Davey!

So the other night, I'm watching CollegeHumor when I should have been sleeping, and I happen upon an interesting thing. You see, CollegeHumor is a website that does scetch comedy, and they have this thing called the All Nighter in which they make videos over the course of one night, and they don't sleep. Anyway, I'm watching the All Nighter '09, and I get to the last video. And it is NOT scetch comedy. Before I get too upset, I read the caption: "We Did It! We were all too pooped to write another video, so for a finale we decided to join our co-worker, Davey, for an improvised dance blog."

Now let me tell you about this video. It's set in Union Square in New York City, and the whole thing shows a guy dancing. It was unlike anything I'd seen before; it was weird, and wacky, and aMAZing!!! I immediately went to daveydanceblog.com to watch more.

Moral of the story, Davey is wonderful. I love Davey. He chooses really good music and travels around the world to different famous monuments and does improvised dances. Sometimes there are other people, and sometimes he's alone, but always he's interesting. Here's the Union Square video:

DaveyDanceBlog -64- NYC Union Square from Pheasant Plucker on Vimeo.

The Hood

Allow me to introduce you all to a friend of mine. He's an amazing fellow with a big heart and a good cause (not to mention a dreamy smile). Ladies and gentlemen, although I think all but one of you are ladies, meet Robin Hood (played by Jonas Armstrong, far left).

Now this isn't your typical legendary hero. Nor is it the typical telling of such an epic and fascinating tale. This is the story of a young man who is struggling with losing everything he has and seeing the people he cares about hurt, as told by the BBC.

Please, friends. I implore you to watch this wonderful work of television. These are some of the best scenes from the first episode:

Soft Revolution by Stars

The Revolution wasn't bad,
We hit the streets with all we had.
A tape recording of the sounds,
Of The Velvet Underground.
Our K-Way jacket torn to shreds,
And a dream inside our heads.
And after changing everything,
They couldn't tell, we couldn't sing.
After changing everything,
They couldn't tell, we couldn't sing.
They couldn't tell, we couldn't sing,

And that changes everything.

Smallville

I know I've been a little overzealous about this show, but I'm very interested in something. I've decided to make a list of people who have been on Smallville and gone on to be in other really good (or a little good) TV shows.

Sean Faris
Adam Brody
Maggie Lawson a.k.a. Jules from Psych
Emmanuelle Vaugier a.k.a. Nicki from One Tree Hill
Marguerite Moreau a.k.a. Ms. Young from Life As We Know It

There are more to come, no worries. That was just the first season :).
Anyway, I believe now you realize exactly how much of a life I am lacking.

I Got In!!

Some of you may remember a post a while back about the audition tape I made for a piano camp. You may remember my post about how I had been practicing so much it hurt. Well, I just thought I'd tell you, I GOT IN!

I GOT IN! I GOT IN! I GOT IN!

I Am Extremely Angry at the Weather!

I suffer some seasonal depression. You'd know after reading this even if I hadn't told you.

Sorrow's Brow

Let me rest on Sorrow's brow
I know the sun will come to shine
And summer's bright eyes will open wide
Soon enough the snow will melt
And rock hard lake, rock hard unfelt
But till the horse frost dissipates
Till water soaks through softened slate
I know my heart will sink down low
So let me rest on Sorrow's brow

Furrowed deep within his troubles
Nestled warm in worry lines
I'll count my blessings by the doubles
And count with each five sorry lines

My warmth will prosper, sprung from cold
My comfort strong, from stronger pain
I'll count my loved ones young and old
And count with each a dying claim

For they let me sleep on Sorrow's brow
Though I know the sun will come to shine
They let me close my eyes to light
While summer's bright eyes open wide
And soon when snow begins to melt
my heart will stay unmelted
And when the rock hard lake goes soft
I'll feel myself grow harder
When horse frost starts to dissipate
When water soaks through softened slate
I know my heart will sink down low
For they let me rest on Sorrow's brow

Rockville, CA

In case you haven't noticed, I added a widget for this online show called Rockville, CA. I read about this show in the paper, and it basically sounded like the best show ever, apart from the fact that each episode is only about 7 minutes long.

