BIG NEWS
i've realized that i've moved on.
my heart has moved on.
my mind has moved on.
my soul has moved on.
i had this whole witty build-up thing going, but i couldn't give it enough attention to properly follow through, all in a really stupid attempt to say that i've moved on entirely from liking jews, and partially on from liking indians/south east asians... and have fully accepted that my current heart palpitations are due to disproportionate blond british men, who have a penchant for resting their chins in their hands, being overshadowed, and having very little information about them available online.
namely:
the similarities are uncanny, besides steve being 6'7 and bob, well, not. need more proof?
the microphones! the earphones!! ah! but one must only add a final bob picture into the mix to see it come full circle:
the pose! oh, the pose!
anyway.
i am not going to continue my discussion on blogging, titles, leaks, or a capella, because it was getting forced, and stupid, and i wasn't enjoying it, and i was being pretentious and trying too hard. but i will say something final about a capella: in order to be successful you have to mix two songs together. there can never be just ONE song per song. it's insane. it's like they preempted mash-ups! with their voices!! no instruments, people! but why is that, anyway? is it a law that they have to mix two songs together, even if inclusion of the second song is just a mere few lines?
keriann also aptly pointed out that college/university life doesn't seem complete unless you are in possession of a copy of cd that your friend's a capella group made. and i would also like to aptly point out, that there really isn't a life for a capella outside of college. i'm not sure why this is. there is certainly a life for singers and show-people. lots of stages to fill. but why not a capella? are they reduced to barbershop quartets? panhandling on subways? showcasing their talents at alumni reunions?
maybe we only like a capella in college because in college we feel we can do anything; we study what WE want to study, we do what WE want to do, we stay up as late as WE want. the world doesn't tell us what to do, WE tell the world what to do. we can change lives, we can cure diseases, we can write a brilliant screenplay, we can go to foam parties. we can even have music without instruments! WE play the instruments, with our MOUTHS! we can do anything!!! perhaps it's just in the whirl of euphoria, caffeine, safety nets and optimism that we appreciate a capella. they're always so happy, they're always so good intentioned, so meaningful. they are expressing our joy through music, without instruments. not even a drum! they can do it! so can we.
and then we wake up, and realize that music really does need a drum, at least, because otherwise it just becomes white people who beat box. and nobody wants to live in detroit.
i haven't quite hit on the point about a capella i've been trying to make but i'll dwell on it for a few days longer and see where i get. so case closed, at least for now.
also, i don't like valentine's day. i always say i hate it, but that's becoming so cliche, so i've decided to say i just don't like it. or maybe, disapprove? am impartial? don't care? all of these phrases just sound like i'm bitter about being single and not having overpriced roses delivered to me at work (i'm not even particularly fond of roses, it's daffodils for me). but that's not why i don't like valentine's day. i don't like valentine's day because bad things always happen to me on v-day...it's becoming my friday the 13th. which is actually quite fair, because i simply adore friday the 13th's- they generally tend to be the most fantastic days of my life. so i guess i am superstitious about february the 14th's as a compromise.
like last year. just when i thought i'd made it through the day unscathed, i got pulled over for "not stopping at a stop sign", and got a lovely little present of a $147 ticket from the cop. even if he'd given me roses and chocolates, i would've been upset. my first ticket! ugh.
so today, i was seriously considering NOT leaving the house, but i had to because i got a flat tire the other day and have been driving on my spare. i didn't have work today, so i HAD to take care of it. then i decided i should finally try and get my street parking permit again. let's recap: these are two outings with great potential for disaster:
a) i could die on my way to wal-mart-- my spare tire could come lose (lug nuts!) and i could spin out and die
b) should 'a)' not happen, i could find out that my flat tire couldn't be "fixed" and rather had to be "replaced", costing me upwards of $50
c) i wouldn't get my permit, again
to save the suspense:
a) still alive. had a brief moment of panic when car started shaking on freeway, but survived, and made it to wal-mart.
