Thursday, October 20

My (sort-of) moment in the sun.

Clem Snide's "Moment in the Sun" from their Ghost of Fashion album, just plain makes me feel good. It doesn't hurt that, for once, I woke up on the right side of the bed and am (surprisingly) rather pleasant. (Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm even smiling!) Eef's "la la la la la la..." in his odd, somewhat shrilly voice is balanced out by his quiet expression of it being his "moment in the sun" by stating: "I'll share my problems with the world, pycho-sematically, I'll God and all his pretty girls. lalallalalla..." It's funny how he turns his problems into such seemingly cheerfullness, and sings his happy "la's" succeeding the expression that "hunger, war, and death is bringing everybody down." Well, pretty girls and the Wo/man above, it's not necessarily my moment (I'll leave that to Eef), but damnit, despite the hunger, war and (most recently) death...I'm feeling good today.

It's actually kind of a weird thing that I'm suddenly happy. (Those moods, they sure are sneaky!) This week, my car finally had had enough and decided it was time to quit. The clutch has been going for quite some time now, and well, it went. I was on my way home from work on Tuesday and after having it freak out in downtown Providence at a light for the second day in a row, it finally decided it wasn't going any higher than 2nd gear. After swerving some so the car wouldn't stall as I was following a truck going slower than what 1st gear should be for (I couldn't get it to downshift, either), I put my flashers on and pulled off. Shortly after, I commenced in a mental breakdown. I was not ready for the expense this would cause me, and the fact I would be forced to rely on others (something I have a really hard time's part of that whole independent thing I thrive on). Rob came to my rescue while I was waiting for the AAA guy to come help, and kept me occupied by spouting off to me about the idiocy that are his students.

So my car is now sitting in my driveway, waiting until I have enough money to get it fixed. All this comes when I finally decide it's time I suck it up and admit to myself that I just don't make enough to get by, and a second job it will have to be. Then yesterday, Rob comes to pick me up, and tells me some horrible news that a friend of his died the night before in what could possibly have been a result of him taking his own life. I'm not sure if I've talked about it much, but suicide has been something I have been unfortunate enough to have dealt with in my life more than once, so it hits a nerve when someone I have met or know through others takes their life. It conjures up painful memories and unanswered questions. Yet, somehow, even though I was thinking about my personal losses and feeling for Rob's friends, I woke up this morning thinking maybe my problems aren't so bad. Worrying about how I'm going to apy for my bills, my disinspiring career, and my never-ending indecision, are merely passing woes. I'm thankful to be alive, to be able to feel pain and saddness, and know I will get out of it, instead of being unable to see the light of happiness in the distance. I at least know I have a light, somewhere.

However, you all have been with me long enough to know these little bubbles of happiness don't last for too long. At least for now, I can listen to Clem Snide tell me that I had better pray that "I never wake up to find my dreams have all come true, cause if [I] get everything [I'd] hope for, then [he] will have to punish [me]" and be thankful that I'm able to feel. Even if feeling means being sad and scared, at least I can feel. My dreams are still out there, and although I may be a little off-course right now, I'm still on the course. And for today, that's something to smile about.

Friday, October 14

Bitching again.

Only in Rhode Island do you witness a driver yelling at a pedestrian crossing a street IN A CROSSWALK. The NERVE! I swear, I love this state, but when it comes to driving (and walking), I'd rather live anywhere else but here.

Grand Canyon gaps, scrunchies, and two left feet.

There's this couple in my salsa class that fascinates me, to say the least. The man is probably slightly younger than my dad, I'd say probably mid-forties and about as white as a man can get. He looks like he's straight out of the 80's, doning a combover, boat shoes and collared shirt, his belt holding his jeans up mid-waist. He's always been very friendly to me, introduced himself right away, and making it a point to introduce the "woman" that came with him as his wife. This is where it interests me, his "wife" must be younger than me, perhaps even closer to the early 20's (shit, I've just realized I've made it into my mid-to-late twenties. How exactly did that happen?), very beautiful with creamy dark skin. She's still working the scrunchie, along with the flared jeans, hoodie, gemmed belt and keys hanging out of her back pocket. Her sneakers are Sketchers or Keds or something of the sorts, and her smile lights up the room. But she looks like she is barely out of high school, and they're all over each other like newlyweds. And, well, it freaks me out a bit. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the older men, I've been known to date a few that are already into the next decade, but I would never consider marrying one of my dad's buddies, that's just weird. And as I was partnered up with him this week for a dance (he's horrible, by the way, NO rythym what so ever. Did I mention he's as white as white can get, right?), I found out he travels to Panama rather often for his job, and his wife stays here while he's gone. This adds to my intrigue even more. This curiousity all comes after I joked with my hairdresser the other day about finding myself an "older" gentlemen on his last breaths to marry and fund my future career goals (you don't mind, do you Rob?), but realizing that this really does happen, in between jokes. Anyway, it's just weird. I wish you could see them, you'd agree. I mean, there's an age gap, and then there's an age canyon..and they're breaching the grand canyon of gaps. I don't think I would find it so weird if they weren't so damn giddy.

