For The Love of Music

There is a moment that any fan can recall when they fell in love with a band.  While parts of my record collection I have been given for free – and I mean in a physical way (my iTunes account is made up completely of music that I’ve personally downloaded from CDs and vinyl). But each record that I’ve bought, and some that I’ve been given have a very specific purpose. They remind me of someone, or some particular life event, or resonate with a part of me that I can’t quite explain, but somehow that album can make whatever I’m feeling make sense.

I am not the only person who feels this way, and I think most of my friends would agree – I can say that because most of my friends and I are friends because of a common love for a certain band. It’s kind of a litmus test when I meet people, not because I’m trying to be a dick, but because an interest in music and a love for it is often a quality people that are curious and observant and well, interesting, have.

They get it.

I don’t remember the first time I heard Pulp, but I do remember when I realized that those songs that I had been dancing to were by them. Spinning to the chorus of  “Do You Remember The First Time” – there aren’t words for that.  That probably seems silly to a lot of you, and that’s okay.

Today tickets to see Pulp at The Warfield here in San Francisco went on sale at 10 am. I set three alarms, just in case I slept through the first two (I didn’t) so that I would be up and have my information plugged in as their website allows. This was followed by an invitation to the “waiting room” – a virtual line of some kind before tickets went on sale. I did this on two computers – not because I had an interest in buying 293487 tickets, but because I wanted to make sure I had a decent chance of getting tickets at all, and I called their ticket provider AXS, and stayed on hold for a solid 20 minutes before I was told that they had sold out in five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

I looked around the internet yesterday to see if any tickets were for sale elsewhere, maybe leftover from a presale and there were. They were. I posted on The Warfield’s Facebook page asking when the presale had occurred. They said there wasn’t one, unless there had been one on Pulp’s page without their knowledge. I couldn’t find anything that would lead me to believe there was one of any kind.

I digress. The scalping. The website allowed for you to buy eight tickets at a time.  I know it’s up to the venue, but to allow the sale of such a high quantity plays right into the scalpers grubby little hands. I have been to a lot of concerts, with and without other people, and I’ve never known of anyone to need that many, let alone be able to afford it off that bat, and let their friends pay them back later. Maybe I just have poor friends.

One would think that if you own a venue, you do it because you love music, because you’re a fan. And The Warfield isn’t an arena, it is a dedicated music venue, with a capacity of about 2000. If you’re really a fan of music, and enjoy sharing that experience with others than why would you allow policies that fuck over the fans? With big names, you won’t lose money by restricting the quantity – people will still buy their tickets, though probably not quite as fast.

Which brings me to scalpers. Whether you’re charging ten or a hundred dollars more, you’re still making it that much more difficult for fans, presumably poor bastards like me who spend all our money on rent and going to shows, from seeing a band we love. You can’t love music, or really anything and willfully fuck over other people. 

dancing > crying

Do you ever have days like this? Where those closest to you completely mock you and tell you that you're feelings are unwarranted? The whole having unreciprocated feelings things starts at such an early age.I could go on and on about how gender roles are defined and uncomplimentary from a very early age, but I'll save that for a research paper.

When I was three I was set on marrying the red power ranger or Elvis Presley - and I totally cried when I found out that Elvis was dead. I also cried when I found out that George Washington was dead - I had gone to "his house" shortly before finding this out and my dad did not tell me that we were going to a dead dude's house - MISTAKE! Ms. Malinowski, my kindergarten teacher, had to deal with a very distraught five year old that day.

The video won't let me embed, so watch it on YouTube .

If you're having one of those days, you can just watch this:



Do you feel better? Because I laughed for the entire duration of that video, and I would be content with that man singing the soundtrack to my life.

Now that you feel better, go dancing tonight, and if you're in DC maybe we can dance together.

I should really consider decreasing the frequency at which I listen to Brit-pop.

As far as the opposite sex goes, I am terrible. This year has been one fiasco after another. It seems that I am excellent at finding out that dudes are in relationships, too late. Ugh. Later I think to myself, why didn't I ask? Because I shouldn't have to ask. Because if someone is in a happy relationship they will rub it in your face. They will make it known to everyone. They will wear it on their sleeve, because they will be proud and feel lucky to have found someone that cares enough to share their life with them in the same capacity they are interested in being in that person's life.