Let me tell you about this show. It was created by Josh Schwartz (The O.C., Chuck, and Gossip Girl), who's written some of the best television of my life. And the actual show is about a club in LA called Rockville, CA. This show is basically a cross between a music showcase and a melodrama. One good indie band performs in each episode while witty plot lines about lovable characters unfold.

The music is chosen by this woman Alexandra Patsavas who's considered to be one of the best talent scouts in the business. She was the music consultant for The O.C. and Gossip Girl. She made bands like Snow Patrol and The Fray famous when she put them on Grey's Anatomy. In my book, this woman basically has the best taste in music in the world.

So in a nutshell, this show is the best of both worlds. It was practically written for me. If you want to check it out, it's on TheWB.com. I've seen a couple of episodes, and I highly recommend it. :)

Waiting to Hear

Sometimes my parents can be so embarrassing! I'm sorry. I'm ahead of myself. Let's start earlier.

For the past 6 1/2 months, I've been working on this piano audition for a camp at St. Olaf. You see I have to send in a 10 minute long recording of two pieces of contrasting styles. I learned three, but the time was good.

Anyway, it's been killer. I wrote a post earlier about how my hands hurt so much from all the practice, and it didn't let up. Finally, though, I got to record my audition tape. So here's basically how my first official day of spring break went:

Monday, March 16

7 am: Wake up, shower, eat breakfast. This was hard because I had already gotten into my spring break sleeping late mode, and Philip told me I had to get up extra early so I could practice a lot beforehand.

8 am: Practice piano in the Nicholson Center. I had to warm up my hands. Let me tell you, Handel at 8 'o clock in the morning is NOT pretty.

9 am: Philip (my piano teacher) shows up and we start getting ready to record. Ms. Wantock, my band teacher, was there, and super helpful. She did the actual recording stuff with her computer and one of the microphones they use for concert recordings.

9:20 am: 4 takes of Debussy's "Girl With The Flaxen Hair". It went pretty well. I was really nervous at first, but after I got my first usable take, I relaxed a little and played pretty well.

9:35 am: 3 takes of Schumann's "Traümerei". After I was done, Philip told me that I'd played it just like Horowitz played it. For those of you who don't know (which I assume is all of you), Horowitz' recording of "Traümerei" is considered to be the best in the world. I'm sure I didn't play it that well, but I've been working on those two sheets of music since September. It better be pretty damn beautiful.

9:50 am: 3 takes of Handel's "Harmonious Blacksmith Variations", Theme, Variation 1, and Variation 2. The variations are my longest and hardest piece (that's what she said. It had to be done :]). I couldn't possibly play them all together well enough for the recording, so we did them in parts. The first part I did was the easiest. I made one glaring mistake, but otherwise it turned out pretty good.

10:15 am: 4 takes of Variations 3 and 4. This is the part of the piece that hurts my hands. I have to play these fast triplets really clearly. In order to do well, I had to practice each measure individually over and over again, then play them all in reverse order. Every Day. Again, I worked hard on this part, so it better have been good.

10:35 am: 2 takes of Variation 5. This variation was the fastest piece of music I have ever had to play. It took months to learn how to move my fingers fast enough to play it clearly. Now I had never played it without a mistake until the day of the recording. In fact, I had never played it without a mistake until the first take of the recording. I don't know what happened, but I sat down at the bench, and nailed it. Perfect, didn't miss a note, clear, even, and artistic. I played it so well, you can hear my mom make a grunt of incredulity on the recording. We tried one more time for a good take, but it didn't compare to the first one.

10:45- 12n: Post-production. This is where we listen to all the takes and decide which one is best, and what order we want to put them in on the cd. I am not lying. This took over an hour. I was sitting there thinking, I'm done playing, and I'm still here. Will it ever end?? Post-production is a job for the perfectionists. My piano teacher literally listened to each piece twice, some three times back to back, just to decide which I should use to give a good first impression.

