Random Thoughts: On the ever present distant future....

Cell Phones and Internet access have made communication and complicated tasks seem easy... but I've found that once you're hooked, once you depend on them for school, or work, or even pleasure, it's almost impossible to escape. 

I spent my first morning at the beach working on programming for my preschool camps so I could get orders in on time and dealing with a 'serious car issue'. I could do these things because my Mom was nice enough to drop me off at a small coffee shop on the island that offers internet access and because I gave my cell number to the auto-shop to contact me with any 'issues' (that I hoped weren't there). 

Once you've given yourself the ability to make contact at anytime, anyplace, in any situation, you've also given others the ability to make contact with you.

....I don't know which I would prefer. Either way, the problems exist, it's just a matter of when they're taken care of. I guess if I want to keep up with the rest of the world, be able to drive home on Sunday, and keep my job, I need to 'be reachable'.

Random thoughts on the night of Barack Obama's acceptance speech

I'm listening to the trance album "From Here We Go Sublime" by the Field and reading Pitchforkmedia.com's list of the top 200 albums of the 60's. I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to go over to a friends house and hear Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) on his dad's record player or sitting at the community pool and hearing Del Shannon's "Runaway" on the radio. At a time when the wealth of all collected culture is at my fingertips, I feel overwhelmed, blessed, but somewhat cheated. Where were you when you first heard Green Day or Marilyn Manson? I was sitting on the couch with my brother drinking a Pepsi watching MTV during one of the last few glorious summers of MTV brilliance when their programming started around 6 o'clock pm and everything before was music videos. Beavis and Butt-head did the same thing as my brother and I. Watching music videos by everyone from Primus to Soundgarden to Iron Maiden. The next generation of music geeks will have their own challenges to overcome. The death of the album will come to a great loss to music. But, the album really started becoming a concept around the time of "Dark Side of the Moon" and arguably earlier with "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." Before then, singles sold by the millions. One record, two songs. Side A. Side B. Did anyone ever suspect that the album would be a revolutionary advancement in the way pop music was released and listened to?

A lot of the songs on the list is by bands I've never heard of, but no the songs (at least the choruses) by heart. Like "My Boyfriend's Back." Everyone knows that song. It's fucking great. Do you know who sang it? It was...hang on...The Angels. What about "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells? Another great song. How many of the musicians of the '00s will remain anonymous, but their songs will live on in oldies internet radio history? Or at least make somebody's top 200 songs of the 2000s. What about the Macarena, or that song Mambo #5. I'm having trouble remembering who wrote those songs right now (well, Lou Vega sang Mambo #5) but what about in 40 years? How will Britney Spears be remembered 40 years after her last heart wrenching photo of her appears in some super market tabloid. How long until we stop caring? My parents have a lot of obscure albums by bands I've never heard of like Spooky Tooth. Were they like an Indie band back then? Had a couple of records and a handful of devoted fans then lost in rock obscurity only to be revisited every decade like a lost relative?

How can one keep track of all of these great albums, filed away in a certain cabinet of memory forgotten along with Algebra and the names of all the presidents. I'm 24 years old. I've been listening to pop/rock music for over a decade. I can't imagine life without the ipod. I can't imagine not having my lifetimes worth of music in my hand at any given time. If all the albums on my ipod were actual vinyl records, they could fill a house. Already, music has clogged, warped, reshaped and defined my mind. The way I think, the way I write, dream, act, learn, forget, love, hate and function as a person has all been molded by thousands and thousands of rock songs, listened to on repeat. The blips and beeps of The Field coerce my brain waves and help me concentrate on drifting off and letting my fingers do the thinking.

The definitive book on pop culture music geeks High Fidelity said it best. "Books, TV, music, these things matter." But when you become such a snob that you immediately judge a person by looking through their ipod and seeing that they don't have a single Radiohead song except Creep or Talk Show Host. Or you turn your nose up when they have one of your favorite bands on the artist list, only to discover that they only have the one single released on it. Or you scoff when you notice that they only have a few actual, full albums on their entire ipod. What are you to do? Keep it to yourself and hope that their virtue as a person will make up for their complete lack of musical taste? Assume that music is only to be enjoyed for this person when working out? Perhaps they only have a few songs on their ipod because they listen to vinyl at home, or have an extensive CD collection and a 200 disc changer. hmmm. Judging people based on their music is as old as grunge revisionists, but it's so hard not to do.

