I've had these songs on repeat all summer. Download it as a mix.
1. Small Black -Despicable Dogs
2. Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights
3. Washed Out - New Theory
4. Best Coast - Sun Was High (So Was I)
5. Surfer Blood - Swim
6. Wavves - Post Acid
7. MGMT - Flash Delirium
8. Panda Bear - Tomboy
9. Dum Dum Girls - Jail La La
10. Kid Cudi, Best Coast, Rostam Batmanglij - All Summer
11. Kate Bush - Hounds of Love
12. Panda Bear - Slow Motion
13. Best Coast - Boyfriend
14. Washed Out and Caroline Polachek - You and I
Blogspot is pretty terrible for photos. So instead, here's a Flickr set of some choice pictures from this summer. Mostly from New York.
25 August 2010
14 July 2010
For Ellen.
Ellen Hinson died two years ago. Typing that sentence, reading that sentence, saying that sentence is completely unreal to me. And I know that it will remain unreal no matter what the number is.
Her death hasn't made me obsess over the concept of death or life or time or religion. When I think about Ellen, I don't think about death, I think about Ellen.
Ellen and I were best friends in middle school. People who knew either Ellen or myself post-middle school might not understand what our relationship was like. And of course, I'm not saying I'm any more important than friends she had before middle school or after. It's just that if you went to Franklin with us it was likely you didn't have a good understanding of what our relationship was like.
But that's also because no one understood our relationship except Ellen and me. There's a line in Stand By Me that goes "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" And the answer is no, for better or for worse. Ellen and I were friends the only way 12-13-14 year old girls can be friends. We were fascinated by each other, obsessed with each other. When we met, on the first day of seventh grade, we had both gone to the same school with the same people up to that point. Ellen was still at the same school, Lusher, but I was new. But it was different for Ellen, too; seventh grade at Lusher always saw a substantial amount of new faces. I sat down at her table on the first day of school because there weren't any other seats left. I was terrified and barely talked. But I couldn't get over this one girl, who talked and laughed with everyone, whether she had known them her whole life or five minutes.
Ellen took me in immediately, but our friendship didn't grow out of necessity. On my end, up to that point I had almost exclusively gone to school with the same people from the time I was 5. My elementary school friends were all I had and I didn't know any better. That's not to say they weren't good friends (some of them were, some of them weren't) but I didn't really get much of a chance to make and choose friends.
If Ellen and I were different people we could have easily not be friends. We would have been friendly, sure, because even though Lusher seemed like a metropolis compared to the small town of my elementary school, it was small. But we didn't have to be friends. Our friendship came to be out of our love for each other.
Does that sound over-dramatic? Maybe it is, but everything is when you're a 12 year old girl. We talked for hours. We told each other secrets that neither of us had heard before. We wanted to be sisters just so we could be together all the time. Even our arguments, which were very few, usually had more to do with outside forces than each other and were resolved quickly.
Ellen shaped who I am today. She was so funny, I had never met anyone like her. Our senses of humor morphed together until we were virtually able to read each other's thoughts. Literally, the right sideways glance at her closet door had us laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. Even today I know why we found it funny but I could never explain it to anyone else, because no one else is me or Ellen.
I think it's standard when someone dies too young, especially in an accident, to have issues with the unfairness of it. I was always older than Ellen by almost exactly nine months, but I keep getting older and older than her. She will always be 19, and now I'm 22. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm not supposed to be that much older than her.
By now I've graduated college. I have a BFA. Ellen never graduated college. She should have a degree right now, too. Maybe she'd be in grad school. Either way she would be moving forward.
When I think of what she did and what she was capable of, I feel ashamed. And I hate that because I know Ellen would hate that. She was so smart and was only getting smarter. It's not that I have all of her smarts and I'm just wasting my life away, not doing anything with them; she'd always be an engineer and I'd always be a writer, no matter what happened two years ago. So I shouldn't feel bad. But when I think of all she had done and had the potential to do and when I think of my art school career and these little scribbles I make, I just feel ashamed.
But Ellen would be so mad to hear that. If I had the opportunity to tell her that, she wouldn't even let me finish. She read everything I wrote and begged for more, which says a lot considering she was reading the work of a pubescent girl. She told everyone that I was the best writer and she was proud because I was her friend. So instead of interpreting my feelings into something along the lines of "why her and not me," which she wouldn't ever want, I just interpret them this way:
When Ellen died a big hole was made. Not just a hole in the now, but a hole in the future. The stuff she was going to do can't be done anymore. And nothing can change that. But since I'm still alive I owe it to her to do everything I can in my power to help fill up the hole. I'll never do it. No one will. I'll never come close. But what I do with my life isn't just about me anymore. Ellen and I made promises to each other that we swore we would keep. There was one promise we made to each other the summer of 2001, wrapped up in blankets because of the air conditioning and relishing the artificial cold. When we made this promise and we thought of the future it was vague: it was hard to even imagine graduating high school, much less going to college and having careers and long lives. But we made the promise all the same and I have every reason to believe that even if Ellen died when she was 99 instead of 19 she would have kept it.
Now I'm the only one in the world who knows about the promise we made that night. And I'm the only one who needs to know. Because if our places were switched I know Ellen would feel the same way. And when I close my eyes I can see her sitting in front of me, our pinkies wrapped around each other in making what was as good as a contract in blood.
So Ellen, now and forever: this, all of this, is for you.
Ben E. King - Stand By Me
The Beatles - In My Life
Her death hasn't made me obsess over the concept of death or life or time or religion. When I think about Ellen, I don't think about death, I think about Ellen.
Ellen and I were best friends in middle school. People who knew either Ellen or myself post-middle school might not understand what our relationship was like. And of course, I'm not saying I'm any more important than friends she had before middle school or after. It's just that if you went to Franklin with us it was likely you didn't have a good understanding of what our relationship was like.
But that's also because no one understood our relationship except Ellen and me. There's a line in Stand By Me that goes "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?" And the answer is no, for better or for worse. Ellen and I were friends the only way 12-13-14 year old girls can be friends. We were fascinated by each other, obsessed with each other. When we met, on the first day of seventh grade, we had both gone to the same school with the same people up to that point. Ellen was still at the same school, Lusher, but I was new. But it was different for Ellen, too; seventh grade at Lusher always saw a substantial amount of new faces. I sat down at her table on the first day of school because there weren't any other seats left. I was terrified and barely talked. But I couldn't get over this one girl, who talked and laughed with everyone, whether she had known them her whole life or five minutes.
Ellen took me in immediately, but our friendship didn't grow out of necessity. On my end, up to that point I had almost exclusively gone to school with the same people from the time I was 5. My elementary school friends were all I had and I didn't know any better. That's not to say they weren't good friends (some of them were, some of them weren't) but I didn't really get much of a chance to make and choose friends.
If Ellen and I were different people we could have easily not be friends. We would have been friendly, sure, because even though Lusher seemed like a metropolis compared to the small town of my elementary school, it was small. But we didn't have to be friends. Our friendship came to be out of our love for each other.
Does that sound over-dramatic? Maybe it is, but everything is when you're a 12 year old girl. We talked for hours. We told each other secrets that neither of us had heard before. We wanted to be sisters just so we could be together all the time. Even our arguments, which were very few, usually had more to do with outside forces than each other and were resolved quickly.
Ellen shaped who I am today. She was so funny, I had never met anyone like her. Our senses of humor morphed together until we were virtually able to read each other's thoughts. Literally, the right sideways glance at her closet door had us laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. Even today I know why we found it funny but I could never explain it to anyone else, because no one else is me or Ellen.
I think it's standard when someone dies too young, especially in an accident, to have issues with the unfairness of it. I was always older than Ellen by almost exactly nine months, but I keep getting older and older than her. She will always be 19, and now I'm 22. It doesn't make sense to me. I'm not supposed to be that much older than her.
By now I've graduated college. I have a BFA. Ellen never graduated college. She should have a degree right now, too. Maybe she'd be in grad school. Either way she would be moving forward.
When I think of what she did and what she was capable of, I feel ashamed. And I hate that because I know Ellen would hate that. She was so smart and was only getting smarter. It's not that I have all of her smarts and I'm just wasting my life away, not doing anything with them; she'd always be an engineer and I'd always be a writer, no matter what happened two years ago. So I shouldn't feel bad. But when I think of all she had done and had the potential to do and when I think of my art school career and these little scribbles I make, I just feel ashamed.
But Ellen would be so mad to hear that. If I had the opportunity to tell her that, she wouldn't even let me finish. She read everything I wrote and begged for more, which says a lot considering she was reading the work of a pubescent girl. She told everyone that I was the best writer and she was proud because I was her friend. So instead of interpreting my feelings into something along the lines of "why her and not me," which she wouldn't ever want, I just interpret them this way:
When Ellen died a big hole was made. Not just a hole in the now, but a hole in the future. The stuff she was going to do can't be done anymore. And nothing can change that. But since I'm still alive I owe it to her to do everything I can in my power to help fill up the hole. I'll never do it. No one will. I'll never come close. But what I do with my life isn't just about me anymore. Ellen and I made promises to each other that we swore we would keep. There was one promise we made to each other the summer of 2001, wrapped up in blankets because of the air conditioning and relishing the artificial cold. When we made this promise and we thought of the future it was vague: it was hard to even imagine graduating high school, much less going to college and having careers and long lives. But we made the promise all the same and I have every reason to believe that even if Ellen died when she was 99 instead of 19 she would have kept it.
Now I'm the only one in the world who knows about the promise we made that night. And I'm the only one who needs to know. Because if our places were switched I know Ellen would feel the same way. And when I close my eyes I can see her sitting in front of me, our pinkies wrapped around each other in making what was as good as a contract in blood.
So Ellen, now and forever: this, all of this, is for you.
Ben E. King - Stand By Me
The Beatles - In My Life
10 July 2010
Songs About Literature
Y'all, I love books. That should be pretty obvious. I love music, too, because I'm a human. So naturally when books and music come together, I lovelove it.
I love when songs are about books. Or short stories or plays or poems. You get the idea. There are a million more than these, I'm sure. These are just the obvious ones/ones I like.
Radiohead - Exit Music (For A Film) - My favorite songs that are about literature are the ones told from the perspective of one of the characters. This one is particularly good because it's not in your face about Romeo and Juliet. But it is . . . Thom Yorke wrote is specifically to play at the end credits of Romeo + Juliet (hence the song title). But what I really love about this song is that it could be sung from the perspective of either Romeo or Juliet. I think we assume Romeo because Thom Yorke is a man, but there isn't anything in the lyrics that define sex. Both Romeo and Juliet had shitty parents, so it can be about either of them.
Peter Gabriel - Family Snapshot - This is based on An Assassin's Diary by Arthur Bremmer. It's sort of easy to write a song about a love story. Peter Gabriel wrote a song about someone who wanted to assassinate a a racist politician.
