Who's good at Charades? Who's even /heard/ of the game Charades? Who knows Babette's Feast? (spelling?)
This song kind of hit me out of nowhere. I listened. I thought, hm.. this reminds me of something. It sounds old, but I know it's new. Who sings it?
Challenge you to click the link, close your eyes, and tell me who it reminds you of /without looking/! No cheating. I want to see if your mind is like mine...
the song
Friday, February 11, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Fleetwood Mac
I love Fleetwood Mac.
Perhaps because with this band, more than almost any other, I think, "Hm. This is a good song. I wonder who sings it?" Only to find out....it's FLEETWOOD MAC! Seriously, it's FM a ridiculous amount of the time. I think it's because they had so many songwriters and so many good leads in their group.
I've been on this overtime 70s kick lately. Until I emerge, there will be much fleetwood-ing and not so much fleet fox-ing. Either is good, I'm just in a Mac phase.
On another note, even when life is hard, life is good. I'm going to write this now so that later when I'm not so sure I believe it I will have hardcoded evidence that at one time I thought so, and perhaps re-reading it will remind me of all the reasons why life is good and things will get better almost immediately.
Lastly, I went to the library and checked out Where's Waldo and did it today. I had forgotten how much fun picture finding books are. Everyone, I recommend revisiting this particular avenue of childhood joy. If you never indulged, I encourage you to do so now. Perhaps it will lessen your chances of Alzheimer's by .000001%. And it will be slightly entertaining if you look at the stories between the interaction of people on the page. So just do it.
Okay. I'm done with my two shameless plugs. (They really were shameless, too...)
Perhaps because with this band, more than almost any other, I think, "Hm. This is a good song. I wonder who sings it?" Only to find out....it's FLEETWOOD MAC! Seriously, it's FM a ridiculous amount of the time. I think it's because they had so many songwriters and so many good leads in their group.
I've been on this overtime 70s kick lately. Until I emerge, there will be much fleetwood-ing and not so much fleet fox-ing. Either is good, I'm just in a Mac phase.
On another note, even when life is hard, life is good. I'm going to write this now so that later when I'm not so sure I believe it I will have hardcoded evidence that at one time I thought so, and perhaps re-reading it will remind me of all the reasons why life is good and things will get better almost immediately.
Lastly, I went to the library and checked out Where's Waldo and did it today. I had forgotten how much fun picture finding books are. Everyone, I recommend revisiting this particular avenue of childhood joy. If you never indulged, I encourage you to do so now. Perhaps it will lessen your chances of Alzheimer's by .000001%. And it will be slightly entertaining if you look at the stories between the interaction of people on the page. So just do it.
Okay. I'm done with my two shameless plugs. (They really were shameless, too...)
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
a follow up to a friend's blog
So, I read a blog post a friend wrote about our junior high school Spanish teacher, Senora Showalter. Her post reminded me of so many things about that class, but I will just name a few:
1. There was a lone ninth grade boy in my class. I won't name him here. I had just read Gone with the Wind and he looked exactly like Rhett Butler would have to me. He had to put up with all the little seventh grade girls mooning over him. Hilarious.
2. She wore these flowy printed pants that were always a little bit too short. Often they had a white background with some sort of flowers on them. She always paired them with tennis shoes, mostly black. And she usually wore white socks. This is perhaps why I am okay with wearing white shoes with black pants, but not black shoes with white pants.
3. She would grit her teeth together when she was mad, just clicking her teeth together in a very distinctive way...any of you that had her know exactly what I'm talking about.
4. She was always late. I had her for first period and I was so conscious of time back then - I am a little more relaxed now - so I was always worried, but it turned out just fine, because often we were waiting for her.
5. She made Matthew M (can't remember the last name, and even if I could I wouldn't put it here) cry the first week of class. I remember, we were learning the alphabet, and she had one of those big red-orange plastic baseball bats...the kind that are way too fat and if you actually threw something really hard at it, or someone swung excessively, it would develop a big dent in it that never quite would come out.
Anyway, she wanted to make sure that we could say the d/th sound. I had grown up hearing it because my mom went to Spain on a semester abroad once, so I had no problem. Showalter went around the room, a cagey look in her eye, requiring us to say a word with the d/th in the middle. Her glasses hung on a string around her neck, and they would bounce as she took the baseball bat, which she hid behind her back, and bopped poor kids who couldn't say it correctly on the head. Hard.
