Help me! I'm drowning...

...under a sea of work. Plus, prom is Friday, so look for a post this weekend!

What'u know 'bout me what'u what'u know 'bout me?

For the record, I REALLY hate that song.

So… flipping through my mental Rolodex of post ideas as I often do (it’s been pretty empty lately), I thought of those tags where you have to tell 8/ 10 things about yourself. Well, I didn’t get tagged, so I’m just doing it anyway. I tried to think of things that could possibly be classified as interesting, in some parallel universe…

1) I have an orange piano.
I’d wanted to play piano for YEARS, until in 7th grade my friend told me about a family friend who was giving away their piano for free. Free is my favorite number, so we jumped on the chance, went to see the piano. It was big. And orange. But, hey, free is free. So we put it into my house on Christmas Eve day. I have the quirkiest piano I’ve ever encountered—it’s been painted this lovely orange, and it’s huge—tall, that is. It was actually made in the twenties, and it used to be a player piano. It’s out of tune, and several keys are so horribly tuned that they are basically the sound of someone whacking the strings with a hammer. Or… something. It’s so weird to think that my piano was in someone else’s house—it seems so truly mine, such a part of my house. I love banging out Hush Sound tunes while swaying violently. My piano is basically my personality manifested in an instrument: odd, quirky, offbeat, with a few bum notes every now and then but if you know me really well you don’t even notice. I can be loud or soft (ie, QUIET), depending on I’m with. Voila. I= piano.

2) I love climbing trees.

I am at home among the branches, green leaves brushing my face. I love just climbing, higher, higher. Swinging my feet twenty feet off the ground is simply exhilarating. When the wind blows, and branches sway all around me but the trunk stands still, I feel this deep connection the earth. I know that’s crunchy and shit, but it’s so true.

3) I am obsessed with Jason Castro.
Every year, I say, “I’m not going to watch American Idol this year.” Especially after last year, everyone pretty much sucked. But every year I find my self flipping on Fox with a sigh of, “God, I can’t believe I subject myself to this.” Well this year, my friend frantically came into school one day (it was top 24 week, which I did not partake in) gushing about this Jason Castro go. Went home, looked up his performance, saw his beautiful eyes, sexy hands and beyond-cool dreds, and I was gone. My friend and I frantically IM every Tuesday during the show, hoping that Jason will pick a good song and squealing like little girls every time he does something funny. We always wonder in astonishment why we find him so attractive—we can’t figure it out for the life of us, and we share our minute-by-minute reactions. It’s great fun. Watching TV with someone not there is about the greatest way to watch TV. On Wednesdays (results show night, for those of you with lives), we IM frantically again, and literally shake (yes, we get THAT nervous for Jason), and when he is safe, a lot of this is involved: “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.” But multiply it by a thousand.


EYES. EYES. EYES.

We plan on going to the American Idols Live tour this summer and making t-shirts. If we could meet Jason… I’m pretty sure I would just freeze up and gape. See how we sink so low, just for our love of a slightly-girly man? But listen to him sing “Hallelujah” or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and try NOT to appreciate how he so does not fit the cookie-cutter Idol mold. CASTRONETTES O8, Y’ALL!!!



4) I am 5’10”.
Thank you, Person I Have Not Seen In A While, I AM tall, thank you so much for noticing. What’s that? You say I’m taller than my mom? Am I REALLY, thank you SO much for pointing that out to me!
Yeah, I’m really tall. I don’t really notice it, considering…well, I’m always at that altitude, so it’s not a big deal. It certainly comes in handy though. I get a lot of “HOW can you REACH that?” I just laugh cryptically. It’s great fun. The only down side is that I’m taller than many guys, including my prom date. :/. Ah, well. It worked for Nicole and Keith.

5) I love old things.

Everything’s better with a story behind it. I’d rather borrow great Art Deco jewelry from my grandma for prom than go to Penneys and get some crappy stuff. I love old books, old photographs, old people. A hand-sewn blanket is so much more rewarding than a store-bought, new one. Why buy a new belt when I can wear one of my mom’s from the seventies? I just love the feeling of being connected to the past, of reusing things. Who wore these suspenders before I did? I’ll never know, but I can wonder about it.

