Just a few weeks ago, my dear cousin wrote a blog post. "Odds and ends" was the title. Sorry cousin, but copying seems very necessary here. How shall it begin? Uhhh... Aha!
I am a mildly ridiculous human being.
Going to work every morning is pure torture. Of course, there is always the weekend. Today was a lazy day, though somewhat productive in the morning.
Yesterday, however was not quite as good. Of course, accidentally falling asleep at 9 pm wasn't the best decision that could have been made for a good time. Unless one had to get up at 6:30 this morn, which was the case for myself. Right; it worked out then.
Mostly the days go by quickly. Every time the mistake is made to think there are still several good hours left in which to work, it turns out it's time to leave. So, psych! Someday the goals will be reached. After the second-coming probably. Good thing no one cares about silly work goals in the long run. Even though the chances of a badly-needed raise without hitting goals are slim.
Butter is so incredibly delicious. Even though it is fattening. For all that, it is is also quite pricey these days. Only the pure in heart still splurge for it. *Road rage enacted toward all those who find margarine acceptable*. Especially on toast (and don't ask me how "road rage" applies.)
Better yet, real butter in cookies is pure heaven. Unless it's just a bad recipe in general. Then probably nothing will salvage them; and nothing short of feeding them to a poor defenseless male who does not know any better will remedy the problem.
If someone offers to help you with your work, they probably just want to go to a work party and need the whole department to hit goal in order to go.
Wouldn't it be lovely if it rained every day? After all, rain is most thought-provoking and artistic, in my humble opinion. Seattle gets a lot of rain (said in a pout-y child-like voice).
Today grocery shopping happened at seven a.m. Hungriness had not yet set in, so it ended up being perfect. I might start doing that more often. Not that waking up that early on a weekend is ever going to happen again... Kangaroos might fly! In some universe. No? Guh.
Anyway. Buying a car is quite stressful. Obviously, there has been very little practice in my life where such activities are concerned. Understanding all of the ins and outs is undoubtedly not as difficult as it may seem at first. That is the way with most things.
Today one of my favorite earrings broke. Heavens be thanked for super glue! I now want to kiss and marry whoever invented it (ok, and be rich). Super, super glue.
Africa apparently grows fruit that makes us over in the "consumer nation" look younger. No really, it said so online. Dang blang, what will that wonderful continent think of next to save us all from looking a day over 25?
That being said, it would be so cool to go there. How much would a safari cost? Even in the event it was affordable, it probably wouldn't go over well with semi-high maintenance me.
Forever 21 is on of those stores that always promises to change my life, but rarely does. Actually, one time there was a pair of earrings there that changed my life. Cost me 2 dollars. That's why one must always go in there with some trusty scouts.
The rain this morning was absolutely delicious. Hurried though my morning may have been with all of its tasks, the weather was so satisfying. As it started, the groceries were just about all in the car. The rolling down of windows, and the blasting of a certain song *cough cough.... below* may have occurred.
I miss my cousin, who is on a trip right now.
Doughnuts are kind of gross. I mean, every time one crosses my path, it always looks so good. Don't get me wrong, it is good. Now. Tell me in five minutes when the nausea sets in why the dang doughnut was ever a good idea.
Most people are really cool when you get to know them. Even though that's practically all we have been told since we were children, it turns out to be startlingly true. As do most things we learned as children. Never ceases to amaze me.
Fact: it's Oceanology! (and, yes you can pat yourself on the back if you get that). Really it's both, according to señor google (who also gave me a little link to help out those of you who do not catch that).
Trains make the most horrifically gorgeous sound. Hearing a train first thing in the morning conjures such a romantic sensibility. If it were still normal to travel by train, you would be sure to find me regularly doing so. Sorry if you disagree.
Toads on the other hand are not horrific or gorgeous. Ok, they can be horrific, but never gorgeous, in a traditional sense.
Being 22 is not much different than being 21. Even though some people say it makes their teeth hurt when they are an "odd" number of years old. Crazy. Opposite for me. Most of the "odd" numbered years seem much more dramatic. Even numbers jut feel so bland.