Taylor Swift - Love Story - This is a stretch. I admit it. BUT I LOVE TAYLOR SWIFT. Don't try to understand it. Just go with it. About Romeo and Juliet, this is written from the perspective of Juliet . . . that is, if Romeo had "talked to [her] dad" before their marriage and they grew old and happy together. I also like the addition of The Scarlet Letter ("You were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter"), which in the context of the song doesn't really make sense. BUT I DON'T CARE, I LOVE IT ANYWAY.
Aimee Mann - Ghost World - Pretty sweet song about a pretty sweet graphic novel. I'm not sure how many songs there are about graphic novels. I'm not talking about comic book series, though, and I am ESPECIALLY not talking about any of the terrible terrible terrible songs written about Superman.
Fear Before the March of Flames - The Lisbon Girls, Oh The Lisbon Girls - I probably shouldn't count this because I hate this band and I hate this song. But I love the lyrics! And it's about The Virgin Suicides, my favorite novel. If only this song were in the hands of an artist that isn't absolutely awful.
Steve Forbert - Romeo's Tune - Another fairly upbeat Romeo and Juliet-based song. It doesn't explicitly change the story to happy ending like "Love Story," but you'd never know Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy based on this song.
David Bowie - 1984 - An appropriately dark song for 1984. The lyrics don't really explicitly describe specific events or characters in the book, but it does give a decent view of a dystopia/shitty world. "They'll split your pretty cranium and fill it full of air." Sort of wish there was a lyric like "They'll strap a caged rat to your face."
Fleetwood Mac - Rhiannon - This isn't quite based on Mary Leader's Triad, but it's not originally based on the Welsh goddess Rhiannon, either. Stevie Nicks wrote the song after she read Triad but really only used the name Rhiannon from the book, not much else. BUT the song is amazing, so who cares.
R.E.M. - Falls to Climb - The real benefit of having a singer like Michael Stipe sing about a short story like "The Lottery" is that he totally stays true to the nature of the story. If a scary or intimidating sounding guy sang the song it would really betray the subtlety of the story. And Michael Stipe has such a nice voice that really lends itself to the naivety of the main character. Also "The Lottery" is one of my favorite short stories, so there.
Bright Eyes - Tereza and Tomas - This doesn't have specific elements to the song that scream I'M ABOUT THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING, but would that even be possible? If you aren't familiar with novel, the song would really just seem like a love song, presumably about two people named Tereza and Tomas. And really, you could argue that The Unbearable Lightness of Being is just a love story about Tereza and Tomas, too.
Simon & Garfunkel - Richard Cory - My high school English teacher in my senior year didn't believe me when, while reading the poem for class, I told her that there was a Simon & Garfunkel song based on it. "Who would write a song about a poem about suicide?" Well, I don't know, Paul Simon I guess. It's a great poem and a great song, which is not told from the perspective of Richard Cory (or even the second person, like the poem). My English teacher had never read Lord of the Flies, though, so she was really in no position to talk.
Panda Bear - Bonfire of the Vanities - So the only lyrics to this song are "Don't you think that I cannot be sorry/It's always such a stupid thing that I can't deal with," which are obviously too vague to really pinpoint it as being about Bonfire of the Vanities. Especially since it could actually be about that other bonfire of the vanities. Noah Lennox's lyrics are usually pretty literal, so I would guess that they're at least inspired by one (or both?) of the two.
Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights - AS IF I would ever forget to include this. This is one of my favorite songs of all time. What I like the most about it is that it sounds like a love song . . . a character begging for her lover to come home. Except in Wuthering Heights, Catherine is dead and her ghost calls to Heathcliff from the window. So in the song when she says "come home" and "let me grab your soul away," it's a little creepier when you put it in the context of the novel. Also the first lyric is "Out on the wiley, windy moors." PERFECT.
Bonus video: THE MAGICAL KATE BUSH
I love when songs are about books. Or short stories or plays or poems. You get the idea. There are a million more than these, I'm sure. These are just the obvious ones/ones I like.
Radiohead - Exit Music (For A Film) - My favorite songs that are about literature are the ones told from the perspective of one of the characters. This one is particularly good because it's not in your face about Romeo and Juliet. But it is . . . Thom Yorke wrote is specifically to play at the end credits of Romeo + Juliet (hence the song title). But what I really love about this song is that it could be sung from the perspective of either Romeo or Juliet. I think we assume Romeo because Thom Yorke is a man, but there isn't anything in the lyrics that define sex. Both Romeo and Juliet had shitty parents, so it can be about either of them.
Peter Gabriel - Family Snapshot - This is based on An Assassin's Diary by Arthur Bremmer. It's sort of easy to write a song about a love story. Peter Gabriel wrote a song about someone who wanted to assassinate a a racist politician.
Taylor Swift - Love Story - This is a stretch. I admit it. BUT I LOVE TAYLOR SWIFT. Don't try to understand it. Just go with it. About Romeo and Juliet, this is written from the perspective of Juliet . . . that is, if Romeo had "talked to [her] dad" before their marriage and they grew old and happy together. I also like the addition of The Scarlet Letter ("You were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter"), which in the context of the song doesn't really make sense. BUT I DON'T CARE, I LOVE IT ANYWAY.
Aimee Mann - Ghost World - Pretty sweet song about a pretty sweet graphic novel. I'm not sure how many songs there are about graphic novels. I'm not talking about comic book series, though, and I am ESPECIALLY not talking about any of the terrible terrible terrible songs written about Superman.
Fear Before the March of Flames - The Lisbon Girls, Oh The Lisbon Girls - I probably shouldn't count this because I hate this band and I hate this song. But I love the lyrics! And it's about The Virgin Suicides, my favorite novel. If only this song were in the hands of an artist that isn't absolutely awful.
Steve Forbert - Romeo's Tune - Another fairly upbeat Romeo and Juliet-based song. It doesn't explicitly change the story to happy ending like "Love Story," but you'd never know Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy based on this song.
David Bowie - 1984 - An appropriately dark song for 1984. The lyrics don't really explicitly describe specific events or characters in the book, but it does give a decent view of a dystopia/shitty world. "They'll split your pretty cranium and fill it full of air." Sort of wish there was a lyric like "They'll strap a caged rat to your face."
Fleetwood Mac - Rhiannon - This isn't quite based on Mary Leader's Triad, but it's not originally based on the Welsh goddess Rhiannon, either. Stevie Nicks wrote the song after she read Triad but really only used the name Rhiannon from the book, not much else. BUT the song is amazing, so who cares.
R.E.M. - Falls to Climb - The real benefit of having a singer like Michael Stipe sing about a short story like "The Lottery" is that he totally stays true to the nature of the story. If a scary or intimidating sounding guy sang the song it would really betray the subtlety of the story. And Michael Stipe has such a nice voice that really lends itself to the naivety of the main character. Also "The Lottery" is one of my favorite short stories, so there.
Bright Eyes - Tereza and Tomas - This doesn't have specific elements to the song that scream I'M ABOUT THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING, but would that even be possible? If you aren't familiar with novel, the song would really just seem like a love song, presumably about two people named Tereza and Tomas. And really, you could argue that The Unbearable Lightness of Being is just a love story about Tereza and Tomas, too.
Simon & Garfunkel - Richard Cory - My high school English teacher in my senior year didn't believe me when, while reading the poem for class, I told her that there was a Simon & Garfunkel song based on it. "Who would write a song about a poem about suicide?" Well, I don't know, Paul Simon I guess. It's a great poem and a great song, which is not told from the perspective of Richard Cory (or even the second person, like the poem). My English teacher had never read Lord of the Flies, though, so she was really in no position to talk.
Panda Bear - Bonfire of the Vanities - So the only lyrics to this song are "Don't you think that I cannot be sorry/It's always such a stupid thing that I can't deal with," which are obviously too vague to really pinpoint it as being about Bonfire of the Vanities. Especially since it could actually be about that other bonfire of the vanities. Noah Lennox's lyrics are usually pretty literal, so I would guess that they're at least inspired by one (or both?) of the two.
Kate Bush - Wuthering Heights - AS IF I would ever forget to include this. This is one of my favorite songs of all time. What I like the most about it is that it sounds like a love song . . . a character begging for her lover to come home. Except in Wuthering Heights, Catherine is dead and her ghost calls to Heathcliff from the window. So in the song when she says "come home" and "let me grab your soul away," it's a little creepier when you put it in the context of the novel. Also the first lyric is "Out on the wiley, windy moors." PERFECT.
Bonus video: THE MAGICAL KATE BUSH
02 July 2010
UNCHAINED MELODY
Here's a video of Bobby Hatfield of The Righteous Brothers emerging from darkness to break/melt your heart.
This has got to be one of my favorite songs ever. Granted, if I had to make a "favorite songs ever" list, it would be huge and impossible to rank, but still.
But what I really want is for Beach House to cover this song. It sounds weird at first, but think about it: Victoria Legrand doing those vocals, with all the lows and highs. And Alex Scally's guitar making it all sexy. So from now on I'm just going to send them telepathic messages regarding covering "Unchained Melody" and just hope.
Also, THOSE CHEEKBONES.
The Righteous Brothers - Unchained Melody
This has got to be one of my favorite songs ever. Granted, if I had to make a "favorite songs ever" list, it would be huge and impossible to rank, but still.
But what I really want is for Beach House to cover this song. It sounds weird at first, but think about it: Victoria Legrand doing those vocals, with all the lows and highs. And Alex Scally's guitar making it all sexy. So from now on I'm just going to send them telepathic messages regarding covering "Unchained Melody" and just hope.
Also, THOSE CHEEKBONES.
The Righteous Brothers - Unchained Melody
23 June 2010
On "Best of the Year" stuff
Even on a personal level it's usually sort of difficult for me, at the end of the year, to figure out what I liked the best out of that year. Again, this is especially true for music, for whatever reason. Last year was easy, thanks to Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion. And 2010 will also be easy, thanks to Beach House's Teen Dream.
It's June, we've still got half a year to go. And, maybe more importantly, a new PANDA BEAR album to be released (Tomboy, in September). And it's true that I can't even really think too long about Tomboy because I get too excited. And it's true that I may end up thinking it's a better album than Teen Dream. But it would be really really tough for it to push Teen Dream out of my Album of 2010 spot.
Why? Because Teen Dream (like Merriweather Post Pavilion in 2009) was released in January. It leaked even earlier (also like MPP). I have listened to Teen Dream over and over and over and OVER again since it leaked and since it was released officially. I have listened to individual tracks over and over and over and OVER again. I have sung the songs in my car and in the shower, I have hummed them while I walk, I have had my own dreams with Teen Dream providing the soundtrack. This is still true almost exactly 6 months after it was released and I don't imagine it being untrue 6 months from now.
For me, Teen Dream will be The Album of 2010 because it's been here with me the whole time. Even if Tomboy leaks right now, it'll still only be in 2010 for half the year. So it would almost have to be twice as good as Teen Dream to make it my Album of 2010, which I can't even quantify because of my aforementioned inability to do so.
So there you go, done and done. Teen Dream all the way for me.
Although I'll probably vomit everywhere out of happiness the day Tomboy is released.
