where have all the cowboys gone?

Not that this is a new sentiment, but what the fuck?

It all started in speech class. We were due to give our informational speeches on the topic of our Desert Island Disc. I sat in eager anticipation, ready to hear what the young earnest minds of this age are so in love with that they would listen to it and it alone forever...

Aside from maybe three or four unordinary responses, there was an overwhelming majority of disappointing selections. One of the first speeches given was a young girl who presented Dave Matthews Band's Crash. There are many reasons why I would never ever like this CD, among them, the incessantly catchy tunes, the horrific vocal riffs, the tragic and painful lyrics (that is to listen to them is tragic and painful for me).

Funny thing is, when did I become such a music snob? My history of musical tastes ranges from the typical (Madonna, New Kids on the Block, No Doubt) to the only slightly less typical (Bright Eyes, Badly Drawn Boy, Stereolab). Who the hell am I to criticize DMB?

I credit my extreme dislike of this band in particular to the time I put in at Starbucks, specifically the shifts I worked with a man that everyone else refused to work with, because he was white and a shiteater and generally and overall terribly obnoxious. One of those good ol' Chicago boys who swings his arms and his beer gut seems to be in command of his gait, rather than his feet. The sort of man who finds humor in inane words and instances (but not highbrow ones like puns or spoonerisms), loves a good potty joke and has absolutely nothing to say about anything important. His favorite band: DMB.

This just last year, maybe it was a re-release or anniversary CD; to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what DMB CD that SBUX was promoting, but they were promoting the H-E-L-L out of it. And this fucking grinning buffoon couldn't get enough. He would search it out on the satellite radio, as soon as he got on shift, and when the music tried to move on, to rotate, to keep the Starbucks atmosphere from being a rank and stagnant pool of musical mediocrity, he would search more channels of the satellite radio until he came across his beloved band, DMB, which he never failed to remind me of his adoration with the kind of gushing grin that hinted at his knowledge that he was driving me absolutely insane.

So let's just say when this girl in my speech class got up with her DMB concert shirt that she purchased at her 13th concert (SHE's ONLY 19 YEARS OLD FOR PETE'S SAKE), I felt a nausea in my belly that was more connected with that asshole at SBUX than her, but even more so at Dave Matthews for being alive. She spoke of accolades, of monetary success, of fame, and it makes me so mad that such bad music can be so popular. Why, I thought, when an amazing band like Stereolab has been around for fifteen years and a record I first heard ten years ago is still my favorite album ever, and manages to be fresh and original with each listen, why does a band like Dave Matthews Band make gobs and gobs of money?

As the wise owl said in the tootsie roll pop commercials, "The world may never know."

One of the funniest speeches was an enthused girl who loved the music of the Backstreet Boys. She played a video and even danced along for us. It was funny because she addressed the fact that it wasn't cool to even admit that she liked the Backstreet Boys, but she did anyway. It would be like the equivalent of me playing an NKOTB video and dancing along and espousing the simple and less complicated style of the boy band bubble gum pop music. But still, of all the records in the world to choose as your Desert Island Disc?

Part of me knows that when you're in high school (which a lot of these kids recently were), you tend to go with the grain and listen to whatever everyone else is saying you should listen to. During that time, I just didn't really get into any music, because mainstream music wasn't interesting to me at all. I was eighteen or nineteen when I first heard Stereolab and part of me wonders if they just haven't made it to the same musical pinnacle Stereolab was for me. Maybe being in college will open up their tastes and ideas and thoughts.

Here are some similarities I've noted among bad but popular music: Band's name can be acronymed. Band is all one gender. Band is prone to using repetitive lyrics. Band's songs are often indistinguishable from one to the next. Band is full of attractive people. Band has no band. Band performs choreography. Band makes me want to get a gun and go on a rampage ala Micheal Douglas' character in Falling Down.

cheers.

my final photography project

You know how when you're thinking about something and wondering about it you start to see it everywhere or hear people talking about it? Well something like that has been happening with my final project idea for my photography class.

