If you do nothing else today, go to the link above (daytrotter.com) and download this version of Presidents of the United States performing Lump.
I love it.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Al Roker and the kindness of (kind of) strangers
So, by a weird quirk in my internet, instead of clicking on the link I wanted to follow, my computer decided to go to some of my old blog entries (on myspace).
And I found one of the crowd favorites:
and then there was this really nice, poignant one that I totally had forgotten about:
so I've been praying for my friend Jonathan for a while now...his dad's been really sick and he's had some other concerns that are concerns of mine too. well, I got a call yesterday afternoon from Jonathan saying that his dad passed away on Monday. it's really a time of celebration because his dad has been sick all of Jonathan's life on an oxygen machine and just not able to really care for himself...now he's able to run and dance and breath freely and we can all take comfort in that.
needless to say that I didn't get much done at work after Jonathan's phone call...I was calling everyone in my phone book and then scouring online for some kind of travel arrangements and man oh man, last minute plane tickets are expensive. so I was talking to my coworkers and they were offering up all kinds of advice and my boss even found a $64 one-way last minute fare to Dulles--which is 40 minutes away from where I need to be in PA and then she offered up her much-traveled husband's free rental car vouchers. then my new coworker JS (whom I've known a total of barely 2 months) made an offer than bowled me over. like with one of those shiny orange glow-in-the-dark bowling balls that weighs 25 pounds.
I know he's a believer--we've spoken of it before...but from nowhere did I expect this.
well, I came in this morning after deciding that Michelle and I would drive up Friday morning so we could make it to the viewing, funeral and following luncheon (is it wrong to say that I heart funeral luncheons? probably? yeah, you're probably right). well, I sat down at my chair and was going about working (unlike what I'm doing now) and I look up and there's a check on my desk. JS had just walked by, put it down and gone about his merry copy-editing ways. He and his wife wrote a lovely 3-digit check and I don't even know them. I told him that we're driving and not flying and so the costs shouldn't be that bad anymore and he was like "no, use it for gas or whatever."
I've known this guy for 2 months, but just because we have a shared faith, he and his (lovely) wife have sacrificed a precious commodity just to help me--his coworker that generally is probably too loud for his tastes--just to make sure I could make it to this funeral.
simply amazing.
so here we come stanley, phyllis, jonathan, kent, david and lil. we're going to be with your family all because my coworker gave of himself for something and someone he knows little about.
so absent is my humor that I only get, absent is my world-weariness and absent is my general cynicism. in its place is awe. and thankfulness. and I'm here to tell you that if you place your trust in Him, things aren't always going to be peachy and keen and good---but you'll always be provided for.
----
That generous coworker no longer works here and I don't know where he went--but that memory just brightened my day. Thanks JS. Oh, and double thanks for introducing my to Okkervil River.
And Mandi brought me to tears this afternoon. Here's an excerpt from her blog:
i received a phone call the other day from a dear friend who'd run across a publication put out by leading edge communications - where i freelanced for a few weeks back in october. the design office was really small and tight-knit. three designers, including myself and the senior art director, suzanne. suzanne was less than 5 years older than me, married and expecting her first child. my freelancing was a trial run training to take her place when she went on maternity leave in march. we are now nearing may 1 and i haven't heard from suzanne since january. the phone call i received explained why. suzanne passed away while giving birth to her new daughter, matilda ruby. i was shocked.
editor's note to self:
so i need to make some changes because life is so short. so unpredictable. and nothing is holding us back from going after the things we want in life. yes, it's scary. yes, it's unsure. but there's only one shot... so what the hell are you waiting for. go confidently in the direction of your dreams, live the life you've always imagined.
--I've let the fear and unsure days of our economy shape my decisions as of late. Perhaps I need to go back to the drawing board and really see where I'm supposed to be.
And I found one of the crowd favorites:
03 Jan 06 Tuesday
 | 3:36 AM - Pre Gastric Bypass Al Roker So, just in case this thing is off--it is currently 3:36 a.m. on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006. I have to be at work at 8 a.m. on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006. Why aren't I in bed so as to be fresh and ready to go to work tomorrow? Well, thanks for asking. I went to Maine for New Year's again. It was terrific. I left Jen's house at noon today. NOON. I get to the airport in Portland and have to wait 53 minutes just to check in. Thankfully the line for security isn't too bad. There's a group picture with Jen, Emlet and myself (tradition!) and off I go. I go through security with my very, extra-special shoe box "package" and the guy goes "oh, new shoes?" and he opens the box. His face then loses all expression, he replaces the top of the box, avoids eye contact and sends the "package" through the x-ray scan with no further comment. I will tell of the contents of my one-of-a-kind "package" to anyone who asks--I just don't think it proper to post it here. I will tell you that it's a work of art entitled "Dusty Candle" by my good friend the artist Emlet. On with the story...I'll skip the inane details of the next several hours. We were delayed getting to DC and then my 5 pm flight was delayed until 8 pm because of bad weather in Atlanta. 8 pm comes. I board the plane. I sit down in 31 D. That's the aisle seat. I used to think I preferred aisle seats because of the small possibility of more leg room. I've decided that I'm a window-girl now. I sit with an empty window seat beside me for a while. A guy sits in the window seat in front of me. He's by himself. We wait. We wait, we wait. Soon the flight attendant comes and asks him for his ticket. He's supposed to be in the window seat next to me. But the flight attendant then says to the man behind her, "Oh, sir, that's fine--you guys can just trade." So I stand and here starts the tragedy. Now I realize that I'm not a small person. I take up a lot of space, I get it. Thanks. But next to me was the largest man I've ever seen on a piece of aircraft. He was the spitting image of Al Roker, pre-gastric bypass surgery. Fine. I have nothing against fat people. I do, however, have something against fat people that have no consideration for others. This man sits down in his window seat. His legs are spread as if he's sitting down for a nice movie on the couch at home. He then lifts the arm rest that's supposed to separate our respective personal spaces. I try to sit down. I can't fit. Honestly. I could not fit. The flight attendant gives me a "sucks for you look." I get very fiesty at this look---shouldn't she be concerned for our safety? Apparently I am wrong in this assumption. I then stand, recompose myself and try again. This time I'm in the seat sideways. It's as if I were lying down on my side, one arm pinned beneath me--but instead of lying down, I'm sitting in an airplane seat. I fumble to buckle myself in. I barely succeed. Al Roker has a cold and a stomach condition that causes him to cough, wheeze and often grab his mid-section and moan "Oh, my stomach." He smells like a barn. A very neglected barn. I end up not caring how this appears to others and I cover my face with my hands being sure to breathe through three shirts as a filter. So I'm stuck in this crevice sideways with my hands covering my face and I try to lean as far out into the aisle as possible because seriously--I don't even like this much of me touching someone when we're dating---so I'm especially revolted by our forced touching. I then get hit by the saucy Latin flight attendant and her rear-end as she saunters by. I get hit by the refreshments cart. I get hit by everyone who walks by to go to the bathroom. One lady was complaining of not feeling well--she then has to stop right next to me to compose herself on her way to the bathroom. She apparently was having some gastrointestinal issues. Through my three-layer breathing guard I was assaulted with the repugnant odor of kielbasa and sauerkraut. Awesome. We land. I unfold myself from the two-hour hell I'd been imprisoned in. I get up as soon as the captain so kindly told us we could. I grabbed my backpack, my "package" and hope to the good Lord I can leave quickly. As I start to take a step, I realize my whole left side is asleep. I stumble and fall upon the guy in front of me, the one was supposed to be my seat mate. I don't even apologize. I don't care that I fell upon him, causing his nose to hit the overhead compartment. I don't care that blood went everywhere. I just don't care. I just lunged past him and the people that were trying to help him. I trip getting out of the plane. My "package" falls open and a piece of the art falls out. There's several old people there waiting for wheelchairs. I hear them gasp. Instead of me picking up my fallen item, I just jeer and start running up the ramp. I don't care. I then fight through the crowds, through a sea of bootcamp military runts, through several I'm sure heartfelt family reunions. I push people out of the way on the escalator. I need air. Children are holding onto their mothers legs in fear of me; I'm on a rampage. I need to get out of here. I push through another crowd, pinning a woman with her carry-on dog into the wall. She then whines, "Hey, Anna, what the mo do you think you're doing?!?!?!" I turn briefly to see my coworker, TDSGG glaring at me. Her husband is pissed. He starts to run after me. I dodge him, dart around the military group that has just stopped in the middle of the freaking atrium to do pushups. I get by just as Her Husband gets stopped by a drill sergeant asking why he thinks he's too good to be respectful of our fine military that is currently fighting for our freedom. I shriek with laughter as I run toward baggage claim. I am then met with a sea of people. Delta has 10 baggage claim carousels. 10 big ones. They each have 8 or more flights listed on the screen. That's 8 flights full of people all waiting on their luggage. I fight, bite, slap and push my way to the carousel. I wait for 2 hours in that one spot. My bag is not there. I wait another hour in the Baggage Information line. Once I'm like 10 feet from the counter, the Delta lady hands me a form and is like, "Oh, honey, you didn't have to wait this long if this is your final destination. Just take this form home with you and you can do this all over the internet." It was clear I wasn't getting my luggage that night. I went outside. Waited for my park-and-ride. I got to my car. I came home. And here I am, sweaty, bloody from that no-good seat-switching nose-bleeder, wide awake and looking around. I don't have any clothes to wear to work. AND I DON'T CARE. |
savage and then there was this really nice, poignant one that I totally had forgotten about:
9:04 AM - wow, I think this thing is really working out...