6) I had jaundice when I was a baby.
Yes, I came out a weird peachy-rose color, but quickly turned yellow. Not, like, SUNSHINE yellow, but a tint of yellow all the same. So my mom just sat me in the sun every afternoon and voila, normal baby color. Good thing I didn’t get jaundice as an adult—the whites of your eyes turn yellow. Can you say CREEPY? I won’t frighten you with a picture. Brave souls, feel free to unearth one yourself.
Maybe that’s why I love the sun so much…

7) I am terrified of open heights.

I have no problem being in a plane, 15,000 feet above the ground. In fact, I prefer the window seat, and I love staring out the window and thinking about how high up I am. But open heights? Forget it. A visit to the Grand Canyon in the summer after 3rd grade resulting in my staying a good thirty feet away from the guardrail, shaking, unable to move, and convinced that the cliff-y thing we were on was just going to break off. In San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge freaked me out so much that I gripped the inner handrail the whole time, just sliding my hand along, resulting in disgustingly blackened palm. Even balconies in buildings, I can’t bring myself to look over the edge, I’m so convinced the barrier is just going to disintegrate and I will be plunged to my death on the tiles below. God, I hate open heights.

8) I am considering joining Facebook just for the groups.
I was pretty “anti-Facebook” for a while, convincing myself that it would just be another distraction for me when I am attempting to complete homework. Then a few days ago, my friend let me sign in under her name to see the guest list of a little shindig we are attending. I then discovered the groups. Oh my, the groups. They’re so addictive, it’s not even funny. I’ve already logged on several times as my friend and just browsed the groups for…a long time. Here are just some of the ones I’ve found so far:

Wonderfully [un]witty comments by me in bold

No, I haven’t read that literary classic—but I’ve seen the Wishbone!
Reading is sexy
No, I can’t hang out with you on July 21st, HOW DARE YOU ASK?
Because of Edward Cullen, human boys have lost their charm From Twilight
I can’t accept that fictional characters aren’t real This is so true it's not even funny
Everything I need to know about life I learned from star wars
People who know the difference between “you’re” and “your” I'm a Nazi when it comes to that
I read books because I actually want to
Basically, I’m in love with fictional men
Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. PRINCESS BRIDE. GAHAHHA.
It’s ok, we all waited for our Hogwarts acceptance letters, too
Fuck this, I’m Going to Hogwarts
I Hate Everyone (Little Miss Sunshine appreciation club)
I Wish I Could Dance Like Dwayne Hoover
I’m a little bit in love with Jim Halpert
Eff you, society. I’m going into the wild.
I Went to Catholic School and was pissed when the CCD kids trashed my desk You will only get this if you went to Catholic school, I literally burst out laughing when I read this. Every Monday, it would be... "THE CCD KIDS STOLE MY RULER AGAIN!!!"
It’s my life goal to talk as cleverly as Juno MacGuff.
Stop Killing the Environment
I Get Weird looks when I go into public places in my school uniform On Ash Wednesday, I enjoy going around with my cross of ashes and my forehead and getting looks that clearly portray: Is she is some sort of cult?
Why, yes, I do frequently burst out in song
People Who raced raindrops on car windows as children
Automatic doors make me feel like a jedi I need to find a t-shirt with this
I have to sing the ABC’s to know which letter comes before the other
When I was your age, Pluto was a planet.
No, I don’t care if I die at 12 AM, I’m not passing on your chain letter.
You were hot until you put that cigarette in your mouth
Hippie Children Born in the wrong generation
I Look for good climbing trees rather than the opposite sex
All I Ever needed to know, I learned from Elizabeth Bennet.
I judge you when you use poor grammar.
Disney gave me unrealistic expectations about love
American by birth, Irish by blood.
Shut up, historians. Pocahontas and John Smith were soul-mates.
There’s NO WAY Pocahontas could have survived jumping off that cliff.
Fred Weasley, we salute you.
Is that an accent? Pardon me as I undress…
“Flight of the Concords” makes my world a brighter place
I can’t wait for Sufjan Stevens to make a CD about my state
I can’t stop listening to Regina Spektor
Holden Caulfield is my brilliantly sarcastic hero. [For the record, I couldn't finish that book, I disliked it quite a bit, but some might appreciate the group.]