12n: Walk out of school a free girl, kind of sad, and go to Panera :)

Anyway, back to my story (and, subsequently, the title of the post), the recording turned out pretty nice. And why shouldn't it have? This recording was literally the hardest I have worked on anything before in my life. It turned out so nice, in fact, that my parents have made copies. They're handing them out to whomever they see. My mom has listened to it every day this week. And she makes me listen to it, too. But she doesn't realize that while she hears music and her daughter playing, all I hear is what I could have done better. I don't like my sound quality in one, I wasn't even enough in another. It's driving me nuts, and it's so embarrassing hearing them talk about it!

The title of this post is Waiting to Hear because we sent in the audition. They're supposed to email me with my acceptance or rejection, or whatever. And I'm so excited and nervous. I'm checking my email every five minutes.

Okay. I'm all written out now. I will say one more thing. IF I DON'T GET INTO THIS CAMP I'LL BE FURIOUS! I WORKED TOO HARD TO BE REJECTED.

1st (Well, Kind of 4th, but Whatever) Interesting Person!

"Don't fall asleep yet! Contrary to popular belief, that's not where dremas get accomplished." -George Watsky


Born and raised in San Francisco, CA, George Watsky is a 22-year-old spoken word poet and rapper. He's currently based in Boston where he is completing a B.A. in "Writing and Acting for the Screen and Stage" at Emerson College. At 19, Watsky was the 2006 Youth Speaks Grand Slam Poetry Champion, and he later went on to speak on season 6 of HBO's Def Jam Poetry. Just a few weeks ago, he performed alongside two other poets at the NAACP Image Awards in honor of Russell Simmons.

George Watsky has a really wide range of subject matter that stretches from being a virgin in highschool ("V is for Virgin") to the dangers of global warming ("Carry the One"). His poems are funny and serious, sometimes at the same time. The serious poems focus mainly on politics and global warming, a subject which I never found particularly interesting until I heard him speak. The more comical poems may have to do with his love-life or his background, such as the two he performs below at the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, Mass. Please excuse the language:


p.s. I almost posted "I Am So Green" for you, Prince Alix, but I liked this one better.

New Idea!!!

So as you may have noticed, nothing very interesting happens in my life. Which makes the concept of a blog seem a little pointless. But I had a new idea! I really enjoyed talking last month about other people who DO have interesting things in their lives, so I've decided to a monthly profile of someone that I think is really cool and interesting.I might amp it up to more than once a month because I have nothing else to do, but for now it's a monthly engagement.

This is how bored I've gotten

I know that if someone had a clone, they wouldn't do things at the same time or anything, but would they have the same thoughts? I mean, not simulatneously, but is it like if one has the thought, sooner or later the other would have it?

Anyway, the reason I was thinking these... interesting thoughts is because I am just that bored. Two days into vacation, and I've already seen six movies (which I realize isn't that much, but it seems like a lot to me). So I've been playing with this stress ball, and I just wish I had someone to play catch with, hence the clone thing. But then I decided that if I had to talk to another me all day, I'd get on my nerves so much I wouldn't want to see me anymore. Hmm... I'm having a weird day...

My hands hurt so much right now, I don't know how I'm typing this

So I love piano. And I must really, really love it if I can say that right now because I just got done practicing. Now I know piano practice doesn't sound that intense, like just sit down and play, right? Not a chance. I have this audition recording coming up, and if I practice one day like that, I'm in trouble. Instead, I get to play the same two pages of music insanely fast until my forearms and hands cramp up and I can't hit the notes anymore. And I realize that sounds like an exaggeration, but it's NOT. I literally have sore muscles from piano. I will literally practice until I'm in tears at the piano. I literally have to do stretches before I play THE PIANO.

But I love it. I've been playing the same two-page Schumann piece since September, and I still haven't gotten sick of it. I practiced until I couldn't stand it tonight, and still I'll come back tomorrow and do it again. Piano is my passion. And I know for a fact that I'm not going to grow up to be some professional concert pianist, but I can't help it. There is no activity I love more than playing the piano. And despite all the pain and frustration, I hope that my friends and family find a piano for themselves.