Current mood: ponderingly thankful
Category: ponderingly thankful Religion and Philosophy
so I've been praying for my friend Jonathan for a while now...his dad's been really sick and he's had some other concerns that are concerns of mine too. well, I got a call yesterday afternoon from Jonathan saying that his dad passed away on Monday. it's really a time of celebration because his dad has been sick all of Jonathan's life on an oxygen machine and just not able to really care for himself...now he's able to run and dance and breath freely and we can all take comfort in that.
needless to say that I didn't get much done at work after Jonathan's phone call...I was calling everyone in my phone book and then scouring online for some kind of travel arrangements and man oh man, last minute plane tickets are expensive. so I was talking to my coworkers and they were offering up all kinds of advice and my boss even found a $64 one-way last minute fare to Dulles--which is 40 minutes away from where I need to be in PA and then she offered up her much-traveled husband's free rental car vouchers. then my new coworker JS (whom I've known a total of barely 2 months) made an offer than bowled me over. like with one of those shiny orange glow-in-the-dark bowling balls that weighs 25 pounds.
I know he's a believer--we've spoken of it before...but from nowhere did I expect this.
well, I came in this morning after deciding that Michelle and I would drive up Friday morning so we could make it to the viewing, funeral and following luncheon (is it wrong to say that I heart funeral luncheons? probably? yeah, you're probably right). well, I sat down at my chair and was going about working (unlike what I'm doing now) and I look up and there's a check on my desk. JS had just walked by, put it down and gone about his merry copy-editing ways. He and his wife wrote a lovely 3-digit check and I don't even know them. I told him that we're driving and not flying and so the costs shouldn't be that bad anymore and he was like "no, use it for gas or whatever."
I've known this guy for 2 months, but just because we have a shared faith, he and his (lovely) wife have sacrificed a precious commodity just to help me--his coworker that generally is probably too loud for his tastes--just to make sure I could make it to this funeral.
simply amazing.
so here we come stanley, phyllis, jonathan, kent, david and lil. we're going to be with your family all because my coworker gave of himself for something and someone he knows little about.
so absent is my humor that I only get, absent is my world-weariness and absent is my general cynicism. in its place is awe. and thankfulness. and I'm here to tell you that if you place your trust in Him, things aren't always going to be peachy and keen and good---but you'll always be provided for.
----
That generous coworker no longer works here and I don't know where he went--but that memory just brightened my day. Thanks JS. Oh, and double thanks for introducing my to Okkervil River.
And Mandi brought me to tears this afternoon. Here's an excerpt from her blog:
i received a phone call the other day from a dear friend who'd run across a publication put out by leading edge communications - where i freelanced for a few weeks back in october. the design office was really small and tight-knit. three designers, including myself and the senior art director, suzanne. suzanne was less than 5 years older than me, married and expecting her first child. my freelancing was a trial run training to take her place when she went on maternity leave in march. we are now nearing may 1 and i haven't heard from suzanne since january. the phone call i received explained why. suzanne passed away while giving birth to her new daughter, matilda ruby. i was shocked.
editor's note to self:
so i need to make some changes because life is so short. so unpredictable. and nothing is holding us back from going after the things we want in life. yes, it's scary. yes, it's unsure. but there's only one shot... so what the hell are you waiting for. go confidently in the direction of your dreams, live the life you've always imagined.
--I've let the fear and unsure days of our economy shape my decisions as of late. Perhaps I need to go back to the drawing board and really see where I'm supposed to be.
I'm in love, part 44
Paulo and I were trading lines from favorite Futurama episodes last night.
And he laughs at my meter--the pace at which I deliver what I'm saying. I was telling the other full-timer something last night and it made Paulo laugh to the point he had to put his head on the desk.
I think it's how I get so excited over stupid stuff. What I was telling the fulltimer last night: "OH! Oh, Oh! Sharon (also not her name)! I've been meaning to tell you." At this point he lost his lid because he said, "Nothing about TJ's could cause you to be THAT excited." And I told him, "Well, sir, it just so happens that I am putting a photo collage together from our party on Monday." At this point, he had to put his head down.
(fin)
We just had Group Lunch at The Day Job. It's where, once a month, our company pays for our department to go out to eat. We went to Fuddrucker's (a burger place for those of you who don't know). Hey, for a free lunch it wasn't bad. The best part was: there's this guy that works in my department that I have zero interaction with. He sat near me and apparently doesn't like to be outdone and will complete any dare given him. A girl dared him to go to the drink machine and mix all the drinks with this warning, "It's called a suicide. You might die. You up for it?" He promptly went and did just as she dared. I felt like I was back at camp. So then I dared him to eat the rest of his nacho cheese that was in a bowl without using his hands, a la me and Polly having a contest one summer on who could finish their chocolate pudding first without hands (I'm pretty sure Polly won on that one. Oh camp days.).
Or this gem:
It, obviously, is a cold grits eating contest. Perfect. People vomited. It was beautiful. (Bep's the red head on the far right!)
And he laughs at my meter--the pace at which I deliver what I'm saying. I was telling the other full-timer something last night and it made Paulo laugh to the point he had to put his head on the desk.
I think it's how I get so excited over stupid stuff. What I was telling the fulltimer last night: "OH! Oh, Oh! Sharon (also not her name)! I've been meaning to tell you." At this point he lost his lid because he said, "Nothing about TJ's could cause you to be THAT excited." And I told him, "Well, sir, it just so happens that I am putting a photo collage together from our party on Monday." At this point, he had to put his head down.