Beach House - Silver Soul
It's June, we've still got half a year to go. And, maybe more importantly, a new PANDA BEAR album to be released (Tomboy, in September). And it's true that I can't even really think too long about Tomboy because I get too excited. And it's true that I may end up thinking it's a better album than Teen Dream. But it would be really really tough for it to push Teen Dream out of my Album of 2010 spot.
Why? Because Teen Dream (like Merriweather Post Pavilion in 2009) was released in January. It leaked even earlier (also like MPP). I have listened to Teen Dream over and over and over and OVER again since it leaked and since it was released officially. I have listened to individual tracks over and over and over and OVER again. I have sung the songs in my car and in the shower, I have hummed them while I walk, I have had my own dreams with Teen Dream providing the soundtrack. This is still true almost exactly 6 months after it was released and I don't imagine it being untrue 6 months from now.
For me, Teen Dream will be The Album of 2010 because it's been here with me the whole time. Even if Tomboy leaks right now, it'll still only be in 2010 for half the year. So it would almost have to be twice as good as Teen Dream to make it my Album of 2010, which I can't even quantify because of my aforementioned inability to do so.
So there you go, done and done. Teen Dream all the way for me.
Although I'll probably vomit everywhere out of happiness the day Tomboy is released.
Beach House - Silver Soul
11 June 2010
Graduation happened and it was like this
Much has happened in the last few weeks. I guess I'll start with "graduating college."
The week leading up to graduation I sort of thought I was going to die. As relatives trickled in, I was taken out to eat for almost every meal everyday. Which is AWESOME, DUH but was also a little overwhelming and I sort of feared for my well-being (though not enough to turn down free meals).
During this week, I had finals. Is this normal? SCAD's last day of classes is on a Thursday and then SCAD graduation is on Saturday. Not much downtime.
The day before graduation was "graduation rehearsal." Except it was more of "everyone sit down while we explain shit you already know, including how to put on a cap and gown." They never covered how you get to the stage, in what order, who gives you your diploma, etc etc, which I didn't realize until right before I had to go on stage. Also bought my cap and gown the day before graduation (whatever). "That'll be a hundred dollars," said the Herff Jones woman. "O.K.," I said, dying inside a little bit. "Cash only. Don't you have cash?" Yeah, that's true, you're right, Herff Jones woman. Let me whip out five of the many twenty dollar bills I carry around with me all the time. Had to go to the ATM. Annoying. But really, $100 for a fucking cap and gown? That is a lot of money for some pieces of [ugly] [hot as hell] shit.
We had to be at the Savannah Civic Center at 7:15am. Because of having to bathe myself and also picking up Victoria, I had to wake up at 5. That means an hour into commencement, I was ready to die.
Commencement was at 9 and Isabella Rossellini was our speaker. Do you guys know how gorgeous she is? She is way gorgeous. And her speech ripped. I was at commencement last year when Glenn Close spoke . . . but in my opinion, Isabella Rossellini was better. I usually roll my eyes at actresses talking about being insecure about how they look, even though I know everyone gets insecure no matter how hot you are. But then when Isabella Rossellini said, "When your mother is in Casablanca, you never feel beautiful enough," I had to hand it to her on that one.
Graduation was broken into two ceremonies and mine was at 1. Not enough time between commencement and graduation to take a nap, as I so desperately wanted to. Instead Ben and I went to Wendy's.
Do you guys get sick when you're really tired? I hadn't slept well the past two nights, plus had been up since 5. When I get really tired like that, I start to feel way sick to my stomach. And sitting in the last row at graduation, I was teetering on feeling like I was going to throw up and feeling like I might pass out. Seems like graduation took longer this year. Sort of sad, since the reason it seemed that way is because I'm friends with more people who graduated a year ahead of me.
One of the last people to see us before we walked on stage was Wyc, who was our academic adviser for the whole time the major has been around, save this last quarter. Wyc is awesome and super nice and super positive and seeing him nod to each of us with a "Hey y'all" or "Aw, congratulations, girl" was a nice boost of chill. When the girl before me walked onstage, I stepped forward and the woman at the stage stopped me and said, "Wait." But then she never said anything else. I waited for her to say "Now," or something of that nature, or to push me forward, but she never did. So I got really nervous and just said, "Uh, O.K., I'm going now," and just sort of walked forward.
I had been warned about pronunciation problems at graduation, so I went to my graduation auditor twice (in addition to the original meeting) about how to pronounce my middle name. My middle name is Carea, but it's pronounced Carrie or Carry or Carey etc etc. But everyone thinks it's Korea. And without fail, despite my efforts, I was announced on stage as "Elizabeth Korea Dixon." Whatever.
I also realized I took more pictures at last year's graduation (a couple dozen) than I did at my own (zero). Was more concerned about getting it done, I guess.
The week leading up to graduation I sort of thought I was going to die. As relatives trickled in, I was taken out to eat for almost every meal everyday. Which is AWESOME, DUH but was also a little overwhelming and I sort of feared for my well-being (though not enough to turn down free meals).
During this week, I had finals. Is this normal? SCAD's last day of classes is on a Thursday and then SCAD graduation is on Saturday. Not much downtime.
The day before graduation was "graduation rehearsal." Except it was more of "everyone sit down while we explain shit you already know, including how to put on a cap and gown." They never covered how you get to the stage, in what order, who gives you your diploma, etc etc, which I didn't realize until right before I had to go on stage. Also bought my cap and gown the day before graduation (whatever). "That'll be a hundred dollars," said the Herff Jones woman. "O.K.," I said, dying inside a little bit. "Cash only. Don't you have cash?" Yeah, that's true, you're right, Herff Jones woman. Let me whip out five of the many twenty dollar bills I carry around with me all the time. Had to go to the ATM. Annoying. But really, $100 for a fucking cap and gown? That is a lot of money for some pieces of [ugly] [hot as hell] shit.
We had to be at the Savannah Civic Center at 7:15am. Because of having to bathe myself and also picking up Victoria, I had to wake up at 5. That means an hour into commencement, I was ready to die.
Commencement was at 9 and Isabella Rossellini was our speaker. Do you guys know how gorgeous she is? She is way gorgeous. And her speech ripped. I was at commencement last year when Glenn Close spoke . . . but in my opinion, Isabella Rossellini was better. I usually roll my eyes at actresses talking about being insecure about how they look, even though I know everyone gets insecure no matter how hot you are. But then when Isabella Rossellini said, "When your mother is in Casablanca, you never feel beautiful enough," I had to hand it to her on that one.
Graduation was broken into two ceremonies and mine was at 1. Not enough time between commencement and graduation to take a nap, as I so desperately wanted to. Instead Ben and I went to Wendy's.
Do you guys get sick when you're really tired? I hadn't slept well the past two nights, plus had been up since 5. When I get really tired like that, I start to feel way sick to my stomach. And sitting in the last row at graduation, I was teetering on feeling like I was going to throw up and feeling like I might pass out. Seems like graduation took longer this year. Sort of sad, since the reason it seemed that way is because I'm friends with more people who graduated a year ahead of me.
One of the last people to see us before we walked on stage was Wyc, who was our academic adviser for the whole time the major has been around, save this last quarter. Wyc is awesome and super nice and super positive and seeing him nod to each of us with a "Hey y'all" or "Aw, congratulations, girl" was a nice boost of chill. When the girl before me walked onstage, I stepped forward and the woman at the stage stopped me and said, "Wait." But then she never said anything else. I waited for her to say "Now," or something of that nature, or to push me forward, but she never did. So I got really nervous and just said, "Uh, O.K., I'm going now," and just sort of walked forward.
I had been warned about pronunciation problems at graduation, so I went to my graduation auditor twice (in addition to the original meeting) about how to pronounce my middle name. My middle name is Carea, but it's pronounced Carrie or Carry or Carey etc etc. But everyone thinks it's Korea. And without fail, despite my efforts, I was announced on stage as "Elizabeth Korea Dixon." Whatever.
I also realized I took more pictures at last year's graduation (a couple dozen) than I did at my own (zero). Was more concerned about getting it done, I guess.
22 May 2010
recent polaroids
Polaroid got fucked up, turned into a picture of burnt cheese
With a baby Diet Coke and fake tattoo on 4/20
Using face masks in Asheville before seeing BeachHouse
Ben took this really awful Polaroid of me, but instead of getting rid of it forever I turned it into a BLINGEEEEEE
Dash took this Polaroid in my car at night without the flash . . . THANKS DASH
Have you guys ever had Wild Irish Rose? It's $2 and tastes like whiskey mixed with cheap wine. DELICIOUS
This is how 22-23 year olds play dress up
08 May 2010
Revisiting Movies I Shouldn't Have Seen
When I was in fourth grade one of my teachers asked my class, "What is the one thing you wish you could do but can't because you're not old enough?" Looking back, I'm surprised no one said anything jackassy; everyone had pretty legit answers: stay up late, drive a car, get married. I triumphantly answered, "See R-rated movies," to an explosion of laughter. A few kids thought that was just a stupid answer while others bragged that their parents already let them watch R-rated movies (doubtful, in retrospect). But it honestly was my answer.
I was never rebellious in the way that if my mom said "Don't touch that," I felt compelled to touch it. I listened. Where I was rebellious was if my mom said "Don't watch that," or "Don't listen to that." If I was told not to watch a movie/TV show or listen to something, I immediately needed to know why. And since my mom couldn't ever be that specific (for instance, she couldn't say that she was more concerned about Minnie Driver miming a blowjob with a beer than the language in Good Will Hunting), it just made me want to know more.
This is where my different methods of viewing specific material came in. If I wasn't allowed to listen to something, that was a lot easier to do in secret, via the radio or my older sister's music collection or other means. Watching forbidden things were more of a challenge. The easiest method was, if my sister was in on it, to watch things when my parents weren't home. This worked particularly well for Kids in the Hall. Another method was sitting really close to the TV so I could have the volume on as low as possible, with either Nickelodeon or The Disney Channel programed on the TV remote's channel return button in case of close-by parents. Those two tactics didn't work very well for movies, however. My go-to method for seeing forbidden movies was wait until someone in my family rented it. After I was expelled from the living room so they could watch it, I snuck back in using a series of crawls and hiding places until I reached my spot behind the couch. Our couch also had recliners, so there some big spaces left open, big enough for my child self to get a clear view of the TV.
It would make sense if I continually did this only to find that the show or movie in question was in fact tame enough for me to handle. But that was almost never the case. Except for Kids in the Hall, pretty much everything I watched that I wasn't supposed to traumatized me in some way. Such as:
Jerry Maguire - There's a sex scene in Jerry Maguire that's really not long at all but completely fucked up my vision of what sex was. I always imagined sex had something to do with a bed, lots of sheets, and a guy on top of a girl, kissing her. I wasn't sure on the details. But in Jerry Maguire, the sex scene in question takes place not on a bed, but (I'm going on memory here) against a bookcase. And there's sitting involved, not laying. And the lights are on, and the girl sits on the boy's lap. I didn't know what this was and for many years changed my views on lap sitting.
