Look Alive

I do this about twice (or more) times a year. I get bored with one blog and then move on to another. First it was Xanga, then it was Facebook for a bit, and then I finally landed on LJ.  But now I've gotten bored with that and decided I like another platform better.  Thus, I'm moving my "official" blog over to blogspot.  For a while Andy and I used it to host our music blog, but eventually that petered out and it hasn't been used in a while.  But I like the format and how it works, so I've decided to use that blog to continue my random rants and raves.  I also hope to insert some more music stuff in there too in order to keep it fairly music oriented, and just because I really like to write about music.  Maybe, if everything works out as planned, I'll turn it into something that has two separate pages, one for the music blog and one for my random ravings.  We'll see.  I'm getting ahead of myself.  Anyway, if you feel like reading any of my random crap or hearing anything about what I think of music, head over to http://noisebazaar.blogspot.com and have a grand ol' time. 

hope to see you there

peace and love
C

It's been a while since I've written anything.  I was at the beach for a week where I read a couple books but didn't write a single word.  The past two nights I just haven't felt the need to write.  I guess weak habits are really easy to break.  Before I left I could just sit down and write on this blog every night regardless of how tired I was or what had happened or was going to happen.  After a break from doing it, I struggle to get back into the habit.

So I guess the best way to get started again is to talk about getting started.  Doesn't make too much sense, but it will work.  Trust me, I know myself well enough.

As I've gotten older I've noticed that birthdays have lost their shine.  When I was little I would count down the days to my birthday, starting on the last day of school.  I have a summer birthday, so in grade school I didn't have anything to distract me like school or work.  Lately I don't think about it as much.  Today I was talking about it and realized that it's in five days.  Five days and I had no idea.  I guess as you get older, especially when there's no inherent reward for getting older (i.e. turning 21, a birthday that I will definitely count down to), you don't care as much about your birthday: it just means your getting older, which after the teenage years isn't such a good thing.  It's more like avoiding it rather than anticipating it.

It is two weeks and one day until I move into my apartment.  Now that is one day that I'm counting down to.  I can't wait to have my own place.  Humans always strive for more freedom.  It's a basic human instinct. 

Alright, I tried to write.  Now it's time to sleep.

peace and love
C

In less than six hours I will be driving eastward: windows down, fresh country air spinning and mixing with the sweet melodies of Belle and Sebastian and Bob Marley.  I'll be heading to the place where troubles wash away with the tide: where cares are swept up by the wind and trapped in the dunes. 

Maybe I'm glorifying it a bit too much.  Besides, almost every beach now is overcrowded, run by big corporations and polluted.  But with my eyes closed and the sea breeze hitting my face, I can imagine clear water, clean sand and wildlife stretching for miles behind my back.  Maybe one day in my travels I'll find that place and keep it for myself.  And the animals.  And the people I love. 

The beach is where I find serenity: the place that makes me feel at home.  Something about the water, the rhythm of the waves, the laughter of the birds and the consistency of the tides brings me peace.  I'm not the only one.  Watch the retired couples who have spent most of their life by the water.  They have no cares in the world.  The sweetest and nicest people in the world.  Some might say they're the smartest.  I would.

Live Earth was today.  The Al Gore shit-show that was supposed to raise awareness about global warming.  Yeah, I understand the idea.  What better way to get young people to realize what is happening to the Earth and get them to act than by getting all these super-hip people together for shows on every continent?  I get it.  And in a perfect world, it would work. 

The problem is that the people that aren't already aware of the global warming problem and who would go to see these people in concert are the same ones that, honestly, either really don't care or won't do a damn thing about it.  I'm not a saint, I don't claim to be any better than them, other than the fact that I was already aware of this problem.  It didn't take Fall Out Boy whining and Puff Daddy/Diddy/P.Diddy/Sean "My-career-is-so- fucked-that-the-only-way-I-keep-current-is-by-changing-my-name" Combs...well...being Diddy, for me to realize that there is a problem. 

You're right, Al, I should be doing something about it.  We all should.  But the concerts won't do it.  Think about the crowds of people that drove to see those shows: the mass of exhaust and carbon dioxide that was floating through the air over Wembley and Giants Stadium.  Makes sense, right?  I'm all for raising awareness, but let's be smart about it, mmkay, kids?