(fin)
We just had Group Lunch at The Day Job. It's where, once a month, our company pays for our department to go out to eat. We went to Fuddrucker's (a burger place for those of you who don't know). Hey, for a free lunch it wasn't bad. The best part was: there's this guy that works in my department that I have zero interaction with. He sat near me and apparently doesn't like to be outdone and will complete any dare given him. A girl dared him to go to the drink machine and mix all the drinks with this warning, "It's called a suicide. You might die. You up for it?" He promptly went and did just as she dared. I felt like I was back at camp. So then I dared him to eat the rest of his nacho cheese that was in a bowl without using his hands, a la me and Polly having a contest one summer on who could finish their chocolate pudding first without hands (I'm pretty sure Polly won on that one. Oh camp days.).
Or this gem:
It, obviously, is a cold grits eating contest. Perfect. People vomited. It was beautiful. (Bep's the red head on the far right!)
I'm headed to Vegas!
Ok. I'm not really. I've been known to, well, exaggerate. It's one of my adorable traits, don't you think?
Ok, I'm super busy today at work, but I just needed to tell you the latest Paulo story. He doesn't work tomorrow or Friday, so you probably won't hear about him again until after we work together again Saturday.
Ok, in short: I'm a dumb girl. I made him dinner. With cookies. And milk. And some guy and his kid ate half of it, reaching across my counter and taking the pieces that were OBVIOUSLY not sample portions. But hey, that's a risk at my job I guess. We had a good laugh about it.
He told me that by the sheer (shear?) fact that I cooked for him, he is indeed in love with me and proposed marriage. We're probably headed to Vegas on Saturday before our closing shift that night.
He and I were the last ones in the store (the full timers have to have someone verify that they locked the door, etc.). After he chivilrously saved me from some leaning towers of wine, we closed down the store. He ended the night with a "You and me. Two for two. A strong team if I've ever known one." Then he went in for the kill:
An awesome high five. It was glorious. Oh, and he has a cat named "Bubbas." Not Bubba. BubbaS. And apparently the cat sleeps on his head--and tore a small hole in his ear Monday night while Paulo was sleeping. He says he remembers waking up and being pissed about something...but falling back asleep. "If I didn't love him so much, I'd throw him across the room."
I say: the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Bep, however, reminded me this morning: I have heard that the fastest way to a man's heart is through his chest, but you may want to save that for emergencies. Thanks Bep. Thanks.
Ok, I'm super busy today at work, but I just needed to tell you the latest Paulo story. He doesn't work tomorrow or Friday, so you probably won't hear about him again until after we work together again Saturday.
Ok, in short: I'm a dumb girl. I made him dinner. With cookies. And milk. And some guy and his kid ate half of it, reaching across my counter and taking the pieces that were OBVIOUSLY not sample portions. But hey, that's a risk at my job I guess. We had a good laugh about it.
He told me that by the sheer (shear?) fact that I cooked for him, he is indeed in love with me and proposed marriage. We're probably headed to Vegas on Saturday before our closing shift that night.
He and I were the last ones in the store (the full timers have to have someone verify that they locked the door, etc.). After he chivilrously saved me from some leaning towers of wine, we closed down the store. He ended the night with a "You and me. Two for two. A strong team if I've ever known one." Then he went in for the kill:
An awesome high five. It was glorious. Oh, and he has a cat named "Bubbas." Not Bubba. BubbaS. And apparently the cat sleeps on his head--and tore a small hole in his ear Monday night while Paulo was sleeping. He says he remembers waking up and being pissed about something...but falling back asleep. "If I didn't love him so much, I'd throw him across the room."
I say: the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Bep, however, reminded me this morning: I have heard that the fastest way to a man's heart is through his chest, but you may want to save that for emergencies. Thanks Bep. Thanks.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
some itunes excerpts
Today ushered in more of the A's. Here are some of the selections:
The American: Angie Aparo
American Car: Mike Doughty
American Girls: Counting Crows
American Girls: Jeremy Fisher
American Life: Madonna
American Tale: Carbon Leaf
American Tune: Glen Phillips
Amsterdam: Coldplay
Amsterdam: Guster
Amsterdam: Van Halen
Angel: Aerosmith
Angel: Blue October
Angel: Dave Matthews Band
Angel: Joe Rathbone
Angel: Massive Attack
Angel: Storyhill
Angel Band: The Stanley Brothers
Angel Tonight: Leigh Nash
Angel With An Attitude: The Ditty Bops
Angeldust (Please Come Down): Jump, Little Children
Angels Losing Sleep: Our Lady Peace
Angels of Destruction: Marah
Angels of the Silences: Counting Crows
The American: Angie Aparo
American Car: Mike Doughty
American Girls: Counting Crows
American Girls: Jeremy Fisher
American Life: Madonna
American Tale: Carbon Leaf
American Tune: Glen Phillips
Amsterdam: Coldplay
Amsterdam: Guster
Amsterdam: Van Halen
Angel: Aerosmith
Angel: Blue October
Angel: Dave Matthews Band
Angel: Joe Rathbone
Angel: Massive Attack
Angel: Storyhill
Angel Band: The Stanley Brothers
Angel Tonight: Leigh Nash
Angel With An Attitude: The Ditty Bops
Angeldust (Please Come Down): Jump, Little Children
Angels Losing Sleep: Our Lady Peace
Angels of Destruction: Marah
Angels of the Silences: Counting Crows
director of FUN
I'm super swamped at work today, but just needed to include this:
I got CC'd on an email and PLEASE check out this lady's signature at the bottom of her emails:
Director of Sales Development- Texas
AKA Director of FUN
The color addition is her own. Ridiculous.
I got CC'd on an email and PLEASE check out this lady's signature at the bottom of her emails:
Director of Sales Development- Texas
AKA Director of FUN
The color addition is her own. Ridiculous.
Paulo...dunh dunh dunh!
To update all you inquiring minds on Paulo--so, we had our store-wide tasting party last night and it went really well.
But I had to work last night in addition to the party and Paulo was working in the "office" as I was on register. We had a lot of work to do so as for the store to be completely ready to open this morning by 9 pm (we usually have until 11 pm).
Anyway, I got to work 30 minutes before I was actually scheduled--accidentally of course. So I wrote my order (I'm in charge of a whole aisle--CEREAL! I just KNOW you're impressed.) and he followed me around just asking about my life, why I work both jobs so much, etc.
So, recap:
He states that now my name is indeed, "Anna, almost perfect." This was after I finished a task before he even knew that it needed to be done. I'm good like that. I asked if it was a compliment or a slam, as it can be taken both ways. He assured me it was the highest level of compliment.
He thinks my personality is a perfect fit for TJ's and he thinks I should consider working there full time.
He's a font snob, just like me. There was a TJ's memo in comic sans (ugh!) and I commented on it, not expecting anyone to really care what I had to say on the subject and he retorted, "At least it's on in Papyrus." (Mandi, I knew you'd love him over that one.)
Oh, Dreamboat, why do you have to be my "boss"? Maybe I'll transfer stores and our Font Love can be fully recognized!
Oh, I guess I need to find out if he loves Jesus. Small steps, small steps.
But I had to work last night in addition to the party and Paulo was working in the "office" as I was on register. We had a lot of work to do so as for the store to be completely ready to open this morning by 9 pm (we usually have until 11 pm).
Anyway, I got to work 30 minutes before I was actually scheduled--accidentally of course. So I wrote my order (I'm in charge of a whole aisle--CEREAL! I just KNOW you're impressed.) and he followed me around just asking about my life, why I work both jobs so much, etc.
So, recap:
He states that now my name is indeed, "Anna, almost perfect." This was after I finished a task before he even knew that it needed to be done. I'm good like that. I asked if it was a compliment or a slam, as it can be taken both ways. He assured me it was the highest level of compliment.
He thinks my personality is a perfect fit for TJ's and he thinks I should consider working there full time.
