I wasn't spawned from a computer, just raised by one.



Thursday, September 24, 2009

Time to Play Catch Up


Let me see here. Oh yeah, that's right. I have a blog. Now I remember.


The last couple weeks have been super busy. I'm *finally* completely moved in to my new place. When reading that sentence don't make the mistake of reading that I'm unpacked, or clean, or have a working kitchen sink, just that I, and all my possessions, are here.


I then came down with the flu. Then my roommate came down with a staff infection in her nose. Between the two of us I've been to the emergency room six times in the last two weeks. Luckily that seems to be behind us. Thank Jesus.


I was better in time to make it to Orlando on the 17th to see Kill Hannah open for She Wants Revenge at the HOB. I had a lovely time, too bad my roomie couldn't go. Megan was still too sick so I tried unsuccessfully to scalp her ticket. I'm a good friend like that.

from left: my new friend, LaTisha, Mat from KH, and moi.

After the show I came extremely close to trying to sneak into an after show DJ set across town above the Social, where Kill Hannah's Greg was to be spinning, but the girl's that was going to help me, one being a fellow brown haired, freckled chick with an ID I could use, had to cancel on me. I was pretty bummed about it, but what can you do?


Turned out better in the end actually because when I got home around 2ish my roommate desperately needed a ride to the emergency room so if I had stayed for the "over 21" bit who knows what would have happened to her poor, massively swollen face.


There will be other shows, it's taken me 14 years to break in this friendship just the way I want it.

On a side note: I pretty much hate the House of Blues. It's my least favorite venue. They don't let camera's in, BUT you can take pictures with your phone. How stupid is that?

Kill Hannah's new album drops next week so I'm sure they'll be going out on their own again soon anyway. Hopefully they'll go back to the Social or some other dive-yer club that actually likes it's patrons.

That being said, I'm off to help Megan find a new nose ring. She started working at Busch Gardens last week, and today they made her take it out and now she has an eleven hour shift tomorrow that they expect her to do sans piercing. We have to find a clear holder ring before the mall closes or she's just screwed.

Later.


*Update* Concert Details:

Yes, the show was amazing. She Wants Revenge, quite possibly even better than on CD and with the way Justin was dancing you really couldn't help but join in. It was infectious.

Kill Hannah, which has had my heart for years, still has it. They played two of their older songs "Nerve Gas" and "Hummingbirds the Size of Bullets". Two songs that I never thought I'd have the pleasure of hearing live and together. Can't wait for the new CD pre order to hit my doorstep.

They also had this great opener I had never heard before called Paper Route. Who I have to agree with Mat from KH, should be "fucking adored". Any band that can pull of suspenders while operating a xylophone and an accordion has my props.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Excuse Me



It's a fact of life. Someone inevitably gets in our way. But what happens when they leave that little speckle of white space, leaving just enough room for us to circumvent them?

You can tell a lot about a person by how they respond to the words "excuse me". I've said it twice today. The first woman pulled the old side step with a quiet "I'm sorry", the second stated "oh, you're okay" while speeding by me, pulling her son behind her, growing arm sockets be damned.

Personally, I belong to the "I'm sorry" group. We are in fact a typically sorry bunch, but it's better than being a member of the always unpleasant "ers" (i.e. grunters, pushers, shovers, movers, etc.). I so desperately wanted to be a member of the "you're fine" group, but alas...

It's a fact of life. Someone inevitably gets in our way. They block our path, they put us on hold, and if you are anything like me you tend to wait it out until they've decided to move along on theirs before regaining yours.

"Excuse me?"

Sometimes you just have to realize that it's yourself you need to get around.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Things I Don't Understand


I am not an angry person. I am not a hateful person. Even at my lowest, self loathing has always been sufficient enough. So blind hatred has always been a hard concept for me. How can I possibly hate someone I don't know based on some abstract concept of irreconcilability that in the scheme of things is really insignificant? I can never understand why we can't just accept that we are individuals, that we come with varying ideals, moralities, philosophies, wrapped in varying colors, features, etc. We're so busy judging the rest of the world that we are unable to see just how precariously we perch ourselves on our higher ground.

