Friday, April 29, 2005
aimee mann: invisible ink
the beatles: she came in through the bathroom window & i'm only sleeping
bjork: joga & generous palmstroke
coldplay: the scientist [erin]
daniel lanois: i love you
dave matthews band: warehouse
elliott smith: everything means nothing to me
harry nilsson: coconut [josh]
jon brion: her ghost
kent: before it all ends [josh]
marc cohn: girl of mysterious sorrow
neil finn: try whistling this & sinner
peter gabriel: in your eyes
radiohead: karma police [lauren] "tied" w/ knives out
randy newman: i miss you [josh]
sarah mclachlan: black & white
sting: mad about you [erin]
thievery corporation: liberation front
toad the wet sprocket: nightengale song
tori amos: witness & china & happy phantom
u2: with or without you [josh]
oh, man, this was tough! picking just one song? sheesh! answers are up now for the rest of the songs. thanks for playing!
BUT, i still have not decided whether or not to attend the reunion. which is running a little behind schedule as far as i can tell.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
or, it goes like this. it's been 10 years since i left the halls of high school and right now, instead on readying for an impromptu alumni gathering, instead of sewing a button on the shirt i plan on wearing this evening, instead of feeding the cats, i'm sort of freaking out. i mean, what's the big deal, actually? it's just an excuse to get out of the house, right? to grab a couple of girlfriends and go for appetizers and drinks? right?
but, truth be told, i think it's because of the wacky dream i had last night where josh & i are roadtripping and we have the cats with us. only the cats are in the trunk and i'm holding on to a small fish tank with amphibious mice. i so don't even know what that means. but i do know that i have 3 more weeks of this semester and i'm going to take the summer off and just dedicate it to my writing and hopefully eek out something a little more creative than recent ramblings which have been tucked away begging for revision.
the big debate? to talk about my blog, or not to? what's the point, really, except to help explain this whole "i'm a writer" claim of mine. because, inevitably, the questions about where have you been and what have you done and what are you will demand further exploration, hence the dreaded: oh, you're a writer? what do you write? who do you write for? and it's the same mantra i've been whining about in the back of my head: i'm almost thirty and i feel so behind in the game. still, i'm not, i remind myself. i'm on my timing, which is perfect for me. and each day, every experience, shapes me and my creativity.
or, is it that some of us would rather not remember who we were in high school? i've made such progress. who doesn't? right? darn insecurities.
but, i'm bringing my camera, i'm changing into a different shirt (no time to mess with buttons!), and i'll link arms with my girlfriends, dodge questions that are left unanswered, and secretly long for one of those license plate frames that read:
University of California Irvine
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
i've been so anxious to get something done with our rusty wrought iron that i nearly purchased a small used car for what i was prepared to pay. but, with a healthy dose of doubt, stop payments in place and a couple of phone calls, i know i'll sleep much better tonight.
i did, however, hit up craigslist for a very affordable patio set. craigslist is the new ebay for me. i've already unloaded some bad memories by giving away a bbq that was gifted to me by a former coworker. now the indian princesses can have their way with it and i can start afresh! wow!
now, if i can just land some reasonable tickets to spamalot for our trip to new york!
Monday, April 25, 2005
::ask the 'muse::
our first question comes from this reader, who i will call DJ Jazzy TripleX:
"it really freaks me out that people can tell i have been to their website and how i got to it and how often i go.well, DJ Jazzy, after a little bit of research, it seems you are probably referring to my last post referring the Reader to annecentral. what you may not know is that i actually emailed her and my website is my signature, so that is how she knew it was from me.
it feels like a total invasion of my privacy. i mean, how am i supposed to stalk my ex-boyfriends' websites for information about how miserable and unsuccessful they are, when they can employ some techno-geek brilliance that i don't understand (will you fill me in?) in order to out me?