African fruit, who would have thought the benefits one could gain?.. can't get over it.
Rice crispy treats are only good if they have too much marshmallow. Even then, they have to be very fresh. Give them a few days and you only eat them because they are there. Under what set of moral code is that a good reason to intake that much sugar? Laws! we will never know. Actually, bored eating is not something that has much plagued my life... too lazy for that. Reaching for the fridge handle is just too much when extreme boredom has ensued.
After certain hours of the night, someone needs to lock my computer. *Very severe boredom warning, and no food in sight!* Even with all of my accomplishments today. Need one say more than the word "accomplishments" to conger up images of great heroics? Understatement actually. Effortless with this face.
Fords seems like such sketchy cars. Only foreign-made for me. Ritzy, no?
Cold weather seems so inviting right now. Only, why wish for that when it is a beautiful summer evening out? Might have walked down the secret path today to the house of a dear friend. Might have walked over to the market for eggs with her and went right past the sketchy new waffle joint. Undeniably the best new place to eat in this whole town. Not to mention the live music they had going on. In the event my life gets that bad, have no fear, you will see me there. Could be a while. After all, this typing rampage is still tiding me over. Truth be told. I could go on like this for hours. Or... Not.
I really should just go to bed.
NEED more be said? (rhyme!)
Too many hours on computer this week. Overload of information.
STOP!
Like a Handful of Balloons...
I think I might start marketing my blog as "an ode to the music that moves me". That seems to be nearly the only thing I talk about here.
Maybe it's my age bracket, maybe it's my personality.
Maybe it is the simple fact that music communicates faster to our souls than anything else, opening up a pathway for pure manipulation of our senses, emotions, and moods.
It's making me bipolar.
Here are two songs I have been particularly in love with as of late...
"Shadow Puppets" just happens to have been shot at the orchard where I recently did a photo-shoot (that post is forthcoming). I feel like many of the artistic elements in the film could have so easily been cheesy and overstated, but the song ties it together so perfectly. The final product is breathtaking. I first saw Emily (the pianist) at a concert in downtown Provo as part of the "Rooftop Concert Series". It was a sort of fuzzy atmosphere, and I remember I could hardly understand the words that she was singing, but the feeling her music left me with was a sort of fond, nostalgic way of looking at the future. As if I was having some pleasant memory of something that hadn't happened yet. Recuerdos del porvenir, or something equally romantic. (Ok, I have never read Recuerdos del porvenir, so I should probably not go around willy-nilly asserting it to be romantic.
As for the lyrical content of the song; I have long since had a deep affinity for balloons and the symbolism of balloons, and I, quite frankly, do not want to delve more into that right now; so let it suffice to say that I find "Shadow Puppets" to be an aesthetic treat in every way.
Then there is this:
I was introduced to "The Cave" by my little sister (in fact, she introduced me to "Shadow Puppets" as well) as "The motivational song of the century." That might be an understatement. You know when you simply need a song that will inspire you to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and maybe, I don't know, save a small kitten from a burning tree in the middle of an earthquake, or something equally heroic?
Some people call this song "formulaic" or "obvious". I think that Mumford and Sons decided to write it that way. I think they wrote it as straightforward as they did, not because they were not creative enough to be more abstract, but because they had something to say and they wanted to say it in a big, unmistakable way. Albeit, the video smacks of some political problem that I am too world-culture illiterate to pick up on, but this anthem to redemption, hope, and progression is one of the most exhilarating things I've heard in a time. I may or may not have recently fallen into a habit of blasting it loudly while driving to and from work. Heaven knows, I have been in need.
Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. I just broadcast what I am listening to for all of the world. No better way to tell what's on an indie-kid's mind.
Not that I think I truly am an indie kid. Though I did go for a rejuvenating walk with my dear cousin this evening. We hoped it would rain and then when it did, I felt as I always do when it rains.
"But that's a story for another rainy day...."
Maybe it's my age bracket, maybe it's my personality.
Maybe it is the simple fact that music communicates faster to our souls than anything else, opening up a pathway for pure manipulation of our senses, emotions, and moods.
It's making me bipolar.
Here are two songs I have been particularly in love with as of late...