Poor Matthew, he had a slight speech issue, and saying the word she put to him was very difficult. She hit him two or three times. I was absolutely stricken; I don't think I had ever seen a teacher strike a student before, and I didn't know what to do. I went home and told my mom. I'm not sure she believed me, but apparently enough other kids told their parents that she got a reprimand (deservedly so). Fear is not the best teaching method.
6. Around Christmastime, Showalter decided that she had a voice problem, and needed to have a microphone on her all the time to be heard, not to wear out her voice. Which was fine - after so many years of talking loudly over kids, I would probably have voice issues, too. She would use it sometimes, and not other times, but there didn't seem to be very much consistency for when she would utilize it and when she wouldn't. One time, she went to the bathroom and forgot to take the headset off. Bad idea, in a class full of seventh-and-eighth graders. Eeps.
7. We had an assignment to make a pinata. I made a gold pear, from some poem. It was Mom's idea to do the pear. I was at an absolute loss. It was easy though because all I had to do was use a balloon and paper that, so I was good to go. I remember I spent hours with a little eraser, cutting the crepe paper in tiny strips, putting the end of the paper on the eraser of a pencil, and then gluing it. In retrospect it would have been so much easier just to roll the yellow paper around and around it but I wasn't sure if that would have passed muster. Plus, manual brainless labor like that is good for the soul every once in awhile. I don't think I got a very good grade on my pinata. Matthew M did show everybody up though by coming with a TIE fighter done in blue and shiny silver and black.
1. There was a lone ninth grade boy in my class. I won't name him here. I had just read Gone with the Wind and he looked exactly like Rhett Butler would have to me. He had to put up with all the little seventh grade girls mooning over him. Hilarious.
2. She wore these flowy printed pants that were always a little bit too short. Often they had a white background with some sort of flowers on them. She always paired them with tennis shoes, mostly black. And she usually wore white socks. This is perhaps why I am okay with wearing white shoes with black pants, but not black shoes with white pants.
3. She would grit her teeth together when she was mad, just clicking her teeth together in a very distinctive way...any of you that had her know exactly what I'm talking about.
4. She was always late. I had her for first period and I was so conscious of time back then - I am a little more relaxed now - so I was always worried, but it turned out just fine, because often we were waiting for her.
5. She made Matthew M (can't remember the last name, and even if I could I wouldn't put it here) cry the first week of class. I remember, we were learning the alphabet, and she had one of those big red-orange plastic baseball bats...the kind that are way too fat and if you actually threw something really hard at it, or someone swung excessively, it would develop a big dent in it that never quite would come out.
Anyway, she wanted to make sure that we could say the d/th sound. I had grown up hearing it because my mom went to Spain on a semester abroad once, so I had no problem. Showalter went around the room, a cagey look in her eye, requiring us to say a word with the d/th in the middle. Her glasses hung on a string around her neck, and they would bounce as she took the baseball bat, which she hid behind her back, and bopped poor kids who couldn't say it correctly on the head. Hard.
Poor Matthew, he had a slight speech issue, and saying the word she put to him was very difficult. She hit him two or three times. I was absolutely stricken; I don't think I had ever seen a teacher strike a student before, and I didn't know what to do. I went home and told my mom. I'm not sure she believed me, but apparently enough other kids told their parents that she got a reprimand (deservedly so). Fear is not the best teaching method.
6. Around Christmastime, Showalter decided that she had a voice problem, and needed to have a microphone on her all the time to be heard, not to wear out her voice. Which was fine - after so many years of talking loudly over kids, I would probably have voice issues, too. She would use it sometimes, and not other times, but there didn't seem to be very much consistency for when she would utilize it and when she wouldn't. One time, she went to the bathroom and forgot to take the headset off. Bad idea, in a class full of seventh-and-eighth graders. Eeps.