Jaws - I didn't sneak watching Jaws. I watched it with my family when I was relatively young, if I remember correctly it had a lot to do with whining and bitching about how I was never allowed to watch anything. For 95% of the movie I was fine . . . a little freaked out, but Jaws really doesn't show much for most of the movie. But in that final shark showdown, when Robert Shaw is getting chomped from the bottom up while spewing blood from his mouth, I sat up from the couch, turned around to face my parents, and burst into tears. I couldn't handle it anymore. For the next few days my mom and sister had to continually convince me that no one actually died on the set of Jaws and that there are crazy magic capsules that actors can chew to make fake blood come out (I didn't believe them). I didn't see Jaws again until college.
Murder of Innocence - I went into more detail about this in a previous post. I don't really remember the actual viewing of this, only my nightmares about it afterward. But I would bet money I hid behind the couch while my mom watched it, because I was stupid.
Scream - I saw Scream for the first time last night since I was about 10. I originally saw Scream as a child with my friend, who brought it over after her older sister rented it, when I was home alone. I wanted to see it so bad to see what all the fuss was about. Needless to say, by the time Drew Barrymore is hanging from a tree with her intestines hanging out (no more than 10 minutes into the movie) I was sobbing. And for SOME REASON I still watched the rest. This led to my inability to answer the phone when home alone (which may or may not have manifested into my current inability to answer my phone when I don't know the number). It also made me think that boys might actually all be evil killers who don't just want to pressure you into having sex with them, but want to pressure you into having sex with them so they can murder you afterward.
A Clockwork Orange - I don't remember how I saw this one, either. But I was in either sixth or seventh grade and watched it alone, without sneaking it. I'm pretty sure it was a Jaws-like situation: after much begging and whining about how I'm way too mature to be denied any movie, I think my mom just might have just let me watch it. I don't think I talked about it for a long time afterward because I didn't want to admit that it was possibly the scariest thing I had ever seen and couldn't stop obsessing over it. Upon multiple viewings + aging past 12, I now see it as much more funny than it is scary, but at the time if someone told me it was supposed to be funny I would probably assume they were a crazed rapist. It also permanently changed the way I felt about the song "Singin' the Rain," which my dad would sing to me when I was really little while he washed my hair.
The Silence of the Lambs - Back when my family were patrons of Video Plus, a local video store before Blockbuster came to town, the shelves were arranged in such a way that to get to the new releases, you had to walk through horror. On the end of one of the rows was The Silence of the Lambs. I'll never forget the first time I saw the VHS cover. It was by far the most terrifying image I had ever seen. After that, I always walked in a long circle to bypass the horror shelves to get to the new releases. If I caught a glimpse of the cover, my day was fucked. When I was in middle school, I finally felt ready to watch the movie. Surprisingly, what fucked me up more than anything was when Buffalo Bill opens his robe to reveal his tucked penis. I did not know a penis could do anything but just be there, so at the time I thought this was revealing that he was actually a woman. When I asked my mom about it, she gingerly explained about penis tucking, the thought of which made me think of male genitalia as absolutely freakish and terrifying. I maintained this feeling until I saw a real one for the first time in high school, which pretty much caused me to a complete 180 on my personal views on penises.
Those are just a few. Interestingly enough, some of the most traumatizing movies I saw weren't forbidden at all, such as Sleeping Beauty and Ernest Scared Stupid. And when I eventually saw Good Will Hunting when I was about 13, the language didn't faze me and I didn't understand what Minnie Driver was doing, so I just sort of forgot about it.
This curiosity bled into books, which I was never forbidden to read. That's why I first read Lolita when I was 14 and am eternally grateful for it. So I'm glad I was fueled by my intense curiosity now, though at the time it was a major source of sleeplessness and stomach aches.
I was never rebellious in the way that if my mom said "Don't touch that," I felt compelled to touch it. I listened. Where I was rebellious was if my mom said "Don't watch that," or "Don't listen to that." If I was told not to watch a movie/TV show or listen to something, I immediately needed to know why. And since my mom couldn't ever be that specific (for instance, she couldn't say that she was more concerned about Minnie Driver miming a blowjob with a beer than the language in Good Will Hunting), it just made me want to know more.
This is where my different methods of viewing specific material came in. If I wasn't allowed to listen to something, that was a lot easier to do in secret, via the radio or my older sister's music collection or other means. Watching forbidden things were more of a challenge. The easiest method was, if my sister was in on it, to watch things when my parents weren't home. This worked particularly well for Kids in the Hall. Another method was sitting really close to the TV so I could have the volume on as low as possible, with either Nickelodeon or The Disney Channel programed on the TV remote's channel return button in case of close-by parents. Those two tactics didn't work very well for movies, however. My go-to method for seeing forbidden movies was wait until someone in my family rented it. After I was expelled from the living room so they could watch it, I snuck back in using a series of crawls and hiding places until I reached my spot behind the couch. Our couch also had recliners, so there some big spaces left open, big enough for my child self to get a clear view of the TV.
It would make sense if I continually did this only to find that the show or movie in question was in fact tame enough for me to handle. But that was almost never the case. Except for Kids in the Hall, pretty much everything I watched that I wasn't supposed to traumatized me in some way. Such as:
Jerry Maguire - There's a sex scene in Jerry Maguire that's really not long at all but completely fucked up my vision of what sex was. I always imagined sex had something to do with a bed, lots of sheets, and a guy on top of a girl, kissing her. I wasn't sure on the details. But in Jerry Maguire, the sex scene in question takes place not on a bed, but (I'm going on memory here) against a bookcase. And there's sitting involved, not laying. And the lights are on, and the girl sits on the boy's lap. I didn't know what this was and for many years changed my views on lap sitting.
Jaws - I didn't sneak watching Jaws. I watched it with my family when I was relatively young, if I remember correctly it had a lot to do with whining and bitching about how I was never allowed to watch anything. For 95% of the movie I was fine . . . a little freaked out, but Jaws really doesn't show much for most of the movie. But in that final shark showdown, when Robert Shaw is getting chomped from the bottom up while spewing blood from his mouth, I sat up from the couch, turned around to face my parents, and burst into tears. I couldn't handle it anymore. For the next few days my mom and sister had to continually convince me that no one actually died on the set of Jaws and that there are crazy magic capsules that actors can chew to make fake blood come out (I didn't believe them). I didn't see Jaws again until college.
Murder of Innocence - I went into more detail about this in a previous post. I don't really remember the actual viewing of this, only my nightmares about it afterward. But I would bet money I hid behind the couch while my mom watched it, because I was stupid.
Scream - I saw Scream for the first time last night since I was about 10. I originally saw Scream as a child with my friend, who brought it over after her older sister rented it, when I was home alone. I wanted to see it so bad to see what all the fuss was about. Needless to say, by the time Drew Barrymore is hanging from a tree with her intestines hanging out (no more than 10 minutes into the movie) I was sobbing. And for SOME REASON I still watched the rest. This led to my inability to answer the phone when home alone (which may or may not have manifested into my current inability to answer my phone when I don't know the number). It also made me think that boys might actually all be evil killers who don't just want to pressure you into having sex with them, but want to pressure you into having sex with them so they can murder you afterward.
A Clockwork Orange - I don't remember how I saw this one, either. But I was in either sixth or seventh grade and watched it alone, without sneaking it. I'm pretty sure it was a Jaws-like situation: after much begging and whining about how I'm way too mature to be denied any movie, I think my mom just might have just let me watch it. I don't think I talked about it for a long time afterward because I didn't want to admit that it was possibly the scariest thing I had ever seen and couldn't stop obsessing over it. Upon multiple viewings + aging past 12, I now see it as much more funny than it is scary, but at the time if someone told me it was supposed to be funny I would probably assume they were a crazed rapist. It also permanently changed the way I felt about the song "Singin' the Rain," which my dad would sing to me when I was really little while he washed my hair.
The Silence of the Lambs - Back when my family were patrons of Video Plus, a local video store before Blockbuster came to town, the shelves were arranged in such a way that to get to the new releases, you had to walk through horror. On the end of one of the rows was The Silence of the Lambs. I'll never forget the first time I saw the VHS cover. It was by far the most terrifying image I had ever seen. After that, I always walked in a long circle to bypass the horror shelves to get to the new releases. If I caught a glimpse of the cover, my day was fucked. When I was in middle school, I finally felt ready to watch the movie. Surprisingly, what fucked me up more than anything was when Buffalo Bill opens his robe to reveal his tucked penis. I did not know a penis could do anything but just be there, so at the time I thought this was revealing that he was actually a woman. When I asked my mom about it, she gingerly explained about penis tucking, the thought of which made me think of male genitalia as absolutely freakish and terrifying. I maintained this feeling until I saw a real one for the first time in high school, which pretty much caused me to a complete 180 on my personal views on penises.
Those are just a few. Interestingly enough, some of the most traumatizing movies I saw weren't forbidden at all, such as Sleeping Beauty and Ernest Scared Stupid. And when I eventually saw Good Will Hunting when I was about 13, the language didn't faze me and I didn't understand what Minnie Driver was doing, so I just sort of forgot about it.
This curiosity bled into books, which I was never forbidden to read. That's why I first read Lolita when I was 14 and am eternally grateful for it. So I'm glad I was fueled by my intense curiosity now, though at the time it was a major source of sleeplessness and stomach aches.
17 April 2010
Dancer in the Dark aka DO NOT WATCH IF YOU ARE SUICIDAL
Before yesterday, the last time I had to go off by myself just to sob uncontrollably after watching a movie was after seeing Atonement. I had to go straight from the screen to the movie theater bathroom, wait in line with as much of a poker face as I could manage, and then lock myself in a stall and just let the sobbing rip for a good few minutes.
But yesterday I watched Dancer in the Dark. I had never seen it but I hadn't avoided it. I didn't even really know what it was about, all I had really heard about it was that it was a musical and Thom Yorke was on the soundtrack. Then a few weeks ago I saw Antichrist, which was amazing and blew me away immediately moved Dancer in the Dark up on my Netflix queue. I wanted to see more of Lars von Trier and I love Bjork, so it made sense.
I had heard that it was depressing. A few times I heard the phrase "soul crushing" used to describe it. But for the first hour or so I felt like everyone must be a wimp. It was bleak, sure: really cute, sweet, innocent Bjork works her ass off to keep her and her 12 year old kid barely above the poverty line in the early 60s. But Catherine Deneuve played her French, motherly BFF and it didn't seem that bad. I still thought this after the ominous money tin is shown, as there's no way a movie is going to show a woman stashing all of her life's savings into a tin if something's not going to happen to it. And I still thought this after we learn that Bjork is going blind and the money isn't going back to Czechoslovakia to her father but rather to pay for an operation to cure that same blindness-causing trait in her son so that he'll never go blind, too. And EVEN STILL I thought this once David Morse started getting creepy and I figured he would probably rape her something.