"Shadow Puppets" just happens to have been shot at the orchard where I recently did a photo-shoot (that post is forthcoming). I feel like many of the artistic elements in the film could have so easily been cheesy and overstated, but the song ties it together so perfectly. The final product is breathtaking. I first saw Emily (the pianist) at a concert in downtown Provo as part of the "Rooftop Concert Series". It was a sort of fuzzy atmosphere, and I remember I could hardly understand the words that she was singing, but the feeling her music left me with was a sort of fond, nostalgic way of looking at the future. As if I was having some pleasant memory of something that hadn't happened yet. Recuerdos del porvenir, or something equally romantic. (Ok, I have never read Recuerdos del porvenir, so I should probably not go around willy-nilly asserting it to be romantic.
As for the lyrical content of the song; I have long since had a deep affinity for balloons and the symbolism of balloons, and I, quite frankly, do not want to delve more into that right now; so let it suffice to say that I find "Shadow Puppets" to be an aesthetic treat in every way.
Then there is this:
I was introduced to "The Cave" by my little sister (in fact, she introduced me to "Shadow Puppets" as well) as "The motivational song of the century." That might be an understatement. You know when you simply need a song that will inspire you to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and maybe, I don't know, save a small kitten from a burning tree in the middle of an earthquake, or something equally heroic?
Some people call this song "formulaic" or "obvious". I think that Mumford and Sons decided to write it that way. I think they wrote it as straightforward as they did, not because they were not creative enough to be more abstract, but because they had something to say and they wanted to say it in a big, unmistakable way. Albeit, the video smacks of some political problem that I am too world-culture illiterate to pick up on, but this anthem to redemption, hope, and progression is one of the most exhilarating things I've heard in a time. I may or may not have recently fallen into a habit of blasting it loudly while driving to and from work. Heaven knows, I have been in need.
Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. I just broadcast what I am listening to for all of the world. No better way to tell what's on an indie-kid's mind.
Not that I think I truly am an indie kid. Though I did go for a rejuvenating walk with my dear cousin this evening. We hoped it would rain and then when it did, I felt as I always do when it rains.
"But that's a story for another rainy day...."
On Ingratitude, Birds, and Wires
Today was a long day. The professional phrase "What are you talking about?" almost escaped my lips several times. You would think I'd learned more self control by now. OK. Tomorrow I will do better. I have decided that I have an interesting character flaw. That is, that I am a guilt ridden human being. I mean, is it really necessary to put myself through months of torture? I'm worried about work most of the time I'm at home, about what's going to happen with this or that client. You would think I would be past that by now. Today I think I only heard about every tenth word for each phone call I was on. I guess that some days are better than others. At least that's what reason tells me, per experience. I suppose that Life, liberty and the pursuit of Social Security benefits has me frustrated. I should just give up. My poor clients, they really don't comprehend all that they put me through. But, you know, that is how life goes. That's the very reason why it is important to put yourself in another's shoes. You're positive you have it hard, then someone who does not have what you have crosses your path, and then in that small moment you hate yourself, simply because their trouble is so horrific-- and then you cry, because you are so supremely grateful for your own misery, and then you vow to never complain again, and you vow that if you do God may smite you for ingratitude. Yet I always go back to that ingratitude. If only we could always remember--now and forever turn our heads and fix our eyes on what we have, and forget about everything that we don't need, and remember that so often "I" is unimportant. Oh what a bright, blessed day that would be. But for now, we go on. It's just you and me, dear reader. Pressing forward under all that must be accomplished each and every day. I want to believe that one day I'll get it right. That the "me" and "I" will stop meaning so much.
For now hopefully only comprehending every tenth word is good enough, and you might think you'd do better. If so, you don't get it. That's the point of life--the point of this.
On the same subject, but a different note, I have long since found a connection to my job in a song from an inventive, little-known artist. Radical Face's song "Glory" was written for me and my job, I am self-center-edly sure of it.
"A bird, caught in the wires
Pleading for help I can't provide, I'm not that big
I hope for the best but nothing changes, I'm sorry"
So, to all of my client's who will never read this. I am sorry. I wish I could change things. I wish I could fix things.