And quite possibly the best one yet….

I read the group name, I laugh, I join, I never look at it again.


So now you know a bit more about the enigma that is I. Tell me some lusciously dishy (what an awful word!) secrets about yo’self! Since those were SO juicy. Bah.

Look for a Disney princess post in the coming days... God, to be six again!

listen: Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Jason Castro!

anna

the earth laughs in flowers.

I love that. Up there. That sentence up there. It's so sweet and true. When have you not cheered a tiny eensy bit at seeing flowers? It's ee cummings. I, lyke, so totally luvvers ee cummings. I have a great book of his poetry. Oooh... I smell a post topic....




Yes, I KNOW the poppy field in the Wizard of Oz had some drug reference. Whatever. Opium schmopium. Does that stop you from just wanting to fall asleep among that cloud of red? Oh, never mind the wicked witch on my tail, I'll just sleep forever in this endless red, with blue checks on my dress and ruby slippers on my feet. And a man made of tin by my side.

You probably know by now that it is very rare for my posts to have any sort of theme or train of thought. Don't expect anything different for this one.





This is the COOLEST. PLAYGROUND. I HAVE EVER. SEEN. Ever. Period. This is not an opinion. This is a fact. In my school's art room, there's a chair painted with breakfast food...sausages, a orange with a straw stuck in it, a frying pan with eggs on the seat, pancakes dripping with syrup...and I've obsessed with that chair. Seriously. I MUST sit in that chair. It's my good luck chair, and if any one else sits in it, I'm down in the dumps for the entire art class. This is the PLAYGROUND version of that chair. Honestly, why does MY hometown not have this playground? Why slide on a boring old SLIDE when you can slide on a piece of bacon???? Exactly. There's no reason why you wouldn't. How awesome would it be to get up in the morning and say, "Hey mom, can we go to the BREAKFAST playground today? I feel the need to straddle a piece of sausage."

And so there is your daily dose of random, courtesy of Lights, Camera, Chaos!.Can I do that? An exclamation point, THEN a comma. Hmmmmmmmmm. Grammar is bothersome.

song of the day, I suppose: "Gray Or Blue" by Jaymay. Comments: This is what music's all about--pure, sweet emotion.

ahhhhhhhhnahhhhhhh.

Hippie hippie shake

I do believe my alter ego lives in the city of Portland, Oregon. It was simply SPLENDID.



Here is my school newspaper article. As I am too lazy/lame to write a new one.



I have been living a lie. I do not really live in [insert town name here]. No, the truth is that my soul lives in Portland, Oregon. I had the wonderful opportunity to visit the city over Easter break, and I completely fell in love. The city’s vibe and mine seemed to be on the same wavelength. Vibe. How appropriate a word, considering the city has a reputation of being super-liberal and “crunchy.” While they are hundreds of things to love about the great city of Portland, listing all one hundred in an article is admittedly overkill. I find nine to be a bit more realistic.

9 Things to Love About Portland, Oregon

1) The Indie Rock Scene- Portland undeniably has an amazing underground music scene, one while has exploded in the past decade. Creative spirits such as literary-rock group The Decemberists, folkie M. Ward, and quintessential indie-rock band The Shins all currently call Portland their home and the late Elliott Smith made the city his adopted hometown. The city is a magnet for bands to visit when touring, and as a matter of fact, spectacular band Vampire Weekend was making a pit stop in Portland the day after I left. I defy you, stars! The cities are few and far between where the gentle strains of the afore-mentioned Shins are heard wafting from the speakers in a restaurant, and Portland is one of those cities.