And the more I become acquainted with the opposite sex, the more I realize that they are all perpetually seventeen with major mommy issues, but idolize their daddies (despite their fathers' obvious flaws that they themselves have inherited). Or, they are the opposite - Mama's Boys. I deal better with mommy issues than mama's boys as the former is not looking for someone to replace their mother.

Their personality traits aren't the only things they have in common, no, I like guys that have the same name, or better yet the same birthday as previous boys. It started with the Spencers and has just snowballed since I was fifteen. Davids, Billys, Pauls, - though I have found that all my friends named Mark (none of whom I have been involved with romantically) are much better people than the others. I currently have three very good male friends named Mark. Perhaps I should date a Mark.

Anyway, my older women friends have given me no hope.

I once told my aunt that I would almost prefer a Sunday-dinner-daddy to a husband, and she told me I was on to something. I was joking, sort of. The Sunday-dinner-daddy is a dude whom I would be good friends with, who would be down with having a kid with me, but never getting married. The kid(s) would live in an apartment and we would each live in our own apartments and do a week on and a week off and have Sunday dinners together. It's not like people don't do this already, I mean, half of married couples end up getting divorce anyway, and why not save some grief and allow the children to think that this completely fucked up situation is normal? I mean, there would be no fighting, no parent worrying about the other's infidelity - you have to admit, as cynical as it may seem this idea has potential!

Especially after hearing about a dude's harem fantasy - a house with oh, maybe, three women all of whom are faithful only to him. I had to inform him that that's called polygamy, and if you're into the Fundamentalist Mormon church or Muslim, you are welcome to practice it. I then shared how ideal that would be for anyone, but let's be realistic, humans just don't function that way.

I used to be an absolutist regarding fidelity. I used to feel that if someone was cheating that the relationship should be over - the end. And then I grew up and realized that there is so much more to a relationship, and that if someone were to cheat on me, after punching them in the face, I would want to know why. And what's worse, is that I probably wouldn't care so much about the cheating as I would the lying. I would just want them to communicate in a healthy way with me. Unfortunately, I think that whole idea of communication is dying. No one wants to talk anymore, no one cares to make plans more than an hour in advance that could possibly lead to speaking in person - not skype, not texting, not emailing.

I'm a terrible romantic attempting to be a pragmatist. And I like writing letters and postcards, and if I must the longest emails you will ever read.

I need to move to Stokholm, and soon.

Running Through Walls

I know that I posted the 'Walls' video two posts ago, but I'm posting it again. This time with an explanation.

Among my all time favorite bands, and mind you my musical taste is always growing is the band Shout Out Louds. I love them. All of them. All of their albums. All of their songs.

I saw them for the first time this past Sunday, it was a long time coming. I reviewed the show for The Vinyl District (it will be up tomorrow) and I interviewed Adam Olenius and Bebban Stenborg for RVA Magazine (that's coming later as well). They are more charming than I had anticipated. And Adam is much taller than those videos give him credit for.

Anyway, 'Walls.' 'Walls' is one of those songs that I just cannot stop listening to.



Walls lyrics:

You know it, there's a a wall and you just run through it.
You had too much to drink, and all those telephone bills...but it's worth it.
Victoria, I just knew I'd end up in Victoria.
I took too many pills, and wrote my will just to get to you.

I need a pencil, a piece of paper, a lock and a cage.
It feels so much better now, getting rid of my rage.
I'm suspicious. I'm suspicious and can't keep my mind straight.
I see them when I sleep, nowadays, so sleep now and go.

It's so new now, being the one building all the roads.
Can't wait to crack all of your codes.
Learn how to ally, allies who know how to love.
And show you how it looks up there, it looks like a bug, so go.

Whatever they say, we're the ones building walls.
Whatever they say, we're the ones who never say no.
To get to know yourself, you gotta run away.
Never trust anyone, so run away, run, run, run.

- Adam Olenius


This is exactly where I am in my life right now. But don't misinterpret the last stanza, I don't think it's really about running away from things as much as it's about finding out what those things are and changing them.