I guess what this rant is about is how music changes. I can drive through any American city and find at least one "Oldies" radio station and listen to the Beatles, the Beach Boys, Diana Ross and the Supremes, the Who, etc. Those songs and artists were huge in the 60's and everyone listened to them because it was the only medium for receiving new music. The record companies gave them to the one radio station in the area and they played it and people bought it and people have been listening to that music for 40 years. But what about the music I'm into? How will Bright Eyes ever be remembered the way Bob Dylan was when 90% of Americans have never heard one of his songs (except for all of those people who saw Knocked Up). Every time I look at the iTunes top 10 albums, I'm amazed at how few I've even heard of. Who the fuck is Shwayze anyway? Most of those albums that all of those iTunes users are listening to, I'll never hear. Has music finally reached the utopia of a truly democratic release?

The Distant Future...cont.

In continuing the glimpses into the distant future (also known as today), my curiosity and boredom brought me to the iTunes application store, or "app store." This is truly the wave of the future, for those that are fortunate to have either an iPhone or an iPod Touch. My first views of the app store were of the "Most Paid Apps." The first of which was simply called Kobi. This app is for free and it was described as imagine looking into a fish pond, with a fish swimming serenely around, then imagine you can run your fingers through the water, scaring away the fish, only to have them return a few seconds later. Amazing, right? This app was free. Who would pay for virtual fish pond anyway? Who would pay to have it made?

I looked at others that were designed to relax someone. One said something like, have you ever tried to relax in an airport or busy coffee shop with steamers running and people talking? Try this new app which allows you to listen to ambient sounds that will help you relax.... So, in other words, if you have no music on your iphone or ipod that helps you relax, you can use this app that allows you to listen to rain storms, rain forest noises, beach noises etc. wherever you are. Well good, now I can erase my Enya collection from my iphone and download this app for .99 instead and listen to screech monkeys and rain while I sit at a noisy cafe, trying to relax.

Others seemed more like useful time killers like the ivote app which reveals statistical polls like "Who would you vote for in the presidential election?" showing you the results of the whole world, country, state, city. In the display, Barack Obama would win with 68% of the world voting for Obama. I really don't know where they get these stats. Then there was the isecrets app. This is actually pretty cool. Users can anonymously post secrets (That was an intentional name-drop to the original art project called Post Secret) using this app and you can read these secrets and rate them. I'm sure there are some juicy ones and a lot of horse shit too. One user rated it as "It allows me reveal secrets in an artistic way." You can add a picture, pick the background color from an enormous spectrum of digital colors, etc.)

Then, on to music. ichord allows the user to play chords on the screen, choose from chords, and basically compose songs on your iphone, for those rock star composers not-so-cool-enough to have an iphone or ipod touch on them all the time and not their guitar. idrummer was the same concept. Oooh, then there's virtual deck which allows you to mix, scratch, speed up, slow down, etc songs on your ipod using your finger to move the virtual record back and forth like a real DJ. That one is pretty cool. I guess the apps are like all things in life that you can buy. They range from neccisary to useless. Useless being the virtual maracas. Yeah, you shake your $300 iphone ($400 if you bought it last year) and it sounds like maracas. When would this ever come in handy? When you're at a merger of a Mexican company and all the CEOs brought their tamborines and guitars and three-piece horn sections and you, being the only gringo in the meeting have nothing to use to contribute to the Mariachi Merger...Wait, I know I've got my iMaracas. Of course, you would be the only one able to hear it, but it might help you look less like the white supremicist that you are. Or you coud always download Kazoo for free. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like.

I could go on and on. It's worth checking out the app store just to see what's out there. A lot of these apps are really cool like the Concert Photo app which allows you to take pics of a concert and post them in real time and see other people's pics of the same shows you went to. But as pointless as some of these are, these are just prototypes for apps yet to come, cooler apps, more pointless apps. Either way, it is definitely something that's going to be around for a long time, even after the human's are dead dead dead dead dead.....

rainy tuesday

My second day of work over. I like the routine. Music on the drive there with a diet coke. NPR on the way home, which I continue to listen to when I get home and fix dinner. Rainy today, finally. I haven't seen rain since I left Munich. I can't believe we've never been to the Macado's at Tanglewood. Not bad, right? Pitchers, Rolling Stones and guitars on the walls. 90's nostalgia and friendly staff. Pitchers of beer, Hobbit mugs. I won't go running today. Maybe the coffee shop. Does anyone miss Momo?