Three Guys I really Like Lately, pt. 3

"All it takes to have an adventure is just the will to have one."- Chris Lowell

Now you've probably heard me say this before, but I will repeat it. I want to marry Chris Lowell. Some people know of this guy as Piz from Veronica Mars or Dell from Private Practice. These are both wonderful examples of why he is amazing. But there's more. He's in a band called Two Shots for Poe. They're pretty good, too. Not to mention, he did a video with BriTANick which is really funny.

You see, I chose the three guys for these posts because they're all kind of connected. Nick and Brian work together, Brian did a documentary about Chris's band, and Chris was in one of BriTANick's videos. This post is getting long, so I guess I'll just show the video now:

Three Guys I really Like Lately, pt. 2

"I want you to run in, knock over the christmas tree and screem, 'Death the halls!'"- Brian McElhaney

Brian McElhaney is the other half of BriTANick. Again, I heard of him first as a part of this duo, but I later found out that he did a documentary on a band called Two Shots for Poe (of which, Chris Lowell is a member), he directed a music video that's on MTV Europe, and apparently, he's a really excellent stand-up comic.

Brian and Nick both are starring in a short film entitled Suckerpunch, which I'll probably never get a chance to see, but the preview looks amazing. I'm sticking to a format here, so I've decided to add a video:

Three Guys I really Like Lately, pt. 1

"STOP LIVING. Living is the first branch you hit in your fall down the 'Unique Tree'"- Nick Kocher

So this Nick Kocher guy is really funny. He's an actor who does sketch comedy on the internet with his friend Brian (their website is on my link menu). I first saw him in his BriTANick videos, but then I learned that he was in another sketch group called Brave Aunt Beth and he writes a blog at nickkocher.com. One other thing he's done that's really entertaining to watch is his senior speech. I happened upon it, and I thought it was hilarious, so here it is:

Storm

So this poem reminds me of summer, and I really miss summer right now. I was thinking of summer when I wrote it. Everyday this past summer, I'd lay on my dock at my cabin and watch the sky. It's really cool, because you can literally watch the clouds and see storms coming and going. In this poem, however, the storm is a metaphor for kind of a dark period. Like sometimes you can tell you're not going to be happy for a while, but there's nothing you can do about it. Anyway, here is is:

Storm

I watched the storm approach
Laid on my back and stared
At the dark clouds of gloom inching closer,
Blackening with rage

There was no point
In running
The rain would catch me fast
To hide was only vain
The winds would tear and rip
The storm would uproot all that was safe
The clouds would block the sun
My only hope

Wait it out
And so I laid and stared
As the clouds inched closer still
Bruising the sky
Bruising the sun
The storm came.

Congirl

There is a bus stop on the corner of 8th and Elm. Beside which a seldom-used bench sits, adorned with the faces of conventionally attractive real estate agents, smiling their slick sales smiles. It is on this bench that another self sat, young and naive as only an adolescent can really be, and it is on this bench that this girl grew up.

Her name was Mary. She said her name was Mary when she sat beside me on the first day of the second year of high school. Mary was her name, she said. Her straw yellow hair fell limply on her head, making her face seem too big for the rest of her. If her face was too big, then her eyes were too small, two Caribbean blue beads engulfed in the high cheekbones of a thin face. The large flat planes of her forehead and cheeks were so dotted with freckles they were filled, and when she looked straight at me, her lips were pulled down into a wretched, permanent-looking grimace. She asked me something more, but I did not understand her. Her horrible stutter dismembered the Y’s and T’s of “Are you taking the 8 o’ clock bus?”

Upon deciphering her meaning, I quickly replied that I was waiting for the 8:30. She pulled her lips back and bared her teeth in a way that I assumed was meant as a grin and said, “Well, then, looks like we will wait together.”

I knew not what to make of this peculiar girl, who could not have been more than my 16 years, but whose face already was wrinkled and weathered. She talked of nothing but her little brother Charlie, and the mischief he found. I deduced she must be crazy, an orphan of sorts, but I humored her while I sat.