He's a font snob, just like me. There was a TJ's memo in comic sans (ugh!) and I commented on it, not expecting anyone to really care what I had to say on the subject and he retorted, "At least it's on in Papyrus." (Mandi, I knew you'd love him over that one.)
Oh, Dreamboat, why do you have to be my "boss"? Maybe I'll transfer stores and our Font Love can be fully recognized!
Oh, I guess I need to find out if he loves Jesus. Small steps, small steps.
Monday, April 28, 2008
that's my story and I'm sticking to it
For you coworkers that read: I was sick this morning and that's why I didn't come in until 1 pm. And that's the story I'm sticking to.
In other news, I went to see RENT at the Fox yesterday afternoon with my Dad. We were on the 4th row and it was awesome. The first several songs were really shaky and I was not looking forward to the rest of the show, but the cast shook off their hangovers and the rest was terrific.
We went to Mary Mac's Tea Room for lupper. For you non-Southerners, lupper is lunch and supper. Mary Mac's walls are covered in photos of famous people eating there. There's even a room dedicated to Jimmy Carter. It's pretty awesome. What's more awesome: my photo hangs on the wall there. I was about 13, wearing my signature babydoll dress and combat boots. I was going to take a picture yesterday but there was a party in the room in which my photo hangs and I couldn't get in there. I had chicken livers (the best I've ever had!), butter beans, and squash casserole. My mom's squash casserole is WAY better. The Mary Mac's one was way to egg-y. I mean, I ate it. I'm just sayin', my mom's is better.
And then I met up with Jay at Blake's. Blake's is a gay bar in Atlanta. Now, I don't mind hanging out in an establishment where I might as well be wallpaper paste, that's actually how I prefer it. I'm just saying: even at 6 in the evening on a Sunday, the gays are out in droves. The place was packed. Not nearly as packed as last Sunday night, but it was certainly headed that way.
Then we decided to head on over to The Flying Biscuit, Jay was jonesing some fried chicken (which they incidentally don't serve), and even though I was totally and completely stuffed from my Mary Mac's indulgence, I got some grits and a biscuit. I LOVE grits. Love Love Love Love. Bacon and grits. Cheese and grits. Salt and Pepper and grits. Eggs and Grits. If it's savory, I'll eat it with grits. I even had cajun grits and shrimp at the tapas bar (try saying tapas to people and NOT let them think you said topless. Go ahead. Try. I dare you.) for Susan's batchelorette party.But that's enough about food. Jay and I hung out until it was time for me to head to The Earl. I, the admittedly self-proclaimed in-the-know go-to girl for Atlanta music, have actually never been to The Earl. I learned why last night. I rolled on up in that piece (thanks, Paul, for getting that particular phrase stuck in my head) around 945 or so. It's in the still sketchy East Atlanta. Didn't feel safe and inside, well, it's really dark. Super dark. People were in the front bar drinking and watching sports on TV. I then realized the music room was down this long hallway. I paid my admission and entered.
To 15 people standing around. The band Via Audio was playing (I got their CD. I can't decide if I like it or not, but it's certainly thought provoking and on that platform I like it and can support it). They were rocking 80's style sunglasses, tank tops, and one had on a fluorescent pink hat.
I, however, did decide they were toe tap worthy. So I found an empty stool and tapped along with the rhythm, sporadically smiling at their turns of phrase and frenetic playing ("Hey girl, look me in the eye. I want to make babies with you."). I was half listening waiting to meet my "friend"--see definition of friend here, Phillip. He's the drummer of this band I've become obsessed about after I found them online, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin. Their songs are infectious, youthful, poppy (infusing the style of music described as Pop, not having anything to do with the flower with possible psychotropic properties), and above all else the lyrics are smart. I like smart lyrics. The first song of theirs I ever listened to was Pangea that contains this gem: Pangea, we used to be together, why'd we have to drift apart? So, on their website they posted their email address. So I emailed them last April the day after they had played Atlanta. I didn't hear anything from them until this past January. Phillip responded and said they had been on tour (they got to play in Russia before Boris Yeltsin died! how cool. how rock.) and admittedly didn't check their email that often. We created quite a rapport and it ended up that we swapped phone numbers and since I saw they were playing Atlanta in April I offered to take them out to eat for a proper Southern dinner. Traveling musicians, especially young unknowns like SSLYBY, often get neglected and I wanted them to be shown a proper time.Anyway, I met Phillip. He looks 12. But that's neither here nor there. (sidenote: my iTunes is regaling me with Always by Bon Jovi right now. I had a dream I started an aquarium with robot fish with Jon Black last night and I was totally dating 80's big hair Jovi.
It was glorious.) Back to SSLYBY. All five of them got on stage and it was good. Very good. I even stood up. I moved closer to the stage (I'm a very confident person, yet when I go to shows alone, I become quite shy and I want to blend in.) and got out my camera. Which after about 25 shots told me the battery was dying. Whatever. It was still a good show. And the only Gay in this dark, dank, very white and straight bar found me. He was very drunk. And 44. And named Bill. Or Bob. I can't remember. All I know is that even though he was/is gay, he kept looking down my shirt. It was awkward. And he kept telling me that he felt weird about being a Boris fan because he was obviously like 20 years or more their senior.I tried to tell him it didn't matter, but then he started talking about someone named Layla. Thankfully he went to the bar to get another beer and I sidled more into the now 70+ crowd hoping he'd forget about me.
They played an excellent set, I gave them some road food from TJ's, and we parted with Phillip telling me that he loved me in his exuberant pre-teen voice (someone in the band has to be at least 16 so they can drive across the US...and I saw one drink from the bar...so, maybe they just look young. Hopefully they didn't drop out of middle school. But come to think of it, I learned about Pangea in middle school. Coincidence?) and then in a very rushed in excited tone told me of his love of Rebuilt Records (we had discussed Rebuilt during our emails) and of his love for Micah Dalton (who can blame him?!), and if anyone at Rebuilt is playing anywhere in Missouri, he can get them shows and they can definitely stay with him in Springfield. How sweet. So very sweet. I really enjoyed my evening. I drove away in the rain smiling.
Alas, it's five pm. And I must job jump. I will update tomorrow with photos and my hang out time with the famed Micah Dalton. Oh, and the homeless man demanding that I recognize him as we have apparently met before.
iTunes in alphabetical order
Ok, so the term "friend" is used loosely here, but I have a friend named Dave White (NSFW=not suitable for work or if you don't like the topics of: gay men and cussing). I've never met him and I think he's kind of famous. Well, in the writing world at least. I was introduced to him as he wrote episode recaps for Project Runway a couple of seasons ago for Advocate (a really well-written and well-run gay man's magazine). Well, at that point when I was laughing and crying at his every quip (he does American Idol recaps too) I became obsessed. I bought his book, Exile in Guyville, How a Punk Rock Redneck Faggot Texan Moved To West Hollywood and ReFUsed to Be Shiny And Happy. I subscribed to his personal blog to which I comment fairly often. And he generally responds. In that way, we are friends. And he was in Atlanta not too long ago (his partner's family is from here) but I had to work and couldn't join up with him a local bar. So sad.
