling into my crackers, popcorn, cereal, etc. And that...that is Not Cool. I've already been jumping hugely when I feel any brush on my skin (which is tough when your hair has just grown to shoulder-length), and I am dehydrated because the pitcher I use for water has an open spout, meaning I can't trust it.
Do I know all this is insane? Kind of. I honestly feel justified in my fear of dumping food on my plate and seeing bugs crawl out of it - even though the apt is so clean it's received unsolicited compliments to that effect. But I know also that they're harmless...but...I'm fucking freaking out.
Called and left a message at the Apt company - if only to give me the support to call again tomorrow. Because now I know they know I'm having a problem, so it's easier to call about it.
God. GOD. Why couldn't I have just been afraid of clowns? So much less likely to appear than earwigs. Way more avoidable.
Argh,
Do I know all this is insane? Kind of. I honestly feel justified in my fear of dumping food on my plate and seeing bugs crawl out of it - even though the apt is so clean it's received unsolicited compliments to that effect. But I know also that they're harmless...but...I'm fucking freaking out.
Called and left a message at the Apt company - if only to give me the support to call again tomorrow. Because now I know they know I'm having a problem, so it's easier to call about it.
God. GOD. Why couldn't I have just been afraid of clowns? So much less likely to appear than earwigs. Way more avoidable.
Argh,
Monday, June 21, 2010
Il pleut dans la rue
I love summer thunderstorms. Even if they make Polo abandon me to take shelter under the bed.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Oh My GOD
How did I forget how much I hate bugs? Holy God, I hate them. It's my most irrational and childish fear, but I've never been able to shake it. I actually have made more progress with spiders than with bugs; I can handle spiders (up to a certain size) now, but oh man....
Five minutes ago I found an earwig ON MY PERSON in my apartment. And I'm still *freaking out*. Like, legitimately and actually unable to relax because I am now terrified there will be another one.
I need to get ahold of myself and nip this in the bud, because when my fear of bugs gets out of hand, it's baaaaad. When I was about 5 I wouldn't eat any food I couldn't clearly see all of (in case it contained bugs) or drink from opaque cups, or drink any opaque liquid. Because of bugs. In college I had a bug freakout and couldn't sleep for like 4 days because a bug might crawl on me. It's *so* stupid, and I'm try- [pauses to slap head and examine a phantom itch for signs of bugs] - trying to tell myself that logically, 99.9% of bugs liable to turn up in my apt are harmless and at worst going to give me a little sting like a mosquito (they don't bother me for some reason). But...God I hate them.
Anyhow. If anyone has tips for keeping bugs out of my apartment, send them my way. Please. For my sanity's sake. I'm going to do a little Googling, but if I read too much about it (especially earwigs, which are THE WORST AND MOST HORRIFYING bugs ever) I will probably not be able to eat, sleep or exist in my apartment ever again.
*deep breath* It's fine. You're fine. You've only ever seen one here, the place is super-clean, relax. Please.
Five minutes ago I found an earwig ON MY PERSON in my apartment. And I'm still *freaking out*. Like, legitimately and actually unable to relax because I am now terrified there will be another one.
I need to get ahold of myself and nip this in the bud, because when my fear of bugs gets out of hand, it's baaaaad. When I was about 5 I wouldn't eat any food I couldn't clearly see all of (in case it contained bugs) or drink from opaque cups, or drink any opaque liquid. Because of bugs. In college I had a bug freakout and couldn't sleep for like 4 days because a bug might crawl on me. It's *so* stupid, and I'm try- [pauses to slap head and examine a phantom itch for signs of bugs] - trying to tell myself that logically, 99.9% of bugs liable to turn up in my apt are harmless and at worst going to give me a little sting like a mosquito (they don't bother me for some reason). But...God I hate them.
Anyhow. If anyone has tips for keeping bugs out of my apartment, send them my way. Please. For my sanity's sake. I'm going to do a little Googling, but if I read too much about it (especially earwigs, which are THE WORST AND MOST HORRIFYING bugs ever) I will probably not be able to eat, sleep or exist in my apartment ever again.