2) Catering to the bike lifestyle- Valet parking for bikes? Bike-in movies? Look no further than Portland, a city of bicycle enthusiasts, and the city makes getting around on two wheels easy and safe. Many streets have a “cyclers-only” lane, and the city’s many trolleys contain designated hooks on which to hang one’s bike. This abundance of bicycles leads to a blessed lack of cars—automobiles are extremely scarce for a city of this size, stop-lights rare, and, therefore, pollution is minimal. In some places of the city, you could actually stand in the middle of the streets for a good thirty seconds without a car hitting you (don’t try this at home, kids). It’s enough to make anyone want to toss away their car keys forever and instead pick up a bike lock (for use on the cities myriad bike racks).


3) Eco-friendly lifestyle, tree-hugging people-The city consistently tops lists of the greenest American cities, and its public transportation system is one of the best in the nation. Thirty years ago, the city tore down a six-lane highway to build a waterfront park. City planners have sent specific boundaries where the city ends to prevent urban sprawl, and nearly half of the city’s energy comes from hydroelectric sources. Free trams constantly criss-cross the city and a bus is never hard to find. This feeling of responsibility for and love of the earth can be found throughout all of Oregon—even the license plate has a pine tree on it.


4) The people- Portlanders tend to be a relatively quiet, hardworking, often artistic people, and the types of people there run the gamut. While there are many Portlanders whose family histories are rooted in the city, in recent years a huge influx of young twenty-somethings has occurred. There is youth everywhere you turn in Portland, and a dizzying array of styles is represented—everything from Mohawk-and-plaid-sporting punks to Vans-clad skaters gliding down the street to the scruffy haired, cardigan-and-Chucks-wearing, soft-spoken indie kids, those who work in coffee shops and record stores by day so they can play their music or make art by night. The city is not just filled with younger people, however; families play in parks and elderly couples walk down the street hand-in-hand. Portlanders aren’t overly concerned with being cool—they just are. While in a coffee shop (in true indie-fashion, we spurned the Starbucks across the street for a locally owned café—what can I say, the city’s spirit is infectious) I overheard a young woman telling the guy behind the counter that she was going to an all-night Monopoly tournament. The people there are genuinely nice, as well—in the same coffee shop, the woman working put three extra pumps of vanilla syrup into my latte because she overheard me say to my dad that I like a lot of flavor. The people are always quick with a smile, and quick and gracious to hold a door open.


5) Proximity to the unparalleled Oregon coast- Just an hour and a half drive from the center of Portland is the staggering Oregon coast—a breathtaking area of dizzyingly-sheer cliffs, ancient elm trees, vast expanses of sparkling water, and poetic rocky beaches. It all seems so untouched, real, natural. The drive to the coast isn’t exactly boring, either—a ten-minute driving, increasing in elevation, brings you from Lord-of-the-Rings-esque forests—all moss-covered trees, bubbling streams, and sunlight peaking through the canopy of the leaves—to more Chronicles-of-Narnia-style pine forests dusted with a frosting of pure white snow. The Oregon coast is truly unlike any other place in the world.


6) The laid-back atmosphere- Perhaps it’s because I’m an East Coaster, and we tend to be hurried and irascible people, but when I first arrived in Portland, it was a bit unsetting how calm people were there. The airport was even quieter. People walked slowly, made less noise. So they might have missed their plane, no big deal. In Portland, very few people let things bother them. In the three days I spent in the city, I truly did not hear one utterance of a car horn. The city emits a hippie, earthy vibe, which made my secretly-hippie heart feel right at home. Though often overshadowed by pretentious neighbor Seattle, Portland is far more relaxing, inviting and warm (though not in temperature—it either rained or was cloudy two out of three days), perhaps because its people are less buzzed on caffeine than those of rival Seattle. Portland needs no shallow reassurance of how awesome it is—every building, every stoplight and tree and rock oozes with nonchalance.