Dear Family-

I think it is time for another Small Writing. Like before they can be due on Monday, but let's go for 10pm. One thing that we should do is all post the Small Writings at that time so that we don't read other people's before all are posted. I believe this will be more effective so that we don't think about what someone else wrote while we are writing. Let me know what you all think.

On to the real stuff: the topic. This Small Writing should be about "beliefs" - these can be religious/non-religious, political, dietary, or just about anything. It should be something that you strongly believe in, but the writing shouldn't try to convince us to believe what you believe. That is only or evangelical "christians" and mormons.

Again, Due Monday 9/1/08 @ 10pm - no sooner. (unless otherwise discussed)

(Jenny - its your turn for a topic next time!)

...to blog

Jenny likes John and Brett Friday Night Sets... and playing adult beginner music on the piano.

blog to blog to blog to blog

John doesn't like Okkervil River, but likes Band of Horses.

Ok, so Brett does like Band of Horses. He doesn't like Fleet Foxes...yet.

How could you not like Band of Horses?

I go from apathy to rage to anger to frustration and in the end I still masturbate and do all of these self-absorbant human things we do. What the fuck are we supposed to do? Elect officials that are the "lesser of two evil" what kind of democracy is that"? Why don't we be honest and say we're voting for the person who is going to do the least damage while the real people in power (CEO's of companies) change the world. I don't have any solultions. All I have are questions that should be asked and I'm always worried whenever people assume questions about their politics are a personal attack on their own beliefs. Why do we shut down when politics get too real?

Small Writing #1 (addition)

Random 'writer' Thought (on reading Gypsy's post)

A 'writer' is not a person... it's an action and an idea. Writer can end or begin anywhere. It's words that are coming from you and at the same time, completely not yours. Writer uses words to make images and ideas and people and places and feelings and forms. Write the alphabet; write the next great 'masterpiece'; write on the beach in the sand while the tide washes it away instantly. It's all the same thing.

Small Writing 8.17.08

"All literature is gossip"--Truman Capote

Writing for me has always been a form of imitation. Writing in high school was wanting so desperately to write something as pure and true as JD Salinger. I wanted that so bad that I wanted my life to seem worse than it actually was so that I could have somewhere deep from which to write. What I found was that it made my writing contrived and fake. When I was in Europe, I wrote for posterity, or because I didn't feel I had anyone to really talk to or relate to. It felt good to write then because I actually had something to write about. It was about my loneliness, my sadness, my elation, my fear and all of the extreme ends of the emotional spectrum.

Writing is personal experience strained through the filter of the limitations and constraints of words. How could I express seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time, or landing in the United States after having been gone for so long? These are the limitations we, as writers, must confront. The English language is as dynamic as they come. New words are added and new meanings are ascrbied to old words every day. The average vocabulary is probably ten times as big as Shakespeares. We now have Spanish words, Native American words, French derivations, German derivations (or even German words like Kindergarten). But within these boundaries, we are asked to describe the indescribable. We are asked to desctribe passion, love, sex, hate, fear, indifference. But somehow we manage and occasionally, a nugget of truth will come out. The right combination of words are written on a page and the exact feeling of a very specific moment is imparted on the reader and understanding is gained.

Sometimes the meaning can be expressed in a few words like "immutable desire" and the reader is stunned that someone else, some unknown person also has felt what the reader was unable to put into words. Other meanings are purely contextual and can bring up feeling of despair and sadness like "cancer" or "chemo." Other times, a write must use more abstract aproaches like metaphors or similes. "I felt like all of the systems that make my body work immediately and simultaneously ceased functioning and every cell in my body contracted as if every atom were waiting for the response. And then it all relaxed after hearing the word "yes." Writers exaggerate of course. Shakespeare was an amazing writer, but I never once believed that he would kill himself for a woman (or that he would ever want to have sex with one).