b) flat repair cost $6.50. yes! and the shaking stopped cause the spare tire was doing something to the alignment, but now that the original is back on, it's fine
c) got my permit! i had exactly an hour on the meter, i was number 30, and they were at number 2. somehow, i made it up to the counter with 20 minutes before i had to run a block away and move my car. another opportunity for disaster presented itself here, though, as i wound up at the same counter of the bitch who "helped" me last time... who made me late for parking, who refused to give me a permit, who had a lazy, googly eye. i said, "hi, last time you told me i needed a bill too, but i don't have one, but i do have these", and i proceeded to pull out paper after paper of documents with my name and address on them. she remembered me... and then looked over my stuff. "um, where is your name on the lease?" she says. i look. nope. my name is definitely NOT on the lease. i never noticed that before. and she hadn't noticed that last time, either. i said, "well, there's my signature!", as if that counted. amazingly, it did. she shuffled through all my papers and notices, and was about to send me away saying "no", but then her co-worker came over, and for whatever reason googly eyes was in a good mood today (maybe she likes valentine's day?) and googly eyes said, "what should i do with this? her name isn't on the lease, there's another person registered at her apt, all she has is papers with her address" and the co-worker looked at me... looked at my papers... looked at my pleading eyes... shrugged her shoulders and said "meh, let her have it". i actually said "YAY!" in the dept of parking violations. it was great. so googly eyes took my $10, filled out a permit, decided that she (and i quote) "didn't like her handwriting on that one" and went to get a new permit to write on. my meter time was ticking down; i now had 4 minutes. i started to get antsy, but she started rewriting the new one before i could say anything. finally, she hands it through the little hole in the bulletproof wall, and i run out the door, down the street to my car. the meter isn't blinking red yet, so i check how much time i have left (as i always do). 9 minutes. i don't really know how that happened, but i think someone put money in my meter. oh wait. come to think of it... i started counting time 10 minutes before my meter actually started. ha ha. oh well.
but still... so far... so good. AND when i came home, i had my package from amazon.co.uk--extras series one and the muse dvd--waiting for me at my door. yes, that's right. at my door. apparently our postal carrier likes to hand deliver packages, which totally rules, cause you check your mailbox and are all disappointed that you didn't get anything, but you walk around the corner, down the hall, and hey! package at your door!
plus, it also doesn't get stolen.
anyway, hopefully i'll be heading out for pancakes tonight, which would also rule. as long as we don't die.
you keep this up, february the 14th's, and i just might start not to be afraid of you.
i won't stop feeling slightly lame for being single, mind you, but i might not fear you as much as i currently do.
here's hoping.
my heart has moved on.
my mind has moved on.
my soul has moved on.
i had this whole witty build-up thing going, but i couldn't give it enough attention to properly follow through, all in a really stupid attempt to say that i've moved on entirely from liking jews, and partially on from liking indians/south east asians... and have fully accepted that my current heart palpitations are due to disproportionate blond british men, who have a penchant for resting their chins in their hands, being overshadowed, and having very little information about them available online.
namely:
the similarities are uncanny, besides steve being 6'7 and bob, well, not. need more proof?
the microphones! the earphones!! ah! but one must only add a final bob picture into the mix to see it come full circle:
the pose! oh, the pose!
anyway.
i am not going to continue my discussion on blogging, titles, leaks, or a capella, because it was getting forced, and stupid, and i wasn't enjoying it, and i was being pretentious and trying too hard. but i will say something final about a capella: in order to be successful you have to mix two songs together. there can never be just ONE song per song. it's insane. it's like they preempted mash-ups! with their voices!! no instruments, people! but why is that, anyway? is it a law that they have to mix two songs together, even if inclusion of the second song is just a mere few lines?
keriann also aptly pointed out that college/university life doesn't seem complete unless you are in possession of a copy of cd that your friend's a capella group made. and i would also like to aptly point out, that there really isn't a life for a capella outside of college. i'm not sure why this is. there is certainly a life for singers and show-people. lots of stages to fill. but why not a capella? are they reduced to barbershop quartets? panhandling on subways? showcasing their talents at alumni reunions?
maybe we only like a capella in college because in college we feel we can do anything; we study what WE want to study, we do what WE want to do, we stay up as late as WE want. the world doesn't tell us what to do, WE tell the world what to do. we can change lives, we can cure diseases, we can write a brilliant screenplay, we can go to foam parties. we can even have music without instruments! WE play the instruments, with our MOUTHS! we can do anything!!! perhaps it's just in the whirl of euphoria, caffeine, safety nets and optimism that we appreciate a capella. they're always so happy, they're always so good intentioned, so meaningful. they are expressing our joy through music, without instruments. not even a drum! they can do it! so can we.