*deep breath* It's fine. You're fine. You've only ever seen one here, the place is super-clean, relax. Please.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Almost Like a Time Machine
So I stumbled upon this blog post recently, and wow. Talk about songs that I kind of love but haven't crossed my mind in years. The picture of the lead singer she gives is especially disturbing. But somehow I still respect his assertion that he can never be my woman. Maybe even more, really.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Music Affairs Pt I: Never Played Out
While I was on my trip, I had a conversation with my sister about the songs we never get tired of. That no matter how many times we listen to them, they're never tired and always awesome. They're not necessarily your favorite songs of all time (though some of them may be on that list as well) - just the ones that are in it for the long haul. I really only have a handful that make top-tier there - but I'm ok with that.
The List:
- "Sparks Are Gonna Fly," Catherine Wheel: Come on Daisy don't drown me this time. The ultimate gym song, and really just great any time you want to feel a little edgy and a little sexy. It wasn't among their few modest hits - weirdly, all those are kind of soft-at-the-edges rock ballads. But I've loved this song for almost a decade now, and still never get tired of it. By far among my favorite songs - maybe even the top spot.
- "Semi-Charmed Life," Third Eye Blind: I've loved this song well over a decade. I remember having it stuck in my head during one of the PT sessions for Cardigan, so at least since 8th grade. It's kind of crept up on me - it was never a song I loved passionately or couldn't stop listening to, but as time has passed, I've realized that I just never, ever get tired of it. I'm always psyched when it comes on, it's perfect for singing along with, everyone knows it (and even if they don't love it, they almost certainly don't hate it - how could you?), and while it doesn't get old, it also evokes a different time. Late 90s rock FTW. [Also, I just looked on iTunes and found that this song is significantly less popular than "Jumper." How can that be?!? Stupid people and their not sharing my cultural judgments.]
- "Mr. Brightsides," The Killers: I remember exactly where I was when I heard this song for the first time - sitting in Trixie in the band parking lot at West, waiting for my brother to get out of school. I was freshly back from studying abroad, and trying to catch up on American music that wasn't "Survivor" or "Love Don't Cost a Thing." The Killers have a lot of songs I really dig - I'm one of like, ten people who loved "Sam's Town" - but "Brightsides" is the home run. Something about the way it rises and falls, how even the nonsensical lyrics ("turning snakes into the sea?") add to the sense of pain and resignation. Maybe it's the resignation that seals the deal - not a lot of songs out there memorialize the bitter acceptance stage of rejected love.
- "The Church of John Coltrane," St. Jude's Infirmary: Talk about obscure. Jamie introduced me to this song while I was in Limoges; though we have never verified personally, apparently it's the only great song the band has. But what a song. Eerie and haunting, great use of organ, awesome build-up of energy and emotion culminating in possibly the best spoken-word interlude of all time (in a heavy Scottish accent no less). That's actually how Jamie sold me on the song initially - she told me that one of the lyrics was "We're a Capra film with the last scene missing." If I'm ever unlucky enough again to have a relationship end badly (which, let's face it, is virtual certainty), I hope it looks like that line.
- "The Crane Wife Part I & II," The Decemberists: Though it was "July July" that gave me Decemberists fever (again, thank you Jamie), this is the one that has the most staying power. It's not that's it's my favorite of their songs - they've got so many great ones I'm not even sure I could pick a favorite. But this is the one I'm always in the mood for; it stirs me every time I hear it. It might be that I listened to it a lot before the first time Jamie, Tom and I were together in Oxford, right after he was accepted. I would put it on repeat and go through my daily errands in Limoges, picturing the three of us together running around Oxford, and it made me happy. I think something of that clings to it. And it's also another one that does a great job building intensity - in both halves.