Stepping down from the soapbox now, I'm so excited about this next semester.  In an anticlimactic match, I won the master bedroom.  Neither of us really cared, but it was fun, friendly competition nonetheless. 

I talked to the man that I consider to be one of my best friends, if not the best.  He's a person I connect with on some crazy different level.  I have friends here and had friends at Carolina, but the people I met this semester are the first ones that I can claim changed my life.  I genuinely feel as though they have changed me, for the better, of course.  He's in Europe, doing the things I wish I could.  Hopefully I will be in two years.  Talking to him made me realize that this world is random and mixed-up:  sometimes the mix is bad and you meet bad people, have bad luck and, at worst, lose it all.  But the mortal concoction changes, different ingredients are thrown in and, suddenly, everything falls into place.  It makes sense.  It's not permanent, since the blender never stops, not even when times are good.  But that good mix stays with you if you let it.  Even when the shit-storm hits, that solid foundation will hold strong and be there in the end.

I feel like I found that foundation, or at least completed it.  I don't mean this to demean or lower the importance of my friends from home or that I've had for years.  I still love all of them the same and feel that they are as strong as the people I've recently met.  But for some reason, this new group completed something: it filled a hole.  Of course, while I'm writing this, I realize what the hole is.  It makes sense: a perfect substitute.

With a clear mind I'm going to lay down and read.
I suggest you do the same

peace and love and goodbye for a week
C

I tried to write a screenplay about a little girl with a plot twist
I tried to write a novel about a drugged up girl from Minneapolis
I tried to be an artist, but the paint wouldn't stick to the canvas
I sat down to write a song, but all I came up with was this

It's bringing me down
Ideas stuck to the ground
Head without a crown
Without you around
A bullet with no sound
A smile inside a frown
Without you around
Tell me, why aren't you around?

---

I don't imagine: never have. I just experience. Make sense? Probably not; let's go back a little.

Do you remember that magical time when the flowers were brighter, the grass was greener, and your biggest worry was whether you were going to be picked last in the kickball game? I had bigger problems.

"Cops and Robbers" wasn't all plastic guns and "bang! bang!" noises for me, for that matter neither was "Cowboys and Indians," or "War." It was life or death, kill or be killed. I can't imagine, remember? I have a feeling you might still be confused. I don't blame you; I was the first time it happened to me.

My first memory is slamming my hand in the front door, and soon after that attending my mom's dad's funeral. It's funny that of all the sensations you feel as a child the one that really sticks with you, that makes the memories associated with the feeling stronger, is pain. Kind of like bad foreshadowing, huh?

But that has nothing to do with my story.

I was nine. Wet and cold from the neck down. It was May. I was in the pool. Then I wasn't. Still wet and cold, still May, not still in the pool.

---

Slightly different post tonight, mostly because I have nothing good to say.  So instead I found good things I've said in the past.  I guess "good" is a subjective idea in this case.

I had a great continuation to that story in my head when I was writing it.  Now, looking back at it, I can't remember for the life of me where it was going next.  I remember the general idea of the story and what it was based around, but that little anecdote in the middle of it has me confused about where I was going.  Oh well, hopefully I'll find it sooner or later.

peace and love
C

Good morning.

Lazy day today, but I can't complain.  Got the car fixed, picked up some books from the library (two Robert Russo picks) to read at the beach next week, and ended up in Chapel Hill. 

I watched Memento with some good friends there.  It's an amazing movie, one of the most well done and well developed scattered plot-line that I have ever seen.  It's much better the second time you watch it, since you can smile and laugh to yourself at the foreshadowing. 

I declared that this would be in the top ten of my favorite movies.  I can name the ten that belong there: Garden State,  Big Lebowski, Crash, Pulp Fiction, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Vanilla Sky, Memento, Office Space, Almost Famous, and American Beauty.  This is a very preliminary list and there are many other movies that are very close to this list.  I also don't consider myself a "movie buff," so there are a lot of movies that should be there but I just haven't seen them yet.  Anyway, the problem I was having was with picking one movie that I would consider my top movie.  I can eliminate all but four of the movies, but after that I have trouble.  This is why I hate top ten and top five lists: once you get to a certain point of greatness or badness or likability or, hell, hotness, it's nearly impossible to separate the different candidates.  How do you pick a number one? 