7. We had an assignment to make a pinata. I made a gold pear, from some poem. It was Mom's idea to do the pear. I was at an absolute loss. It was easy though because all I had to do was use a balloon and paper that, so I was good to go. I remember I spent hours with a little eraser, cutting the crepe paper in tiny strips, putting the end of the paper on the eraser of a pencil, and then gluing it. In retrospect it would have been so much easier just to roll the yellow paper around and around it but I wasn't sure if that would have passed muster. Plus, manual brainless labor like that is good for the soul every once in awhile. I don't think I got a very good grade on my pinata. Matthew M did show everybody up though by coming with a TIE fighter done in blue and shiny silver and black.
Good old Spanish class. Too bad I don't remember much of what I learned. Does that mean I never learned anything?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Stand in the [Grocery Aisle]
I went grocery shopping by myself today - a hated task. Although I love to eat, I don't so much love to shop for food. Especially as I don't have access to my world-class grocery anymore. Waaaaah.
I couldn't resist - while I was walking by the yogurt/dairy, I looked at prices. Yoplait was 10/$5 - as low as it gets. It reminded me of when I lived in a certain complex when I was at University and six girls shared one fridge. At least two of them would buy about twenty individual yogurts when they went on sale and then there would be no room in the fridge for anything else. These were girls who had seen their mothers buy on the economy scale for their entire lives - at what other university would you see an industrial sized bottle of minced garlic on the door of the fridge? I ask you.
The overcrowding due to the yogurt required every person to shuffle her foodstuffs. Some girls took more than their fair share of fridge space. For the first few days after the yogurt trip was made, when you first glanced in the fridge all you could see was gallons of milk and Key Lime Pie yogurt all over. In the morning I had to play the "milk game" which was like one of those puzzles that has one empty piece and the rest are numbered and you have to get 1-8 all in a row by moving them around. Heaven help you if your milk was in the back of the fridge for too long, because it would get frozen. But I digress.
In the aisle, I stood, looking at the choices left to me. At school, Key Lime was all the rage, with the occasional Orange Creme, or on a decadent day, chocolate whip. When you went to the grocery store, all that was left was blueberry and harvest peach during the yogurt megasales. Here, there's no harvest peach, just blueberry and Key Lime Pie. It made me laugh - the culture I'm from really does love its sugar. Just goes to show that there are still regional differences. But in some cases, the more things change, the more they stay the same: blueberry yogurt still comes in last place. I took pity on it and bought two servings. Just so I could be reminded of the old days when fridge space was at a premium - to make me grateful for all the things I have now.
So thanks, blueberry yogurt, for being a constant. So long, Key Lime, you're out of favor. Harvest Peach, you're always imitation, so I'll leave you for the cleanup crew.
I couldn't resist - while I was walking by the yogurt/dairy, I looked at prices. Yoplait was 10/$5 - as low as it gets. It reminded me of when I lived in a certain complex when I was at University and six girls shared one fridge. At least two of them would buy about twenty individual yogurts when they went on sale and then there would be no room in the fridge for anything else. These were girls who had seen their mothers buy on the economy scale for their entire lives - at what other university would you see an industrial sized bottle of minced garlic on the door of the fridge? I ask you.
The overcrowding due to the yogurt required every person to shuffle her foodstuffs. Some girls took more than their fair share of fridge space. For the first few days after the yogurt trip was made, when you first glanced in the fridge all you could see was gallons of milk and Key Lime Pie yogurt all over. In the morning I had to play the "milk game" which was like one of those puzzles that has one empty piece and the rest are numbered and you have to get 1-8 all in a row by moving them around. Heaven help you if your milk was in the back of the fridge for too long, because it would get frozen. But I digress.
In the aisle, I stood, looking at the choices left to me. At school, Key Lime was all the rage, with the occasional Orange Creme, or on a decadent day, chocolate whip. When you went to the grocery store, all that was left was blueberry and harvest peach during the yogurt megasales. Here, there's no harvest peach, just blueberry and Key Lime Pie. It made me laugh - the culture I'm from really does love its sugar. Just goes to show that there are still regional differences. But in some cases, the more things change, the more they stay the same: blueberry yogurt still comes in last place. I took pity on it and bought two servings. Just so I could be reminded of the old days when fridge space was at a premium - to make me grateful for all the things I have now.