Well, maybe the joke is on me...she could know something that I don't. I know she's definitely not in it for the salsa, the man has two left feet.

It's Friday, ya'll. I'm breaking out the Kanye today, trying to prepare myself for this weeknd when I go to see another one of my friends step out of the single world and into the married one. The numbers are dwindling quickly...and apparently, even the younger scrunchie-wearing ones are snatching up anyone they can get their hands on*.

Have a great weekend, friends.


*I feel the need to point out, that although I find this weird and seem to have a rather all-too-familiar-bitter-tone to my observations, I swear I'm cool with it if they're in love. More than cool with it, actually, if people are fortunate to find true love, then by all means -- relish in it, and dance salsa with it. Even if there are two left-feet involved.

Thursday, October 13

Take THAT, Myspace.

Since I'm rather jealous of Myspace's "Currently listening" option on their blogs, I've decided to add my own little icon and link in the sidebar so you can see what album is presently on rotation in my player. It will often clue you in on the mood I'm in as well; so it's sort of a dual-purpose icon - you can decide beforehand if you want to read my post or not, and you can find out about some great music you may or may not have heard of at the same time. I'll try to update it as often as I can (well, more like as often as I have the motivation to do so) so you can hopefully be exposed to someone new to fill your ears.

Currently, it's Jeremy Enigk, who was given to me by Rob as part of my birthday-music-stack of cd's (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!) that he so graciously gave me as part of my gift. I believe, and I could be wrong considering my memory, that Jeremy was the man who Rob dubbed as "folk-like." I love how music can sound so entirely different to two separate people, that's the beauty of it. Because to me, if this is folk, it's manic-depressive-on-acid-folk. Which, clearly, more folk music should be. The track, Call Me Steam, actually reminds me a bit of a distorted Silent Night, with some off-key vocals and flutes, all the while sounding enjoyable. If that doesn't entice you to listen, I don't know what will.

The rest of it makes me want to stand outside in the rain screaming in agony to the grey sky while simultaneously curling up on the couch with nothing but my dog and some wine to drown my sorrows. Man I love this kind of music.

Friday, October 7

Bi-polar music.

My moods have been rather bi-polar lately. The good moods come random, and hit me mid-laugh when I can't stop and there's no explanation for the change in spirit. Literally, I will wake up absolutely miserable, and within a few hours, unable to get the smile off my face. Today I've gone from internally singing Red House Painters and Elliot Smith to bouncing my head to Kanye West while singing a duet with Otis in my head to Gone. Or like last night, I lose my voice belting out Oh, Atlanta with Alison Krauss, only to wake up desiring Adem.

I wish I could change my moods as easy as it is to change a cd in my changer. Or maybe that's the solution, whenever I'm feeling Elliott Smith, put in the Dandy Warhols or Eels as an experiement for my head, hoping with the change of tune, a change in attitude will coincide. I realize this is not a new concept, but I'm often contemplating the effect music has on me, as if melodies and lyrics are in place of blood in my veins. I think about the people who have no desires towards music, and I'm sad for them. Without music, I would be bored with just the voice in my head. I need a soundtrack to supplement my words and transform my thoughts.

Even if my soundtrack is currently R. Kelly's Trapped in The Closet, at least I can be temperarily (or rather regularly) be consumed with the work of an R&B artist's mind, and forget for a moment the drama I may have conjured within my own reality and focus instead on a circle of adulterers in a 30-minute musical drama masterpiece.

This is the brilliance of music. I may not be able to play a chord on my own, I can at least indulge in the talents of others to make my day go by a little bit more easily. And in some cases, a little bit more bi-polary.