Well, he doesn't rape her, in the literal sense. In fact, Dancer in the Dark is probably the most depressing movie I have ever seen about injustices done to an innocent woman that don't involve her getting raped. I still had hope that maybe it wouldn't be that depressing after she gets the money back and before she is arrested. I thought maybe she'd get away with it, or something.
BUT FUCK THAT. She doesn't come close to getting away with it. Snippets of her actions and conversations from before everything went to shit come back to haunt her big time during her trial (like talking about the importance of sharing later causing her supervisor to testify against her that she was a crazy Communist). What's almost worse is that I can totally understand where everyone is coming from. If your husband is robbed and murdered by someone whom you considered a close friend, whom your husband accused of trying to seduce him, and who's poor as fuck, it's easy to see why remembering certain conversations the way the wife does would lead her to believe that Bjork is cold and calculating.
BUT SHE'S NOT, OF COURSE. She is ADORABLE and completely innocent. The only time I really disliked her at all was her refusal to tell the truth in court because of a promise she made to the dead man that ruined her entire goddamn life. It reminded me of The Reader in that way (Kate Winslet, I know it sucks that you can't read, but don't let that get in the way of you being wrong accused of operating a hardcorely evil Nazi march thing). But still.
So Bjork is sentenced to hang, which to me is like sentencing your grandma to hang. Then there's this terrible, punch-you-in-the-face glimmer of hope that her sentence can be changed, that she won't be hanged at all! Which is quickly taken away once Bjork realizes the money she saved for her son's operation would be used to pay the lawyer and because SHE LOVES HER SON SO GODDAMN MUCH and SHE FEELS GUILTY FOR HAVING HIM DESPITE THIS BLIND THING she refuses the attorney and basically re-sentences herself to death so her son can have this operation, that isn't even life-saving.
This is when it's really all about Bjork that gets you. It's a really fucking depressing situation, no doubt about that. But to see cute, sweet, innocent Bjork sobbing from the loneliness of being in solitary confinement, sobbing herself to sleep the night before she's to be hanged, unable to stand up to walk to the gallows, sobbing and screaming about how scared she is to die, screaming her son's name . . . holy fucking christ. It's almost embarrassing, that's how intimate von Trier gets us with Bjork in her last moments. And then when she's happy after Catherine Deneuve tells her minutes before she's going to die that her son had the operation and he'll never go blind, it's just like . . . holy fuck, Bjork, you are so pure and innocent and you're about to die for no goddamned reason. And then the evil prison guards hang her without warning in the middle of her song.
Another part that got me about this was thinking of the son, of his fate after the movie. Can you imagine living your life knowing what your completely innocent and selfless mother did, just because she felt guilty for giving you life because she didn't want you to go blind? The guilt you would have. Christ. Christ christ christ.
Really good movie, though!
But yesterday I watched Dancer in the Dark. I had never seen it but I hadn't avoided it. I didn't even really know what it was about, all I had really heard about it was that it was a musical and Thom Yorke was on the soundtrack. Then a few weeks ago I saw Antichrist, which was amazing and blew me away immediately moved Dancer in the Dark up on my Netflix queue. I wanted to see more of Lars von Trier and I love Bjork, so it made sense.
I had heard that it was depressing. A few times I heard the phrase "soul crushing" used to describe it. But for the first hour or so I felt like everyone must be a wimp. It was bleak, sure: really cute, sweet, innocent Bjork works her ass off to keep her and her 12 year old kid barely above the poverty line in the early 60s. But Catherine Deneuve played her French, motherly BFF and it didn't seem that bad. I still thought this after the ominous money tin is shown, as there's no way a movie is going to show a woman stashing all of her life's savings into a tin if something's not going to happen to it. And I still thought this after we learn that Bjork is going blind and the money isn't going back to Czechoslovakia to her father but rather to pay for an operation to cure that same blindness-causing trait in her son so that he'll never go blind, too. And EVEN STILL I thought this once David Morse started getting creepy and I figured he would probably rape her something.
Well, he doesn't rape her, in the literal sense. In fact, Dancer in the Dark is probably the most depressing movie I have ever seen about injustices done to an innocent woman that don't involve her getting raped. I still had hope that maybe it wouldn't be that depressing after she gets the money back and before she is arrested. I thought maybe she'd get away with it, or something.
BUT FUCK THAT. She doesn't come close to getting away with it. Snippets of her actions and conversations from before everything went to shit come back to haunt her big time during her trial (like talking about the importance of sharing later causing her supervisor to testify against her that she was a crazy Communist). What's almost worse is that I can totally understand where everyone is coming from. If your husband is robbed and murdered by someone whom you considered a close friend, whom your husband accused of trying to seduce him, and who's poor as fuck, it's easy to see why remembering certain conversations the way the wife does would lead her to believe that Bjork is cold and calculating.
BUT SHE'S NOT, OF COURSE. She is ADORABLE and completely innocent. The only time I really disliked her at all was her refusal to tell the truth in court because of a promise she made to the dead man that ruined her entire goddamn life. It reminded me of The Reader in that way (Kate Winslet, I know it sucks that you can't read, but don't let that get in the way of you being wrong accused of operating a hardcorely evil Nazi march thing). But still.
So Bjork is sentenced to hang, which to me is like sentencing your grandma to hang. Then there's this terrible, punch-you-in-the-face glimmer of hope that her sentence can be changed, that she won't be hanged at all! Which is quickly taken away once Bjork realizes the money she saved for her son's operation would be used to pay the lawyer and because SHE LOVES HER SON SO GODDAMN MUCH and SHE FEELS GUILTY FOR HAVING HIM DESPITE THIS BLIND THING she refuses the attorney and basically re-sentences herself to death so her son can have this operation, that isn't even life-saving.
This is when it's really all about Bjork that gets you. It's a really fucking depressing situation, no doubt about that. But to see cute, sweet, innocent Bjork sobbing from the loneliness of being in solitary confinement, sobbing herself to sleep the night before she's to be hanged, unable to stand up to walk to the gallows, sobbing and screaming about how scared she is to die, screaming her son's name . . . holy fucking christ. It's almost embarrassing, that's how intimate von Trier gets us with Bjork in her last moments. And then when she's happy after Catherine Deneuve tells her minutes before she's going to die that her son had the operation and he'll never go blind, it's just like . . . holy fuck, Bjork, you are so pure and innocent and you're about to die for no goddamned reason. And then the evil prison guards hang her without warning in the middle of her song.
Another part that got me about this was thinking of the son, of his fate after the movie. Can you imagine living your life knowing what your completely innocent and selfless mother did, just because she felt guilty for giving you life because she didn't want you to go blind? The guilt you would have. Christ. Christ christ christ.
Really good movie, though!
16 April 2010
PB BALLZ
I just made this. It's a recipe for peanut butter balls. They're pretty awesome.
Pluses:
- They taste good
- They take something ridic like 5 minutes to make. This is very important to me for breakfast since I am both sleepy and starving.
- They used just enough condensed milk to finish up the can I opened a couple of days ago to make horchata
- They used the last bit of my peanut butter that's close to expiring
In other words you should probably make these.
Pluses:
- They taste good
- They take something ridic like 5 minutes to make. This is very important to me for breakfast since I am both sleepy and starving.
- They used just enough condensed milk to finish up the can I opened a couple of days ago to make horchata
- They used the last bit of my peanut butter that's close to expiring
In other words you should probably make these.
13 April 2010
I have decided . . .
I think I might hate music criticism. I don't know what it is about music more than movies or books or art or whatever, but it's definitely something.
I love all kinds of different music. Some for specific reasons but mostly because I like it. I know in discourse you have to defend why you like something, but I don't know. This makes me feel like a simpleton. Can't we just like what we like and dislike what we don't like? If there's music I don't like, I don't listen to it. I usually don't freak out if someone else is listening to it.
Recently a girl in the computer lab I was monitoring was playing music out loud (ie no headphones). This is against the rules but since I've never exercised my authority as lab monitor before PLUS we were the only two people in the lab, I was hesitant to say anything. First it was "Don't Stop Believin'" which is awesome. Then it was "Genie In A Bottle," which made me wince a little but then came that stupid Owl City Postal Service-rip off song. That prompted me to tell her to turn it off. That's the only thing that really comes to mind where I've hated on someone's music. And in that instance I can put some of the blame on the computer lab rules.
Maybe it's because music is so accessible. Movies and books take a certain amount of time commitment, so I can sort of see why people look to reviews. I don't know enough about art or art criticism to really have an opinion on it, honestly. But music I feel like you can just listen to. Interested? Listen! Don't like it? Stop! Like it? Don't stop!
Maybe it's easier for me because I've never really worried about music critics on a personal level. When I was in 7th grade my way-cool TWO DISC CD player held Radiohead's Kid A and NSync's No Strings Attached. I loved them both in different ways for different reasons but never really thought about it or thought that it might be weird or anything. I still have that same sort of thing going on now when my iTunes lists Animal Collective, Taylor Swift, Beach House, Jay-Z, and Vampire Weekend among my most played artists.
The last time I attempted to defend one of these artists against a HATER was when I was talking about people hating on Vampire Weekend. Dude in my class chimed in that he hated Vampire Weekend. I asked him how much of their music he listened to and he said "I heard 'A-Punk' on the radio once," "A-Punk" being a song off their first album and they have since released a second. That's fine. Hate Vampire Weekend, don't listen to them, don't care, WHATEVER. I don't care. It all just seems stupid.
I'm oversimplifying all of this and there's all kinds of shit that goes along with criticism that I am not even going to think about touching on because it's 3am. This is just something I think about a lot.
I love all kinds of different music. Some for specific reasons but mostly because I like it. I know in discourse you have to defend why you like something, but I don't know. This makes me feel like a simpleton. Can't we just like what we like and dislike what we don't like? If there's music I don't like, I don't listen to it. I usually don't freak out if someone else is listening to it.
Recently a girl in the computer lab I was monitoring was playing music out loud (ie no headphones). This is against the rules but since I've never exercised my authority as lab monitor before PLUS we were the only two people in the lab, I was hesitant to say anything. First it was "Don't Stop Believin'" which is awesome. Then it was "Genie In A Bottle," which made me wince a little but then came that stupid Owl City Postal Service-rip off song. That prompted me to tell her to turn it off. That's the only thing that really comes to mind where I've hated on someone's music. And in that instance I can put some of the blame on the computer lab rules.
Maybe it's because music is so accessible. Movies and books take a certain amount of time commitment, so I can sort of see why people look to reviews. I don't know enough about art or art criticism to really have an opinion on it, honestly. But music I feel like you can just listen to. Interested? Listen! Don't like it? Stop! Like it? Don't stop!
Maybe it's easier for me because I've never really worried about music critics on a personal level. When I was in 7th grade my way-cool TWO DISC CD player held Radiohead's Kid A and NSync's No Strings Attached. I loved them both in different ways for different reasons but never really thought about it or thought that it might be weird or anything. I still have that same sort of thing going on now when my iTunes lists Animal Collective, Taylor Swift, Beach House, Jay-Z, and Vampire Weekend among my most played artists.