So thanks, blueberry yogurt, for being a constant. So long, Key Lime, you're out of favor. Harvest Peach, you're always imitation, so I'll leave you for the cleanup crew.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Baby, it's Cold Outside
I didn't really know that song until I watched the movie Elf for the first time. That's my favorite scene in the movie. My second favorite is where Buddy says, "There are four major food groups. Candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup!" as he's putting syrup on his spaghetti noodles instead of sauce. It kind of makes me shudder in sugar horror even thinking about it; I don' t know why I like it, but I do. I would never do such a thing, and the rest of the movie is pretty lame, as far as I'm concerned, but I do like those two parts.
This week it was record cold. It snowed and sent the city into shutdown mode. When I woke up on Wednesday the thermometer read 19, feels like 10. Brrr. I was a little ice box all week. My little feet were frozen at work. I wore a scarf, hat, gloves, and big winter coat, not to mention boots with fairly good tread as I made the trek to work. There was no way anybody without those little tire tread makers hooked on their tires was going anywhere.
The nice thing about snow is that when you're a little kid and you don't have to worry about going anywhere, it's actually romantic. Little individual ice crystals falling from the sky that you can go play in, make snowballs with, go sledding on, and do snow angels in - what could be better? Especially when you can just go inside and have hot cocoa when you're done with five little marshmallows on it (ten if mom's feeling generous).
Apparently my neighbors are small children inside, because a snow day was announced, and since there was 2" of snow on the street, they got their sleds and snowboots on and slid down the street again and again, shrieking gleefully at the tops of their lungs until almost midnight. I thought it was kind of cute and a nice background noise until I started imagining what would happen if someone in a Range Rover decided to come down the street going too fast, and the possible ramifications and lawsuits, and then I kind of tried to block out the sound. Oh, how quickly I have become a negator!*
For a few days everything was minimally staffed - hardly anyone was at work - and staying warm and traveling safely were all anybody thought about. It made me think, hm. If I were still down south, I wouldn't have thought about weird weather in the north at all. Weather's one of those things where unless you're in it you just don't care/understand. "Oh, poor you, you're having a snowstorm. Guess what? It's 55 and sunny today!" If you're not in the place with the weather, it doesn't affect you at all. But if you are in the place with the weather, and it's bad weather, it consumes you. I never even looked at weather.com before....not since I moved. But you can bet that every few hours I'd refresh the page to see what it looked like.
It was cold outside. It's warmer now - and for a few weeks, people will be careful, and try to keep a few emergency items on hand. But after a few weeks, it may snow again, and we will replay the situation over and over again. It's like a broken record: snow. panic. cleanup. remember. forget. snow. panic. cleanup. remember. forget. All the way until spring, and then the "forget" becomes the rut until next winter.
Yes, I did just compare weather to a record. Hopefully anyone who reads this knows what a record is. Oh help for those who don't. If you haven't, you're missing out. But you can miss out less...you can experience the cold just by putting on "Baby, it's Cold Outside."
Negator: Professional wet blanket.
This week it was record cold. It snowed and sent the city into shutdown mode. When I woke up on Wednesday the thermometer read 19, feels like 10. Brrr. I was a little ice box all week. My little feet were frozen at work. I wore a scarf, hat, gloves, and big winter coat, not to mention boots with fairly good tread as I made the trek to work. There was no way anybody without those little tire tread makers hooked on their tires was going anywhere.
The nice thing about snow is that when you're a little kid and you don't have to worry about going anywhere, it's actually romantic. Little individual ice crystals falling from the sky that you can go play in, make snowballs with, go sledding on, and do snow angels in - what could be better? Especially when you can just go inside and have hot cocoa when you're done with five little marshmallows on it (ten if mom's feeling generous).
Apparently my neighbors are small children inside, because a snow day was announced, and since there was 2" of snow on the street, they got their sleds and snowboots on and slid down the street again and again, shrieking gleefully at the tops of their lungs until almost midnight. I thought it was kind of cute and a nice background noise until I started imagining what would happen if someone in a Range Rover decided to come down the street going too fast, and the possible ramifications and lawsuits, and then I kind of tried to block out the sound. Oh, how quickly I have become a negator!*
For a few days everything was minimally staffed - hardly anyone was at work - and staying warm and traveling safely were all anybody thought about. It made me think, hm. If I were still down south, I wouldn't have thought about weird weather in the north at all. Weather's one of those things where unless you're in it you just don't care/understand. "Oh, poor you, you're having a snowstorm. Guess what? It's 55 and sunny today!" If you're not in the place with the weather, it doesn't affect you at all. But if you are in the place with the weather, and it's bad weather, it consumes you. I never even looked at weather.com before....not since I moved. But you can bet that every few hours I'd refresh the page to see what it looked like.
