Here's another group I was introduced to a few years ago, albeit indirectly, via my Nashville buddy. Grizzly Bear's first album, Yellow House, kept me calm many a IAS* outburst. Thank you for that, GB. This Brooklyn-based quartet released their newest one, Veckatimest, at the beginning of last summer, and my fave is Cheerleader. I'm telling you . . . it's mellow (and I mean mellow) and I like it a bunch (and I mean a bunch.) OK, I'm losing it.
Here's a sweet-tastic Veckatimest review from Spin. Read it. And give my fave tune a listen . . . and kindly excuse my craziness today. Thank you.
*IAS stands for Instant Anger Syndrome. Oh yes, I occasionally have it. And so do you, admit it.
3.31.2010
3.26.2010
Things that are makin' me misty today
Getting teary-eyed over the silliest stuff today . . . and I'm fairly certain it's only going to get worse from here on out.
- This FB post from one of my dancers: Erin Harrison is so happy for Amy Connell!!!! we are going to miss you so much!! :)
- My nearly bare desk at work.
- Driving down Broad Street.
- Our admin assistant's farewell, complete with carrot cake.
- This text message from my mom (because I won't get these cute, Donnette-esque phrases anymore): I purchased rump ribbon on the way home this morning. Lv Mom.
- Stevie Nicks' 1977 rendition of Landslide. Gets me every time. Excuse the horrible video quality.
- And while I was listening to that version (again), I came across this gorgeous photo of SN. Holy.
3.24.2010
The Ex-Girlfriend That Just Won't Go Away
Recently, a friend of mine had the misfortune of dealing with The Ex-Girlfriend That Just Won't Go Away. Not directly, thank goodness. Otherwise, I would've had to drive my not-so-happy arse two and a half hours west to gut punch the ex. I mean, really? Do we really need to worry about these twits who can't grasp the meaning of Y'ALL ARE BROKEN UP!? It got me thinking about when I had to deal with my EGTJWGA. I was young and stupid, so I'm certain I handled it immaturely. My friend, on the other hand, is handling it like a champ. (I'm giving you a "Holla!" right now, friend!)
Anyway, to all you EGTJWGAs out there: Get over it, heifers. You and your manfriend broke up, so stop calling and hanging up (you're obviously not up to speed on the wonders of technology); stop leaving vague text messages (because women are masters at decoding that jank. We can read right through your I'm in town tonight texts. Stop it.); and if, God forbid, you live in the same town, everything (and I mean everything) related to him is OFF LIMITS, including but not limited to: his house, favorite bar, favorite restaurant, favorite drive-thru, etc. You get the point. LAY OFF. Don't even think about "accidentally" showing up at any of those places. It's lame. And it only makes you look like a ra-tard. Thank you. Now, go find someone else to annoy.
Image via here
Anyway, to all you EGTJWGAs out there: Get over it, heifers. You and your manfriend broke up, so stop calling and hanging up (you're obviously not up to speed on the wonders of technology); stop leaving vague text messages (because women are masters at decoding that jank. We can read right through your I'm in town tonight texts. Stop it.); and if, God forbid, you live in the same town, everything (and I mean everything) related to him is OFF LIMITS, including but not limited to: his house, favorite bar, favorite restaurant, favorite drive-thru, etc. You get the point. LAY OFF. Don't even think about "accidentally" showing up at any of those places. It's lame. And it only makes you look like a ra-tard. Thank you. Now, go find someone else to annoy.
Image via hereBand Beat
Image via here Neon Indian is a Texan band whose music is composed by Alan Palomo (formally VEGA, remember?) Anyway, their debut album, Psychic Chasms, dropped in October. It's very synth-y and psychedelic-y, so if you're not into that, beware. I like the mellowness of it and need that in my life right now, so it's been steadily streaming through my headphones at work. Check out Terminally Chill and chill.
3.22.2010
Well . . .
I did it, y'all. I put in my two-week notice this morning . . . and I'm scared shitless. I still need to tell most of my friends (although they knew it was coming) and my dad (holy crap, Pops is going to flip his lid . . . I can hear him now telling me I should be married before I make that kind of move, etc., to which I will say, "Oh Pops, I'm sorry I can't be as traditional as my siblings. I never have been.") But then, he knows that already.
Now, I've got to get down to business. Lots to do before April 10!
Now, I've got to get down to business. Lots to do before April 10!
3.18.2010
What's one more week, right?
Busy, busy week for me, guys. So much to do and think about. I haven't really opened up to many people about when I want to leave my job and move. The timing of it all is a fairly new development. I'm either going to put in my notice today or Monday . . . haven't decided. I would love for my last day to be Friday, April 2, and then have all of Spring Break week to prepare for my move and hang out with my fam and friends. (Yes, yes, I know I'll only be three hours away, but I've never lived in a different state/city before. It's a big deal.) But then maybe I should work that week to earn a little extra cash because the bottom line is . . . I haven't found a job yet. I apply to several almost daily, so I'm trying!