The last time I attempted to defend one of these artists against a HATER was when I was talking about people hating on Vampire Weekend. Dude in my class chimed in that he hated Vampire Weekend. I asked him how much of their music he listened to and he said "I heard 'A-Punk' on the radio once," "A-Punk" being a song off their first album and they have since released a second. That's fine. Hate Vampire Weekend, don't listen to them, don't care, WHATEVER. I don't care. It all just seems stupid.
I'm oversimplifying all of this and there's all kinds of shit that goes along with criticism that I am not even going to think about touching on because it's 3am. This is just something I think about a lot.
09 April 2010
Benjamina, Age 8
My best friend Ben Frisch has a fascination/obsession with child beauty pageants. It’s hard to say that to anyone who doesn’t know him without making him sound like the biggest creeper ever and/or a pedophile. But his love of child beauty pageants is strictly limited to its comedic value.
These pageant girls all have Facebook pages and Facebook fan pages made by their mothers. One of these girls, Taralyn Eschberger (who has appeared on TLC’s Toddlers and Tiaras) is holding a photo contest on her Facebook fan page. Ben decided to enter himself. He took a picture I took of him with his cat, Oedipuss, and glitzed it up. This is the result.
The original photo. Ben with Oedi on his head.
The glitzed version.
The final product on Taralynn's Facebook.
There are lots of reasons why I love Ben and this is just another addition to the list.
03 April 2010
What's up, baby? :(
This is Lewis Powell:
Also known as Lewis Payne. I personally think he's a total Hottie McHottersons. He died in 1865 when he was 21. How, you ask? He was hanged. Why, you ask? Because he was one of the conspirators involved in the Lincoln assassination.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
In an interesting turn of events, Powell/Payne is a character in the new movie Robert Redford directed, The Conspirator (which was also filmed here in Savannah . . . everything comes full circle!?!) and the guy who plays him, Norman Reedus is (in my opinion) way less hot than the real historical figure. How often does that happen?
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying Norman Reedus (that's him up there) is ugly. He's hot, too! I just think the real dude was hotter. Too bad he helped kill Abe.
Also known as Lewis Payne. I personally think he's a total Hottie McHottersons. He died in 1865 when he was 21. How, you ask? He was hanged. Why, you ask? Because he was one of the conspirators involved in the Lincoln assassination.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK
In an interesting turn of events, Powell/Payne is a character in the new movie Robert Redford directed, The Conspirator (which was also filmed here in Savannah . . . everything comes full circle!?!) and the guy who plays him, Norman Reedus is (in my opinion) way less hot than the real historical figure. How often does that happen?
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying Norman Reedus (that's him up there) is ugly. He's hot, too! I just think the real dude was hotter. Too bad he helped kill Abe.
01 April 2010
In anticipation of Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married Too?
Wikipedia's entry for Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married is so amazing. Not only does it clearly point out the stupidity/incoherence of the script, but some of the phrasing used . . . it's just perfect.
The four couples, who are also best friends, converge on a house in the mountains for a week-long retreat that has become their ritual of sorts to help work out their marital problems and ask the question “Why did I get married?”. Though the couples have committed to being physically present for the week, some of them have not been emotionally present in their respective marriages for quite some time. The week is not planned out in a well-programmed sequence, so the events unfold somewhat spontaneously, beginning with their “adventures” in getting up to the mountain retreat.
- The first couple, Dianne (Sharon Leal) and Terry (Tyler Perry), drive up together and argue most of the way because Diane (a lawyer) refuses to leave her job at the office. She takes calls on her BlackBerry or makes calls instead of talking to Terry.
- The second couple, Angela (Tasha Smith) and Marcus (Michael Jai White), take public transportation. Angela constantly argues with Marcus and with anyone who dares to interrupt them.
- The third couple is Sheila (Jill Scott) and Mike (Richard T. Jones). Sheila is made to deplane (because of her weight and the requirement to purchase two seats) and drive the long distance in the snow; while her husband Mike continues on the flight with Sheila’s single friend, Trina (Denise Boutte).
- The fourth couple Patricia (Janet Jackson) and Gavin (Malik Yoba) arrive by limo cab. Their journey is not documented. However, right before they leave to go to the retreat, Gavin shows up to pick up Patricia at a lecture she was giving (she is the author of a book called “Why Did I Get Married?”) and artlessly dodges a question about her own marriage.
Dianne falls asleep not long after arriving with her BlackBerry close at hand, and when her secretary calls while she is asleep, Terry tells the woman not to call them while they are on their vacation. When Patricia arrives, she goes up to wake Dianne while the men bond over the wine that Terry has poured for his wife.
The sound of arguing signals the arrival of Angela and Marcus.
When Mike arrives without Sheila, the other wives berate him and Trina, for having left Sheila to drive alone. Sheila’s husband shows clearly that he does not care for his wife at all. Her friends try to reach Sheila by phone but get her voice mail only. Sheila is persistent to get to the retreat because she wants to make her marriage work. Providence leads her to Sheriff Troy’s (Lamman Rucker) office. Due to weather the roads have been closed for the night and she has no choice but to spend the night. That same night, Mike tiptoes—not unseen by Angela— to Trina’s bedroom. Sheila arrives at the retreat house the following morning with Troy in tow. She introduces Troy to the others and tells them she has invited him to breakfast. Troy fast becomes a threat to Sheila’s husband Mike, not because of Sheila, but because of Trina, with whom he is having an affair. Breakfast is a noisy affair with the arguing couples and Angela insulting Trina, the only single woman on the retreat, whom she instantly disliked.
Throughout the few days spent on retreat, there are spontaneous revelations. The infidelity of two of the husbands leads to a discussion by the men of the 80-20 rule. This rule states that most men get 80% of what they need from a marriage yet they tend to go after the 20% that someone outside can provide for them because it appears to be more to them when it really isn’t.
The secrets that come out in their heated discussions lead the couples toward a path where they can either choose to reconcile or to separate and the latter is what happens to Sheila and Mike. Mike makes it clear he is not attracted to his wife any longer and when it is revealed he is being unfaithful, he simply tells her he wants a divorce. The vacation is cut short when all the secrets come to light, as the couples suddenly decide they cannot stay in the house any longer. Sheila checks into a local hotel to recover from the shock of her divorce and the realization that Mike has drained her bank account. She is in a depressed state when Troy goes to visit her. He takes her up to a mountain where she cries and mourns the loss of her love and the only life she knew.
The other couples head back home. Patricia and Gavin are barely speaking to each other - he called her stupid because she didn’t strap their son in and he died in an accident - but he eventually forces her to face the situation. Patricia breaks down emotionally in his arms, they reconcile. Angela and Marcus are still fighting, especially when Keisha (Marcus’ ex girlfriend and child’s mother, played by Kaira Whitehead) shows up at Angela’s salon and disrespects Angela. Marcus finally stands up to both his wife and his ex, and then frightens Angela into realizing she is wrecking their life with her constant arguing by not showing up for a couple of days. Dianne and Terry fight again right before they leave the mountains because he had a paternity test done on their daughter. They fight again on Terry’s birthday at their home because Dianne forgot about his birthday, and did not tell Terry about getting her tubes tied. Terry tells her he is moving out. Patricia meets up with Dianne and Angela, moping over their husbands and gives them the counseling they need to get back on track telling them to make a list of the good things and the bad things their husbands have done. The men drown their sorrows in the bottle.
In the mountains, Sheila is settling into a new life working for Troy in the general store his father owned and getting to know Troy and realizing her own self-worth. The two of them bond.
Angela cooks dinner for her husband when she is finished with her list, but he suspects she is trying to poison him. Eventually she explains, they make up and set conditions of the new order.
Dianne goes to see Terry and begs him to come back after crying over her list. He plays with her head a little to get back at her, but they eventually reconcile too and all the couples converge on the gala celebration for an award that Patricia has received for her work. Dianne, Patricia and Angela are shocked when Sheila introduces Troy as her husband. Ex-husband Mike, although he is still with Trina, is very jealous of Sheila’s newfound bliss and tries to weasel his way back into her good graces, but she tells him to go enjoy his “20”, referring to the 80-20 rule.
Also worth mentioning is the Production and Development section:
Perry decided to take out much of the church and message scenes because wanted the film to be “on a whole ‘nother spiritual level—there’s a whole ‘nother connection to it.” He said his writing has improved since the play.
That last line is a lie, Tyler Perry.
22 March 2010
Thoughts from my high school self part II
I guess this is sort of self-centered of me. BUT OH WELL.
August 31, 2003: "I asked my mom why gay men tend to get AIDs more often than other people, and god I really didn't think she'd know. She explained stuff I really didn't need to know about anal sex and semen." Comment from Camille: A little while ago I asked my mom that question! It got really complicated and I changed the subject. The same thing happened like a month ago when my mom and I talked about sex changes. From now on, I'm going to avoid all thsoe topics with her.
September 7, 2003: I hope some terrible disaster occurs at Franklin overnight or tomorrow morning that would prevent us from going to school. That would be awesome. [WHOOPS.]
September 9, 2003: Okay, I could really go for some natural disaster targeted at Franklin right now. Flash flood? Fire, perhaps? [WHOOPS AGAIN.]
September 22, 2003: 82 years ago today the Band-Aid was patented. Just thought I'd let y'all know because Band-Aids are awesome.
September 26, 2003: Okay Robert Palmer and George Plimpton died. Geez. What the hell is going on?
September 29, 2003: Three months from today I'll be sixteen. Also, Elia Kazan died.
October 2, 2003: Today is the Radiohead concert and Gandhi's birthday. Cool.
October 22, 2003: So Elliott Smith killed himself. God. Why would he do that?? I can't stop crying!
October 27, 2003: When Chris Anderson read that my essay topic is why gay marriages should be legalized, he said I was disgusting. I told him to fuck himself. I was proud.
November 5, 2003: Last night I watched Rock the Vote, this thing on CNN that had the democratic presidential (sp?) candidates answering questions from younger people. Very informative, that was. Someone asked if any of them had honestly smoked pot. Some said yes (Howard Dean woo!), some said no, and the woman said "I'm not going to answer that,". Pleeeeease. That pissed me off. I don't want her to win.
November 24, 2003: Funerals scare me. A dead body over here, sobbing people over there.
December 6, 2003: my mom and I watched Marathon Man. Hella good movie, but now I'm more scared than I was already of dentists. And of Nazis.
December 23, 2003: I also guessed Tina Turner when Camille goes "MY HUSBAND BEATS ME!" [we were playing the charades part of Cranium)
January 30, 2004: He peer reviewed my essay in English and butchered it. On one of his comments, he wrote "Your essay is wonderful" but then crossed out wonderful and wrote "just ok". What the fuck man, I can still see the wonderful.
February 15, 2004: I'm really tired, but if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and it'll be Sunday, the day before school. And that sucks.
March 13, 2004: We also read Rolling Stone at WRBH. It was so funny, I had to read about Yanni and his album called ETHNICITY (come onnn) and she had to read about R. Kelly and his child pornography and his album named Chocolate Factory and we couldn't get through it without laughing. She really had to edit like six minutes of us just trying to do it and then just laughing our asses off.