7) Powell’s Book Store- Powell’s is absolutely enormous, a four-floor, 32,500 square-foot labyrinth of towering bookcases stuffed with volumes that seem as though they might just tip over at any given moment. Books are simply everywhere—a person could barely spread his or her arms without brushing some sort of paper. Any book lover could get lost (literally, a map, available at the front desk, is extremely helpful) among the shelves. Not only are new books for sale, but many used books as well, and on the top floor there is an entire room devoted to rare books. Prices are cheap and the staff is helpful. It’s a kind of wonderland for the bibliophiles among us, and people come from all over to see the store.


8) Portland Saturday Market- On Saturdays and Sundays from March to Christmas Eve, this arts-and-crafts fair is open near the Skidmore Fountain, under the Burnside Bridge. Three hundred artists sell their crafts, and the selection is staggering: canvas paintings, bumper sticks and buttons, scarves, knit hats, earrings, folk art, wood crafts (such as barrettes, spoons, and pepper mills), hand-painted t-shirts, baked goods, clothing, duct-tape wallets, leather sandals, and countless other items are for sale by local artists. It was a rarely beautiful day in Portland when I went, sunny, slightly warm, and breezy, and the square was packed with people. Aside from the crafts for sale, the people-watching is the best in the city, and all sorts of people drift in and out. Street musicians are scattered all over, and scheduled acts perform on the main stage. The food court is also amazing, sending smells from all over the world filling the market (I tried Lebanese and African food). The market is one of the Portland arts scene’s crowning jewels.


9) The Pearl District- Dubbed the Soho of Portland, the Pearl District has surprises around every corner—independently owned shops of every kind. We came across a vintage store stuffed with 50s frocks, a record store (High Fidelity-style), a gourmet cupcake shop, and several fair-trade stores, filled with goods from straw baskets crafted in Ugandan villages to hand-woven cotton dresses made in the mountains of Nepal, made by craftsmen and women for fair wages and in sanitary conditions. Once inhabited by starving artists, the Pearl District is now teeming with young hipsters, and the creative spirit of the district can be felt with just a stroll through.

Perhaps the city’s slogan sums the city’s spirit up the best: “It’s not easy being green.” It may not be easy, but the payoff is certainly worthwhile.



___________________________________________________

Voila. Obviously, I couldn't say this in my article, but the super cliche snobby hipsters were SO FUCKING ANNOYING I WANTED TO TEAR THEIR "IRONIC" CLOTHES OFF THEIR EMACIATED FRAMES.



GOD. GET OVER YOURSELF. YOU'RE NOT DEEP! STOP TRYING TO BE DEEP!



Oh. That being said, they were many adorable indie boys in coffee shops with whom I completely and irrevocably fell in love.

I can't figure out how to resize these gosh darn pictures. Or as they say here, "pitchers."




Me being stupid and pretending to jump over the fence. The cliff was so sheer that I was frightened of going near the edge. Note the obstructed face.





Pure, pure beauty.





My sister and I took about fifty takes of jumping pictures trying to get it right.




I'm wearing my vintage rainbow suspenders! I should take a better picture of those to post. They're incredible.





It was my mom's idea.



Ooh! In a fair trade store there I got a spectacular MAKE ART NOT WAR poster. It's very hippie-esque. I'll take a picture.





Cherry blossom trees by the river in Portland.





A hipster at the Market. I liked her outfit, ok? And NO it wasn't weird or obvious that I was pointing my lens at her...





Inside a fair trade store.




There is a Cupcake God, after all.






And you expect me NOT to give my heart to this city...??







Song of the day/week/whatever: "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon. Comments: BAH-ZING.



a.

oh, inverted world.

I LOVE SPRING!!!!




Alright, so TECHNICALLY it might still be chilly and cloudy here. But that doesn't matter! No, what matters is that IT IS OFFICIALLY SPRING. ahhhhhhh. feels good. I detest winter.




Cherry Blossom Girl takes THE most stunning photographs.

So Libby from Ice Cube Confidential filled out this darling little questionaire and instead of waiting to get tagged or whatever (What silly person would do that?), I tagged myself.