I know I need to write more. I know that I need to read more, travel more, be more. I know that I have a lot of things about myself that are going to change on their own and other parts that I will have to be more proactive in changing.

I really need to become better at editing my own work. Luckily, I have a friend who has volunteered to do that for me. And if he has anything to say about my life (and he does), I should be done writing a best-seller sometime next year. So, between semesters, I will be writing, a lot. And he will be telling me that it's all complete shit and to change this and to "lift" that.

I go to shows to dance

I went to a concert last night. Not Phoenix, but Frightened Rabbit in DC because someone was kind enough to put me on the list. So, I get there during Maps and Atlases. And there are these three fat girls between me and the stage.

I was told that after I had lived in Richmond that I would become racist, that hasn't happened. I still think that people's economic situations are more relevant to their behavior than their race is. My only prejudice is against fat people. This is not to be confused with overweight people.

Overweight people are your friends, they don't suck at life, they dance at shows and they dress well. Fat people, are the opposite. I mean, would you call anyone that you like fat? No, because it's a mean thing to say. And I know I'm being mean right now.

Anyway, I am the biggest Frightened Rabbit fan I know, that is not borderline stalker (Eric, I'm looking at you). I saw them for the first time backstage at the Black Cat two years ago and fell in love. And I for some reason have not bought a ticket to see them ever, that first show I was reviewing (because Oxford Collapse was also playing) and then when they played Inauguration weekend I, like the show last night, wasn't anticipating a sell out, and talked my way in. Anyway, they were incredible last night, and the fat girls in front of me kept complaining about my dancing and screaming.

Dude. Really. We're at a fucking show. Manners don't exist and if I haphazardly run into you, I'm not sorry, because we're at a show and you should be moving too. These three chicks occasionally moved their heads, but mostly made me hate them more each time one of them took a turn to go get drinks and another would give me a look and say "my friend is coming back" or "my friend is back." It's a general admission show! People move. Get over it.

Also, to my left was a couple that was obviously in high school. They didn't move either. And they only knew songs off The Winter of Mixed Drinks. And the girl kept looking at me like I was insane. I went to shows in high school and I danced my fucking brains out. I was that annoying girl in high school now I'm just that annoying dancing girl who's still not 21, when is she turning 21?

I also drank a redbull as soon as I got there, and I'm not someone who consumes caffeine very often. A redbull does to me what a couple lines would do to someone else. So, I was super "jumpy" as Eric said.

I didn't even push to the middle, I was already so close that I didn't need to push any further forward, but my friend is not as aggressive as I am at shows. I can only imagine what the fatties would have passive aggressively said not-so-under-their-breaths if I had done that.

I have been to shows where short people have said to me and whomever I was with that we were too tall to be in front of them. I would really liked to have said something along the lines of, "you are taking up too much horizontal space..." but somehow that's not yet socially acceptable. I could go on about fat people in other areas of life, but I'll save it for another post.

blubbering

I went to a show a last night and knew(ish) the drummer of one of the bands playing. We chatted for awhile before he asked me if I had seen the movie 'And Education' - random. Of Course I had. He went on to specify where and when I saw the movie. Apparently he was working the projector for that particular showing. And he saw me, bawling my eyes out and waiting for the rest of theater to empty. I was aware of someone looking at me at the time, but wouldn't dare look at that person while my face was decorated in hives and wet with tears. Embarrassing.

We didn't discuss why I cried. Thankgod.

I had dinner with some friends that night, and came down with an awful migraine. I spent about half of dinner in the bathroom where the window was open and the cool air was the only thing helping. After dinner I gave on of my friends a ride and started crying in the car, and then made my way to the movie where, with napkins in hand, I cried some more. This isn't anything particularly special, but I am the ugliest crier in the world. It's a family trait. All the women in my family become covered in hideous red spots and get all snotty. What's worse is that I can drop at the drop of a hat, though not on purpose, it's just that everything makes me cry. And this combined with the migraine and then I mild, but long panic attack - it wasn't good.