I've already told my dance people that my last week of teaching will be the week before Spring Break, so that is one less stress. Oh man, the pain and sadness I'm going to feel when I leave them, though, . . . I can't even think about it right now. Good news is that I'm still going to compete and perform with them as much as I can. I just can't imagine not dancing. And I'm hoping to find some opportunities in Charleston, too. In fact, I was thinking of opening a dance and fitness center that can be open to all forms of dance and fitness. (It would certainly help pay the rent, just sayin'.) What do you think?
I've been having the, "This is your life, don't worry about what other people think," talk with myself lately because for starters, my pops isn't going to be happy one damn bit about me moving without a job. No one bit. Of course, I have a feeling he wouldn't be happy either way. And I have a particular friend who often jumps into Mommy Mode and is pretty critical of the decisions I make. She'll definitely have some negative things to say. Knowing all this up front makes it a little easier, though. Just a little. Hopefully, I'll have full support from everyone because that's really what's most important to me.
OK, I'm done for now.
I've already told my dance people that my last week of teaching will be the week before Spring Break, so that is one less stress. Oh man, the pain and sadness I'm going to feel when I leave them, though, . . . I can't even think about it right now. Good news is that I'm still going to compete and perform with them as much as I can. I just can't imagine not dancing. And I'm hoping to find some opportunities in Charleston, too. In fact, I was thinking of opening a dance and fitness center that can be open to all forms of dance and fitness. (It would certainly help pay the rent, just sayin'.) What do you think?
I've been having the, "This is your life, don't worry about what other people think," talk with myself lately because for starters, my pops isn't going to be happy one damn bit about me moving without a job. No one bit. Of course, I have a feeling he wouldn't be happy either way. And I have a particular friend who often jumps into Mommy Mode and is pretty critical of the decisions I make. She'll definitely have some negative things to say. Knowing all this up front makes it a little easier, though. Just a little. Hopefully, I'll have full support from everyone because that's really what's most important to me.
OK, I'm done for now.
3.16.2010
An English degree recipient who doesn't read
As an English major in college, I read a lot and had a ton of classes, naturally. And I can remember most of them: English Lit from the Renaissance to the Restoration, English Lit from the Restoration to the Romantics, English Lit of the Victorian and Modern Periods, American Lit to the rise of Realism, Shakespeare, Technical Writing, Chaucer (my least favorite and most scary. In fact, I had to employ a dear friend of mine to help me write my final 25-page paper because it gave me so much anxiety), etc. The list goes on and on.
My point is that I've been thinking about my favorite stories, poems and plays from college --- the ones I fell in love with because they were so beautiful they made me cry and feel totally at peace, all at the same time. I remember my Shakespeare class and how the British professor would read sonnets and plays aloud. I'm sure his accent had a lot to do with it, but there were many moments when I felt like crying because the stories were so magical. I miss those moments. I mean, the last book I read for pleasure was the last one of the Twilight Saga. Yep. Guilty. I need more reading for pleasure in my life. It's got to happen. What do you recommend?
Here's my favorite poem from my favorite poet, Robert Browning. It's a little abnormal psychology-esque, but I like it.
Porphyria's Lover
The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
and did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
My point is that I've been thinking about my favorite stories, poems and plays from college --- the ones I fell in love with because they were so beautiful they made me cry and feel totally at peace, all at the same time. I remember my Shakespeare class and how the British professor would read sonnets and plays aloud. I'm sure his accent had a lot to do with it, but there were many moments when I felt like crying because the stories were so magical. I miss those moments. I mean, the last book I read for pleasure was the last one of the Twilight Saga. Yep. Guilty. I need more reading for pleasure in my life. It's got to happen. What do you recommend?
Here's my favorite poem from my favorite poet, Robert Browning. It's a little abnormal psychology-esque, but I like it.
Porphyria's Lover
The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
and did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
3.12.2010
Look a'here!
I love ev.er.y.thing about Alyson Fox's A Small Collection. It's all so pretty! She's an amazing clothes and jewelry designer, photographer AND artist (check out those drawings)?! Whaaaaat?! Girl's got talent and isn't afraid to use it!
Drawings
Photography
Jewels and Clothes (how neat are the cube necklaces!!!)
DrawingsPhotography3.10.2010
Sass!
HOLY MOLY! I love this little guy. He looks so pissed and regal and beautiful. And what a kissable, lovable nose!
Band Beat
Everyone has heard of Kate Nash, right? Sure, her voice is a little nasel-y, and sometimes her British accent is so thick I can't understand some of her words, but her songs are so dang catchy that it's hard not to torso dance in the car, especially whilst listening to Foundations. (P.S., this song is really fun to play when you're ticked at your manfriend.)