the other thing is that there is this wonderful thing called "http referrer" which logs what site referred the user to their webpage. while i don't yet have a fancy program to parse through these logs, many people do and it a fun tool for bloggers and a useful tool for business owners. also, some sites do log IP addresses, but i don't know anything about how that works.
i hope this information is useful. while i have enjoyed exploring the wonderful world of html, i am far from expert on the subject. mostly, your 'muse is an html hack. even this template was adapted from someone else's design and most likely contains some horrible faux pas in the complex world of programming because of my bumbling tweaks.
also, stop haunting your ex's site. it's not worth the self-torture. besides, i've met your "Fresh Prince" and he's an absolute doll.
my apologies to DJ Jazzy, aka E Dogg, i was having an early 90's fit of insanity. you two don't actually remind me of a poorly written sitcom. and i appreciate the clarification on the ex-situation (which it literally is, an un-situation). your query inspired the ann landers in me (out! out!). you definitely have a handle on yourself & i'm proud of you!
that said, where's the love, Dear Reader? not one question! i'm gonna go do my stats homework & pout!
Friday, April 22, 2005
read on at annecentral
week in and week out i watch the days roll by, sandwiched between days and hours when i'm not working. i do my best to manage my time wisely, but often times i'm shocked at how quickly i'll whittle away the minutes and suddenly its a)time to go to work b)time to go to class c)time to go to bed. where did my day go?
it's dark outside, nearly 8 o'clock. i'm thinking i should have gone to the gym tonight since josh is rehearsing. yep, i said it. rehearsing! just thinking about it brings a broad smile to my face. he loves music so much. even though it's "just a coffee house band", i secretly revel in how much joy it'll bring to the daily hohum of our lives. all this while listening to trespassers william and flashing back to their coffee house days. it's a rite of passage for the local scene, acoustic sets painfully muting the creativity of the players who so desperately long for a venue like the whiskey (another right of passage before you become dave matthews and take over the hugeness of the los angeles staples center).
my point in all this, as i think of those bands you hear in coffee shops or bars or at the outdoor shopping malls, is that there is so much music--really wonderful, solid music--that goes unexperienced. like those days when my friends' band, peoplemover, roamed the oc and la scenes, only to fade into the sunset as bandmembers' lives were called in varying directions. same for deep mosey and, some may remember from way back, woodface. bands with distinct sounds, mostly unique (woodface sounded an awful lot like toad the wet sprocket but they were great all the same) and then into the dust sank the notes and the potential talent still lingering in my ears makes me sad: i'm sorry that they are gone. but i'm also ever so grateful to have been part of the fan base while they were around. being the fan of music that i am and all.
i'm getting the piano tuned on wednesday. i cannot wait to dig my fingers in!
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
::word of the day::
seems to describe what's going on as the writing group i thought i joined disbanded before my very eyes.
disbandeddoes this make me a writer without a home?
v. dis.band.ed, dis.band.ing, dis.bands
To dissolve the organization of (a corporation, for example).
1. To cease to function as an organization; break up.
2. To separate and move in different directions; disperse.
an homeless writer?
i think not
there's always email
Writers, keep writing
it's what you were meant to do.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
::que' onda guero?::
does that really require a follow up quote?
in unrelated news, Beck was on SNL last night and absolutely rocked the house. josh is gone this afternoon but i've got such a craving for Beck's latest and greatest that i might just have to donate to the cause. you see, it's on his ipod, and not my ipod mini (yet).
as far as the modern-day innovators of music, Beck ranks right up there with Jon Brion, Bjork & Thom York (Radiohead) in my book. these people are actually doing something to further the cause beyond the everyday ho-hum that i hear on the radio (with the exception of those gorgeous flashback lunches with the police and the cure and so forth: yummy flash-fried nougets from the past!).
i broke down and bought e-pro for a buck, with supports the wonderful Beck without being totally redundant on our joint pocketbook. he played this one last night and in an instant i was on his website subscribing to his mailing list. yeah, beck! we are so going to see him next time he's in town.
guero: a must listen!