I called my mommy. And she and I drove for a few hours with her asking to drive every five minutes or explaining that maybe I should just stay the night. I always drive when I feel shitty, there's just something about it that's calming and unlike anything else. I've gotten to know 64 quite well since moving to Richmond as a result. This particular night though, my mom, she never quite knows what to do in situations like this. It took awhile to explain to her what my panic attacks are, she doesn't recognize them and instead thinks that I'm just being unreasonable. But that night, she got it. And I calmed down and dropped her off and continued driving back to Richmond.

So, this dude, whom I barely know, saw me in the middle of this ordeal. And brought it up four months later. Strange.

Going for Gold

If there were a gold medal for being an emotional champ, I would surely have won it long ago.





We are one, we are
Two people inside one body
Our own disgrace
Emotional champ so sorry

No sleep tonight
Only sweet reminders
Say keep tonight
Cause it's all I wanna
Do

We are one we are
Shaping signs from nothing
We are done we are
Forgetting this means everything

No sleep tonight
Only sweet reminders
Say keep tonight cause it's all I wanna
Do

All I wanna do
Emotional champ so sorry
All I wanna do
Emotional champ so sorry

-Emotional Champ, New Buffalo

I am out of tissues. And my red hoodie's sleeves are in bad shape.

headless chicken

This past September my friend and I had the brilliant idea to go to South by Southwest, the HUGE music festival in Austin, Texas for my Spring Break/he-has-a-real-job-so-he's-taking-a-week-off. We kept talking about it and I kept waiting for my finances to be in order, and finally we bought out plane tickets and booked a hotel.


My friend, this dude, is 25. He prides himself on his ability to dress exactly like Jarvis Cocker of Pulp fame, except no one really knows or cares who Jarvis Cocker is in the United States, with the exception of like twenty people who frequent all twenty Brit-pop dance nights in DC. (Note that each of these people have their own night somewhere in the U-street cooridor.) We bonded over our mutual love of Frightened Rabbit in one of those "have you heard blank? no, have you heard blank. no, have you heard... conversations. For those that haven't listened to them, they write the absolute saddest, most pathetic, yet catch love songs that all come together to form two perfect I-just-went-though-a-horrible-break-up albums. He and I have spent way too much time listening to Poke:

The Dog Days are Over

I chatted with my sister for a bit tonight. She's sick and I'm going throught the exact same thing that I went through last week but with a different person. I may like the lime light, but I don't like for small to blow up in my face the amount that they do - i.e. ALL THE TIME!

I will do everything possible to maintain the relationships that I have, if I feel that the other person is willing to put in the same effort.

And then I actually listened to the words, then read them, of Florence and the Machine's (who's song I linked earlier this week) song Dog Days (are over).

Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your loving, your loving behind
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

And i never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh
Happiness hit her like a bullet in the head
Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your loving, your loving behind
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

I know that love doesn't solve anything. It doesn't mean shit unless they're compromise and understanding. So, maybe I should just drop it. I do want to survive.

I was once told that I was the girl that walked around with two giant bags of melancholy and this I fail to check them at the door. I hate that description, but I suppose that at times it's true. So, I've decided tonight that the dog days are over. And if I'm going to survive, and be happy - something I haven't been since I've been in Richmond - I may have to leave all that loving behind. I'm sure I can consider my happiness first, I can totally stop worrying about other people not talking about what's bothering them: hell, I may even be able to give up wanting to fix all of my relationships because it has become apparent that if the other person isn't in it, then maybe it's just not worth it. Though those that do have put forth the effort know that that part of me will never change.

So, for those of you who think that I'm going to change, that is only partially true.

This is a journal entry from two days before my sixteenth birthday.

Dear Amanda,
Even though life is sucking right now, things will get better. Just remember to aim high for yourself. Parents and teachers don't count ad it is impossible to make and keep everyone happy. Just keep yourself happy. Bue we know that's easier said than done. With everyone bringing you down it's really hard. You really need to develop more self-discipline to things done, especially in school If you figure out what's most important, obligation wise, then everything else will fall into place. It's okay to feel sad and be depressed. We all have those phases, and it's okay, everything is going to be okay.
-ap

And because I went through all of my journals and found this poem that I wrote when I was fourteen. It's not very good, but it kept coming to mind:

Risks, confusion
Lust, confusion
Friends, confusion
More confusion

Rolling, laughing
in and out
over, under
tumbles
up and down
smiles, secrets
back and forth

in between, this thing
it's catching breath
the surface
are you in or out?
for tumbles and falls
laughs, withdrawal
in it for us?
if not, get out.