My Nashville buddy introduced me to her first album a few years ago, and I immediately bought it. She releases her second album, My Best Friend is You, April 20, which features songs like this one. (I told you. Catchy.)
3.05.2010
Say it ain't so!
Boo just sent me this link, and needless to say, I'm pretty stoked about the possibility. Check it out, and HAPPY FRIDAY!
3.04.2010
Snacking . . . and MKA
Image via Olsens AnonymousWhy does eating healthy food make me want to feast on everything in this world that is unhealthy? I was doing so well . . . And Flipz? Let me tell you something. How dare you create a new pretzel covering! As if chocolate-covered wasn't enough, you had to go and create Double-Dipped Peanut Butter and Chocolate?! Shame on you. And shame on me for almost devouring the entire bag. Those bags aren't small, y'all. Sigh.
3.03.2010
Band Beat
Listen, listen, listen! This New York-based "shoegazer" (can someone tell me WTH that means?*) band Apollo Heights is currently at the top of my Cool Music Now List. Wikipedia describes them as: twin brothers, Daniel and Danny Chavis, who play experimental rock music. They cite AR Kane and My Bloody Valentine as a major inspiration. Cool, huh? (Sorry for the super short post . . . I'm in a hurry!) Enjoy!
Check out a live performance of Everlasting Gobbstopper!
*Edit: Wiki says shoegazing is a subgenre of alternative rock that emerged from the United Kingdom in the late 1980s.
Check out a live performance of Everlasting Gobbstopper!
*Edit: Wiki says shoegazing is a subgenre of alternative rock that emerged from the United Kingdom in the late 1980s.
Foxy!
I've been wanting a fox belt buckle for a looong time now, but the only one I can seem to find is this $685 Christopher Ross one, and well . . . I'm not going to spend that much. I just can't. It's so dang pretty, though, so if anyone comes across a much-less expensive version, hit me up! Please!
Fox Belt Buckle $685
3.02.2010
Jobs, passions, impracticality and cliques
It's been an insanely busy couple of days at work. Budget reductions and possible program/faculty/staff eliminations got me thinking about how lucky I am to even have a job right now (even if it's short-lived.) In truth, I complain a lot about my job . . . about how I hate working behind a desk, micro-managers, competitive co-workers, etc. (It's exhausting for me, and I'm sure just as much to my friends and sister who hear me complain all the time.)
My issue (well, one of many) is that I know what I'm passionate about and what I want to do, but it's not a practical way to live. Even more so, I realize if I don't find ways to feed my passions, I'll be miserable. B's seen this firsthand, bless him. I don't want to live that way. I have friends who bother to chastise me for wanting to pursue the impractical passions, but dang it! I want to love what I do . . . not do something just because it'll score me an extra $3,000 in my checking account every month. Don't get me wrong said friends! I'd love an extra three grand, but a typical work day is eight hours. That's eight hours per day of unhappiness. Not. Worth. It.
B has suggested going on hiatus to NYC to audition my brains out (if I even remember how to since it's been so long) for plays, commercials, movies, music videos, anything. I'd still need to get a good, updated headshot (anyone know of a photog who's affordable, within driving distance to Augusta and/or Charleston and can take sensational headshots?) But then there's the side of me that doesn't want to leave B and Thomas before my life with them in Charleston even begins . . . that literally makes my heart hurt.
So that's what has been on my mind lately. That, and the word clique. Wikipedia defines it as an exclusive group of people who share interests, views, purposes, patterns of behavior or ethnicity. What does that word mean to you?
Remember Daria?! Loved her. I think I know where the inspiration for Liz on My Life as Liz came from . . .
My issue (well, one of many) is that I know what I'm passionate about and what I want to do, but it's not a practical way to live. Even more so, I realize if I don't find ways to feed my passions, I'll be miserable. B's seen this firsthand, bless him. I don't want to live that way. I have friends who bother to chastise me for wanting to pursue the impractical passions, but dang it! I want to love what I do . . . not do something just because it'll score me an extra $3,000 in my checking account every month. Don't get me wrong said friends! I'd love an extra three grand, but a typical work day is eight hours. That's eight hours per day of unhappiness. Not. Worth. It.
B has suggested going on hiatus to NYC to audition my brains out (if I even remember how to since it's been so long) for plays, commercials, movies, music videos, anything. I'd still need to get a good, updated headshot (anyone know of a photog who's affordable, within driving distance to Augusta and/or Charleston and can take sensational headshots?) But then there's the side of me that doesn't want to leave B and Thomas before my life with them in Charleston even begins . . . that literally makes my heart hurt.
So that's what has been on my mind lately. That, and the word clique. Wikipedia defines it as an exclusive group of people who share interests, views, purposes, patterns of behavior or ethnicity. What does that word mean to you?
Remember Daria?! Loved her. I think I know where the inspiration for Liz on My Life as Liz came from . . .
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