But that's another purpose of life. To see all of the big things we are too little to fix. To see all of the thousands of reasons that we need God.
Tens of thousands.
May He forgive me my constant, daily ingratitude.
New Places, New Faces- Starting Over
Do you ever feel like you want different things than other people want? Perhaps it's more that feeling of wanting different things than other people want for you.
No, that's not it. Both of these thoughts play a strong role in this emotion, but it is more even than a mere synthesis of the two.
I just want something and I'm not sure I have the courage to get it. Or the luck. Or probably the faith.
I think this is the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld: a massive expanse of pine and other greenery lightly dampened with a drizzle from the heavy-laden heavens. Looking out across the Puget Sound in all its grey, dull loneliness and feeling my heart will break for the love of this view. It is as if in this moment, nothing that I do not like need exist, I can forget about all of the ugly in the world, and concentrate for a moment on this new thing.
Speaking of new things, I have made a new friend. His name is Owen, and he has this sweet, simple way of looking at the world as though he's never seen it before. And, well, he hasn't. Owen is 5 months old, and the dearest thing. I feel as though he has quietly taught me a great deal in the past few days as I have had the blessed opportunity to watch him watch the world. This morning I took him out on the balcony to calm a bout of atypical fussiness and watched as little droplets of rain fell gently on his light brown hair. As we stood there on that balcony, together, with that view, I thought to myself, "If I were to have this to look upon every day for the rest of my life, I hope I'd never damn myself enough to stop wondering at its elegant majesty."
Looking into the brilliantly wise eyes of that child as he takes in the world, bit by bit, beauty by beauty, I wonder if that is how I felt at his age. I wonder if in my heart I felt the same way about everything else as I do now about this new place. I wonder if I had somehow promised myself that I'd never stop looking at the world as though I had never seen it before. Then, I hadn't seen it before. Lately, I have been tired; I have "seen enough". But as I watch him, I realize that I needed this new place to remind myself of how much I love living. Maybe I don't have what it takes to get what I want, so I will make up what it takes and then I will have it. Will it take courage? I guess. So I will make that up as I go too. On Monday it will be twenty-two years since I started living, and I am making myself a promise now to start living again.
Happy birthday to me.
No, that's not it. Both of these thoughts play a strong role in this emotion, but it is more even than a mere synthesis of the two.
I just want something and I'm not sure I have the courage to get it. Or the luck. Or probably the faith.
I think this is the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld: a massive expanse of pine and other greenery lightly dampened with a drizzle from the heavy-laden heavens. Looking out across the Puget Sound in all its grey, dull loneliness and feeling my heart will break for the love of this view. It is as if in this moment, nothing that I do not like need exist, I can forget about all of the ugly in the world, and concentrate for a moment on this new thing.
Speaking of new things, I have made a new friend. His name is Owen, and he has this sweet, simple way of looking at the world as though he's never seen it before. And, well, he hasn't. Owen is 5 months old, and the dearest thing. I feel as though he has quietly taught me a great deal in the past few days as I have had the blessed opportunity to watch him watch the world. This morning I took him out on the balcony to calm a bout of atypical fussiness and watched as little droplets of rain fell gently on his light brown hair. As we stood there on that balcony, together, with that view, I thought to myself, "If I were to have this to look upon every day for the rest of my life, I hope I'd never damn myself enough to stop wondering at its elegant majesty."
Looking into the brilliantly wise eyes of that child as he takes in the world, bit by bit, beauty by beauty, I wonder if that is how I felt at his age. I wonder if in my heart I felt the same way about everything else as I do now about this new place. I wonder if I had somehow promised myself that I'd never stop looking at the world as though I had never seen it before. Then, I hadn't seen it before. Lately, I have been tired; I have "seen enough". But as I watch him, I realize that I needed this new place to remind myself of how much I love living. Maybe I don't have what it takes to get what I want, so I will make up what it takes and then I will have it. Will it take courage? I guess. So I will make that up as I go too. On Monday it will be twenty-two years since I started living, and I am making myself a promise now to start living again.
Happy birthday to me.
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