Writing has brought me a lot of clarity, but it has also made things seem more complicated than they needed to be. There's a bunlde of note book pages that has stuck with me since high school--random writings that I spent long nicotine-feuled nights creating. Chain-smoking and wishing so badly I could write something good, trying to be so dramatic, trying so hard to sound cool. Now I write just to sound genuine. My dad told me in high school that a good writer has to have something good to write about. Now, after having graduated from college and spent the past two years either managing a locally operated coffee shop and living in Munich, Germany I ask myself...Do I have something to write about now? Have I ever really risked anything? Have I ever lived? Does it make a difference? Should a writer end a paper with a question?

Small Writing #1

The Struggle to Get Words On the Page:

"This is our decision to live fast and die young.

We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.

Yeah it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?

Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?"

-MGMT, "Time to Pretend"

Over the past couple of months I have found it difficult to find time to write. I could write at work. I could write at home. Why am I not writing?

I'm not writing because I'm trying to spend most of my time with my friends. I almost want every moment to be fun and full of laughter. I have read enough to know that this is an impossibility even in the "land of the free." I have gotten to the point where I am starting to feel depressed because I am bottling things up and not letting my emotions get out. To me, writing is liberation (literally and metaphorically). In my journal, I can write whatever the hell I want. It could be nonsense. It could be random words put together as a sentence that, were they rearranged, they could mean something. It could be the next New York Times Best Seller. It could be a lot of different things. The question is, does it matter?

To answer my first question: The reason that I'm not writing is not because I have nothing to write about. I have plenty to write about. The problem isn't that I am afraid of my audience. That doesn't bother me (this is on the internet and probably read by people I don't know or will never know and they could think that I'm the biggest idiot in the world, c'est la vie.) The reason that I haven't been writing is because I haven't made myself do it. I wrote a story about six months ago that probably wasn't good, but I made myself do it, and that is the only way that I'm going to get better at writing. When I was writing that story, I was getting up at 9 am, having coffee, reading a little, maybe eating something, and then getting to it--writing whatever I felt like writing. At that point, I looked forward to it. I want to be that way again.

To answer my second question: yes, writing does matter--even if it sucks. It can be theraputic, successful, a complete failure, a prize winner, a vomit-inducing blunder, or just a way to get something out on a page. Yesterday, as I unsullied my car, I found a journal from the spring. At that time I was writing so often and so quickly that I had to use cursive to get it all out faster. After reading a couple passages the ideas started flowing again and getting me in the mood to write.

Writing may be a tough process that involves a lot of self-discipline, I just know in the back of my mind that I would rather write than get an office job and "wake up for the morning commute."

Hot or Not?

Reid (aka Chazzy) Dougherty: Hottest Bartender in Roanoke....

Okay folks, Reid's up for Hottest Bartender in town and he needs your votes! We all love his Jerry Seinfeld smile and his precise attention to detail.  He cooks a kick ass Curry (all the while with hurting skin) and eats applesauce like it's the last time that sweet mush will ever touch his tongue. Wondering what time it is? Ask Chazzy and he'll check his phone and wristwatch simultaneously for accuracy. 

So, take a minute and click here to cast your vote... 

He's a Rocker.

He Rocks Out!

Small Writing #1

Writing On Writing On Writing On Writing...

There is then creative reading as well as creative writing. 
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

The best advice I've ever seen on writing is: "Write only what you want to write. Please yourself." (1)  ...write what you would read. 

I write different things for different reasons. I write blogs because they give me practice. When I sit down to write after not doing so for a while, my thought processes take a while to adjust from conversation to 'conversation on paper'. My fingers move slowly across the key board. But, after a few tries, a few hours, eventually a few minutes, muscle memory kicks in and my fingers follow my ideas almost simultaneously. I write journal entries --in a blog, a notebook, or on the computer, for me. Those entries are not always for the writing, but for the reflection. I work out problems that way. I talk about things I don't really want to talk to anyone else about. I do all those things so that I can write stories. I want to write my favorite book.

His Dark Materials is one of my favorite series. It's a page turner! It takes place in various worlds, there's magic (real life and imaginary). There's real problems, real struggles, real issues. It's the perfect combination. It's not preachy... the preachiness is shadowed by story, plot, and character. The characters are alive. To write is to create something real and living. The words fill the page, the writers imagination is translated into code that's then re-written by each reader, even the writer rewrites her own stories when she goes back and reads them again. It's a fascinating process!!