It was cold outside. It's warmer now - and for a few weeks, people will be careful, and try to keep a few emergency items on hand. But after a few weeks, it may snow again, and we will replay the situation over and over again. It's like a broken record: snow. panic. cleanup. remember. forget. snow. panic. cleanup. remember. forget. All the way until spring, and then the "forget" becomes the rut until next winter.
Yes, I did just compare weather to a record. Hopefully anyone who reads this knows what a record is. Oh help for those who don't. If you haven't, you're missing out. But you can miss out less...you can experience the cold just by putting on "Baby, it's Cold Outside."
Negator: Professional wet blanket.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Goodwill
Dear Goodwill in the Warehouse District:
I appreciate your presence. Although you have limited parking and your concrete steps are hollow, at least you are handicap accessible and you *have* parking. And it's free. So kudos on that.
The signs on your bathroom scare me, and the fact that your employees need to wear gloves that can withstand Clorox and masks that could potentially ward off h1n1 makes me dubious about your success.
You do carry a variety of plastics, which I like. And while I would not buy a stuffed animal for a small child from you, or dig through various bins of debris to find the lid to the perfect sized salad spinner that I was eying but then realized there was no lid (I could just hear my mom saying, "look with your hands, not with your eyes"...but sorry, Mom, I just couldn't do it. Not without industrial strength gloves.). So I am salad-spinnerless.
However, the shapes of some of the composite furniture you had on display was fairly impressive, and the sewing machine that didn't have a presser foot was really amazing...at least 70 years old. That's how you know the oldies but goodies brands. And the pricing scheme you came up with was unique: 49 cents per pound of housewares. I don't think I've ever seen wholesale plastic cups and old pans by the pound before. And someone with good taste donates to you, because I saw at least 5 Roger Whittaker records for sale. But let me share a secret with you: you're a bit short on books.
I'm glad I visited you. It made me hope that I will never by pure necessity visit to purchase shoes or any other accessories or even need stop by again. But every time I want to feel gratitude, I may stop by. It won't be a pity party. You're strong, even in this economy. You have options. People need you. I need you. Even if it's not for the same reasons that some of the other people do.
So here's to you, Warehouse Goodwill. Keep up the good work.
I appreciate your presence. Although you have limited parking and your concrete steps are hollow, at least you are handicap accessible and you *have* parking. And it's free. So kudos on that.
The signs on your bathroom scare me, and the fact that your employees need to wear gloves that can withstand Clorox and masks that could potentially ward off h1n1 makes me dubious about your success.
You do carry a variety of plastics, which I like. And while I would not buy a stuffed animal for a small child from you, or dig through various bins of debris to find the lid to the perfect sized salad spinner that I was eying but then realized there was no lid (I could just hear my mom saying, "look with your hands, not with your eyes"...but sorry, Mom, I just couldn't do it. Not without industrial strength gloves.). So I am salad-spinnerless.
However, the shapes of some of the composite furniture you had on display was fairly impressive, and the sewing machine that didn't have a presser foot was really amazing...at least 70 years old. That's how you know the oldies but goodies brands. And the pricing scheme you came up with was unique: 49 cents per pound of housewares. I don't think I've ever seen wholesale plastic cups and old pans by the pound before. And someone with good taste donates to you, because I saw at least 5 Roger Whittaker records for sale. But let me share a secret with you: you're a bit short on books.
I'm glad I visited you. It made me hope that I will never by pure necessity visit to purchase shoes or any other accessories or even need stop by again. But every time I want to feel gratitude, I may stop by. It won't be a pity party. You're strong, even in this economy. You have options. People need you. I need you. Even if it's not for the same reasons that some of the other people do.