How can someone believe they are better than someone else because they're a member of a particular race, a religion, from a certain country, neighborhood, "clique"? How can someone hurt an innocent person, a stranger, a lover, a child? Life is too short to let hate and fear be our dominant emotions, but look around. Our entire culture is saturated with it. I can't wrap my head around it and I start to feel like I'm the only one, like an outsider that is missing something vital in the translation. I think about the future and there's times when the prospect is terrifying to me. All I've ever wanted was to live a life full of love, laughter, happiness with family and friends who care about each other and accept each other, whether they always agree or not. They need not be numerous, just... there. Dreams can seem impossible, love obsolete in a world that's become blind to it. I know that there are good people in this world, people who do their best to be genuine, but they seem so hard to find sometimes, so few and far between.

I don't understand this world and the more thought I give it the more I don't ever want to start, no matter how cold it leaves me, even if it means that from time to time I have to feel this way, forever. Because the minute I find that I can understand it, then it might mean I'm starting to accept it and I never want to find myself doing that.

Friday, September 4, 2009

September


...I remember your thread-thin arms
I remember your hands
And how easily it seemed to me
They could rip me open

Baby I`m fallin` away
Baby I`m fallin` away

Wasted my September
With you stuck up in my head
Raced the days closed
In the hopes that the mornings would swell again...


Don't read anything into those lyrics. I just love them. I popped open my planner and saw September and just as quickly they popped into my head.

It's from a song called Loud by Matt Nathanson. That's my favorite section of the song. It's a duet, but I don't know the name of the woman who sings this part, but I love the image created in those first few lines, all that lovely fragility captured in a single moment. You can read something into that if you like, but mostly it just makes me want to curl up somewhere, stare into space, and take Yoga-like breathes of air for no reason at all.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Happy Birthday, Vaderkins


First off I would like to state that today is not *actually* V's birthday.

It is the anniversary of the day that I brought him home, since I am not sure of his actual birthdate. Besides, I've been working on a theory for years stating that no particular noun actually begins existence until after they have met me so... good enough.

September 1, 2008

Dear Vader,

A year ago today I brought you home. You peed all over my passenger seat. Not much has changed.

I named you Vader because of the design on the back of your neck. It looked just like Yin and Yang and it reminded me of a story that my History teacher Mr. Balk told us about Taoism in relation to Star Wars.

Naming you that was a mistake.

You destroy everything in your path: video games, $100 bills, necklaces, large stuffed animal kangaroos, the alleged goat, just to name a few of your conquests. You are the most whiney, needy, horribly disobedient, destructive animal I have ever met. You make the dog from Marley and Me seem like an angel and you are roughly one third his size.

All the while with those big, greenish brown eyes and that little head tilt and the best puppy cuddles in the world. Which is why I love you anyway, my little alien/chupacabra.

Oh that's right. I'm on to you.

The night I brought you home, you were a tiny , still floppy eared baby chihuahua/"other" mix puppy. Or so I thought. You now weigh roughly twenty pounds, your spine is roughly twice the length it should be, your nose keeps on growing, your legs look like a Corgie's, and your chest is twice as wide as your rear.

You also have bat ears...

November 6, 2008

Even more damaging is that call back to the mother ship with that horrible wookie-esque sound that you make when you're upset with me. No dog ON EARTH makes that sound, but you.

Which made me think. I started trying to decide what your Dad could have possibly been. For a long time I settled on unknown alien specimen who saw a Taco Bell ad from the late 90s and decided to come check out the ladies. Then a couple months back something happened that changed my mind.

You started losing all your hair. All. Of. It.

Do you realize how scary that was for me? I took you to the vet: no mange, no fleas, you were an inside dog, the vet had no clue what could cause that. Luckily a series of random antibiotics and steroids did the trick, but by that time you had lost almost all your hair right up to your neck (which has just now finished growing back).

My newest theory The truth had been revealed to me.

I was harboring... El Chubacabra.

Or his bastard offspring, really. That was the truth of the "other" in the chihuahua and "other". Really, how easy would it be for Mr. Chubacabra to gain access to a chihuahua? Even monstrously, hideous beasts of urban lore get lonely. It's perfect. The answer had been right in front of me, it just took a seriously receding hairline to show me the light.


Dad?

Luckily, I think you take more after your Mom so your more annoying and "yippy" than actually dangerous. You've always been sweet and adorable (even if everyone else tells you your misshapen and weird looking), which is why you're still alive after eating not one, but TWO of my DS cartridges. Besides, you're getting better all the time and I think the ol' apartment just wasn't for you. A backyard will serve your energy and my corresponding stress levels well.

Just don't push it, okay?

Happy Birthday, Vaders.



September 1, 2009

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