April 7, 2004: Not too sure about that geometry quiz. When I turned it in, Mr. Taylor raised his eyebrows at it and I couldn't tell if it was a good eyebrow raise or a bad eyebrow raise.
April 9, 2004: Some woman who identifies herself as "mama" keeps leaving messages on my phone looking for "Sheldon" because his friend "Edward the mechanic" has been looking for him. I should probably answer the phone next time so she knows it's the wrong number. But I don't know, they're kinda funny. She just keeps talking until the message stops her.
April 11, 2004: Early this morning it stormed like crazy. It was sorta cool, but my bed is up against my window and I couldn't sleep, since it was so loud. It started hailing, too. I wish it had flooded Franklin. What a break that would be. [WHOOPS PART III]
April 16, 2004: And then my mom picked me up and we went straight to the theater. Then we saw...KILL BILL VOLUME II. My God. Words cannot describe how fucking amazing it was. Seriously, I can't even talk about it.
April 25, 2004: I couldn't figure out why my ice cream tasted weird, but then I realized it was because I had chewed mint gum not long before. I don't recommend doing that.
May 1, 2004: In English my class exploded into discussion about things such as infinity and zero. It was strange, funny, and annoying. I was talking to Brad after class, and we were the only ones in there, and as we were walking out, Luetz [my 10th grade English teacher] said, "Hey, you two" and we stopped and he said, "There are negative numbers in math, right?" I thought to myself that surely he was not asking some weird obvious question, and that it must have some underlying meaning. Brad and I looked at each other and I said, "Like...negative numbers?" and Luetz said, "Yeah, you know, less than zero?" and Brad said, "Yeah" and Luetz said, "Well, see, try to comprehend that" and I said "Well, we hadn't been arguing about it" and he said, "Oh, I know"
May 5, 2004: Josh described To Kill a Mockingbird as being so good, he wanted to punch someone in the face. And that's how listening to [the recording of the Radiohead concert in New Orleans] makes me feel.
May 8, 2004:I have a headache. But I'm blasting Radiohead through my earphones. "These go to 11".
May 10, 2004: I had to write five lines of "We Didn't Start the Fire" about 2000-2004 with Maurissa in history today. Oh that sucked. She insisted we put "Bennifer" as a major event of the past four years. Bennifer? At first I didn't even know what the fuck she was talking about. Comment from Sarah: What the hell is bennifer? My comment response: It's the whole Ben Affleck-Jennifer Lopez thing. And she spells it "Benniffer". COME ON.
May 18, 2004: [after renting all of Alias with my mom] Exam week was not a good week for Alias.
May 30, 2004: [from a survey] Anime: Freaks me out. Affirmative action: God, I thought this was the death penalty for waaaay too long.
June 28, 2004: I just stood in front of my microwave for five minutes trying to figure out how to heat up my muffin.
July 8, 2004: [from a survey] hidden talents?: Uh. I can detect flat Diet Coke by looking at it from afar. Favorite television show(s)?: The Daily Show and My So-Called Life you ideal bf/gf: Jude Laaaaaw. When's the last time you cried?: Yesterday. Over Freddie Mercury.
July 14, 2004: I flirted for about 15 seconds with a guy who ended up being fourteen. Man, when guys hit puberty, age gets so damn ambiguous.
July 17, 2004: At some points I found Harold [of Harold and Maude] incredibly attractive, and other times really creepy. Comment from Camille: I've been compared to Harold in one of those online test. My comment response: Makes sense, since I often find you incredibly attractive, while also being really creepy. Camille's comment response: Oh dude...that is me...IN A NUTSHELL.
July 27, 2004: Under Student Progress Dr. Beier [my Creative Writing teacher from ADVANCE] wrote: "Elizabeth was reluctant to participate in class discussions unless asked but her answers were always intelligent and her writing was elegant and quite ambitious. I feel that in her quiet way she made good use of her experience in class."
August 5, 2004: The sole purpose of this guy's journal is to POST SCARY PICTURES OF HIS WEIRD CIRCUMCISED-OR-SOMETHING-I'M-NOT-TOO-SURE-WHAT'S-WRONG-WITH-IT PENIS AHHHHHH.
August 5, 2004: I just spent an hour in my room with Rufus Wainwright, Franz Ferdinand, and lots of nail polish. [Also, I ended this entry with the following quote: "I am the biggest whore in Western Asia. Or Eastern Europe...there's not really a line there, pretty boy." I have NO IDEA where this is from. Google did not help.]
August 7, 2004: my mom donated blood and it made her really tired. They asked her if she's given someone drugs or money to have sex with her and she couldn't stop giggling.
August 16, 2004: My mom made me watch a lot of men's gymnastics because she's in love with the Hamm twins. She keeps talking about their red hair and how Morgan Hamm told Paul Hamm "You're up, pal".
August 19, 2004: Creative Writing is okay. I felt like an idiot, because she had this paragraph thing and said "Give a parable of this in good writing" and I had NO idea what the fuck parable meant. So I just wrote some bullshit thing about how you should know the meaning of the word 'parable' to be a good writer.
August 24, 2004: Last night I woke up and had a weird panic attack about cockroaches being in my bed. I was moving around really fast and hit my head on the wall. Things got kind of fuzzy after that.
August 25, 2004: I was on my way back to Kansas' room and I accidently walked into Dr. Hightower's. Everyone just stopped talking and looked at me and I just slowly backed out of the room. That was pretty embarassing. [GOD I remember this. It really mortified me.]
That was a lot, sorry. And I'm probably the only one who finds this the least bit amusing or interesting in any way. But reading all of this stuff is like TIME TRAVELING.
August 31, 2003: "I asked my mom why gay men tend to get AIDs more often than other people, and god I really didn't think she'd know. She explained stuff I really didn't need to know about anal sex and semen." Comment from Camille: A little while ago I asked my mom that question! It got really complicated and I changed the subject. The same thing happened like a month ago when my mom and I talked about sex changes. From now on, I'm going to avoid all thsoe topics with her.
September 7, 2003: I hope some terrible disaster occurs at Franklin overnight or tomorrow morning that would prevent us from going to school. That would be awesome. [WHOOPS.]
September 9, 2003: Okay, I could really go for some natural disaster targeted at Franklin right now. Flash flood? Fire, perhaps? [WHOOPS AGAIN.]
September 22, 2003: 82 years ago today the Band-Aid was patented. Just thought I'd let y'all know because Band-Aids are awesome.
September 26, 2003: Okay Robert Palmer and George Plimpton died. Geez. What the hell is going on?
September 29, 2003: Three months from today I'll be sixteen. Also, Elia Kazan died.
October 2, 2003: Today is the Radiohead concert and Gandhi's birthday. Cool.
October 22, 2003: So Elliott Smith killed himself. God. Why would he do that?? I can't stop crying!
October 27, 2003: When Chris Anderson read that my essay topic is why gay marriages should be legalized, he said I was disgusting. I told him to fuck himself. I was proud.
November 5, 2003: Last night I watched Rock the Vote, this thing on CNN that had the democratic presidential (sp?) candidates answering questions from younger people. Very informative, that was. Someone asked if any of them had honestly smoked pot. Some said yes (Howard Dean woo!), some said no, and the woman said "I'm not going to answer that,". Pleeeeease. That pissed me off. I don't want her to win.
November 24, 2003: Funerals scare me. A dead body over here, sobbing people over there.
December 6, 2003: my mom and I watched Marathon Man. Hella good movie, but now I'm more scared than I was already of dentists. And of Nazis.
December 23, 2003: I also guessed Tina Turner when Camille goes "MY HUSBAND BEATS ME!" [we were playing the charades part of Cranium)
January 30, 2004: He peer reviewed my essay in English and butchered it. On one of his comments, he wrote "Your essay is wonderful" but then crossed out wonderful and wrote "just ok". What the fuck man, I can still see the wonderful.
February 15, 2004: I'm really tired, but if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and it'll be Sunday, the day before school. And that sucks.
March 13, 2004: We also read Rolling Stone at WRBH. It was so funny, I had to read about Yanni and his album called ETHNICITY (come onnn) and she had to read about R. Kelly and his child pornography and his album named Chocolate Factory and we couldn't get through it without laughing. She really had to edit like six minutes of us just trying to do it and then just laughing our asses off.
April 7, 2004: Not too sure about that geometry quiz. When I turned it in, Mr. Taylor raised his eyebrows at it and I couldn't tell if it was a good eyebrow raise or a bad eyebrow raise.
April 9, 2004: Some woman who identifies herself as "mama" keeps leaving messages on my phone looking for "Sheldon" because his friend "Edward the mechanic" has been looking for him. I should probably answer the phone next time so she knows it's the wrong number. But I don't know, they're kinda funny. She just keeps talking until the message stops her.
April 11, 2004: Early this morning it stormed like crazy. It was sorta cool, but my bed is up against my window and I couldn't sleep, since it was so loud. It started hailing, too. I wish it had flooded Franklin. What a break that would be. [WHOOPS PART III]
April 16, 2004: And then my mom picked me up and we went straight to the theater. Then we saw...KILL BILL VOLUME II. My God. Words cannot describe how fucking amazing it was. Seriously, I can't even talk about it.
April 25, 2004: I couldn't figure out why my ice cream tasted weird, but then I realized it was because I had chewed mint gum not long before. I don't recommend doing that.
May 1, 2004: In English my class exploded into discussion about things such as infinity and zero. It was strange, funny, and annoying. I was talking to Brad after class, and we were the only ones in there, and as we were walking out, Luetz [my 10th grade English teacher] said, "Hey, you two" and we stopped and he said, "There are negative numbers in math, right?" I thought to myself that surely he was not asking some weird obvious question, and that it must have some underlying meaning. Brad and I looked at each other and I said, "Like...negative numbers?" and Luetz said, "Yeah, you know, less than zero?" and Brad said, "Yeah" and Luetz said, "Well, see, try to comprehend that" and I said "Well, we hadn't been arguing about it" and he said, "Oh, I know"
May 5, 2004: Josh described To Kill a Mockingbird as being so good, he wanted to punch someone in the face. And that's how listening to [the recording of the Radiohead concert in New Orleans] makes me feel.
May 8, 2004:I have a headache. But I'm blasting Radiohead through my earphones. "These go to 11".
May 10, 2004: I had to write five lines of "We Didn't Start the Fire" about 2000-2004 with Maurissa in history today. Oh that sucked. She insisted we put "Bennifer" as a major event of the past four years. Bennifer? At first I didn't even know what the fuck she was talking about. Comment from Sarah: What the hell is bennifer? My comment response: It's the whole Ben Affleck-Jennifer Lopez thing. And she spells it "Benniffer". COME ON.
May 18, 2004: [after renting all of Alias with my mom] Exam week was not a good week for Alias.
May 30, 2004: [from a survey] Anime: Freaks me out. Affirmative action: God, I thought this was the death penalty for waaaay too long.