8 things I am passionate about:
1) Books. I LOVE READING. I LOVE IT. Borders is my second home, it gives me this incredibly feeling of safety. Like, "Nothing can hurt me here. I'm among books."
2) Art. Painting relaxes me like nothing else. The art room is my favorite room in the school.
3) Philantropy. I just want to heal the world. I want to go to Africa and help orphans, and start a non-profit organization and end global warming. I just want to be a do-good superhero! Do-Good Woman!
4) Writing. Journaling (as 3rd grade as that sounds) is a great way to get all my emotions out without ripping someone's head off.
5) Travel. I love seeing new places, experiencing new things.
6) Music. Lame and cliche, but it's true. I love listening to it and especially playing it. I play my piano constantly.
7) My future. I work so hard, just so I'll be able to do great things.
8) Food. God, I just love food. Need I say more. I think not.

6 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1) Travel the world, preferably alone.
2) Live in a city.
3) Fall in love.
4) Have 3 or 4 kids.
5) Do something insane... like bungee-jumping.
6) Write a novel. It doesn't have to get published, I jsut want to write one.

6 Things I Say Often:
1) You're a freak.
2) That's unfortunate.
3) Hello, love!
4) Brilliant
5) What's your beef?
6) Son (I call everyone son)

6 Books I Have Read Lately:
1) Twilight--It was surprisingly good, considering 8th graders on my bus read it. CEDRICDIGGORYASEDWARDYESSSS.
2) The Constant Princess
3) White Oleander- Beautiful, but sad and disturbing, too.
4) The Virgin Suicides
Uhhhh.... how sad is it that I can't remember? I read a lot, but I drop a book if I'm bored.
5) I reread A Great and Terrible Beauty in preparation for reading the new one
6) I'm COMPLETELY having a brain fart......... I've started so many books and not finished them that I can't remember.

That was embarrassing! I go on and on about how I love books and I can't even remember the last six I've read.

10 Songs I Could Hear Over And Over:
1) Life Is A Song- Patrick Park
2) When the Sun Goes Down- Arctic Monkeys
3) New Slang- The Shins
4) We Intertwined- The Hush Sound
5) Lighthouse- The Hush Sound
6) Blackbird- The Beatles
7) Vienna- Billy Joel
8) Lake Michigan- Rogue Wave
9) I Will Follow You Into the Dark- Death Cab for Cutie
10) Spit On a Stranger- Nickel Creek

6 Things That Make Me Like My Best Friend(s):
1) I don't always have to be talking when I'm around them. I can walk down the hall with them and not talk, and it's not awkward, it's just a commonly accepted silence. We can just be when we're together.
2) That said, when we talk, we talk a lot. About very odd things.
3) They understand my strange obsessions, and fuel them because chances are they're obsessed too.
4) They make the most mundane things fun.
5) I'm not afraid to say anything to them. I make strange noises, and just let things fall out of my mouth.
6) We're all smart. I know that seems shallow, but I love being able to use big words around them and they get what I'm talking about.





So I will be participating in the most ridiculous and cliche of high school events... Prom. Oh yes, prom. My friend in 11th grade invited me, or else I wouldn't be able to go. I'm really bad at girly things. I already told him I don't want flowers and crap, and I refused to give his mother a fabric swatch. A FABRIC SWATCH. ARE YOU JOKING? I was just like, "Uhhh.. it's not a big deal to me if we don't match." I'm so jaded, it's pathetic.

But look at this gorgeous GORGEOUS vintage dress I missed out on on ebay a few weeks back, in the last 6 seconds of the auction. I was devastating. Kicking the computer may have been involved.



the COLOR. SWEET JESUS THE COLOR. Why must I continue to look at it? It's just rubbing salt into my wounds. And I had it for the last 20 seconds, too. THAT'S WHAT'S SO FRUSTRATING. Ok, just move on.

This is mine instead:




It's from the early sixties.


alright, peace friends.
a.

PS-- Listen to "The Kelly Affair" by Be Your Own Pet

I best get me some Birkenstocks.