Anyway, a while back Dave White decided to play his iTunes in alphabetical order by song. And so I thought I'd try it. I started back in February, gave up for a while and just started again last Friday. Here's what I've listened to today:
All for You, Our Lady Peace
All I Need, Jon Black
All I Need, Matchbox Twenty
All I Need, Radiohead
All I Need, Storyhill
All I Want, Glen Phillips
All I Want Is You, U2
All In All, Lifehouse
All My Friends, Counting Crows
All My Love, Charlie Hall
All Night Operator, Goldfrapp
All Over The World, Matt Redman
All Over You, Live
All She Wants To Do Is Dance, Don Henley
All That I Got (The Make Up Song), Fergie/will.i.am (this one's just for you Jason)
All The Dirt, Mike Doughty
All The Reasons Why, downhere
All The Way, Lonestar
All The Way, Room Full of Walters
All The Way Down, Glen Hansard
All The Way..., Ladytron
All The World Asleep Tonight, Telegram
All We Have Is Now, The Flaming Lips
Anyway, a while back Dave White decided to play his iTunes in alphabetical order by song. And so I thought I'd try it. I started back in February, gave up for a while and just started again last Friday. Here's what I've listened to today:
All for You, Our Lady Peace
All I Need, Jon Black
All I Need, Matchbox Twenty
All I Need, Radiohead
All I Need, Storyhill
All I Want, Glen Phillips
All I Want Is You, U2
All In All, Lifehouse
All My Friends, Counting Crows
All My Love, Charlie Hall
All Night Operator, Goldfrapp
All Over The World, Matt Redman
All Over You, Live
All She Wants To Do Is Dance, Don Henley
All That I Got (The Make Up Song), Fergie/will.i.am (this one's just for you Jason)
All The Dirt, Mike Doughty
All The Reasons Why, downhere
All The Way, Lonestar
All The Way, Room Full of Walters
All The Way Down, Glen Hansard
All The Way..., Ladytron
All The World Asleep Tonight, Telegram
All We Have Is Now, The Flaming Lips
"You have the youngest voice on the phone..."
Ok, so I have a lot of experience with voiceovers and all kinds of vocal work (either through theater, singing, voice work for film, etc.) and I've always been complimented on my tonal quality. I apparently have a voice people enjoy listening to. I mean, not when I'm cackling and being obnoxious, of course, but when I try to sound soothing, I pull it off pretty well.
Until today.
I called TJ's because we're having a tasting party tonight after the store closes. We have these tasting parties once every couple of months when we release this mass mailer with new items and old favorites in it. It's called product knowledge and we have a good time. I called TJ's because I am usually the one that prepares most of the food for the tasting party because for whatever reason I was thrust into that role. Anyway, I called to ask if indeed I was cooking tonight and our new merchant (yes, we use nautical themes) Paulo (ok, that's not his name, but I'm trying to not get too specific here...it IS the world wide web after all) answered the phone. I have officially worked one shift with him and I think he is a certifiable dreamboat. Serious dreamboat.
He's not a Fridge candidate exactly (oh, if you don't know the Fridge equation, well, that's a whole other post), but he's 6' something, shaved head, adequately muscled (I'm a sucker for the calves!) and during that one shift and other passing-of-the-ships-at-night encounters he makes me laugh. So he answered the phone today all jovial and fun and so I laughed and was like, "Hey Paulo, it's Anna. And I enjoyed your greeting." He asked me to clarify who I was. So I did. And then I asked him if I was cooking tonight, his response was yes. And then he said the kicker of all kickers. "You totally sound like your 16 on the phone. Like, 16 and chewing bubble gum." I told him that I promise I'm 26. "No, you have a 16-year-old voice on the phone, not in person, but on the phone. And I'm creeped out that I'm fascinated by it. Shit, I have to go."
Seriously. This just happened. I love it. I love that I flustered him. Ha! I have more to write in a moment about RENT, Mary Mac's, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, The Earl, and an orange house on Little Street.
Until today.
I called TJ's because we're having a tasting party tonight after the store closes. We have these tasting parties once every couple of months when we release this mass mailer with new items and old favorites in it. It's called product knowledge and we have a good time. I called TJ's because I am usually the one that prepares most of the food for the tasting party because for whatever reason I was thrust into that role. Anyway, I called to ask if indeed I was cooking tonight and our new merchant (yes, we use nautical themes) Paulo (ok, that's not his name, but I'm trying to not get too specific here...it IS the world wide web after all) answered the phone. I have officially worked one shift with him and I think he is a certifiable dreamboat. Serious dreamboat.
He's not a Fridge candidate exactly (oh, if you don't know the Fridge equation, well, that's a whole other post), but he's 6' something, shaved head, adequately muscled (I'm a sucker for the calves!) and during that one shift and other passing-of-the-ships-at-night encounters he makes me laugh. So he answered the phone today all jovial and fun and so I laughed and was like, "Hey Paulo, it's Anna. And I enjoyed your greeting." He asked me to clarify who I was. So I did. And then I asked him if I was cooking tonight, his response was yes. And then he said the kicker of all kickers. "You totally sound like your 16 on the phone. Like, 16 and chewing bubble gum." I told him that I promise I'm 26. "No, you have a 16-year-old voice on the phone, not in person, but on the phone. And I'm creeped out that I'm fascinated by it. Shit, I have to go."
Seriously. This just happened. I love it. I love that I flustered him. Ha! I have more to write in a moment about RENT, Mary Mac's, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, The Earl, and an orange house on Little Street.
Friday, April 25, 2008
This American Life: LIVE!
The only night I'm off work next week: Thursday, May 1st.
The only night This American Life is going to be LIVE in New York and simulcast via satellite all across the country: Thursday, May 1st.
Does Jesus want me to go see TAL Live? All signs point to, "Yes, m'Lord."
Will someone go with me? I mean, I'm totally going--but I wouldn't mind the company.
More to come: the wreck we saw yesterday, the shirt I'm wearing today, and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin.
The only night This American Life is going to be LIVE in New York and simulcast via satellite all across the country: Thursday, May 1st.
Does Jesus want me to go see TAL Live? All signs point to, "Yes, m'Lord."
Will someone go with me? I mean, I'm totally going--but I wouldn't mind the company.
More to come: the wreck we saw yesterday, the shirt I'm wearing today, and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Match.com
Ok. So someone convinced me a while ago it was a good idea. It has proven to not be a good idea. Well, I mean, it's not a bad idea. It's an apathetic idea at best.
But here is a match of mine on Match.com.
He made me guffaw and I like that.