She was not unpleasant to talk with, this crazy orphan who said her name was Mary. She seemed happy most of the time, and consolable the rest. She told me her story, a story of an orphan left in the streets by an addict of a mother. She and her brother scrounged, but it was difficult to find enough. Her poor brother suffered because of it. This story was terrible, truly heart-breaking to hear. And I pitied her. Her love for her brother was evident in her ugly, freckled face. My pity was so much that I reached into my pocket, in a gesture of goodwill, and gave her what was left of my weekly allowance. This was difficult to part with, for I was not terribly wealthy and my father’s unemployment had brought hard times upon our house, but I felt the cause was worthy. Mary attempted her grin again when she saw the money and I had no doubt that she felt gratitude.

Then the bus came. I stood, readying myself to board, and seeing that she had not, asked, “You coming?” Mary looked at her hand, full of money then she looked at me. That’s when I noticed the change in her expression. She was no longer pitiable. She was done. Finished with something she had set out to do, it seemed. She looked at my face, dead on, and replied, “No, I think I’ll find my brother Charlie.”
With this, the girl who said her name was Mary walked off. I watched her, ignoring the bus driver as he asked if I was getting on, clearly irritated. Mary walked to the end of the block, and a gray bus with two windows picked her up. She did not say a word to acknowledge the driver, nor did she make any indication that she didn’t want to get in. This weathered and wrinkled girl, pitiful with her freckled face and limp hair got into that van, finished with her day’s work.

SWEET CAROLINE!

SWEET CAROLINE, (bah bah bah) good times never seemed so good (SO GOOD SO GOOD SO GOOD). I've been inclined to believe they never would!

I'm Eternally Grateful To My Brother For This

So last year my brother came home for break (he goes to school in Washington, D.C.), and told me this story.

He told me about this guy he met who went to high school with his friend Rachel. This guy, Andre Allen, was couch-surfing. For those of you who don't know what couch-surfing is, it's when you crash on your friends' couches for a couple of days and move around.

So this guy was sleeping on Rachel's couch, and he happened to mention that he was a musician. So Mike and Rachel and their friends asked him to play for them.

And he was amazing.

Seriously, does anyone remember in English class when we talked about verbal wit? Yeah. He's got it. His lyrics are funny, smart, and interesting, while still wacky. Not to mention the fun melodies he's written.

Anyway, my brother and his friends recorded him on a computer and my brother gave them to me. Here are the lyrics to one of his songs:

Dostoevsky's Demise by Allen Andre

Dostoevsky was made off of cells, mostly water, mostly water
And Dostoevsky was made off of booze mostly vodka, mostly vodka
And Edgar Allen was made off of prose, mostly poetry, mostly poetry
And Edgar Allen was made off of woes, mostly whiskey, mostly whiskey

When the storm of drunkenness evaded,
We found ourselves among the hated bourgeois
Something other than nobility
Has crushed our souls and made the barricades come down, the shots are fired in the dark
A brainstorm made much heavier by drink but when we stop to think, something brings us back
To those street corners where we would stand on shoe boxes, those crazy fools who shout obscenities at the crowd,
Their vocation one of leisure and of wealth, when the summer comes, we'll drink to their health

And Dostoevsky was made up of cells, a million mitochondria and
million private hells,
And Charles Dickens was made off of kids, mostly orphans, mostly
orphans
And Charles Dickens was driven by drugs, mostly endorphins, mostly
endorphins
And William Wordsworth was made off of words, mostly sober, mostly
sober
And William Wordsworth was made off of words, mostly empty, mostly empty

Well our entire literary establishment was driven by intoxicants
And our entire western civilization depends on quite a lot of alcoholic rejuvenation,
Granted themselves freedoms unheard of by the press, Dylan accidentally slipped into drunken harmonica solos,
Hitting new lows as they pull up to red carpets, the literary dinosaurs
whose books are thrown in tar pits,
When we pull up the fossil a few centuries later, we'll find the works
of genius of some misunderstood creator,

And only time will tell who gets to stay who gets to stay in cells,
And only time will tell who gets to stay who gets to stay in cells,
And only time will tell who gets to stay who gets to stay in cells.