(I know that the grammar is awful, but I was fourteen...)

OH! MY! GOD!

On Monday, I woke up after crashing at a friend's place (I'm really starting to resent needing to crash with people, seriously, I need an apartment - but I will post about that later), had some toast and left, but not without stopping to get hot chocolate.

My car does not have any cup holders. And traffic was awful leaving the city. The car in front of me at one point stopped abruptly. My beloved hot chocolate was between my legs, luckily the lid stayed firmly on, but some spilled onto the floor of my car anyway.

I was late leaving because of traffic, and I knew I was going to be late, or miss my ten a.m. class and I was starting to get tense. When the car stopped, I stopped in turn, the cup fell, and as I picked it up I screamed. At the top of my lungs out of frustration. When I looked up there was a handful of Govvies starring at me.

This is pretty much this week in a nutshell and today I almost completely cracked as I was leaving work, so I've taken tomorrow off. Thank God!

And because I've taken tomorrow off I've spent the last five hours writing and listening to Ida Maria and Florence and the Machine. Today (morning?) I want to be a singer. Or something. Because if I don't hurry up, I may very well end up becoming one of those kids who gets stuck in Richmond forever and wastes away at house shows. But, thankfully, I am at least motivated to get out of here. I need to stop talking so much, and maybe stop giving myself so much free time, if for no other reason so that I can do something with the potential I criticize other people for not using. This is my attempt at correcting some of my hypocrisy, and while I do it I'll wallow and listen to soul.


(You've all heard Ida Maria's, Oh My God on all those Gossip Girl commercials, and at Mousetrap last Saturday, but it's so perfect.)Find a cure find a cure for my life Put a price put a price on my soul Oh my god oh you think I´m in control Oh my god oh you think it´s all for fun Find a cure find a cure for her life Put a price put a price on her soul Oh my god oh you think I´m in control Oh my god oh you think it´s all for fun Find a cure find a cure for my life Put a price put a price on my soul Build a wall Build a fortress around my heart Oh my god oh you think I´m in control Oh my god oh you think it´s all for fun Is this fun for you?

Being taken over by the fear

Lily Allen doesn't have the best reputation in the music industry. She's a bit "edgy" if you will. I didn't like her first album and didn't understand the fuss. I get annoyed when I see her featured in the tabloids, and I couldn't care less about her upbringing (she poses as a rags to riches story when she's had riches all along...). BUT! Then she came out with the single The Fear and I can't stop listening to it. And now she's put up her entire sophomore album on her myspace page, and I'll tell you what it is the cure to her first album. It's arrogant, snarky, sweet and all wrapped in heaps of bubblegum. Even the song Fuck You (you being George Bush in this instance) sounds sweet. She has found a balance of contrast between her lyrics and accompaniment. I'm not going to say that she doesn't get on my nerves anymore, because she does, but I wouldn't be surprised if this album hit number one it's first week out, at least in the UK, it's that good.