Months ago I'd taken a photo of a pinwheel tucked into a flowerbox on the deck of this family I babysit for. I also took pictures of many things, toys, the tree trunk, the little boy I babysit for. Of all of these, when I showed the mom the contact sheet the next week, she pointed out the pinwheel and how it looked like it had some kind of personality. She said it seemed to be reaching, and the direction that I shot it from made it look like a little kid standing on its tiptoes trying to get a cookie from the counter. It was striped in different colors and had pointy tips almost like leaves.

I respect this woman very much and considered where I might find more pinwheels to photograph. Little had I realized, right in my back yard there are three pinwheels tucked into various pots. I don't think I'd ever really noticed them so clearly before, almost like in a cursory glance I'd see them, but if you'd asked me if there were any in my backyard, I'd probably say no. These three were all the same construction, wooden with plastic petals that made them look like flowers, two are purple, one is green.

Then in the backyard of another family I babysit for I noticed they had a pinwheel. This one is not really appealing to me because it is all plastic and has that hologram look about it, but I think it'll catch the sun well or possibly reflect the baby's face, if I shoot it from the right angle.

I've also encountered random pinwheels that I'd never noticed before in my neighborhood. There seem to be a lot of circular pinwheels that almost look like bicycle wheels because they have ribbons running from the diameter like spokes in a tire. There are usually two "wheels" one smaller than the other and though they are nice, they are just a bit too modern for my taste. Part of me wonders if I should try to shoot one anyway, just to show the range of them...

I found this delightful one along Wolcott St. It was a ladybug. The wings were the windcatchers, the face was this garish looking cartoon style, and the back was the ladybug's body. The picture I took of that one came out really well and I have already printed it. The face and wings are in perfect focus and the rest of the picture is slightly out of focus.

I shot one that was lying down in someone's yard, face down, as if the wind had been too strong, and right next to it there was a ceramic frog with it's arms behind its back almost smirking as if to say, I'll never get blown over...

Yesterday it was very windy outside and I got the idea, just suddenly, that it might be cool to shoot a pinwheel while it was in motion. So I grabbed one of the flowerpots, set it on the porch rail so the background (the lawn) would be even and waited for the wind to pick up the petals of the pinwheel. I used a slow shutter speed so the motion would be blurred. I think it's going to look really cool. It hadn't occured to me to take a shot of a pinwheel in motion, but I saw the ones in my backyard spinning like mad in the wind.

I don't know why I'm so interested in this...it sounds kind of simple and boring. Even in class when I told my professor what I was considering, he laughed out loud. Pinwheels? You mean like the things kids played with in the 1950's? I just laughed back and said, yep, that's what I've been taking pictures of. He just shook his head and said, okay.

I'll try and post some when I have a chance. Maybe ya'll can tell me if I'm just a little crazy to think pinwheels are a good subject.

how much is a time speeding up device anyway?

I wish I could speed up time so that it was next summer and I'd be graduated, moved out into my own place and my life would be totally different and totally what I've been planning for years.

For now, there's just these things to do, to fulfill my dreams, my wishes, my plans. Sometimes they are just drudgery, like cleaning the bathroom or doing homework or going to and from my varied jobs. Sometimes they are so great and wonderful, like buying little things for the new place from Urban Outfitters; from which I have collected bright orange and magenta kitchen towels, shot glasses with cute cartoons on the sides and dishes with delicate chandeliers painted on them--and, get this, all on clearance.

I know that I should enjoy and appreciate every day for what it has to offer, but I've always been a looking ahead person. Whether it's five minutes or five years, I'm trying to figure out how it's gonna go and who I'm going to have to be to get there. I have a hard time just being in the moment that's happening right now.

Lately I've been getting better at savoring time. I'm not so antsy, so concerned, so anticipatory. I think it has a lot to do with expending my energy into artistic realms and getting all the things that I need to do done.

I kind of regret that I never knew how to appreciate the moments as they came. I think it's made my life a little dull, a little routine, a little joyless.