June 28, 2004: I just stood in front of my microwave for five minutes trying to figure out how to heat up my muffin.
July 8, 2004: [from a survey] hidden talents?: Uh. I can detect flat Diet Coke by looking at it from afar. Favorite television show(s)?: The Daily Show and My So-Called Life you ideal bf/gf: Jude Laaaaaw. When's the last time you cried?: Yesterday. Over Freddie Mercury.
July 14, 2004: I flirted for about 15 seconds with a guy who ended up being fourteen. Man, when guys hit puberty, age gets so damn ambiguous.
July 17, 2004: At some points I found Harold [of Harold and Maude] incredibly attractive, and other times really creepy. Comment from Camille: I've been compared to Harold in one of those online test. My comment response: Makes sense, since I often find you incredibly attractive, while also being really creepy. Camille's comment response: Oh dude...that is me...IN A NUTSHELL.
July 27, 2004: Under Student Progress Dr. Beier [my Creative Writing teacher from ADVANCE] wrote: "Elizabeth was reluctant to participate in class discussions unless asked but her answers were always intelligent and her writing was elegant and quite ambitious. I feel that in her quiet way she made good use of her experience in class."
August 5, 2004: The sole purpose of this guy's journal is to POST SCARY PICTURES OF HIS WEIRD CIRCUMCISED-OR-SOMETHING-I'M-NOT-TOO-SURE-WHAT'S-WRONG-WITH-IT PENIS AHHHHHH.
August 5, 2004: I just spent an hour in my room with Rufus Wainwright, Franz Ferdinand, and lots of nail polish. [Also, I ended this entry with the following quote: "I am the biggest whore in Western Asia. Or Eastern Europe...there's not really a line there, pretty boy." I have NO IDEA where this is from. Google did not help.]
August 7, 2004: my mom donated blood and it made her really tired. They asked her if she's given someone drugs or money to have sex with her and she couldn't stop giggling.
August 16, 2004: My mom made me watch a lot of men's gymnastics because she's in love with the Hamm twins. She keeps talking about their red hair and how Morgan Hamm told Paul Hamm "You're up, pal".
August 19, 2004: Creative Writing is okay. I felt like an idiot, because she had this paragraph thing and said "Give a parable of this in good writing" and I had NO idea what the fuck parable meant. So I just wrote some bullshit thing about how you should know the meaning of the word 'parable' to be a good writer.
August 24, 2004: Last night I woke up and had a weird panic attack about cockroaches being in my bed. I was moving around really fast and hit my head on the wall. Things got kind of fuzzy after that.
August 25, 2004: I was on my way back to Kansas' room and I accidently walked into Dr. Hightower's. Everyone just stopped talking and looked at me and I just slowly backed out of the room. That was pretty embarassing. [GOD I remember this. It really mortified me.]
That was a lot, sorry. And I'm probably the only one who finds this the least bit amusing or interesting in any way. But reading all of this stuff is like TIME TRAVELING.
20 March 2010
High School Livejournal.
I have rediscovered the LiveJournal I kept in highschool, from summer 2002 to spring 2006. It's kind of amazing, in a very strange way. Some favorite insights so far:
Dec 10 2002: There's a French sophmore at Franklin who's name is Guillome. I've decided that's probably the coolest name ever.
Jan 20 2003: We got DSL and it takes like two minutes to download a song now.
Jan 25 2003: Is ABBA Swedish?
Jan 25 2003: I still haven't really figured out if I left my No Doubt tape in London.
March 9 2003: I don't even know if I'm for or against this thing with Iraq. More worried with passing math, really. Nuclear war is a scary thought, but so is being a freshman twice.
March 10 2003:
Things That Suck:
Life (occasionally)
School
Math
McNabb [my geography teacher]
Term papers on damn cities no one gives a rat's ass about
People who make fun of people
Food
Hypocrites
Hangnails
Ulcers
Ms. Lew [my algebra teacher]
Christina Aguilera
Fatness
Fuckin liars who tell me I'm not fat
Pop-up windows
Spending four years of your life liking someone who doesn't look at you
My stomach
Regular coke
When *69 doesn't work
Drugs
The name Eunice
Bloodshot eyes
The Backstreet Boys
When someone ignores you
Mass murders
Li Po
A shitload of other stuff
March 20 2003: So, apparently we're at war. That sucks. I got into geography fifth period and CNN was on with Baghdad on fire and I felt really bad that we bombed them, but oh well it wasn't my decision.
May 3 2003: Anyway, I guess I should attempt at my goddamn project. Sudan can go to fucking hell. [I had a big geography project to do on Sudan]
May 14 2003: When I was walking home this afternoon I found a rosary on the ground and I picked it up and took it home in case it's a sign from God. If it is, I don't know what the sign means, which makes me hope it isn't because if God is trying to give me a sign, I don't want to be the person who goes down in history as the Girl Who Ignored God.
May 29 2003: I just remembered...in exactly seven months I'll be sixteen!
July 27 2003: I LOVE The Flaming Lips and I LOVELOVELOVE The Big Lebowski!!
July 30 2003:
I talked to this guy who's friends with my Pentacostal cousin and he freaked out because I've never heard of Stained. Who the fuck is Stained? He hasn't heard of Radiohead, so fuck him.
August 2 2003: I'm going to send Ross Hull (of Are You Afraid of the Dark? fame) a birthday card. I had such a crush on him when I was like five.
August 7 2003: I'm liking this band Sigur Ros in a big ole way. Yep. Shit's gone down down to Chinatown with Daniel/Mike. Fuck them. I love this Radiohead album to death. I like Sigur Ros.
This is all pretty great. It's fun to hear my old self, especially at age 15. I just wish I could go back in time and tell my old self not to worry about 95% of the shit I worried about.
I am so glad I am not a teenager anymore.
Dec 10 2002: There's a French sophmore at Franklin who's name is Guillome. I've decided that's probably the coolest name ever.
Jan 20 2003: We got DSL and it takes like two minutes to download a song now.
Jan 25 2003: Is ABBA Swedish?
Jan 25 2003: I still haven't really figured out if I left my No Doubt tape in London.
March 9 2003: I don't even know if I'm for or against this thing with Iraq. More worried with passing math, really. Nuclear war is a scary thought, but so is being a freshman twice.
March 10 2003:
Things That Suck:
Life (occasionally)
School
Math
McNabb [my geography teacher]
Term papers on damn cities no one gives a rat's ass about
People who make fun of people
Food
Hypocrites
Hangnails
Ulcers
Ms. Lew [my algebra teacher]
Christina Aguilera
Fatness
Fuckin liars who tell me I'm not fat
Pop-up windows
Spending four years of your life liking someone who doesn't look at you
My stomach
Regular coke
When *69 doesn't work
Drugs
The name Eunice
Bloodshot eyes
The Backstreet Boys
When someone ignores you
Mass murders
Li Po
A shitload of other stuff
March 20 2003: So, apparently we're at war. That sucks. I got into geography fifth period and CNN was on with Baghdad on fire and I felt really bad that we bombed them, but oh well it wasn't my decision.
May 3 2003: Anyway, I guess I should attempt at my goddamn project. Sudan can go to fucking hell. [I had a big geography project to do on Sudan]
May 14 2003: When I was walking home this afternoon I found a rosary on the ground and I picked it up and took it home in case it's a sign from God. If it is, I don't know what the sign means, which makes me hope it isn't because if God is trying to give me a sign, I don't want to be the person who goes down in history as the Girl Who Ignored God.
May 29 2003: I just remembered...in exactly seven months I'll be sixteen!
July 27 2003: I LOVE The Flaming Lips and I LOVELOVELOVE The Big Lebowski!!
July 30 2003:
| [ | music | | | Sigur Ros - Track I | ] |
August 2 2003: I'm going to send Ross Hull (of Are You Afraid of the Dark? fame) a birthday card. I had such a crush on him when I was like five.
August 7 2003: I'm liking this band Sigur Ros in a big ole way. Yep. Shit's gone down down to Chinatown with Daniel/Mike. Fuck them. I love this Radiohead album to death. I like Sigur Ros.
This is all pretty great. It's fun to hear my old self, especially at age 15. I just wish I could go back in time and tell my old self not to worry about 95% of the shit I worried about.
I am so glad I am not a teenager anymore.
19 March 2010
FUCK.
FUCK MY LIFE.
FUCK.
Amer. soldier holding tanned pieces of tattooed human skin taken fr. the bodies of prisoners chosen to be killed by the inspector wife of the Nazi camp director, because she liked their tattoos & wanted to use them to make purses & lampshades.
Alright. Going to go throw up/kill myself now. Oh, Holocaust, you never fail to shock me! (but seriously I'm going to be haunted for about ever now)
FUCK.
O.K. I don’t want to be a total buzzkill.
BUT.
I was looking at old pictures on Life’s website from World War II. When I saw this thumbnail, I thought it would be an American soldier holding up drawings he found from prisoners. But no. This is the caption:
Buchenwald Concentration CampAmer. soldier holding tanned pieces of tattooed human skin taken fr. the bodies of prisoners chosen to be killed by the inspector wife of the Nazi camp director, because she liked their tattoos & wanted to use them to make purses & lampshades.
Alright. Going to go throw up/kill myself now. Oh, Holocaust, you never fail to shock me! (but seriously I'm going to be haunted for about ever now)
17 March 2010
God Mobile
Every year in Tuscola (where we moved after Katrina and where I graduated high school and where my mom still lives) this booth is set up in the park during Fourth of July, a big deal in Tuscola.
I failed the test.
02 March 2010
What takes up my iTunes?
Right now, my iTunes library looks like this:
1. The Beatles (207 songs)
2. Radiohead (157 songs)
3. Animal Collective (139 songs)
4. Paul Simon (118 songs)
5. Bright Eyes (80 songs)
6. Death Cab for Cutie (74 songs)
7. Panda Bear (70 songs)
8. Cat Power (68 songs)
9. Sigur Ros (62 songs)
10. The White Stripes (58 songs)
- 10,540 tracks
- 28.8 days of music
- 51.25 GB of music
1. The Beatles (207 songs)
2. Radiohead (157 songs)
3. Animal Collective (139 songs)
4. Paul Simon (118 songs)
5. Bright Eyes (80 songs)
6. Death Cab for Cutie (74 songs)
7. Panda Bear (70 songs)
8. Cat Power (68 songs)
9. Sigur Ros (62 songs)
10. The White Stripes (58 songs)
Celebrity deaths I've cried over
1. 1997 - Princess Diana (I was 9)
2. 2001 - George Harrison (I was one week shy of 14)
3. 2003 - Elliott Smith (I was 15)
4. 2008 - Heath Ledger (I was 20) (cried hardest)
5. 2008 - David Foster Wallace (still 20)
2. 2001 - George Harrison (I was one week shy of 14)
3. 2003 - Elliott Smith (I was 15)
4. 2008 - Heath Ledger (I was 20) (cried hardest)
5. 2008 - David Foster Wallace (still 20)
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