More Things I Think About While Trying to Sleep

Interesting Things I've Done:

Watched fireflies for hours
Gone skinny-dipping
Sumo wrestling on ice
Watched TV upside down
Tubed behind a pontoon
Gone to Paris
Road-tripped to another state (with my parents)
Seen a protest (multiple times)
Gone to London
Caught a Muskee
Gone to a deserted carnival
Shoplifted a chapstick (accidentally, of course)
Watched a fire die
Spent 3 days without talking to anyone, except that one time i talked to my parents
Nicknamed 20 people I don't know

The Things I Think of While Trying to Sleep

Things I Want to Do Before I Die (or just, you know, whenever):

Lay out on my dock in a swimsuit and let a storm roll over me
Go skinny-dipping with a boy
See Arctic Monkeys in concert
Own a turntable
Wake up at 4pm
Be in a protest (I don't know what for)
Go to Norway
Drive to Dairy Queen with an over-stuffed car full of teenagers
See Death Cab for Cutie in concert
Go to an actual legitimate record store
Road-trip to another state (without my parents)
Go to Washington state
Have a picnic on a roof-top
Stay up all night listening to music
Play water balloon volleyball
See how many people can fit in one car
Be on the ground when the dew appears

Top 5 Most Romantic Songs

In honor of Valentine's Day, and because I'm really into one of the bands on this list, I've compiled a list of what are, in my opinion, the most romantic songs ever, along with my reasoning. Note that the order has no value, as I couldn't rate one over another.

1. I Will Follow You Into the Dark- Death Cab for Cutie:
OK, I know that this one is kind of cliché, but it's just so sweet! I mean he's so in love that he'll follow the object of his affection even after they've died.

2. You Could Be Happy- Snow Patrol:
This one is really sad, but it's full of love. It's about realizing what you have after it's gone.

3. Antonia- Motion City Soundtrack:
This song is really quirky and fun, in accordance with MCS's style. It's basically an ode to this girl Antonia and all her fun and lovable habits.

4. Marching Bands of Manhattan- Death Cab for Cutie:
"If I could open my arms to span the length of the isle of Manhattan, I'd bring it to where you are, making a lake of the East River and Hudson, If I could open my mouth wide enough for a marching band to march out, they would make your name sing, and bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings."

5. Baby I'm Yours- Arctic Monkeys
It's actually a love ballad from the '40s, but it's really sweet.

Those are my Top 5 most romantic songs. Happy Valentines Day!!

My Future

So this weekend I hung out with my cousin. She's a junior so she's thinking about colleges, and she asked me where I want to go. To be honest I haven't a clue what I'm going to do with my life. I wrote a poem about it, though.

As Me Again

What do I want?

Ask me again in 5 years
When I’m smarter
When I’m sure to be prettier
When I might know the answer

But a blur fades the time
And I’m smarter
And I’m surely prettier
And ask me again in 5 years

When I’m educated
When I’m sure to be stabler
When I must know the answer

But a fade blurs the time
And I’m educated
And I’m surely stabler

But you know the answer already
Because 10 years have not passed,
Except in my head and I’m
Not smarter
And I’m surely not prettier
Unless drastic change was bottled in the
2 minutes since I last wrote

What do I want?

I want to be prettier
Smarter
I want to be educated
Stable
I want time to fade and blur
To a time when I get what I want

And the answer to your question will be
Ask me again in 5 years

Do you ever catch yourself under-appreciating something? It's kind of sad but inevitable. Forgetting to recognize something or someone that makes your life easier or better somehow. Like my best friend.

I've known her since the fourth grade and we've been good friends since then. I can't imagine my life without her. And I'm sure I thought that in fourth and fifth grade, but I never truly meant it until the next year.

Now I'm not going to go into that year, so if you're wondering about it, you can ask me, but I will say She helped me out. Since the sixth grade, I have not had a panic attack or cried or been hurt in a game without her knowing or without her perfectly placed (that is to say, perfect height) shoulder being there.

I cried today. In the middle of basketball practice. We were running on the track and I just ran down the stairs into the bathroom and cried. I can't tell you how long I was in there, but I don't think it was too long. It was long enough that my eyelids were bright red and the ever-present dark circles under my eyes grew darker (the only upside to crying is that it really makes my blue eyes pop).

