Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Good Morning

I had an older friend a few years ago who was a poet (sorry if that sounds a little pretentious, but she was...she was even finishing her master's degree in poetry), and she used to always talk about how much she loved mornings. She would go to bed around 10:00PM and wake up by 5:00 or 6:00AM the next day. Now, at the time, I thought she was insane. Maybe insane is a harsh word. I guess I just didn't understand why anyone who wasn't required to get up so early ever would...

That is, until I discovered why myself. I went through a bad phase last spring where I quit sleeping for over a month and just spent a lot of time in some weird fog. And while I wouldn't go back to having sleepless nights EVER again, there were a few really beautiful things I took away from the entire of which being this: I love mornings. Do I get up early? Fuck no. Not often...not as much as I should. Then again, to be fair, I don't usually have a huge incentive to get up and get going most mornings (just bitching cause I still don't have a job).

Ah! I'm digressing! The point is, if you never take the time to wake up and appreciate a beautiful morning once in a while, then you are letting something truly precious fall right through the cracks in life. We all know it can be fun to be a night owl, but when you get up early (and I mean early...think 6:00AM) there is something so beautiful and tranquil about the morning. It feels like a well-kept you're the only person awake in the world, and it's just you and the earth for a few minutes as it should be. The air is still, unstirred by the bustle of people's movement, and sounds are soft, but clear. It's definitely one of those situations where you have to let yourself give into the morning, otherwise you'll just wind up feeling stupid and cranky and tired.

Anyway, maybe Walt Whitman was on to something all those years ago...

"Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed." - Walt Whitman

I think the video has to be opened in another window...and for that, I apologize...

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

I'll Have So Much To Tell You About It

I love Fleet Foxes. More specifically, I love Robin Pecknold. Why? Well, to be honest, because I've heard he's an ultra shy guy and I can totally relate to the hellhole that is a shy life. Regardless, when I was home over the weekend I took some time out to read the most recent issue of Rolling Stone and found myself enamored at the Fleet Foxes article. It wasn't even anything special, but I guess what really stuck out was one part where it mentions the meaning behind the song, "Grown Ocean." Now, I'm not going to slap any specific claim on who said it (cause I don't remember and the magazine is at my parent's house, 3 hours away), but it was mentioned that "Grown Ocean" was about a dream where Pecknold is no longer socially anxious...and I think that's gorgeous.

Sometimes I understand the sentiment behind bands not telling the meaning to their music, but other times I think it makes the songs richer and fuller in worth and meaning. So, assuming this is true (I mean...RS wouldn't publish it if it wasn't...right?), and "Grown Ocean" is about the dream of overcoming social anxiety...well, that's just incredible. I concur Mr. Pecknold, and I hope that I too will one day awake from this because I have so much to tell.

Fleet Foxes - Grown Ocean from Fleet Foxes on Vimeo.

I know someday the smoke will all burn off
All these voices I'll someday have turned off
I will see you someday when I've woken
I'll be so happy just to have spoken
I'll have so much to tell you about it

Friday, April 15, 2011

Gone Too Soon

As of yesterday evening, my iPhone met an early demise courtesy of the washing machine. I don't want to talk about it, but I will say that I swear I checked my laundry beforehand and all the pockets and I have NO idea how in the fuck I overlooked it... Fast forward to today, where I tried to go purchase a new phone, ran into complications and finally just said fuck everything, bought a temporary piece of shit replacement phone and went on my merry way...

Looking onward at my new phone, lovingly... or sadly... I'm not sure what that emotion is.

Anyway, I'll stop complaining now. Enough of my white people problems.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Story for a Rainy Day...

Today was a little rough for wear on me. I normally get to sleep in on Mondays, but in lieu of this I had to get up early and meet some classmates at campus to work on a project. I won't delve into details, other than mentioning two things:

1. It's a craft project (meaning, it's a waste of time for anyone over about the age of 13)...but maybe I'm biased in being frustrated over this aspect of it because I'm an artist. I already don't like working in groups (see #2), but when I have to do a project that involves creativity of any may as well just put a gun to my head. It's the same thing...every one else will suggest any ideas, especially nothing sensible, cohesive, or entertaining, and anytime I make a suggestion I may as well have just said it to the wall, cause that's the reaction I get.

2. I HATE WORKING IN GROUPS. Ahhhhh. I'm sorry. I do. Especially when it's a group you don't choose... Nothing is worse.

Anyway. Momentarily shoving aside my anger over this ridiculous project, I'll go on to say that today was really strange. I set my alarm for 9am, but found myself awake around 7:30am anyway. I took my time enjoying the morning, preparing for the day, whatever else. I left the house and stepped out into that last lingering bit of beautiful weather that was blowing away with the storm pushing in. There was even a strange peace with going to a Hobby Lobby at a 10:00am on a Monday. Just me and a bunch of scrapbooking, crafty moms, shuffling through aisles with that odd Christian hymnal elevator music in the background. It was strangely nice. All of it.

I got to school, worked on that project for THREE HOURS, then got to walk around with it in down-pouring rain between class. The thick presentation board was almost soaked through and was starting to bend by the time I headed to my car to go home. At this point, I decided to skip my afternoon class, already affected by the weird haze of the day. So as I walked to my car, rain still pouring everywhere, I found myself soaked to the core along with my (basically) all-paper poster board project. And as much as it sucked to think of that project getting ruined...or knowing that I look and feel like I just took a shower fully dressed from the rain...I started laughing. I had one of those insane beautiful moments where I kept wanting to break out laughing while I walked alone, but I knew I looked crazy so I kept trying to stifle it and just enjoy the feeling. And finally, as I approached the awning to the parking garage stairwell (my safe haven goal from the rain), I saw a man coming down the stairs, fighting with an umbrella as he approached the open sky. It was a fight he lost, as the umbrella immediately protested by blowing backgrounds with the first gust of wind, being more problematic than useful. The guy began shaking the umbrella and yelling loudly, "Fuck this fucking shit! Fucking monsoon!" And that was all it took. I busted out in raucous, almost uncontrollable laughter, only managing to calm myself for the two seconds it took to pass him on the stairwell.

It might not sound like much, but it was a nice feeling...the entire day felt great in such an unfamiliar way. I feel like I don't get too many days like this, so when they come along it's an incredible feeling...and I wanted to share that.

Plus, I mean...that umbrella guy story is funny...

I'll leave you with photos (because I know people only peruse through blogs to look at photos 9 times out of 10) from Twin Peaks since I am currently a slave to David Lynch's universe. You can expect a post all about it here in a few days. For now, though, pictures [spoilers...sort of]:

Celebrating Leo's vegetable-state return home...

Log lady...


Agent Cooper singing the praises of pie...

And of course...I can't resist a photo of Audrey and Agent of those couples that I feel almost morally(?--not sure if that's the word I want to use) wrong for "shipping"...