Each different type of form, if used correctly, adds to the story: 

I may want to include  or put in a period. when it's not needed.

I may start a new paragraph. Online, I can link up to another page and in doing so, promote something I want others to experience. I write poetry when I want to create images with words. Understanding the form allows me pull those ideas and stories from my imagination and put them into a tangible existence that is recognizable by myself and others. It's a way to capture something that pleases me. For example, I imagine a little boy named Spence who is from a place called Tunstall, which exists unseen somewhere along the edge of a town called Hattersfield, within the folds of the town's border lines. When I record Spence's stories, he springs from the page. The words allow me to imagine him. Otherwise, he's just some abstraction buried in the back of my mind probably based on and built from a number of other stories, kids and adventures I've experienced at different times during my life. 

It's impossible for me to even write what I don't like. Of course, sometimes, I'll write something, look back and wonder what I was thinking, but at the time I liked it and there may be a time when I like it again; there may be someone else who enjoys it. And, recording any type of discourse is just the beginning because it will continue to change each time I or someone else revisits it. 

People spend time visiting with each other, out in nature, watching movies or listening to music because people enjoy life. Writing is that way, alive, to me. 

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart...

- William Wordsworth

dream

I was at the lake house with a bunch of people I didn't know. The water was more like the ocean. It was about waist deep all the way to the middle of the lake. Some kids are there with a water-proof camera that looks like its actually made of black styrofoam. A cadillac pulls up. It's not even a water Cadillac. It's just a normal car that happens to be in the water. Then a taxi pulls up. Then a pontoon boat and everyone gets on the boat but me. I said I wanted to swim. Then there was a fight over who should hold the camera. I said that Luke should since he is the "Communications and Publications Coordinator." Someone else said the Democrats should hold it. Another weird dream about he Lake House.

Glimpses of the past year

March 31, 2008

On top of the Arc D'Triomphe. The city of lights hurries by. The brake lights of cars on the Boulevard Champs Elysses twinkle like Christmas lights. The sun sets bringing orange, pink and red hues behind grey-blue clouds. I can see camera flashes from people taking pictures from atop the Eiffel Tower. From one side, the Dome can be see, from the others, stark glass skyscrapers. I can see Montmarte and the tops of apartment buildings. A cool breeze reminds me of the end of a warm day. I feel so far from home right now. I face the sunset and I face the direction of home. The lights The lights on the Eiffel Tower just turned on. I was waiting for that.

I tried to find my way back to Rue Bichat on the Metro, but couldn't figure it out. I started walking towards the Eiffel Tower again. It was sparkling like fireworks or a disco ball. There was also a spotlight at the top. That happens everynight at dusk. I saw all of the posh apartments along the way and young rich people leaving their flats for a night out. Phoene was right, there really are no cafes or restaurants or anything in that area. It's really nice though. I found a Metro and started heading back toward Republique. The lonely feeling I got on top of the Arc D'Triomphe increased. I don't know why. MAybe it was because I was so far from anyone I knew. I felt free, but almost afraid in a way. I thought of mom and how she probably never thought that her son would be living so far away from her for so long. Going on adventures like walking to Champ Elysses and climbing 284 steps to the top of the Arc D'Triomphe to watch the set and the lights turn on in the city of Paris. I had a strong sense of longing up there. Like wanting so much at the same time it becomes overwheliming and it just feels like your skin all over your body tingles or hurts and your tear ducts swell up and you swallow or blink and the moment is gone, you just feel the need and accept it.

I wanted to be home, I wanted the adventure to be over, I wanted to go everywhere in the world but home, I wanted someone to share the moment with, I wanted to be alone, I wanted to live here, I wanted to show my pictures to my mom and hear her ooh and ahh and probably cry. I wanted more words to desctibe what I felt, I wanted to just sit and enjoy that moment with all the other tourists from America, Japan, Korea, Italy, Greece, Africa, Wherever; all of us perched on top of the Arc alone in space, abandoned, forgtten as the world scurries on like thousands of insects hundreds of feet below.