Here are my top four movies, as of now (in random order): Big Lebowski, Garden State, Memento, Vanilla Sky.  These movies are so different; there's no way for me to pick one.  I guess it just depends on my mood.  If I'm looking for a good laugh and an easy-to-follow, fun movie, I can go with Big Lebowski;  if I've had a bad day or just want a movie that will make me smile or make me feel better I turn to Garden State;  if I'm looking for some crazy movie that will stretch my mind and make me think, I can turn to Memento or Vanilla Sky. 

So screw the top movie idea.  Screw the top ten idea, even, because I could name another few movies that I wish I could fit into the top ten, but I have to be selective at some point.

I don't really know where this rambling is going, it's just something I thought about today.

peace and love
C

And you thought you had it bad:


Not much to say tonight, just a couple thoughts I had while I was working.

Have you ever noticed that you don't realize just how dirty something is until you actually start to clean it? Like your car, or the Guest Service counter at Target? Now put that into a bigger context.

At about 9:15 pm the store was so quiet that I could hear the fireworks going off at the NC Fairgrounds. You could hear the "boom" but couldn't see the reassuring light. I started to wonder if that was what it was like to live in a combat zone, like in Iraq or Afghanistan: hearing explosions on a daily basis, while working, and not really being able to do anything about it. I decided my experience was nothing like it. The explosions I heard didn't blow up any buildings or kill any of my friends or family.

I'm going to the beach soon, which means a lot of relaxing and reading. Better stock up on the books...

peace and love
C

Happy Fourth of July/Independence Day.  Go blow shit up now, it's the American way.

I wandered aimlessly around the parking lot today during work and saw some great bumper stickers.  Here they are:

"Save the Earth, so we will have a place to boogie!!" -- Awesome
"Listen to Bob Marley." -- True

Two bumper stickers combined in such an innovative way that I had to laugh, even if I couldn't care less about the subject:  "I <3 My German Shepherd"  "Pope Benedict XVI"

I'm sure that last one gets lost on most people, but I'm not most people.

Watched Full Metal Jacket  tonight.  I had never seen it before.  It's about the Vietnam War but if you just change the scenery and names around a little bit, it could be Iraq.  It still hits close to home today, even though it was about an event 30 years ago.  History always repeats itself, but aren't we supposed to learn from it?  It reminds me of a Bokononist quote from Cat's Cradle: "History!  Read it and weep!"

I wish I knew more about politics, economy and how the world really works.  I feel like I have a decent idea, but lack the conviction to speak on what I think I know.  I've got to find a way to cement that knowledge.

I got made fun of last night for the music I'm listening to now.  I'm not sure whether I really am crazy for listening to this music, or if you just need to close your eyes and open your mind to really let this great stuff sink in.  You can judge for yourself.

"Hoppipolla" -- Sigur Ros
"I'm a Cuckoo" -- Belle and Sebastian
"Nature Anthem" -- Grandaddy

I think that's it for today.  If I forgot something I'm sure you'll hear about it later anyway.

peace and love
C

Just posting this here so that I don't forget it.  It's from Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, and is the last rites of Bokononism in the book: an interesting way to look at life.

"God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, 'Sit up!'
'See all I've made,' said God, 'the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.'
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God!
Nobody but You could have done it, God!  I certainly couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.
Amen."

Short entry today because nothing big happened and I'm not going to waste anyone's time with trivial matters, myself included.  Instead I'd like to post a frame from a comic that I recently started reading called Questionable Content.  It's a decent webcomic about some indie-rock kids.  It can be annoying when the guy gets really music-snobbish, but other than that it's pretty solid.  I'd recommend going back and reading through the whole story to get the plot.  It's around 900 total, but it goes by pretty quick. 

Anyway, here's the frame from an early comic.  If you've ever drank with me, you'll know why this makes me laugh.

peace and love
C

I didn't post last night, but there's good reason.

Have you ever been so bad off that after getting sick in a toilet, you can't stand up without the room spinning wildly?  That was me between the hours of 10 and 12 last night.  I hugged that toilet hard.

Driving back today I started thinking about my senior year when I was drum major in high school.  I'm going to pull out some of those old judges tapes and listen to them at some point.  Relive the good ol' days.

I definitely wasn't 100% at work today, but that's alright.  I really could do that job with half my brain removed.  There are people there who do...and are still smarter than most of the custome--I mean, guests.