So here's to you, Warehouse Goodwill. Keep up the good work.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Songiment I
It's safe to say that I love naps, and the world could use more love and more naps. But you'll never catch me snoozing in a field of gold or sleeping in the flowers. What if there was clover, and I rolled over and landed on a bee, and got stung on the lip, and it started to swell and look like a red rubber ball? Then I'd really be a lady in red. (When I was younger, [so] much younger, I thought that song was about me all the time because my hair's red.)
To make myself feel a little better, I'd probably have something sweet - probably vanilla ice cream - with peaches, if they were in season. That reminds me of the time Uncle Dan got stung by a bee and ruined by a little bird within thirty seconds of each other. As long as I don't have a not-so-fine day like that, I'll be all right. But if all that did happen, at least I'd have something to talk about.
Okay. Give me a break. Some of these are a little reachy, but they're what popped into my head. A true sequence of songs and I wanted to link them together. The story is a little weak, but I'm going to do a series of these, and hopefully they'll improve as I go along.
To make myself feel a little better, I'd probably have something sweet - probably vanilla ice cream - with peaches, if they were in season. That reminds me of the time Uncle Dan got stung by a bee and ruined by a little bird within thirty seconds of each other. As long as I don't have a not-so-fine day like that, I'll be all right. But if all that did happen, at least I'd have something to talk about.
Okay. Give me a break. Some of these are a little reachy, but they're what popped into my head. A true sequence of songs and I wanted to link them together. The story is a little weak, but I'm going to do a series of these, and hopefully they'll improve as I go along.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Little Bird/ He-art
brush your grey wings on my head / say what you've said / say it again / they tell me I'm crazy, but you told me I'm golden
sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from a lie / nobody knows what's in the hold of your mind
Something about this song just struck me. It was my song of the week about three weeks ago. I was searching desperately for a different song- one that I thought was by the Weepies, but was actually Regina Spektor. Fidelity. What a good name for a song. So you can guess what my song of the week was as soon as I found it. I kept hearing the "ha-ha-ah-ha-ha-ah-ha-ha-eart" line over and over again in my head, which is kind of funny, considering the lyrics of the song: "i hear in my mind all of these voices / i hear in my mind all of these words / i hear in my mind all of this music / and it breaks my heart".
There's just something about it - going back to the Weepies song - the fact that it's 3/4 time, the softness of the song, the odd harmonies, the words of the song, the mood I was in when I heard it for the first time - that really made an impact. I think I listened to it about twenty times. The chorus, especially, got to me. brush your grey wings on my head like, it's okay, all the bad stuff is gone now. You were confused but you don't have to be any more. Just let me comfort you and everything will be all right. Keep telling me it will be all right, and I'll believe you.
The way she talks about how it seems like nobody knows you, but if you just look for the good things, and don't let the regular mundane everyday minutiae get to you, you'll see how good life is and how much better it can be if you let it. Sometimes life just stinks. It's true. But if you listen to the little bird inside of you, maybe it will gradually get better.
Every person needs a little bird. The wings don't need to be grey, and the bird doesn't have to have a Weepie voice and it doesn't need to sing in three quarter time. I don't even like birds...but I like the little bird in this song. So little birds everywhere, keep singing. Keep comforting. You never know who will need a brush of wing or a hug from you.
sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from a lie / nobody knows what's in the hold of your mind
Something about this song just struck me. It was my song of the week about three weeks ago. I was searching desperately for a different song- one that I thought was by the Weepies, but was actually Regina Spektor. Fidelity. What a good name for a song. So you can guess what my song of the week was as soon as I found it. I kept hearing the "ha-ha-ah-ha-ha-ah-ha-ha-eart" line over and over again in my head, which is kind of funny, considering the lyrics of the song: "i hear in my mind all of these voices / i hear in my mind all of these words / i hear in my mind all of this music / and it breaks my heart".
There's just something about it - going back to the Weepies song - the fact that it's 3/4 time, the softness of the song, the odd harmonies, the words of the song, the mood I was in when I heard it for the first time - that really made an impact. I think I listened to it about twenty times. The chorus, especially, got to me. brush your grey wings on my head like, it's okay, all the bad stuff is gone now. You were confused but you don't have to be any more. Just let me comfort you and everything will be all right. Keep telling me it will be all right, and I'll believe you.