For those of you that aren't going to hop to it and give it a listen, I'll give you the abridged version.
1. Everyone's at it - she questions why our generation is so quick to turn to medication and drugs over constructive vices.
2. The Fear - her i'm-not-sure-if-i-love-or-hate-fame song; the lines "I don't know what's right and what's real, anymore" and "life's more about film stars and less about mothers" lead any listener to question if she's sure about where her life is headed. Love it.
3. Not fair - simply about a nice boy who can't give her an orgasm. Sucks for her, possibly more for him, but hilarious nonetheless.
4. 22 - she pities a woman who's "nearly thirty" and who's "life is nearly over" all because society says so. I'm going to have to agree, I don't think anyone's life really starts until they are 22, and unfortunately being a woman, society does seem to say that we're not worth much after thirty, it's a shame really because I know some really cool ladies that are 30+. I don't agree with the sentiment, but the statement.
5. I could say - breakup song about moving on. meh.
6. Back to the Start - funny that this comes right after the breakup song. This is probably the most danceable on the album - more electronic/synth that isn't missed on other tracks but fits this one perfectly.
7.Never Gonna Happen - incorporates some russian folk sounds on the intro; this track is what everyone means when they say that someone is being "fake" - she sounds so sweet, but take a closer listen and she's verbally slapping him in the face.
8. Fuck You - George Bush. Hilarious.
9. Who'd have known - beginning of a relationship song, I kind of hate it because it suits my life perfectly right now.
10. Chinese - the part where suddenly all you and your hunny want to do is watch tv and eat chinese food, being domestic isn't all bad.
11.Him - about God and his role on Earth, and like every person ever she's not sure if she believes.
12. He wasn't there - I don't know if this is about an ex or daddy issues. I'm thinking the later, but I coudl be wrong.

Now, go listen to it!

Track 03

I have been listening to an unknown song on my ipod this week on repeat. I have no idea how it got to be on my ipod; no idea who's or what mix it was on, but i've been listening to this song merely titled Track 03 for days. Today I googled one of the lines that I could remember and found it listed under two artists that I already like, The Knife and Jose Gonzalez. I had an inkling that it was Gonzalez, but like the anonmnity of Track 03. The version I have is Gonzalez covering The Knife's 'Heartbeats', he mumbles, so I also wanted to know what he was saying:

Heartbeats
One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away

Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

If you haven't seen the Gonzalez video before, they got that whole video on one try. Awesome, and very American Beauty beautiful.

Dance Dance Dance

On Friday I had made plans to meet some friends in The City (DC, never Richmond) for lunch. Well that didn't happen. Instead I got stuck in Richmond for and extra hour because my dad sent tickets to my sister's priority mail - meaning because they weren't there when the "package" came and my sister and her husband both work, and I got out of class at eleven, I had to go pick up the "package."

I'm calling it a "package" because really it was a series of envelopes. Five to be exact. Five freaking envelopes for three measly tickets to Celtic Thunder, a show that my dad has supposedly picked out for my birthday.

My dad is incapable of making things convenient. He had sealed the ticketmaster envelope, put it inside a white letter envelope and put tape over all the seals, put that inside an orange padded (???) envelope and again put tape over all the seals and edges and corners but this time it was that horrible tape with the strings in it that makes anything impossible to open, then all of that into a cardboard envelope, and then into a large bag-like envelope. It took me about ten minutes to get through it all with the help of my keys. Then I had to drop two of them off at my sister's house.

I could go on about all the different ways my dad could have distributed the tickets to us in a more convenient way (a single envelope, for example, willcall...).

Then I texted my friends and told them I would be late, at which point they had to cancel because they were using their lunch breaks and had to be back at work. So I was pissed. And I got lost. Somehow, upon leaving April's house I got onto 295 South instead of North. So I took an hour long detour around Richmond. And on my way back through RIchmond a huge rock hit my windshield. It came from a bulldozer that was on a flatbed in the next lane about three cars in front of me.

This was not what I had planned for an enjoyable weekend.

I finally made it to DC around four. Ridiculous. And since everyone was at work, I went shopping. At Coup de Foudre, a lingerie shop across from E Street Cinema. I've known about this place for awhile and thought about going there before, but hadn't, mostly because it is very expensive. But, since I was feeling somewhat irrational, I figured why not. A good bra is an investment, right?

I spent approximately three hundred dollars in an hour. I bought two sets. And got refitted. And for someone who has sworn by Victoria's Secret since the seventh grade, I have changed my mind completely. Apparently lace can be supportive. AND! And they had pretty bras in my size (enormous). After wearing one for the past two days, I can tell you that it's already made a huge difference. They just feel better and if you're currently wearing a shitty, stretched out elastic band of a bra, reconsider.