A guest yelled at me today.  I didn't do anything wrong.  I really didn't have a whole lot to do with why she was yelling.  Luckily I don't get bothered by people yelling at me.  It actually makes me laugh that people get so worked up about little things.  I had to hold back my laughter until she finally finished and turned her back.  I guess I kind of feel sorry for her, but there's nothing I could do and yelling at me is such a waste of time.  I really love when people think they're going to prove a point to me when they get angry and say "I'm never shopping at this fucking place again."  First of all, yeah, you probably will come back at some point.  Secondly, the store is unbelievably successful and, as noble as your boycott is, we're not really going to miss you.  Good Riddance.

peace and love
C

There is nothing more relaxing than sitting in the living room of an old house drinking a cup of coffee and reading a good book. That's what I did this morning: cup of Joe and some Vonnegut to keep me company.

Then I was on the road again back to the homeland, but not the promised land. Somewhere on US-264 between Wilson and Cary I had one of those serene moments that I wish comprised all of life: windows down, driving about 85mph on an open 4-lane highway with Belle and Sebastian riding shotgun. As I was coming to an overpass, a group of birds took flight off of the bridge and soared off into the sky. I felt so relaxed at that moment, nothing could break me, nothing could alter my spirit. I was one with the world...whatever the hell that means.

The sad part is that right after I had this experience I immediately began to dictate in my head what I was going to write about it in this blog. What I thought is up above, almost verbatim. I even thought about the part I just wrote; and that part I just wrote, and that sentence, and that part I just wrote...it's like infinity. (I even thought about that part.)

The rest of the day was wasted sitting around the house watching tennis. I finally decided that the whole "lazy let's-see-what-happens" beard thing I had going on needed to go, so I shaved it down to my normal goatee. That sure is newsworthy.

Headed out to Chili's in Raleigh with Andy to bother Steven while he was working. It was busy and we couldn't get a seat at his table, so instead we sat with his roommate, Ja, at the bar while his other roommate, Je, served us there. We ended up chilling until about 11.

The rest of the night consisted of playing trivia with my parents at Mac's while singing along with some washed up old guitar player.  He played "Babylon" by David Gray, which made my night.  After that, in what must be considered the morning, we went back to Steven's to drink a little and hang out with Ja, Je, B, Bc and A.

A beeping noise made me break a wine glass.   I'm still not sure how exactly this happened.  I wasn't drunk, barely even tipsy, but somehow I managed a feat of such immense probability that I still wonder how exactly it happened.

I'd been sitting outside on the porch drinking with Andy and A.  I needed to go to the bathroom.  It's in B's room.  As I walk in I hear an alarm, the kind that comes from a crappy digital watch.  In my tipsy curiosity, I try to find the source of the sound.  I come upon a small red stopwatch.  When you find something beeping in a person's room, the obvious next step is to throw it at them, right?  That's what I thought.  I step into the living room and toss (and I mean toss.  I used to pitch in baseball, so I can throw it pretty hard.  This toss had the same velocity as a high arced beerpong toss) the watch at B.  He's been drinking this crappy pink w(h)ine (that I dubbed his "pussy juice" almost immediately) out of a nice wine glass.  It's full and resting in his hand and lap at this time.   Somehow my toss nails the weak point where the stem bonds to the bowl of the glass, breaks the stem in half and spills the glass on Bc.

Of course I feel like an ass, but that's life, and shit happens.

At 4:30 Andy and I stumble home and he gets in his car to get back to his house.  Sadly, we're not drunk and perfectly OK to drive. 

There's always tomorrow night.

peace and love
C

I woke up at 1 o'clock in the afternoon; my alarm had been going off for 3 hours with me hitting the snooze button every 9 minutes.  You do the math.  It was like a game show.

I drove an hour to Wilson listening to the greatest hits of the Velvet Underground.  Lou Reed is amazing. 

Bought a shirt off the clearance rack at target.  It's black with a white business man throwing up a "West-side" symbol.  The caption says "Keepin' it Gangsta."  How can you expect me to resist that?

Went to a baseball game.  They lost.  Drank with my dad for the first time: the first time with any of my parents.   Wouldn't have guessed it would have happened this way, but I'm happy with the results.  Realized something that bothered me, but I'm not going to discuss it openly in this format.  Look for it hidden away in the future.  I guess that's where everything is...