The way she talks about how it seems like nobody knows you, but if you just look for the good things, and don't let the regular mundane everyday minutiae get to you, you'll see how good life is and how much better it can be if you let it. Sometimes life just stinks. It's true. But if you listen to the little bird inside of you, maybe it will gradually get better.
Every person needs a little bird. The wings don't need to be grey, and the bird doesn't have to have a Weepie voice and it doesn't need to sing in three quarter time. I don't even like birds...but I like the little bird in this song. So little birds everywhere, keep singing. Keep comforting. You never know who will need a brush of wing or a hug from you.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Sierra Leone (not the country)
So, I would like to think that I'm a pretty smart person. Able to (perhaps with some tutoring, depending on the subject) understand concepts and theories and put them selectively into practice. Usually Wiki is great for helping me in my quest to become a more educated individual.
For example, you can find out when almost every ship in the US Navy was commissioned and whether it's still in active service or not; you can find out about the Defenestration of Prague and other historical events; you can find out the discography of even a prolific artist (like Gordon Lightfoot! Who I finally saw in person! but that is for another blog post); and you can look up mathematical formulas and business strategems. What a great tool.
But every once in awhile, there's Wiki Fail. Sometimes, we make wiki fail on purpose. For example, making certain assertions about a certain player from a certain hockey team and his lack of ethics in his hitting and taunting practices. (He shall remain nameless in order to allow him protection.) And then other people fix it! To take out bias and the like.
Sometimes Wiki is just darned confusing. Or maybe I was just dazed and confused when I read the article on dubstep. A friend of mine sent me a song and I listened to it, and I hadn't really ever heard of dubstep before so I looked it up to see how it was done, etc. And the result was sort of confusing. But I like the song anyway! It's this one.
Pretty cool, especially when you listen with surround sound speakers like mah sistah has. Of course, five minutes is about all I can handle, but this particular one is an interesting mix of ethereal and dark.
So really this isn't about dubstep at all. It's about the fact that I like music, that Wiki fails sometimes, and that I like learning. Thanks for 'learning' along with me.
For example, you can find out when almost every ship in the US Navy was commissioned and whether it's still in active service or not; you can find out about the Defenestration of Prague and other historical events; you can find out the discography of even a prolific artist (like Gordon Lightfoot! Who I finally saw in person! but that is for another blog post); and you can look up mathematical formulas and business strategems. What a great tool.
But every once in awhile, there's Wiki Fail. Sometimes, we make wiki fail on purpose. For example, making certain assertions about a certain player from a certain hockey team and his lack of ethics in his hitting and taunting practices. (He shall remain nameless in order to allow him protection.) And then other people fix it! To take out bias and the like.
Sometimes Wiki is just darned confusing. Or maybe I was just dazed and confused when I read the article on dubstep. A friend of mine sent me a song and I listened to it, and I hadn't really ever heard of dubstep before so I looked it up to see how it was done, etc. And the result was sort of confusing. But I like the song anyway! It's this one.
Pretty cool, especially when you listen with surround sound speakers like mah sistah has. Of course, five minutes is about all I can handle, but this particular one is an interesting mix of ethereal and dark.
So really this isn't about dubstep at all. It's about the fact that I like music, that Wiki fails sometimes, and that I like learning. Thanks for 'learning' along with me.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Before and After, Part II
So, three years later, I am writing this blog post. It's about the before's and the after's. That would be a great band name: Befores and Afters.
So...either I'm really not blog savvy or google's restrictions or dumb, or a combination of both, but the captions wouldn't work on all of them, blah blah blah...SO FRUSTRATING. *pants* Okay. Sorry for yelling.Here we go:
David Bowie: The far right is what we captured. But when I saw the one on the left I couldn't resist putting it in. Look at that hair!
Left: Eric Clapton. Though I think I will always think of him as he appears on the cover of the Cream of Clapton CD. First run-through.
Sonny & Cher: It's a long way from "I've got you, Babe" to "Do you believe in life after love?" (and apparently plastic surgery...)
Left: Warren Zevon. Whoever that is.