- "Marching Bands of Manhattan," Death Cab for Cutie: My love of Death Cab really snuck up on me. By the time I downloaded my first DCC album Give Up had already been one of my all-time favorite albums for a few years, but for some reason I never moved on from there until Limoges. And while I love almost all of Plans, this is the clear standout. Like "Brightsides," I find it almost desperately sad, but also incredibly beautiful. I was at kind of an emotional crossroads when I first heard it, and the outro really hit me; it didn't exactly make me feel better, but it made me feel, which was enough at the time. Plus, it's just good advice, you know?
- "Alone in Kyoto," Air: On one of my visits to Jamie, I ended up (for a lot of stupid reasons I won't get into) booking my return flight two nights after she had to leave for vacation. Rachel was kind enough to put me up for the last night, but she couldn't meet me until like 8:30. Desperate to see the back of Oxford, I took an early bus to London and spent the day wandering around. (This was less awesome than it sounds because I had to carry my not-insignificant duffel bag the whole time.) By late afternoon I was tired and somewhat sad; the end of my Oxford trip had not gone well, and I felt humiliated and very aware of my personal flaws. I ended up on the riverbank outside the Tate Modern around dusk; I remember staring out over the Thames at the greyness of the city until I so cold I had to get moving again. And that's when I put on "Alone in Kyoto." And...and everything I remember after that feels different. I remember walking along the river, past an old-fashioned ship, across endless open courtyards, through crowds, with the interiors of everything around me glowing as the sky outside turned from grey to navy to black. The feeling that I was 22 and alone in London became wonderful and precious, rather than awful. And the music was a major part of that, as much as the time of day or the scenery; every time the song neared the end, I started it again. It's one of the best and most treasured memories I have from that year, maybe because I so rarely feel any of the things now that I felt then: young, alive, peaceful, like everything had yet to happen. I try not to listen to "Alone" too often now; like smoking a clove at dusk or the smell of Old Spice, it can take me back to a specific place very clearly, and I don't ever want to lose that place.
There are a few others that come close, and a whole bunch that might have made it had I been able to exercise any restraint when I first heard them but which I overplayed, to the point that they still retain that tinge of exhaustion ever years later. They will probably get their own list at some point, though probably without such extensive commentary. Same for albums - while I'm not a purist about albums and pick and choose from them with impunity, there are a handful that stand out. (One of which, weirdly, is the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. Oh the power of nostalgia.)
I'm interested in what's on other people's lists - what are your Inexhaustibles?
The List:
- "Sparks Are Gonna Fly," Catherine Wheel: Come on Daisy don't drown me this time. The ultimate gym song, and really just great any time you want to feel a little edgy and a little sexy. It wasn't among their few modest hits - weirdly, all those are kind of soft-at-the-edges rock ballads. But I've loved this song for almost a decade now, and still never get tired of it. By far among my favorite songs - maybe even the top spot.
- "Semi-Charmed Life," Third Eye Blind: I've loved this song well over a decade. I remember having it stuck in my head during one of the PT sessions for Cardigan, so at least since 8th grade. It's kind of crept up on me - it was never a song I loved passionately or couldn't stop listening to, but as time has passed, I've realized that I just never, ever get tired of it. I'm always psyched when it comes on, it's perfect for singing along with, everyone knows it (and even if they don't love it, they almost certainly don't hate it - how could you?), and while it doesn't get old, it also evokes a different time. Late 90s rock FTW. [Also, I just looked on iTunes and found that this song is significantly less popular than "Jumper." How can that be?!? Stupid people and their not sharing my cultural judgments.]
- "Mr. Brightsides," The Killers: I remember exactly where I was when I heard this song for the first time - sitting in Trixie in the band parking lot at West, waiting for my brother to get out of school. I was freshly back from studying abroad, and trying to catch up on American music that wasn't "Survivor" or "Love Don't Cost a Thing." The Killers have a lot of songs I really dig - I'm one of like, ten people who loved "Sam's Town" - but "Brightsides" is the home run. Something about the way it rises and falls, how even the nonsensical lyrics ("turning snakes into the sea?") add to the sense of pain and resignation. Maybe it's the resignation that seals the deal - not a lot of songs out there memorialize the bitter acceptance stage of rejected love.