About Me:
I love the Simpsons. I open doors for people (not for a living). I dress well. I love steak (medium-rare). I work hard. I have a cute doggy. I don't like arguing. I enjoy fishing. I enjoy working on my car. I can cook (kind of). I can make reservations. I love gummy bears. I love Janes Addiction. I don't do drugs. I get nervous around cats. I enjoy watching movies. I enjoy the works of David Sedaris. People who imitate Dave Chappelle annoy me. I think Alton Brown is great. I am well-mannered. My room is clean. I love making out. My check book is balanced. I love the sound of rain on a tin roof. I love having my head scratched. I'll eat anything baby (veal, carrots, corn). The only veal I eat is the Buckhead Diner meatloaf. I'll let you borrow my cd's...2 or 3 at a time. I give a pretty good massage. I appreciate being corrected in a polite manner. I like cake and shiny things. I love yard work. I love my family. I enjoy Jack & Coke. I fall asleep to Nascar on Sunday afternoon. I don't like clubs. I like smoky bars and great conversation. I have a crush on Heather Graham. I like making fun of others in the office. I don't care for popcorn. I’m Indian, so Mom can cook really good and spicy Indian food. I like Radiohead. I'm shy when you first meet me. I'm funny when you get to know me. I like smoothies but am too lazy to make one. I enjoy SEC football. People who imitate Napoleon annoy me. My grammar isn't too poor. I think Jared is a tool. I believe in the power of Tivo. I need a kidney. I like taking pictures. I like hardwood floors. I sleep with one leg out of the sheet and the other one in. I switch legs in/out of the sheet in the middle of the night. I'll fix you a drink. I don't run with scissors. I don't run. I like mechanical pencils over traditional pencils. I think black babies are the cutest. I put the toilet seat down. I go to church every week. I enjoy TV shows about tuning cars. I act like I know about cars. I don't swear a lot. I don't know how to swim. I like when it's cold and I have a warm blanky. The word "peehole" makes me laugh uncontrollably. Grilled cheese and tomato soup only on rainy days. I don't allow my dog on the bed. I fear something/someone will grab my leg if it hangs off the bed at night. I believe my 400-count bed sheet will protect me from that something/someone. My dog sleeps on my bed (against my will). I think almost everything is funny. I think Sarah Jessica Parker is sometimes pretty and sometimes ugly. I'll help you solve your problems. I'm a great listener. I believe in Jesus. I don't blow my nose in public. I like to clean. I think Adaptation was great. I hate the mall but will meet you there. I like to drive but will let you. I'll rescue you when Dad talks your ear off. I'll leave you be when my Mom preaches to you. I'll offer you my opinion. I'll Google it for you. I'll sneak us Chik-fil-a into the movie theater. I have the toilet paper pointing over and down. My shoe size is: 11. You have nothing better to do but read this. I'm not a huge fan of chocolate. I like to microwave Soft Batch cookies for 15 seconds. I like to shop in the clearance section at BR. I can't afford regular-priced clothes at BR. I like to write. I like Juicy Juice. I voted for Bush and questioned myself. I'm scared of spiders and snakes. I'll let you cry on my shoulder. I'll let you punch me to relieve stress. I'll congratulate you on a job well done. I can help you with your arts and crafts project. I will buy you gladiolas. I can leave you alone during your alone time. I'm too scared to kill any bugs and spiders. I give great hugs. I'm intrigued with the copy machine at work. I don't drink and drive. I prefer crushed ice over cubed. During the day I buy bottled water and refill it at the fountain at work. We can go to WaHo at 3am and I'll buy you a waffle b/c you can't sleep. I like lists.
About You:
Be cool. Something from the above list.
But here is a match of mine on Match.com.
He made me guffaw and I like that.
About Me:
I love the Simpsons. I open doors for people (not for a living). I dress well. I love steak (medium-rare). I work hard. I have a cute doggy. I don't like arguing. I enjoy fishing. I enjoy working on my car. I can cook (kind of). I can make reservations. I love gummy bears. I love Janes Addiction. I don't do drugs. I get nervous around cats. I enjoy watching movies. I enjoy the works of David Sedaris. People who imitate Dave Chappelle annoy me. I think Alton Brown is great. I am well-mannered. My room is clean. I love making out. My check book is balanced. I love the sound of rain on a tin roof. I love having my head scratched. I'll eat anything baby (veal, carrots, corn). The only veal I eat is the Buckhead Diner meatloaf. I'll let you borrow my cd's...2 or 3 at a time. I give a pretty good massage. I appreciate being corrected in a polite manner. I like cake and shiny things. I love yard work. I love my family. I enjoy Jack & Coke. I fall asleep to Nascar on Sunday afternoon. I don't like clubs. I like smoky bars and great conversation. I have a crush on Heather Graham. I like making fun of others in the office. I don't care for popcorn. I’m Indian, so Mom can cook really good and spicy Indian food. I like Radiohead. I'm shy when you first meet me. I'm funny when you get to know me. I like smoothies but am too lazy to make one. I enjoy SEC football. People who imitate Napoleon annoy me. My grammar isn't too poor. I think Jared is a tool. I believe in the power of Tivo. I need a kidney. I like taking pictures. I like hardwood floors. I sleep with one leg out of the sheet and the other one in. I switch legs in/out of the sheet in the middle of the night. I'll fix you a drink. I don't run with scissors. I don't run. I like mechanical pencils over traditional pencils. I think black babies are the cutest. I put the toilet seat down. I go to church every week. I enjoy TV shows about tuning cars. I act like I know about cars. I don't swear a lot. I don't know how to swim. I like when it's cold and I have a warm blanky. The word "peehole" makes me laugh uncontrollably. Grilled cheese and tomato soup only on rainy days. I don't allow my dog on the bed. I fear something/someone will grab my leg if it hangs off the bed at night. I believe my 400-count bed sheet will protect me from that something/someone. My dog sleeps on my bed (against my will). I think almost everything is funny. I think Sarah Jessica Parker is sometimes pretty and sometimes ugly. I'll help you solve your problems. I'm a great listener. I believe in Jesus. I don't blow my nose in public. I like to clean. I think Adaptation was great. I hate the mall but will meet you there. I like to drive but will let you. I'll rescue you when Dad talks your ear off. I'll leave you be when my Mom preaches to you. I'll offer you my opinion. I'll Google it for you. I'll sneak us Chik-fil-a into the movie theater. I have the toilet paper pointing over and down. My shoe size is: 11. You have nothing better to do but read this. I'm not a huge fan of chocolate. I like to microwave Soft Batch cookies for 15 seconds. I like to shop in the clearance section at BR. I can't afford regular-priced clothes at BR. I like to write. I like Juicy Juice. I voted for Bush and questioned myself. I'm scared of spiders and snakes. I'll let you cry on my shoulder. I'll let you punch me to relieve stress. I'll congratulate you on a job well done. I can help you with your arts and crafts project. I will buy you gladiolas. I can leave you alone during your alone time. I'm too scared to kill any bugs and spiders. I give great hugs. I'm intrigued with the copy machine at work. I don't drink and drive. I prefer crushed ice over cubed. During the day I buy bottled water and refill it at the fountain at work. We can go to WaHo at 3am and I'll buy you a waffle b/c you can't sleep. I like lists.
About You:
Be cool. Something from the above list.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Rebuilding the wall...
So, I know I'm pretty bad about actually writing about important DEEP things. It's because right now I can only blog at work (no computer at home) and I feel like my writing and your reading deserve more time and cultivation than I can dedicate here.
But I will share a few tidbits of this past weekend.
On Thursday night I got to meet up with my friends Dan, Simon and Mike from the band Porterdavis.
Before the boys got to Eddie's, I hung out on the back patio, read my latest copy of Paste (Micah's review is on page 55 with a picture of Colin Meloy (of the decemberists) seemingly looking at it--it's outlined and really catches your eye. Micah, I'm so proud!), and in walked Eddie. You know, Eddie. Eddie of Eddie's Attic. Eddie and I have become friends over the past couple of years as a friend of mine and I made Eddie's our Cheers for about a year. We were in there probably three times a week. It even got to the point where I was the secret guest judge for several of their much acclaimed open mic night.
Well, Eddie is just a really special man.
He has an amazing heart and he genuinely cares. I love that he sold the business quite a few years ago to buy a golf course. Yet, he couldn't live without the Attic. He's back working now as some sort of manager or somesuch.
To my point: Eddie has taken me under his wing and I value his opinion and his experience GREATLY. See, I have to admit: I'm in love. I'm in love with this indie little non-profit record label out of Athens, GA. I'm in love with what they do there so much so that I've decided I want to be a part of it. I've been a part of the fringe Rebuilt family for several years now. I've been an avid supporter and a volunteer. But I want and crave more. So now I'm jumping in to actually be in the music industry and try to help the seven Rebuilt artists out with bookings and all around Team Mom-ness. Well, who best to match up with than Eddie Owen? Eddie's Attic is a nationally acclaimed singer/songwriter listening room and some amazing acts have graced its stage and call Eddie friend.