Dream

I had a dream that I was in Amsterdam, but it looked nothing like it. I was going to this little take-away restaurant and I got a döner I guess. Anyway, I was sitting outside eating and all of these younger students came and cat with me. They were talking about their experiences in Europe and being teachers and all that. Not normally being one to offer information about myself without being asked, I sat and listened and finally blurted out "I live here! and I'm sick of teaching. I don't want to go back to work." I guess I thought in my dream that I was still on break and was going back. I told them how hard it was going to be to adjust back to living in Munich again after having spent the summer here in Roanoke. Then we tried to clean up our meals and sort out the recycling and a stout Dutch woman told us where to put our cans and the gigantic ball of paper I had picked up from the table. Then their professor came and told them to get ready to leave.

The feeling was that I was being pulled away from this life. Being forced to go back to work at MIS. Maybe this just feels too good to be true and I'm expecting something to come along and fuck it up.

Friday Night Sets and Friends

So, as John mentioned in his last post, tonight was sushi night... it's also "Friday Night Sets".  John and Brett make a set list, practice a little and then play..... even if it's only the two of them listening!  Brett has an alarm that goes off on his computer that plays the decided set each Friday.

Tonight's especially great because Blake and Julia are visiting (although they've missed some of the night to attend a wedding rehearsal) and Reid and Holly are here.  We just finished a 'make your own' sushi dinner that was refreshing, filling, and new.  Now Brett and John are playing Wilco, Radiohead, Dave Matthews, and the Beatles (to name a few). Holly and I are listening.... Reid's on the Wii! (I forgot to mention that Blake and Julia brought a Wii... always a fun time).  

Nights like these make me so happy to be where I am and with some of the people I love most. What's so great about it, you might ask?  Well, everyone contributes to the night with dinner, drinks, doing dishes, playing music, ....bringing the Wii....  Everyone takes time to enjoy the company, the entertainment, the food. Everyone relaxes and just, simply, enjoys.

Come visit some Friday night soon and you'll see what I mean.   All are welcome! 

Sushi Night

The fish and vegetables are cut, the rice is cooking, we have a bottle of saki, beer, wine, vodka, rum and mixers. We have Blake, Reid, Brett, Jenny, Holly and I. We have a Nintendo Wii. This should be a good night. Brett and I have practiced some new Beatles songs. I'm excited about "Come Together." I realized after my visit at Christmas that I only really like listening to old rock on vinyl. My new love is the Beatles. I've always liked them, but I've found playing them on guitar and listening to their records has brought me a new-found appreciation for them. The vinyl collection is a gold mine of undiscovered favorites. Like old Little Feat albums, the Temptations and Diana Ross and the Supremes. Good times.

dream

I had a dream that I was at this big music festival and I got to be on stage with Tom Petty. But there were like 30 other people on stage. There were more people on stage than in the the crowd. I was supposed to play this one part on the xylophone or something, but then someone else did it. I had a tape recorder and I was trying to record the song, but I ended up pushing play every time. Tom Petty was wearing a cowboy hat and had a mustache and he looked just like Jake Gyllenhal in Brokeback Mountain when he gets older. Then I climbed off stage and Jess McCluney and Laura Brown were there smoking weed. Before Tom Petty, Carrot Top was playing in a band and everyone showed up for him but by the end of the set no one was there. Then I went to find a toilet but ended up just pissing somewhere on the side of the entrance door. Then a woman came up to me while I was pissing and asked me to do all of these favors for her, like putting stuff on the stage. I think it was the secretary from Ferris Bueller.

A glimpse of the past year

August 27, 2007

Dad just gave me this journal as a sort of going-away present. Ironic, considering that earlier today, I found one of his journals from when he was in the Navy, London and some entires from when he lived at the Dust Palace. He was quite the heart-breaker. Poems about drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes on Sunday afternoons, sharing bottles of cheap wine and making love. Wishing he could be bohemian...too bad he lived in Salem.

I'm packed and ready and somewhat more prepared to embark on what will unedoubtedly be an incredible adventure. I just don't really want to leave, but I feel like once I get there a lot of the anxiety and stress will be lifted.