Met the baseball player from Carolina that is staying with my dad.  Good guy, laid back, what you think of when you imagine a baseball player. 

Restarted Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.  I bought it and Sirens of Titan at the store today with some old gift card my dad had given me. 

Made an edit on the wikipedia page for the Marie Celeste.  Given what I just said, you should be able to figure out what it is.  It's the first time I've ever edited on that site.  I immediately felt like a pompous jackass.  Comes with the territory, I guess.


peace and love
C

She paints her nails as black as the sun
Not sure exactly what she's done.
I bring her coffee, she drinks my tea.
Breathe...

Circles around me.

Bluegrass in the green grass
Rockabye, Rockabye, Rockabye.
Get up, take the bait.
Delineate the hate.

Circles around me.

I did my best. What did you expect?
I did my very, very best. What did you expect?

Love. Live. Move on.

---

The tortured mind produces the best artist. I wonder that that is why I feel my creative juices are dry. Or maybe I'm tortured in another way: with apathy, the desire for inspiration, because that is all apathy is. Not simply not caring, but not having reason to care. But, again, I'm not altogether (apathetic). I do care, but it's a self-centered care --what isn't? -- that involves what matters to me. Obvious enough; I care about what matters to me: circular logic.

Anyway, my life mirrors my head: a jumbled array of madness with multiple personalities that I don't even understand. There's no dominant theme in my life and no dominant me. I metamorphose...just add head and pressure.

That makes no sense...

What do you create when your only passion is your creation?
Chicken + Egg?
There's the answer.

---

Clouds form to block out my sun,
But I've stopped caring about that.
Is a little more night
A bad thing for anyone?

Anabelle, come out of hiding.
It's about time that we had a little chat
Or not.
It's more fun to keep searching
Anyway.

So I'll keep building my house of bricks,
Not of sticks and no more tricks.
Can't knock it down, you have no key
And you'll never see the inside of me.

Annie held on to all that weight,
And Rocky Raccoon is holed up in his room.
You can call me Maurice
But you don't even call me by my name.

Huff, Puff, Gruff, Buff
I can't blow this house down
But I'll come back with a wrecking ball
And take it to the ground

The walls within me are hard to penetrate, but every once-in-a-while, like the changing of the guard, the defenses are down for a split second, and, for the as-of-yet unworthy soul, only then will you see inside these walls that wrap so tightly, not only keeping it all out but also refusing to let it all in.

---

This was a good weekend. I traveled up to the bluegrass of Kentucky for a wedding of some friends from college. I went with two other friends and ultimately met two more at the hotel in the tiny town of Morehead, Ky. (Everything comes in twos...symmetry?)

I realized that I have very different friends: segregated from one another, banging heads, ideological opposites. But even though I definitely fall on one side of this conflict, I can be friends with both. It doesn't seem to be like that for everyone. I suddenly (meaning just now) realize that my psyche, or, for lack of a better phrase, cultural views can be polar opposites existing as one.

This is what I learned this weekend.

Other than my ability to befriend liberal and conservative (such crappy labels, but I use them here to ease understanding), I noticed two other aspects of my personality that are contradictory and borderline hypocritical. While I firmly stand on the agnostic side of religion (can that even really be considered a side of religion, or is it inherently not a part of it?) and generally dislike organized worship, I still see the beauty preacher's words at the service, and in other cases have no problem sitting through a church service. In fact, often times I enjoy them. Though I lack the faith of a good Christian, I respect, admire and enjoy the idea and practice of religion*, even if I think that it's just a made up moral compass.

The second realization, though not nearly as profound (or, more likely, just as inconsequential) involves my upbringing and environment. While I enjoy the excitement that comes with city life, I love that some town, country life. Off-roading in AJ's jeep, enjoying that quaint little mountain town and all the small town hospitality appeals to me, although in the long run I would die of boredom. I think this comes form growing up in NC, where in a 10 minute drive you can go from big, bustling city to a farm: the best (worst?) of both worlds.

I have more to say, but my hand is tired and it is late.
Tomorrow, then.

*Assuming, of course, the religion and its followers are not corrupt, racist, sexist, hypocritical, etc.

---

Summertime, and the wind is blowing.
Summer time, and the living's easy.
The boys of summer have gone.
The summer of sixty-nine.
Summer lovin' happened so fast.
I think it's fly wen the girls stop by in the summer.
---------
And we march on -- A thousand men gathered around me
And we march on -- Our weapons drag the ground
And we march on -- A wave of blue on the horizon
And we march on -- The drummer boy plays out of time

The colors are yellow and blue
I see around you -- I don't see through you.