That's right, dear reader! Readers, on a good day... I am going to the liberal mecca of all liberal meccas, this Easter vacation... PORTLAND, OREGON! I'm pretty damn excited. While it will be gray and rainy and such, I am sure, how can I NOT be excited? The city offers valet parking for bikes! What could possibly compete with that?




I just want to do a quick post to gloat let you know. I'll be writing an article about this later chapter in my jet-setting life for my school newspaper, so I'll post it here.

And also I wanted to share a few entertainment-related things. "Things" is such a boring word. How about... entities? No, that's not right. "Things" it is!

First: Every now and then, the hype machine gets it right (such as with Arctic Monkeys) and they've most certainly got it right this time. God, what an atrocious sentence. It sounds like something that would appear in my dismally horrible local paper. Blergh. But ANYWAY, I have recently be totally delving into the complete brilliance of Vampire Weekend. Their Upper-East-Side-prep-Afro-infused-jangly-indie-rock is irresitable.



I'm also in awe of the sheer adorableness (DEFINITELY not a word) of the lead singer, Ezra Koenig. More people need to name their sons Ezra. It's just a great name. If you're geekily hot and skinny with a laid-back singing voice, it's just perfect. However, if you're the geeky hide-in-my-room-and-play-WOW-all-day type, it would better be classified as "unfortunate." It's how in how you carry it, my friends.




Second, The Hush Sound released a new album yesterday, Goodbye Blues, and of course I already have downloaded it... from Limewire. Man, I'm so horrible. Why can't I just support my favorite artists? But moving on, it's a great album. Not quite as so-catchy-it-should-be-illegal as Like Vines, but still great. It has a BIT more of a bluesy feel to it, without sacrifice their bright indie-pop I love so much and both makes me wonder why they aren't more popular AND be really glad I have a band I get to call all mine (knock on wood) in the same thought.





And thirdly, I am currently reading, just for a nice light read, Twilight. Perhaps you know it better as... the story of the girl who falls in love with the vampire? Well, I'm absolutely tearing through it, partly because it is really good and partly because the wording is super simple and the words are kind of big.



A movie is actually being made with Kristen Stewart as the narrator and.....

ROBERT PATTINSON AS EDWARD (the vampire)!
Aka Cedric Diggory.
He's the reason I've watched Goblet of Fire so much. SO. SO. HOT.
The only thing that could ruin it is if his American accent sucks (coughJimSturgess21cough). I think he fits the character quite perfectly. So fingers crossed that they don't fuck up the book too badly.


Listen: Other than THS and Vampire Weekend, listen to "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" by She & Him. She being ZOOEY DESCHANEL and Him being M. Ward! Could you ask for a better pairing? I think not. This song is incredible. The simple summery swing to it is irresitable and Zooey's voice is coy and playful.

happy... spring holiday of your choosing!

a.

PS. When Chikezie Cheesy whatever screwed up "I've Just Seen A Face" on Idol last night (yes, I watch American Idol, shut your face) I had to listen to Jimmy Sturg's version immediately after to remind me how much I love that song. How dare you Cheesy????

Harps, Teapots, and Alaska

Joanna Newsom inspires me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person quite so elfin and ethereal, who embodies a fantasy world of long messy hair and fairies. While her voice is a bit grating to my ears, her whole being inspires me. The harp is such a beautiful, ancient instrument. She’s simply otherworldly, too delicate and mystical to belong to the mundane earth.







That harp’s hella big. And no, I really don’t use “hella” in daily conversation.







I would dress like that every day if I could. And she’s a hair idol of mine, as a matter of fact.




I’ve always wanted to play the harp, but then I remember that they made a big deal of Elizabeth Smart’s playing of the harp when she was missing, and I can help but get skeeved out.

If I were an artist, she might be my muse.


Moving on the second part of my so-clever-it-hurts title, look at this gorgeous teapots from englishteastore.com:



I can’t help but picture myself living in a small cottage somewhere, cluttered and cozy, with a bright green teapot on the vintage wood-burning stove.
Oh God. That was so cheesy it makes me sick. But, alas, I can not control my dreams.

More on tea in a later post.