Monday, April 11, 2005
::exorcise the ridiculous::
on a box of Balance Gold bars: Natural Flavor With Other Natural Flavor
on the road: a supply truck with the rear roll-up door painted to look like the inside of the truck. aside from packing material and pink bubble wrap and miscellaneous products...a fluffy white toy poodle.
i think the aspca would like to have a word, gentlemen.
on an oriental rug store, along with signs reading "store closing forever": 81% off!
yep, that extra 1% really made me want to pull off the freeway.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
A quick click and word search through my iTunes library confirms my suspicions and I select the original Radiohead track and rock back and forth as I hash out these very words. It's a funny position. My feet are on the floor now, crossed at the ankles, left over right. My right foot is making this odd grabbing motion at my left foot's pinky with its big toe and second toe. You know, the one next to the big toe. Does that one have a name at all? On my hand, the digit I'm referring to is probably called the index finger or the pointer finger. But, here I am, just rocking back and forth in my strange effort to propel words from my brain, my body, my soul. Gawd I love this song. It makes me wish I still had long hair as I thrash my head back and forth.
My rhythm is momentarily disrupted as the song fades out and fades into Garbage's I think I'm Paranoid. This is what happens on iTunes when one song follows another on a given playlist. Oh, wonderful invention! Oh, praise be to Steve Jobs and all of Apple Company! The reason this tune erupts from my speakers is because I searched for the word "paranoid" to quickly get what I needed, and this song is simply another in my library which contains that word. Switching gears, I begin to bounce and sway to the new beat in my chair. Thankfully I don't have any other such songs beginning with the word "paranoid" because my right foot is beginning to feel tingly as it loses feeling, despite the monster grip my toes are giving to that baby toe.
Uncross legs. Sit down. Stand up. Sit down again. Another Radiohead tune comes to mind. I click the search field and type s-t-a-n-d. Lots more songs slide into the queue on my playlist. Crossing my legs again, I concentrate decisively on this task at hand. After all, I should think of something creative to write. Something witty. I think about avoiding my short story. Not deliberately. But breathing room is a necessary thing for a piece which kind of sapped me of my flow. What will happen in November? I'm determined to join in on National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). What then? As Sheryl Crow so cleverly puts it, it's Hard to Make a Stand. Stand up. Sit down. Cross legs, criss-cross-applesauce as I say to the little ones I teach in Sunday School. What am I writing about again?
This is my method of procrastination. Or merely a preference for something to be moving in the air, squelching the silence from the room and molding my spirits into better moods. A more creative mood. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could simply order such a bless-ed commodity as that?
"Welcome to Del Taco. May I take your order?"
"Yeah, I'd like a number five, with a root beer, and a Muse on the side."
I nod and smile to myself--I made a funny! Is anyone else buying it? Glancing furtively around the room, desperate for approval, my backend sore from sitting for hours in this chair, pushing away time when I realize my sole audience is a drowsy tabby cat draped atop the unplugged television.
Uncross legs. Tuck left foot under my caboose and prop right foot on the foot rest (that wooden slat crossing from one leg of the chair to the other). Music is the most pivotal thing in my life. I think sometimes it hinders my progress because my attention is distracted. iTunes is particularly distracting as I can grab an entire album or snag a single in a matter of seconds. Truth be told, cards on the table, hiding nothing, I will tell you this: writing is a new and unusual thing for me. Writing like this, writing for work, as a means to an end, it is confusing and disorienting. It is no longer a leisurely activity which flitters and flickers in the wind. It is my duty. My mantra: I write. It is my occupation, published or not. Degree or no. Frankly, the responsibility makes me want to pee my pants! Inject what you want into that: terror, excitement, IBS issues; it's a daunting task, to write. I wouldn't mind being one of those who is admired by half-a-dozen people I've never met.