Heart beats faster, when's that gonna end?
My dear old friend.

Hand claps and finger snaps and buckets full of gin.
Dirty cage and slippery stage and we will dance and spin
Again and again and again and again...

I take off my overcoat
Lay it on the floor -- what'd you do that for?

I call you on the phone so late at night.
To talk, to fight -- goodnight.

Serenade and renegade and pockets full of sin
Dimpled chin and Seraphim and the black cat starts to grin
Again and again and again and again...

Good morning, Johnson family!  Because your life sucks, we're going to tear down your entire house and build a monstrous mansion that doesn't fit in with the suburbia around you.  On top of that we're going to put all kinds of fancy gadgets and shit that you don't need in there to make sure that your new material world will bring you all the happiness you desire.  Sure, we can fill that void that your dad left when he died with this 37 inch flat screen TV that rises out of the floor when you press this button on the remote!

We're going to spend a shit-ton of money to make sure that your life sucks a little less or at least make sure that you forget about whatever the hell was wrong with you.  Fuck all the other people in the world that have it bad.  Rather than take this money and build affordable, comfortable housing for the thousands of homeless families around the nation, or sending it to help fight poverty and AIDS overseas, we're going to use it all to foster this raping consumer culture because you make for much better television than a starving African kid.

Also, if at all possible, we would like it if those applying for EM: HE to have one or more of the following problems/tragedies/illnesses:
**Image from The Smoking Gun

Liviu Librescu died. He was a part of the Holocaust. The ironic thing about these two statements are that they are completely unrelated.

The 76-year-old Librescu was an internationally recognized aeronautical engineer and professor at Virginia Tech. He was also an Israeli that survived the Holocaust. On Monday he was killed by a crazed gunman while holding the door closed to a Norris Hall classroom so his students could jump out the window.

How does it make sense that this man made it through the most horrific event in the 20th century but was killed by an irrational student with no motive?

Cho Seung-Hui was apparently lashing out at "rich kids," "debauchery," and "decietful charlatans," on campus. He proceeded to kill 32 innocent students and professors, seemingly at random in Norris Hall and in West Ambler Johnston dorm. Students called him a loner. According to one student, he wrote sick and unreasonably violent plays about violent step-fathers and child molesting teachers. (read two of them) 

I can't imagine what the students, parents and faculty involved are going through right now.  This could have happened on any campus around the country.  It could have happened here.  As I sat in my classes today, I noticed my self continuously looking at the door and thinking about what I could hide behind if a shooter came in.  At first I thought these thoughts were completely irrational, but I'm sure before Monday Virginia Tech students thought the same thing.

Thankfully the only student I know at VT, a guy I worked with for a while and whose sister I went to high school with, was nowhere near the shooting.  I found out from an e-mail today that an initiate of the Phi Sigma Pi national honors fraternity at Virginia Tech, the same fraternity that I rushed this semester, was killed in the attacks.  I know how close to I am to my brothers in this fraternity and how torn up I would be if something happened to them.  I'm going to take this time to say that I love each and every one of you guys, as well as all my other friends.

Despite the fact that I do not personally know anyone affected by the tragedy, I am terribly upset by it.  Keep these people in your prayers and thoughts and take the time to tell the people around you what they mean to you.  Each day could be our last.

Much Love, and Peace.

So it's been a long time since I've sat down and mentally regurgitated onto a page (or a blog, in this case), and I decided that now, sitting in my always exciting media law class, would be a prime time to do it. I've spent most of my writing power on my music blog, shameless plug, or on papers and other fun things that come with being a college student.

I feel like I've hit this wall.  Check that, multiple walls.  A learning/school wall, and, most unfortunately, a creative wall.  The first wall may be the most detrimental.  For some reason, especially this semester I've found myself simply not caring about school or work or the actual process of learning.  I'm starting to think it may be a problem of inspiration; a lack of motivation to work because of my classes and professors.  I hate to place the blame solely on these people because, obviously, I usually don't take the time to really engage in classes and put in my cliche 2 cents.  It's not like I'm just ready to give up learning and move on with my life, but I want to learn about something that I really care about.  I love writing and my journalism major, but classes like Media Law are starting to bog me down with it as well.  As far as my other classes go, I try to take things that will be interesting and engaging, but usually end up not caring after about two weeks.  It's a recurring problem that I can't seem to find the solution to.  I want to blame myself for just being lazy and not caring, but I'm starting to wonder if it's more than that.