I told him I was about to join up with Rebuilt and he seemed genuinely excited--so Eddie's going to be my mentor. And I'm incredibly adrenalized about that. So, he and I sat at the bar and just chatted about life, his kids, baseball, and the state of independent music. We talked about agents, music festivals, and the power of the internet and social networking sites. And I felt at peace just about everything. I finally feel like I've found something in this world I'm naturally good at--and I certainly have a passion for music and the two shall now be joined together.
Porterdavis put on a good show--although it filled with new songs (which were great, really great) it lacked some kind of energy and I don't know how I feel about that. I don't know where I stand in being partly responsible for that. Maybe it's because before the show Dan and I were sitting at the bar and he and the bartender I had just met were talking about past lives, auras, energy, the power of yoga to connect you to your chakras and other such (as I believe it) nonsense. Maybe I'm just being a monotheistic elitist. Or maybe I'm just growing up. Maybe I'm just not putting people on the pedestals and putting them in the limelight like I used to. Dan is a person who happens to play in a band I like. And that's awesome. But I realize when I was listening to them talk, I was pretty much incredulous. Seriously? These people are taking themselves seriously? They were discussing on how once you embrace your past lives, your past struggles and truly get on the path you're meant to be on, your energy increases. Not the energy of "Hey, I want to go for a run!" but the, "Hey! People are receiving me positively." Now, I believe quite a few of the things they were talking about. But I have drastically different reasons. I believe that once you turn over your life and your self-important-self-improving-self-centered will to God, and truly hand over the reigns, things come into place for you. I believe that once you "let go and let God" (it's trite and overplayed, I know, I know) a Peace that passes understanding falls over you. You feel better about yourself. You feel better about others. You feel better about God. And because of all of the stress of having to run your own life being taken off your shoulders, people do start relating to you better and deeper because you're easier to be around. And then they started talking about having good hair because the planets were aligned and this is, "the year of self awareness" whatever that means. And then I tuned out.
I tuned out because it was kind of a disillusioning moment. For a while I had this mentality of, "Oh my gosh. I'm friends with this musician. I am so lucky. Why would he want to hang out with me? I need to achieve X, Y, and Z for him to continue to like me." When, in actuality, he's just a man. He's just a man that enjoys being around me. And right now, I'm ok with that. I'm ok with letting go of that grandiose image of him and just accepting him as he is. I like him no less after that crazy conversation and a lackluster show--but it did put some things in perspective.
Musicians are people and they need a friend like me. Someone in their corner that doesn't give up. Most importantly: someone who believes in them. And I want to be that person. I think people are drawn in Christ within me whether they realize it or not and I'm really jazzed about it. I'm jazzed about what kind of impact I can make in this world for and through Christ.
And to what I really wanted to write about in the first place: my experience at church on Sunday night. I attend the contemporary Sunday evening service at my old pastor's church in Atlanta. It's amazing. A friend from high school is the worship leader and I just feel very at peace there. I believe that God is always trying to get our attention and I certainly appreciate that because I don't always have the "be still and hear my voice" moments because I don't allow myself to still and hear the inaudible things. So I really enjoy and appreciate when God speaks to me through others, events, music (especially music), and sermons.
Jimmy preached on Nehemiah Sunday. Know what Nehemiah did? He rebuilt the wall around Jerusalem. Rebuilt. Wow. It really hit home. Nehemiah didn't tell God, "Hey, this and this and that are wrong and I need you to fix them." He said, "God, I will act on your behalf for your glory." I will let my actions reflect my love and dedication to you.
So, here I am on a road to being Rebuilt. I'm on a road to rebuild myself and see what I can contribute to help rebuilt this music industry of ours.
So, let's go. Let's do this. I'm headed out to Athens tonight to see Rebuilt's very own Jon Black and Micah Dalton. So I go with a happy heart because I believe in them.
in other news, I went (gasp!) househunting this past weekend. We think we found a neighborhood that we really like. Who knows what the future holds? Right now renting is just throwing money down the drain and it certainly sucks come tax time and you can't deduct nearly anything because you don't officially own anything. Ultimately, I'd like to either live downtown--but I'm really drawn to Athens. But, there isn't a TJ's in Athens yet so I guess I buy now and just wait for TJ's to expand out there and then ATH here I come!
Oh, and I saw a picture of my future husband on Facebook. I don't know him and he doesn't even know I exist. But he has this tattoo and I think this says everything it needs to say:
But I will share a few tidbits of this past weekend.
On Thursday night I got to meet up with my friends Dan, Simon and Mike from the band Porterdavis.
Before the boys got to Eddie's, I hung out on the back patio, read my latest copy of Paste (Micah's review is on page 55 with a picture of Colin Meloy (of the decemberists) seemingly looking at it--it's outlined and really catches your eye. Micah, I'm so proud!), and in walked Eddie. You know, Eddie. Eddie of Eddie's Attic. Eddie and I have become friends over the past couple of years as a friend of mine and I made Eddie's our Cheers for about a year. We were in there probably three times a week. It even got to the point where I was the secret guest judge for several of their much acclaimed open mic night.Well, Eddie is just a really special man.
He has an amazing heart and he genuinely cares. I love that he sold the business quite a few years ago to buy a golf course. Yet, he couldn't live without the Attic. He's back working now as some sort of manager or somesuch.To my point: Eddie has taken me under his wing and I value his opinion and his experience GREATLY. See, I have to admit: I'm in love. I'm in love with this indie little non-profit record label out of Athens, GA. I'm in love with what they do there so much so that I've decided I want to be a part of it. I've been a part of the fringe Rebuilt family for several years now. I've been an avid supporter and a volunteer. But I want and crave more. So now I'm jumping in to actually be in the music industry and try to help the seven Rebuilt artists out with bookings and all around Team Mom-ness. Well, who best to match up with than Eddie Owen? Eddie's Attic is a nationally acclaimed singer/songwriter listening room and some amazing acts have graced its stage and call Eddie friend.
I told him I was about to join up with Rebuilt and he seemed genuinely excited--so Eddie's going to be my mentor. And I'm incredibly adrenalized about that. So, he and I sat at the bar and just chatted about life, his kids, baseball, and the state of independent music. We talked about agents, music festivals, and the power of the internet and social networking sites. And I felt at peace just about everything. I finally feel like I've found something in this world I'm naturally good at--and I certainly have a passion for music and the two shall now be joined together.
Porterdavis put on a good show--although it filled with new songs (which were great, really great) it lacked some kind of energy and I don't know how I feel about that. I don't know where I stand in being partly responsible for that. Maybe it's because before the show Dan and I were sitting at the bar and he and the bartender I had just met were talking about past lives, auras, energy, the power of yoga to connect you to your chakras and other such (as I believe it) nonsense. Maybe I'm just being a monotheistic elitist. Or maybe I'm just growing up. Maybe I'm just not putting people on the pedestals and putting them in the limelight like I used to. Dan is a person who happens to play in a band I like. And that's awesome. But I realize when I was listening to them talk, I was pretty much incredulous. Seriously? These people are taking themselves seriously? They were discussing on how once you embrace your past lives, your past struggles and truly get on the path you're meant to be on, your energy increases. Not the energy of "Hey, I want to go for a run!" but the, "Hey! People are receiving me positively." Now, I believe quite a few of the things they were talking about. But I have drastically different reasons. I believe that once you turn over your life and your self-important-self-improving-self-centered will to God, and truly hand over the reigns, things come into place for you. I believe that once you "let go and let God" (it's trite and overplayed, I know, I know) a Peace that passes understanding falls over you. You feel better about yourself. You feel better about others. You feel better about God. And because of all of the stress of having to run your own life being taken off your shoulders, people do start relating to you better and deeper because you're easier to be around. And then they started talking about having good hair because the planets were aligned and this is, "the year of self awareness" whatever that means. And then I tuned out.