After coming home from camp, I've realized how much I depend on my friends and how much they depend on me. Jenny hugs me every chance she gets and tells me how much she's missed me and she is going to miss me when I leave. I'm going to miss the hell out of her too. And Brett and Reid and Leslie and the house on 113 Bruffey and the coffee shop and getting high and playing guitar with Brett and dance parties and...America...I'm most worried about living in a city, which I've always wanted to do but...a German city? At least there will be people there that I know. I'm sure Tim will be thrilled to have me there.

I wonder what the apartment on Landwehrstr. will be like. I hope my roommates like me. I'm glad there will be a girl there. I hope she's like Jenny. I hope that she likes to cuddle.

August 31, 2007

I'm on the plane...ahhhh!!! This is crazy. I hope I can get to sleep. I'm pretty excited. Like Reid said, reality will set in...It's actually happening. America is already a memory. The captain is speaking German...I don't know what he's saying...Awesome!!
-------
In Munich, about 12:00, which means the sun is just coming up in VA. I met Tim at the airport after some frantic wandering and futile dialing. We're at the train station now, he's buying a ticket or something. It's really exciting being back. It's not so overwhelming since I've been here before. Tim said that Luke, my roommate was looking forward to having another bloke in the apt. Apparantly he and Ilana don't get along. I don't know how much help I'll be in settling things between them. Meeting new guys makes me nervous. It took me so long to warm up to the male staff at camp. I am what I am though.

The station here is pretty kick-ass! I like riding trains.

I found Jenny's note in my suitcase that she had mentioned. You can never tell who in your life you will help more than any other person could just by being yourself.


Monday September 3, 2007

I've just spent the night in my new apartment. I'm sitting on the window sill looking down on Landwehrstr. as the usual city actvities occur: construction, commuters, a guy walking home with bread and juice. I like it here. Luke took me out to the Englischergartens and met the group that he plays frisbee with every Sunday. Interesting group. Some Americans, well mostly American I guess. Then we went to a pub downtown (Schwabinger Seben). Very cool. Candlelight and excellent music. Anyway, Bea who is a French/Irish girl was apparantly much more drunk than she had let on. We left, they got some food and as we were riding the escalator out of the train station, she fell down! I've never seen anyone fall down an escalator before.

Fleet Foxes

I'm listening to Fleet Foxes, a band that Brett can't get into. When he said that he didn't really like it, after giving it a chance, I asked him if he liked the Beach Boys "Pet Sounds" album and he said no. That explained it. But he likes Panda Bear, another band heavily influences by the the vocals and big-band timpani sounds of mastermind Brian Wilson. Who knows why we like the music that we do. It's not always a guarantee that if you like one album or band, you'll like another one. We have the technology like Pandoras Box, or Jukebox that can create an entire playlist based on just a handful of songs we play. Or amazon recommending things for us. But it can never be entirely acurate. I am usually under the impression that just because a person says they don't like a band, it doesn't me they won't like it eventually.

Everything In Its Right Place...

I make less than Walmart employees, but I can write.

I have debt, but I can pay that in monthly installments.

I weigh ten pounds more than I want to, but I enjoy life.

I have knots in my back, but I have wonderful, smart people around me that I love.

I complain, but I think.

I have to go to work, but I play music.

I set wake-up calls for people, but sometimes I don't go to bed until they wake up.

I believe that Diet Coke is a great alternative to coffee.

When I was little, I fell down in the dining room and cut open my chin before my parents left to go to a company party where they serve lobster and always give my mom a cutting board.

I can't decide whether any of these are good opening sentences, but I came up with this many in five minutes.

The year 2000!

In the distant future, the Year 2000, When getting "poked" on Facebook has taken its place in the vernacualr among people of our generation as an empty, strange form of interaction that no one really understands. When blogging is a form of reaching out to people, interacting, healing in a virtual environment. When people go to public places like coffee shos to put headphones into their ears and stare into the eerie white glow of a laptop screen and send people messages or chat with people. Imagine a future where people go to public places and actually get angry when people bother them by talking to them face to face. When buying music in a store is a thing of the past and people of access to literally millions of songs that can be purchased, transferred to a portable music player that can be filled with thousands of songs and taken with them within minutes. When TV is almost obsolete given that people can stream their favorite songs on the internet for free and can be watched in public places, like coffee shops. When coffee shops are places people go to sit and get free WiFi. The Year 2000 is a scary, impersonal, time. When we no longer say "yes" instead we say "word." When people use the limitless technology of the internet and computers to escape into non-reality because actual reality is too boring, moves too slow or is too frightening to face because people are too insecure to go out in the world and actually be themselves.