When I finished and went back to practice, finally under control, She apologized. "I'm sorry," she said, "I kind of thought... but I didn't go. I'm sorry."

She didn't need to apologize. She doesn't need to apologize. But she did. I didn't ask her to come after me. If She'd seen, though, she would have.

She's my best friend, and I couldn't imagine my life without her. She apoligized, and I found myself appreciating her all over again, as I always do.

Sometimes, being Unique is the same as being unsociable

You know what sucks? Listening to music that no one else has heard of. I'm not saying I don't love it. I worship it.

But right now I'm obsessed with a remix that nobody's heard of of a song that nobody listens to by a band that nobody knows. And it's amazing. It's the kind of song that can change you're mood. Make you dance. Make you happy or calm.

It's the kind of song I want to share, but no one listens to The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, so they don't want to hear it, and so now I can't share this amazing mood-altering song with anyone.

I hate listening to indie music sometimes. Except that I don't. Because it's fabulous and it's the fault of everybody else that they don't get to enjoy it.

Anyway, to tie this into the title, when you're really into something unique that no one else knows, it's hard to socialize. All you can really talk about is whatever you're into, and no one wants to hear about it. So it makes me awkward. Difficult to relate to. Unique and Unsociable.

Back Corner

I really don't do much on the weekends, as I am too lazy to leave the house, so I tend to write poetry instead. This is something I wrote yesterday:

Back Left-hand Corner

There is a room in my mind
A crawl space in the back left-hand corner
Where sometimes I retreat
And I cannot hear you
And I cannot see you
And I cannot feel

In this room in my mind
Where I sometimes retreat
To a crawlspace in a corner
And you do not hear me
And you do not see me
And I am alone

And this place where I sometimes retreat
This room
This space in the left-hand corner
Has no room for two
Has no room for you
Has no room

So I am alone in a room
Where I sometimes retreat
In a crawl space in the back corner of my mind
And you do not hear me
And I cannot see you
And we are alone.

Stars and Me

I"m obsessed with this band, so I have to brag on it a little.

It all started a few years back when I started watching The O.C. For those of you who don't know, The O.C. is probably one of the best TV shows I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot. Now aside from having hot actors and witty dialogue, there's one very special thing that The O.C. has: Really Good Music. Now I had never heard Really Good Music before. I mean, I listened to whatever was on the radio, and poppy songs (not offend anyone. Pop music is also really good), but I'd never heard anything like this.

Now, to get back to the point, there was one song on the soundtrack by this band called Stars. I liked it a lot. It was really original and pretty, but kind of a downer. So I bought another of their songs, then another. Pretty soon I'd bought all but one of there albums, and I hadn't really listened to them (that's how I get into music. I get it, then I listen to it).

At first I thought of Stars as a really slow band. The kind I'd fall asleep to or get a little sad to. But then I listened harder and realized I was wrong.

Stars has produced some of the best music I've heard in my life. With their understated keyboard lines and poetic lyrics, they convey messages that range from inspiration and encouragement to regret and loss.

But it's more than their lyrics, it's their musicality. I'm not kidding. I don't think I've heard anyone who can build to a climax like they do in "In Our Bedroom After The War", or evoke such a sense of closure as in "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead". It truly takes my breath away.

So if you feel like you need to hear some new music-- maybe something of the Really Good Music variety-- try Stars. You don't have to like it, just know that I do.

Meter

So in English class, we're learning about Shakespeare and meter. It's weird, because I kind or understand meter, but I guess other people don't. Anyway, every time we talk about it, I think of this poem I wrote in which the last part is iambic.


Where’s My Childhood?

I cannot see through the filter of my memories
I cannot see through the sepia tinted haze
I cannot hear the thoughts I thunk
And I cannot view the world as I had
I cannot see through the muck of time

Detached, I am
From who I was
Astray from who I would be
Detached, my mind
From what it was
Detached
I cannot see

Shit! I don't understand technology!

So I'm kind of technologically stunted, that should make for a GREAT blog, am I right? Anyway, I'm trying to figure this out...