Middle: Gordon Lightfoot! I am going to see him next month. I am so excited; if you could read my mind, love, you'd know this concert is not going to be like the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Left: Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull. Bungle in the jungle.
 |
| Billy Joel |
 |
| Michael Jackson |
 |
| Elton John |
Perhaps the most drastic is MJ. I couldn't bear to put the King of Pop's face up how it was right before he died. Interestingly enough, I will never forget the day he died because I was taking an accounting final that day and I was so worried I was going to fail it.
What will you look like, before and after?
the scream
by Edvard Munch by emmello
in honor of Halloween. Or creative genius. Or random paintings. Take your pick.
in honor of Halloween. Or creative genius. Or random paintings. Take your pick.
Friday, October 1, 2010
by the numbers
Okay. I had some random thoughts.
1. I thought about Lamb Chop. You know, that character that the ventriloquist, whose name I think is Sherri, but actually isn't - the one with the bright copper hair - and I was marveling that these days one could never have a show with the main character called Lamb Chop. It's violent. It's meaty. It's discriminatory. It could promote gang violence. (Eh?) There's no way that in this current PC world a kid's show could do that. What is the world coming to? I mean, clearly it was in trouble, that producers got so desperate as to have a Lamb Chop in the first place....
*groans and hides my face in my hands* Oh my. The things I think of.
2. I am losing my touch. I made a resolution to go online and do at least one algebra problem a day...just so I don't forget how. I think if I had to take the ACT again tomorrow I would probably get a 12. I got out my pencil and paper at work today and started jotting down during my lunch hour. I had forgotten the satisfaction of working the numbers by hand, of the aha! when you solve for x. Or y. Or both. I am by no means to quadratic equations yet (I just started out with 3x + y = 8 or something like that), but I plan to do it. You just never know when you will have to whip out those skillz.
3. I have a song of the week. It really does last about a week. I listen to it an insane amount of times for seven days. Often it's the first thing I put on when I get up, and the last thing I hear before I go to bed. It runs through my head over and over. I nod my head at work and deconstruct rhythm in my head.
I remember entire sequences of events by weeks. It's why I have a SOTW calendar. Like, this week it's the Beatles' "I'm Looking Through You" - but this is the version you should listen to. Not the other, slower one. Bleh. It's the week of bbq @ conference and the $15MM water fund line of credit I've been trying to underwrite. Last week, it was this. It ran through my head, loop after loop, like a complicated puzzle, while I sat and decoded budgets. The week before, it was this one. This last one reminds me of R for some reason. Can't say why. Maybe it's the "alabama, Arkansas" part...
1. I thought about Lamb Chop. You know, that character that the ventriloquist, whose name I think is Sherri, but actually isn't - the one with the bright copper hair - and I was marveling that these days one could never have a show with the main character called Lamb Chop. It's violent. It's meaty. It's discriminatory. It could promote gang violence. (Eh?) There's no way that in this current PC world a kid's show could do that. What is the world coming to? I mean, clearly it was in trouble, that producers got so desperate as to have a Lamb Chop in the first place....
*groans and hides my face in my hands* Oh my. The things I think of.
2. I am losing my touch. I made a resolution to go online and do at least one algebra problem a day...just so I don't forget how. I think if I had to take the ACT again tomorrow I would probably get a 12. I got out my pencil and paper at work today and started jotting down during my lunch hour. I had forgotten the satisfaction of working the numbers by hand, of the aha! when you solve for x. Or y. Or both. I am by no means to quadratic equations yet (I just started out with 3x + y = 8 or something like that), but I plan to do it. You just never know when you will have to whip out those skillz.
3. I have a song of the week. It really does last about a week. I listen to it an insane amount of times for seven days. Often it's the first thing I put on when I get up, and the last thing I hear before I go to bed. It runs through my head over and over. I nod my head at work and deconstruct rhythm in my head.
I remember entire sequences of events by weeks. It's why I have a SOTW calendar. Like, this week it's the Beatles' "I'm Looking Through You" - but this is the version you should listen to. Not the other, slower one. Bleh. It's the week of bbq @ conference and the $15MM water fund line of credit I've been trying to underwrite. Last week, it was this. It ran through my head, loop after loop, like a complicated puzzle, while I sat and decoded budgets. The week before, it was this one. This last one reminds me of R for some reason. Can't say why. Maybe it's the "alabama, Arkansas" part...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)