But, I'm writing for me.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Tonight, it's too quiet
So I pad through the dark
And call you on the phone
Push your old numbers
And let your house ring
Till I wake your ghost
Let him walk down your hallway
It's not that quiet
Slide down your receiver
Sprint across the wire
Follow my number
Slide into my hand
Its the blaze across my nightgown
It's the phone's ring
I think last night
You were driving circles around me
I can't drink this coffee
Till I put you in my closet
Let him shoot me down
Let him call me off
I take it from his whisper
Your not that tough
It's the blaze across my nightgown
It's the phone's ring
I think last night (you were in my dreams)
You were driving circles around me
Kristin Hersh (Throwing Muses) duet with Michael Stipe (REM)
From the album Hips and Makers
probably in my top 10 of favorite, hauntingly gorgeous songs. i've always wondered who it belonged to. thanks to the wonders of iTunes, i no longer wonder.
Friday, April 08, 2005
let's write a haiku
let's not and say we did, hum?
i don't think that's fair!
mom & me
stop and smell the rose
i hope thorns won't hurt my nose
where is my coffee?
my sleeves make me right hungry now
work starts in one hour
monty up, perches
bears his weight and creaks
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
so, my errors flickered and flapped before me as i took my criticisms like a, er, woman, as best i could. all the good intentions i have don't mean the job gets done and my part-time schedule combined with full-time job duties finally caught up with me. on My Precious Day Off.
sometimes the banking world gets me down. essentially, i juggle two responsibilities: i'm your teller, but i also open new accounts. a responsibility that keeps me not bored, but also leaves me discombobulated. my responsibilities are clear to me. my ability to balance those responsibilities is challenging: do i sneak over to my desk on a busy day, under the glaring eyes of an ever growing line of customers who know that i can process their transactions in a blink of an eye? or, do i remain at my window on the teller line and ease the burden of my co-tellers on a busy monday? well, i have my answer now. my boss insists i get the urgent stuff done.
now, all i'm left to dread and ponder is the stack of pending work which my boss has sifted through with a critical eye and a potentially thorough chastizing from her in the AM. not that i'm excusing what's deserved on my part, but again with my good intentions. hello? good intentions here. can you go easy on our girl? she's not really feeling up to the brow-beating and recognizes the error of her ways and fully intends to put things right-side up, and straightaway. please forgive her!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
::today's post brought to you by the letter p::
i'm typing this and the whole room reeks of ammonia and hot cat crap. we had nice weather today, so the room is extra warm from the 4 o'clock sun and extra putrid from i-have-no-idea-what. a few months ago i had similar issues in the same room. now i've torn the place apart trying to locate whatever "accident" got leaked onto the carpet. we should just chuck the carpet altogether now and spring for wood flooring. i'll even take looks-like-wood flooring. sniffing and groping and crawling around have revealed no spot, however, just this awful stench in the room. the open wind diffuses the scent into the hallway, and i wonder...
isn't it awful what inspires me to write these days?
Sunday, April 03, 2005
You are very pretty.this, honestly, was my first comment ever. what made it mostly creepy was (a) i have no clue who this chap is and (b) it was a picture of my pal, erin, and her dog, chloe. actually, that's not too creepy--she would probably find it amusing, no less. my response, of course, was to remove all posts containing distinguishable pictures of friends since my parents have instilled in me a healthy (or otherwise) sense of paranoia about the internet and stalkers in general.
rest assured, future fotos will contain pictures of inanimate objects and strangers. preferably ugly.
this month's photo on my rachael hale calendar is just about the most precious thing i've ever seen.
Friday, April 01, 2005
::the laundry room::
i have to leave for work soon. but tell me, is anyone getting pranked today? or, what is your favorite april fool's memory? for me (though it's not very funny), i bought tickets to see wayne brady @ the improv tonight. a couple weeks ago the improv called. the show was cancelled.
that's not very FUNNY now, is it, wayne?