Afterwards I decided that I needed something cute to wear to Sorted that night after Celtic Thunder, so I went to H&M. And surprisingly didn't find nearly as many things as I usually do. I only tried on three things. I ended up buying shiney, blue, shirt-dress. I'll admit, it came up kind of high on the sides, and I probably should have worn it with leggings (real leggings) or my black skinny pants, but instead I wore it with black hose and heels. I'm not really sure if I was wearing hose as pants, or a shirt as a dress, probably both, but whatever, I looked fabulous.

At this point I had not had anthing solid to eat all day, so I grabbed a smoothie from Maggie Moo's and headed to Baltimore. I got there at about a quarter to eight. I was feeling very irritable from having driven for about five hours that day and not having eaten anything. And I snapped ay my parents, mostly my dad for picking the most horrible birthday present earlier. I mean my parents have always been bad at birthdays. And every year, if I wanted anything to happen I had to plan it, except last year, when my mom decided to have a failed surprise party that turned into a roast. Anyway, no one has ever thrown me a birthday party and I resent that because I'm pretty good about birthdays. Anyone that knows me knows what a huge fucking deal they are.

I've digressed. When I told my dad all this, he said that it wasn't even for my birthday, which would mean that my parents didn't do shit for my big day. I didn't even get a fucking card. Or a cake, or candles. And aside from the movies that my roommate got me and the most beautiful roses you've ever seen from another friend, I didn't get any presents. My mom tried to say that the car was my present, but I reminded her that I would have gotten that anyway. My dad agreed and asked what I wanted. I had told them that I wanted accupuncture over a month ago, several times and each time I brought it up my mom said that our insurance wouldn't cover it. DUH! That's why it's a gift.

So after crying and being a total brat, April and Steven arrived and we took in the audience, a sea of sixty-five to seventy year olds, and waited for the show to start.

Celtic Thunder is like Disney on Ice for the elderly, but without the ice. The stage was set up to look like a rocky shore in a storm. The preformers were five men, and all the songs were chauvenist and trite. "...life is an ocean, love is a boat...I'm the captain, you're my first mate...we have our own crew..." Really, those were lyrics in one of the songs.

One of the guys was like fourteen and sang a song about pupply love, during which he waved around a shirt. Some girl, who was probably like twelve ran up to try and catch it when he threw it and completely missed. So sad, she's lucky no one knows who she is.

April, Steven and I spent the entire show laughing. It was so ridiculous. My mom kept nudging us to be quiet because we were "making a scene." I almost feel bad for possibly ruining the show for the people around us, but it was just so bad, so I don't. There wasn't anything "celtic" about it except for the fact that the guys were Irish and they sang Danny Boy, but that was it.

I left for DC as soon as soon as it was over. And after parking I changed into the aforementioned dress and hose in my car and was ready to dancedancedance. And I did, for at least three hours.

For those that aren't aware of my awful stage fright, dancing on the stage at a backstage dance night at The Cat is about as close to preforming as I will ever get. And I don't grind, I simply dance the way I would in my room, and since most of the people there don't know me and those that do, think I'm adorable (because I am), I am somehow able to completely let go. And that for me is very difficult. So I danced and danced. And at one point was offered a double shot of bourbon which I had to decline because you know, I was at the Cat and I'm underage (but bourbon is so good). Later when I was in towards the back of the stage, some girl grabbed my hand pulled me to the front of the stage. I had seen her grinding with another girl earlier and told her I didn't do that, she laughed and told me to "give them what they want." At this point I was very confused. She made me look out at the room. People were watching me. I mean, people that I didn't know. And for probably the first time in my life, I didn't care.

So I danced and danced and danced. And David wanted to dance with me. He was a very awkward twenty-eight year old who had no rythm. I danced with him, I danced with a lot of people. But Idanced with him for three songs. He was drunk and told me that I beautiful and that he wanted to kiss me. I explained to him that that would be inappropriate and that we could just dance. By the third song I was sick of him and told him that that was the last dance. He didn't like that and tried to continue dancing with me, so I pushed him away and explained that this was my song* and I didn't want to dance with anyone else.

Eventually it was over. I got asked for drugs, also a first. Apparently is was difficult for people to believe that I was sober.

What a crazy day.