I tuned out because it was kind of a disillusioning moment. For a while I had this mentality of, "Oh my gosh. I'm friends with this musician. I am so lucky. Why would he want to hang out with me? I need to achieve X, Y, and Z for him to continue to like me." When, in actuality, he's just a man. He's just a man that enjoys being around me. And right now, I'm ok with that. I'm ok with letting go of that grandiose image of him and just accepting him as he is. I like him no less after that crazy conversation and a lackluster show--but it did put some things in perspective.
Musicians are people and they need a friend like me. Someone in their corner that doesn't give up. Most importantly: someone who believes in them. And I want to be that person. I think people are drawn in Christ within me whether they realize it or not and I'm really jazzed about it. I'm jazzed about what kind of impact I can make in this world for and through Christ.
And to what I really wanted to write about in the first place: my experience at church on Sunday night. I attend the contemporary Sunday evening service at my old pastor's church in Atlanta. It's amazing. A friend from high school is the worship leader and I just feel very at peace there. I believe that God is always trying to get our attention and I certainly appreciate that because I don't always have the "be still and hear my voice" moments because I don't allow myself to still and hear the inaudible things. So I really enjoy and appreciate when God speaks to me through others, events, music (especially music), and sermons.
Jimmy preached on Nehemiah Sunday. Know what Nehemiah did? He rebuilt the wall around Jerusalem. Rebuilt. Wow. It really hit home. Nehemiah didn't tell God, "Hey, this and this and that are wrong and I need you to fix them." He said, "God, I will act on your behalf for your glory." I will let my actions reflect my love and dedication to you.
So, here I am on a road to being Rebuilt. I'm on a road to rebuild myself and see what I can contribute to help rebuilt this music industry of ours.
So, let's go. Let's do this. I'm headed out to Athens tonight to see Rebuilt's very own Jon Black and Micah Dalton. So I go with a happy heart because I believe in them.
in other news, I went (gasp!) househunting this past weekend. We think we found a neighborhood that we really like. Who knows what the future holds? Right now renting is just throwing money down the drain and it certainly sucks come tax time and you can't deduct nearly anything because you don't officially own anything. Ultimately, I'd like to either live downtown--but I'm really drawn to Athens. But, there isn't a TJ's in Athens yet so I guess I buy now and just wait for TJ's to expand out there and then ATH here I come!
Oh, and I saw a picture of my future husband on Facebook. I don't know him and he doesn't even know I exist. But he has this tattoo and I think this says everything it needs to say:
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
B-52's and The Rolling Stones?
So apparently my day is being sucked away by the iTunes store...but Andy Cohen posted a blog today (he's the SR VP of programming over at Bravo) and he makes me think about the B-52's b/c he loves them so I decided to give their new album Funplex a listen (end of sentence, breathe).
And it's just as fun and kooky as ever. I happened to look over at the "Listeners Also Bought" column and this is what I found interesting: people who bought Funplex also bought the Shine a Light (movie soundtrack) for the Rolling Stones documentary. Do those two genres generally go together?
I guess the R.E.M. nod and Moby and Duran Duran and Pet Shop Boys makes a little sense, but you don't meet a whole lotta B-52's fans that also dig documentaries about the Rolling Stones. I mean, I guess you don't. I guess I'll have to start asking people more now.
And it's just as fun and kooky as ever. I happened to look over at the "Listeners Also Bought" column and this is what I found interesting: people who bought Funplex also bought the Shine a Light (movie soundtrack) for the Rolling Stones documentary. Do those two genres generally go together?
I guess the R.E.M. nod and Moby and Duran Duran and Pet Shop Boys makes a little sense, but you don't meet a whole lotta B-52's fans that also dig documentaries about the Rolling Stones. I mean, I guess you don't. I guess I'll have to start asking people more now.
And again things are right in the world: Kim Kardashian's Playlist
And again I feel superior in my musical tastes and the world is right again. I'm going to take the liberty of screenshot-ing her commentary. Click the photo above to see her amazing mastery of the English language.
Kelly Ripa and I have things in common. I'm officially disturbed.
Kelly Ripa's playlist and I could be friends.
I own Massive Attack, Lauryn Hill (I know, you didn't see that one coming did you?), Broken Social Scene, Mazzy Star (wow, that's a powerful album that has a lot of memories attached to it), Goldfrapp, Aimee Mann and Nick Drake.
Wow. Who would have known that Kelly Ripa has decent musical taste?
I own Massive Attack, Lauryn Hill (I know, you didn't see that one coming did you?), Broken Social Scene, Mazzy Star (wow, that's a powerful album that has a lot of memories attached to it), Goldfrapp, Aimee Mann and Nick Drake.
Wow. Who would have known that Kelly Ripa has decent musical taste?
Why are the Rolling Stones and the Blackeyed Peas even in the same sentence?!
So, I went to the iTunes store this morning to see if they have the new EP from the Needers & Givers (which they do not. surprised? no.) Anyway, so I saw that the Rolling Stones have a Celebrity Playlist. I'm a marginal fan of the Stones and even I can't deny the role they've played in shaping modern rock music, so I clicked on the link.
And was met with this sight: On Mick Jagger's playlist, track 9: Shut Up by the Blackeyed Peas. I am not even kidding. He writes, "Very intense and funny writing."
Wow. Wow. Wow. And I especially love that he's kickin' it to Mary J. Blige featuring Method Man. But you certainly can't blame the man for loving Hey Ya! Who doesn't love Hey Ya!?
I'll tell you this: I love Icky Thump by the White Stripes. I love that whole album. It's weird and different, but it certainly gets us going late at night stocking shelves at that quaint little grocery store by whom I am employed...
Addition:
I was just looking at Charlie Watts' playlist: #17: Crazy in Love by Beyonce. He calls her "the best singer around." Wow.
And was met with this sight: On Mick Jagger's playlist, track 9: Shut Up by the Blackeyed Peas. I am not even kidding. He writes, "Very intense and funny writing."
Wow. Wow. Wow. And I especially love that he's kickin' it to Mary J. Blige featuring Method Man. But you certainly can't blame the man for loving Hey Ya! Who doesn't love Hey Ya!?
I'll tell you this: I love Icky Thump by the White Stripes. I love that whole album. It's weird and different, but it certainly gets us going late at night stocking shelves at that quaint little grocery store by whom I am employed...
Addition:
I was just looking at Charlie Watts' playlist: #17: Crazy in Love by Beyonce. He calls her "the best singer around." Wow.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
REM's Accelerate
Ok, so I have a note pad with bullet points about what I'd like to write about concerning the events from the latter part of last week...but I don't have time for that right now.
But what I do have time for:
REM's new album Accelerate.
I preordered it on iTunes because I really liked the single Supernatural Superserious. And my proverbial socks are proverbially being knocked off.
I've listened to it probably 4 times through already today and there aren't many flaws.
LOVE IT. Next, I might just venture to the B-52's Funplex because oddly enough there's a lot of buzz around this particular album.
So I have to get back to work now, but I will write that one of my favorite things said to me recently: "The gays. They certainly do like Dolly Parton. Why is that? The big hair? All the pink and glitter? I just don't get it."
But what I do have time for:
REM's new album Accelerate.
I preordered it on iTunes because I really liked the single Supernatural Superserious. And my proverbial socks are proverbially being knocked off.
I've listened to it probably 4 times through already today and there aren't many flaws.
LOVE IT. Next, I might just venture to the B-52's Funplex because oddly enough there's a lot of buzz around this particular album.
So I have to get back to work now, but I will write that one of my favorite things said to me recently: "The gays. They certainly do like Dolly Parton. Why is that? The big hair? All the pink and glitter? I just don't get it."
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