and then we wake up, and realize that music really does need a drum, at least, because otherwise it just becomes white people who beat box. and nobody wants to live in detroit.
i haven't quite hit on the point about a capella i've been trying to make but i'll dwell on it for a few days longer and see where i get. so case closed, at least for now.
also, i don't like valentine's day. i always say i hate it, but that's becoming so cliche, so i've decided to say i just don't like it. or maybe, disapprove? am impartial? don't care? all of these phrases just sound like i'm bitter about being single and not having overpriced roses delivered to me at work (i'm not even particularly fond of roses, it's daffodils for me). but that's not why i don't like valentine's day. i don't like valentine's day because bad things always happen to me on v-day...it's becoming my friday the 13th. which is actually quite fair, because i simply adore friday the 13th's- they generally tend to be the most fantastic days of my life. so i guess i am superstitious about february the 14th's as a compromise.
like last year. just when i thought i'd made it through the day unscathed, i got pulled over for "not stopping at a stop sign", and got a lovely little present of a $147 ticket from the cop. even if he'd given me roses and chocolates, i would've been upset. my first ticket! ugh.
so today, i was seriously considering NOT leaving the house, but i had to because i got a flat tire the other day and have been driving on my spare. i didn't have work today, so i HAD to take care of it. then i decided i should finally try and get my street parking permit again. let's recap: these are two outings with great potential for disaster:
a) i could die on my way to wal-mart-- my spare tire could come lose (lug nuts!) and i could spin out and die
b) should 'a)' not happen, i could find out that my flat tire couldn't be "fixed" and rather had to be "replaced", costing me upwards of $50
c) i wouldn't get my permit, again
to save the suspense:
a) still alive. had a brief moment of panic when car started shaking on freeway, but survived, and made it to wal-mart.
b) flat repair cost $6.50. yes! and the shaking stopped cause the spare tire was doing something to the alignment, but now that the original is back on, it's fine
c) got my permit! i had exactly an hour on the meter, i was number 30, and they were at number 2. somehow, i made it up to the counter with 20 minutes before i had to run a block away and move my car. another opportunity for disaster presented itself here, though, as i wound up at the same counter of the bitch who "helped" me last time... who made me late for parking, who refused to give me a permit, who had a lazy, googly eye. i said, "hi, last time you told me i needed a bill too, but i don't have one, but i do have these", and i proceeded to pull out paper after paper of documents with my name and address on them. she remembered me... and then looked over my stuff. "um, where is your name on the lease?" she says. i look. nope. my name is definitely NOT on the lease. i never noticed that before. and she hadn't noticed that last time, either. i said, "well, there's my signature!", as if that counted. amazingly, it did. she shuffled through all my papers and notices, and was about to send me away saying "no", but then her co-worker came over, and for whatever reason googly eyes was in a good mood today (maybe she likes valentine's day?) and googly eyes said, "what should i do with this? her name isn't on the lease, there's another person registered at her apt, all she has is papers with her address" and the co-worker looked at me... looked at my papers... looked at my pleading eyes... shrugged her shoulders and said "meh, let her have it". i actually said "YAY!" in the dept of parking violations. it was great. so googly eyes took my $10, filled out a permit, decided that she (and i quote) "didn't like her handwriting on that one" and went to get a new permit to write on. my meter time was ticking down; i now had 4 minutes. i started to get antsy, but she started rewriting the new one before i could say anything. finally, she hands it through the little hole in the bulletproof wall, and i run out the door, down the street to my car. the meter isn't blinking red yet, so i check how much time i have left (as i always do). 9 minutes. i don't really know how that happened, but i think someone put money in my meter. oh wait. come to think of it... i started counting time 10 minutes before my meter actually started. ha ha. oh well.
but still... so far... so good. AND when i came home, i had my package from amazon.co.uk--extras series one and the muse dvd--waiting for me at my door. yes, that's right. at my door. apparently our postal carrier likes to hand deliver packages, which totally rules, cause you check your mailbox and are all disappointed that you didn't get anything, but you walk around the corner, down the hall, and hey! package at your door!
plus, it also doesn't get stolen.
anyway, hopefully i'll be heading out for pancakes tonight, which would also rule. as long as we don't die.
you keep this up, february the 14th's, and i just might start not to be afraid of you.
i won't stop feeling slightly lame for being single, mind you, but i might not fear you as much as i currently do.
here's hoping.