And, finally, Alaska. I just watched Into the Wild last night, after reading and loving the book to pieces. Christopher McCandless’s story just tore my heart into pieces. I wondered at how it could be brought to the big screen, but director Sean Penn achieved it with delicate precision and obviously huge concern for the story and McCandless.



Chris on the California coast, where he met up with some hippie wanderers.

Everyone knows the story by now, an idealistic young college grad, searching for something more than society can give him, wanders the earth for two years, until finally heading to Alaska for his “great adventure.” It is there that nature betrays him, and he dies of combined starvation and poisoning from mold that developed on potato roots he ate when he could find no game. Some admire his idealistic search for self, while others view him as a naïve, ignorant fool who asked for his own death. Either way you chose to see Chris, this story can’t help but affect you.




The film opens with Chris arriving at the Stampede Trail in Alaska, which he followed until he came across a bus, which he referred to as the “magic bus” in which he would live for several months, and, eventually, die. The film then cuts back and forth between Chris’s time in the bus and his travels throughout the West. Reading the book and watching the movie, it amazed how many people Chris affected in his travels, how many lives he changed and hearts he touched, and, when news of his death became known, broke. The most heartbreaking of all these people is the elderly widower Ron Franz, played by Hal Holbrook. Something you don’t learn by watching the movie is that Ron Franz isn’t the man’s real name: he asked author Jon Krakauer to keep him anonymous, because McCandless’s death so tore him apart that he didn’t want people asking him about it. Even more devastating is this: Ron was a devout Christian when he met Chris, and had been sober for many years after becoming dependant on whiskey after his wife and son were killed by a drunk driver. But after he learn of McCandless’s death, Franz became an atheist, convinced that if there were a God, Chris never would have died. He also started drinking again.




The movie is anchored by a fantastic performance by Emile Hirsch. He captures the slightly out-of-control McCandless perfectly, in my opinion. He had to lose 40 pounds throughout the shoot, and a shot towards the end, as McCandless is slowly starving away, of a skeletal Hirsch is haunting and shocking. He makes the difficult death scene oddly beautiful. It seems that, in those last few moments, Chris truly found peace.




The film is visually stunning, and I’m angry it was so ignored by the Oscars. The way it is shot is breathtaking, not only the large landscapes of a frozen Alaska, but the smaller shots in between. Penn utilized a split-screen technique in several scenes and I absolutely loved it. SO… WHERE WAS IT’S CINEMATOGRAPHY NOMINATION??? How about Best Director for Penn? Or Best Adapted Screenplay? The screenplay is touching and heart-wrenching all at once. I do appreciate that it was nominated by Editing, however, considering it was tricky flashing back and forth between the time periods. The one that really irks me, however, is the last of Best Score nomination. The music is what makes many scenes—the gentle of a guitar as the undercurrent for Eddie Vedder’s raw, rumbling voice… it was absolutely robbed.




I loved this movie, obviously. Highly recommended, though it is a bit long, 2 and a half hours, so you need to leave your whole night free.

Finally, I came across an article about how the local Alaskans in the area surrounding the Stampede Trail are deeply resentful toward all the “McCandless pilgrims” who are using the bus as a tourist attraction, taking pictures there, and sitting against the bus in McCandless’s iconic pose of one leg over the other. This just seems sick to me. A man died there… it creeps me out that people use it as a tourism site, the same as Disneyland or the Grand Canyon. Maybe some people identify with Chris, and are looking to find some sense of self, but still… A replica of the bus was used in the film—both out of respect and convenience, and the locals want to move the bus to the beginning of the trail, so it is more easily accessible. They’ve had to airlift 2 couples out of the area so far, at the cost of the Alaskan government. These people, mostly young men, have carved their names into the side of the bus. This is so disrespectful to me. A bit of a morbid spot to be a tourist attraction, no?




I’ll finish with my favorite quote from Chris, scratched out in his journal as he lay dying, “Happiness only real when shared.” He realized that isolation wasn’t the answer, that we needed others.

So go share it.

a.