- "The Church of John Coltrane," St. Jude's Infirmary: Talk about obscure. Jamie introduced me to this song while I was in Limoges; though we have never verified personally, apparently it's the only great song the band has. But what a song. Eerie and haunting, great use of organ, awesome build-up of energy and emotion culminating in possibly the best spoken-word interlude of all time (in a heavy Scottish accent no less). That's actually how Jamie sold me on the song initially - she told me that one of the lyrics was "We're a Capra film with the last scene missing." If I'm ever unlucky enough again to have a relationship end badly (which, let's face it, is virtual certainty), I hope it looks like that line.
- "The Crane Wife Part I & II," The Decemberists: Though it was "July July" that gave me Decemberists fever (again, thank you Jamie), this is the one that has the most staying power. It's not that's it's my favorite of their songs - they've got so many great ones I'm not even sure I could pick a favorite. But this is the one I'm always in the mood for; it stirs me every time I hear it. It might be that I listened to it a lot before the first time Jamie, Tom and I were together in Oxford, right after he was accepted. I would put it on repeat and go through my daily errands in Limoges, picturing the three of us together running around Oxford, and it made me happy. I think something of that clings to it. And it's also another one that does a great job building intensity - in both halves.
- "Marching Bands of Manhattan," Death Cab for Cutie: My love of Death Cab really snuck up on me. By the time I downloaded my first DCC album Give Up had already been one of my all-time favorite albums for a few years, but for some reason I never moved on from there until Limoges. And while I love almost all of Plans, this is the clear standout. Like "Brightsides," I find it almost desperately sad, but also incredibly beautiful. I was at kind of an emotional crossroads when I first heard it, and the outro really hit me; it didn't exactly make me feel better, but it made me feel, which was enough at the time. Plus, it's just good advice, you know?
- "Alone in Kyoto," Air: On one of my visits to Jamie, I ended up (for a lot of stupid reasons I won't get into) booking my return flight two nights after she had to leave for vacation. Rachel was kind enough to put me up for the last night, but she couldn't meet me until like 8:30. Desperate to see the back of Oxford, I took an early bus to London and spent the day wandering around. (This was less awesome than it sounds because I had to carry my not-insignificant duffel bag the whole time.) By late afternoon I was tired and somewhat sad; the end of my Oxford trip had not gone well, and I felt humiliated and very aware of my personal flaws. I ended up on the riverbank outside the Tate Modern around dusk; I remember staring out over the Thames at the greyness of the city until I so cold I had to get moving again. And that's when I put on "Alone in Kyoto." And...and everything I remember after that feels different. I remember walking along the river, past an old-fashioned ship, across endless open courtyards, through crowds, with the interiors of everything around me glowing as the sky outside turned from grey to navy to black. The feeling that I was 22 and alone in London became wonderful and precious, rather than awful. And the music was a major part of that, as much as the time of day or the scenery; every time the song neared the end, I started it again. It's one of the best and most treasured memories I have from that year, maybe because I so rarely feel any of the things now that I felt then: young, alive, peaceful, like everything had yet to happen. I try not to listen to "Alone" too often now; like smoking a clove at dusk or the smell of Old Spice, it can take me back to a specific place very clearly, and I don't ever want to lose that place.
There are a few others that come close, and a whole bunch that might have made it had I been able to exercise any restraint when I first heard them but which I overplayed, to the point that they still retain that tinge of exhaustion ever years later. They will probably get their own list at some point, though probably without such extensive commentary. Same for albums - while I'm not a purist about albums and pick and choose from them with impunity, there are a handful that stand out. (One of which, weirdly, is the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack. Oh the power of nostalgia.)
I'm interested in what's on other people's lists - what are your Inexhaustibles?
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