The thing that depresses me the most is the creative wall.  I've only played guitar a couple of times in the past few months and have written a grand total of one poem/song, and I didn't even like it.  For a while I was constantly writing and playing and flourishing creatively, but this has become a months long writers block, and I'm determined to break it.  Step one was to post here, to just let out my thoughts in an informal way to hopefully reopen the creative process, and to allow my mind to wander further than what it is fed in class and through media.  I'm still avidly getting new music by new artists from new genres with new ideas: the things that used to spark my creativity and fuel my writing and music.  Yet for some reason that's not working anymore.

I'm hoping that something comes along in my life to spark my curiosity, drive me to do, not just be.  It's not like I'm unhappy; in fact, that's the farthest thing from the truth.  Through this honors frat that I rushed and have now joined, I've met some of the best people and the best group of friends I have on campus.  I'm extremely happy, just extremely uninspired, and that makes me worry.

Derrick is a comedy group from New York that I learned about from YouTube junkie, Andy.  They've supposedly been on multiple TV shows and also have performed at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater.   These guys are absolutely hilarious and some of their videos are the funniest things I've seen in a long time.  I've posted their sketch called "Girls Cannot Be Trusted," which is a short video about a guy who's a little bitter about an ex-girlfriend.  You should also check out "Bro-Rape," "Spelling Bee," and "Movie Executive Dad."  If you have a lot of time to kill though, I recommend watching them all. 



peace

In continuation of the series I have now dubbed "Shit you should know because I like it...damnit," here are a couple singer-songwriters that I'm into right now.

Mike Doughty

I got turned onto this guy by a friend of mine back home who got his newest CD.  He has an interesting voice, not the best in the world, but he somehow makes it work for him.  This is the "single" from his newest album and is just a great song.  The video is from when he performed it live on Letterman.  Check it out and I hope you enjoy.

Link - www.mikedoughty.com


Colin Hay

This is a montage of clips from my new favorite TV show, "Scrubs."  In the first or second season they have an episode where a troubadour (played by Colin Hay) follows J.D. (Zach Braff) around the hospital playing his song "Overkill."  This, and his song on the Garden State soundtrack, "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You," are what turned me onto this singer.  He's got a great voice which you may recognize from the classic '80s band, Men at Work [wiki].  He also had his own band in the '90s, The Colin Hay band.  Either way, he writes great solo music now and you should check him out.
Link - www.colinhay.com

peace

Here is my latest album review that should be up on the Reverb website (which should really be up and running in a few days).  Also along the same lines, things are really starting to come together for this magazine.  We're working on putting together the first print issue, which should be out February 12th, and I'm now the Head of Publicity, which means it's my job to set up the launch party, make sure people know about this magazine and advertise it to all the students that I possibly can.  Needless to say these next few weeks are gonna be pretty crazy.  But it's all for the best, because this magazine should kick ass.  There's my shameless plug.

Anyway, on to the review.  I was kinda mean on this one, but I felt the need to do it.  And I'm not the only one that said the same thing.  Just Google it.

peace

Since I haven't posted in quite a while due to working and moving back into school, I thought I'd beef up the "Band of the Week" thing that I've slacked off on and put up two bands that I've gotten into recently, and sometime this weekend I'll put up two singer/songwriters that I also love dearly.  So enough rambling from me, on to the music!

Rilo Kiley

Rilo Kiley is a great pop-rock (ish) band that I've heard on the NC State radio station (which is a great station for indie rock...one thing State actually did right) and I believe this song was on an episode of "Grey's Anatomy."  Either way, it's great happy rock, and there's nothing better than a girl singing about sex, if I may say so.  Check out their website and more of their music at RiloKiley.com.

Minus the Bear

This is a band I found out about kind of randomly on myspace.com just browsing around, but I immediately liked them.  They're a great rock band with jangly guitars and a happy-go-lucky sound that is incredible.  Not only is it a great song, but the video is also pretty kick ass.  Check out their website and more of their music at MinustheBear.com.

peace