Look at weblog, family!

We-blog (1)

So, in an attempt to promote and utilize what seems like our wasted years studying English Literature at small, private universities, Brett, John and I have started a family blog. All of us have spent portions of the past year unemployed or working at jobs that we don't particularly favor, or where we could have passed the state GED test after taking it four times and listed 'library assistant' on our resumes and still been considered overqualified.

Perhaps this is an attempt to qualify our early (to late in my case) twenties, or to show the world our brilliance... (trust me the brilliance is there, although at times disguised in apathy and jokes)... but either way, it should be a good time for all.  At least the three of us.

When I think about my new life at 2811 and the family I share it with, I'm reminded of the Weetzie Bat books, modern day fairy tales told though Weetzie and her family and friends. Our life here compares nicely to those stories. The house is filled with good food and wine, good music, and good company. Our schedules allow for a refreshing lifestyle, far from any sort of dull nine to five, and our jobs offer comic relief once we've returned home and have had time to reflect. 

Plus, the house offers a nice setting for creativity and relaxation. We have fixed the upstairs apartment to fit our lifestyles. The first living space that anyone enters contains a table with four chairs for meals together, writing and reading, or homework. A music area fills the room nicely and contains a number of guitars, a bass, banjo, and mandolin, three amps, a synthesizer and piano and Brett's collection of pedals. There's a bookcase containing a mixture of literature from each of our collections as well as some records, and a receiver that plays an ipod or vinal.... a telling combination. 

The couches in our 'tv room' face each other and suggest conversation while also working as a comfortable, quiet space to watch DVD's. Brett's room is cozy, John's is upstairs and the 'place to hang out' and mine (although missing some essentials soon to be filled) allows a for a sort of studio space for my painting. Our kitchen is 'just right', especially since John moved back from Germany and started keeping up with the recycling ;-).

Overall, it actually feels like home... a place I haven't experienced since college. So, while I am (finally) pursuing my passions in Children's Literature, while Brett is delving into the ever unsure realm called 'philosophy', and while John takes some time to recover and reflect on his time and Germany and find his place here, we all know that 2811 offers us that comfy cavern where there will always be good music on (unless I pull out Mary Poppins), a loving family, and a welcoming home.

Family Love Blog (2) is a space where we can reflect on our new lives (and we all know english majors need time for reflection). So, enjoy (Brett and John) and any of you other confused and reflective, or otherwise bored, individuals. 

(1) We-Blog: (please see section "Bob Loblaw") "Bob Loblaw is the new family attorney, replacing Barry Zuckerkorn. He is portrayed by Scott Baio. He advertises his services with the slogan "You don't need double talk; you need Bob Loblaw". As is evidenced by this, his name is meant to sound like "blah-blah-blah".  Adding to the tongue twister-like aspect of the character's name, the third season episode "S.O.B.s" includes a newspaper headline that reads "Bob Loblaw Lobs Law Bomb" and later in the season the "Bob Loblaw Law Blog"."

(2) Family Ties: (please see note under "callbacks/running jokes" section) "Banner - During the office party that Nellie throws for the workers, a banner reading "Workers Love Nellie" can be seen. This is a callback to the "Family Love Michael" banner from Forget-Me-Now, and the "Michael Love Marry" banner from The Ocean Walker. This time, the banner could make sense."

IT BURNS USSSSSS.

Tricksy Hobbitses!!!




Blog.

2811 Creative Writing Project

Brett, Jenny and I have decided to create a place on the web to share thoughts, ideas and creative writing on the internet.  As we are all English Majors, and we all have our separate blogs of our own, we thought a good way to continue writing and getting feedback from each other and maybe other people that might want to join it.  Taking the idea of pacifist professor of English, Mike Heller, the templates will be called "Small Writings."  Inside jokes, drunk writing and stories of our adventure living in the suburbs of a small, mountain metropolitan area throughout the year.

Perhaps its appropriate that the first Small Writing should be about Writing.  Due by Monday night at 11 pm.