For instance, part of the reason I can't wait for it to be next year already is that I can't wait to get away from my roommates. Don't get me wrong, they're alright, but I've spent a lot of the last three years sort of dealing with them whenever I want to be with Eric and I'm just tired. Because I see them as this obstacle, I avoid them and try not to be home when they are. (This tatic actually works pretty well, considering how much I favor the out-of-sight-out-of-mind phenomenon.) And yet, I lose time with Eric. I come home and feel like I'm never really home. I feel kind of fake and phony when I'm around them.

Worse yet, they have no idea that I see them as a problem and everyone else in my life has heard me bitch and moan about it endlessly (in my misguided attempts to prove how right I am). So everyone who loves me naturally tries to make me happy by not talking to them or being curt and polite. Except for Eric. He makes no apologies for being just the same around them, because after all, they are his best friends, he went to college with them and has known them for years.

The thing is, on one hand, I don't want to be the source of tension, but I also don't want to feel like I'm sharing my boyfriend with them. And maybe it's a me and him thing to work on, which we've been doing, but it seems like no matter how much time we spend together, the time with them is what he talks about, laughs over, remembers well. All of this crap just makes me pretty unhappy every time I set foot into this place. So that's why I can't wait for it to be next year already.

Then I think, well, why not just clear the air? Why not just lay it all on the table? Tell them everything. Part of me wonders if it'll just make things worse. Part of me wonders if I'm just too uptight...after all, Eric thinks they're wonderful and great and doesn't see the things I see. Part of me wonders why I don't see what he sees about them.

Is it because my college experience has been so different? That I've never really had roommates (unless you count a brief situation while I dated Vinny nearly ten years ago)? That I am a person who likes things a particular way? That I'm an adult and I can put away my dirty dishes whenever I please? That I don't have friends as close as they are? Am I really this much of a fucking whiny nitpicky bitch?

Or, as a woman I babysit for said (about herself), is it just that I always know the best way to do everything?

See, part of me thinks it'd be different if they were a number of things...warm, inviting, pleasant, lively, artistic, avid about something, always up to something new and different and interesting. But aside from a few glimpses of these attributes here and there, this is most certainly not how they are to me. Eric has friends like that and I adore them. Eric is like that and I adore him.

But I can't change them and there's still nearly eight months left. Will I spend it always looking ahead and discouraged by what's in front of me? Will I try to swallow the bitter taste in my throat and be great with them? I don't know. It depends on the day and how I'm feeling.

the thing is...

Nearly a year has gone by since I reinvented myself in this arena. My journal over at diaryland was always a little bit dreamy, a little bit too pretty, but this was where the serious writing was supposed to live, in the hallowed halls of Blogger, where (some) blogs are born into books and other blogs sit languishing with one or two starting entries. I guess I'm somewhere in the middle.

It seems a little funny that it's only been a year. I actually had to go back and check to make sure. Mostly that's because it's been such an amazing year, it feels more like I've lived through two than one.

Will you join me for a little blog reminiscing, if you please?

In the span of a year...

I said I would write alot...and I didn't. But sometimes I wrote anyway.

I posted lots of my fiction writing, early on. It was pretty exciting for me to do that.

I quit working at Siena, then worked at Starbucks, then quit working at Starbucks and now I am happily employed as a babysitter and office assistant.

I can write the phrase "I am happily" without somehow adding in a but...

I posted my photographs and didn't worry too much about other people stealing them.

Eric and I finally recovered our rhythm...though it is still sometimes a bit wobbly.

I realized who my true friends were.

I found out that I'm an artist and not just a writer.

I have a rice cooker and have made sushi at home a few times.

I taught myself how to knit. How to make beaded earrings. How to take breathtaking photographs.

I was fooled into thinking I was too old, but learned that I was just right.

I bought myself lovely things.

I made lots of people happy.

I disappointed a few people; sadly, some of the ones I'd managed to make happy.

thanks for being a part of this year for me. Regardless of whether you've been here for everything--thanks daddy! I love you so much!--or just a few entries here and there, knowing you're there makes this worth doing.

cheers.