* I am a much better dancer than that girl in the video, and I wish there was a better video for that song. This and this are both equally dancable and all are sad.

on the radio

VCU's radio station is WVCW. It's only online, and at first I was kind of bummed about this, but today I am so glad. With it being online there are fewer people listening, or so I'm guessing. Today is my first day formatting. Basically I'm just sitting in the studio by myself for the first time.

I've only talked once, and I'm pretty sure that I sounded ridiculous. "I hope you enjoy it" - ??? I said that. In reference to a Minus the Bear song.

This is going to take time. I have to do a few more of these and write a proposal before I can have my own show. And since I don't have my own show, I don't really have a whole lot of choice when it comes to what I get to play. It's a computer with iTunes, on shuffle. It's very similar to my dad's iPod being on shuffle in that it may currently be playing Johhny Cash, and will abruptly change to The Irish Tenors, except the radio station has a better selection. I may not like all of it, but most of it is pretty good.

Other perks include free music. Well not to keep, at least not initially. We get CD's from labels and then someone here reviews them and then based on the reviews the "music director" decides what gets added to the infinite iTunes list. After that happens he'll clean out the closet and we'll be allowed to have certain albums. I went through last week and got all the good ones. Tom said that I "should share," but I have no intentions of doing that.

I've only spoken with one other girl on the staff, she's into metal, I also spoke to a girl that was being trained and we had similar tastes, but I don't know if she's stuck it out. But all these boys don't really know what to do with me. Some are attempting to put me in my place. Isn't that cute?

Oh this is going to be fun.

So much for Harmony

I have done absolutely nothing productive today. I did however cut Garrett's hair, which looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. I ate some fruit snacks and watched Gossip Girl, after spending way too much time looking for the third episode and then waiting for it to load. And now I'm listening to Mates of State and watching an argument unfold via BYT. I did not mean for that to go where it has. Yikes!


Anyway, Mates of State are probably one of the least talked about indie bands right now, despite having just released a sixth album. I'm pretty sure it's their sixth anyway. They are a married couple that has a couple of kids and live in Connecticut. She, previously a teacher, and he, previously a cancer researcher. Overall, they're adorable. She plays the organ/keys while he bangs on the drums, and they harmonize perfectly. Can you imagine what a wonderful world we would live in if we all could harmonize like that with our loved ones? Arguments would sound so much nicer.

If you have an Imeem account listen to them here. Or you can always check them out on MySpace and YouTube.

We Are Scientists

The interview, my first - ever, I did with them is up at Brightest Young Things.

You should go read it. It's pretty awesome. As all (five) of you expect of me anyways.

if you haven't heard...

I just wrote a review for Brightest Young Things (BYT) and will be reviewing the Tapes n Tapes show this week for them also. I'm pretty excited.

I also can't help but compare this to Almost Famous, I mean I'm not on tour or anything, but still, I can't help but make the comparison. Is that pathetic? Probably. Wishful thinking? Definitely.

Spin had a flash of GOP in their May issue, and a page featuring The Long Blondes - whom I may be reviewing in May. I think it's a good sign, considering Spin is one of my favorite magazines.

Can you tell I'm excited? Just a little bit.


http://www.brightestyoungthings.com/live-dc/live-dc-grand-ole-party-rogue-wave-930-club/

appropriate songs for commercials...

...should be heard on the radio, not OK Go, but after their MTV stunt, and songs on JCPenny's commercials, well they've sold out and that's sad.

And just now i heard Ingrid Michaelson's song "Take me the way I am" was on a Ross commercial. I find this very upsetting. I had such high hopes for her.

I'm a music snob, I am sorry. I really am, but selling out for clearance clothing! That, that is ridiculous.

Despite her outedness, i still hold the opinion that she is a great musician/vocalist and you should check her out.

forty days

Amanda is going to be eighteen in forty days and there is nothing her parents can do about it. absolutely nothing.

this means that she will be crashing at your house when she doesn't have a car to get into DC. just a heads up for everyone who lives closer to the metro than she does.

this also means she will be seeing all of the following:
the thermals or maria taylor on her birthday (november third guys)
bright eyes
georgie james
ted leo and the pharmacists
and others that she can't think of right now, but there are more, a lot more.