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. 

Just a reminder: I am probably younger than you.

I'm not sure how exactly this came up, but it did.

Me: I had a Tickle-Me-Elmo.
Him: You did?
Me: Yeah, the original. The one that you could only get from PBS.
Him: Oh wait, you had one because you were a little kid.
Me: Yeah, I was like seven or something.
Him: And I was in high school.

I have conversations like this most days of my life.

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.

Etiquette does not exist on the interwebs

I am addicted to the Internet. I can admit it and I have accepted it. And I am not inclined to do anything about it. But then there's Facebook. If I have the internet open, I will have Facebook open, too. It's awful. This being said, I am not the type of person who spends my time looking up people that I used to know. Occasionally, I'll see that they commented on a mutual friend's page, and I may click on their profile, but I do not add them as a friend.

Why? Because while I was momentarily interested in their current life, I don't care to have them know anything about mine. At least not at Facebook frequency.

I used to think it was petty to not accept friend requests, hell, I still do, IF you have physically been around that person recently and or see them often. In these instances you have the awkward encounter later where you know that they know that you did not "accept" their virtual friendship.

In fact there was one chick whom I used to see often, we would chat, always seemed to get along alright, had friends and acquaintances in common. Then she popped up on my homepage, you know, in the corner where it says "Hey, you might know this person because you have 29837298 friends in common." You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. Anyway, I added her, and she did not accept.

Well, then I continued seeing her regularly, except now we didn't talk. And later, while we were leaving an afterparty, a mutual friend asked if we had met. I said "yes." She said "no." Awkward. Thankfully she moved and I haven't had to deal with the awkwardness since.

Facebook also has a way of making you feel like you know people that you don't. Their pictures pop up in your mini-feed where they've commented on your friends' statuses. When you're out you may see them, and you may know your name - and if you're me you feel the urge to say "Hi, Erica!" But you can't because they don't know you, and you have to remind yourself that you don't know them. It's just like high school when I'd hear someone call after someone in the hall, look to see who it was, and immediately know that name with that face and forever feel uncomfortable for walking past Jason or Mike or whoever because I knew who they were, but knew that I had no reason to.

Well there are people who I have rejected via Facebook because, as previously stated, I don't feel like they have any business knowing about my life, or my hobbies, or my favorite books or who my friends are. And I have no interest in theirs. And I know that I am not going to run into them - like the majority of the people from high school, especially the ones that stayed in Woodbridge. Or people from Church that I spent great amounts of time avoiding or faking a smile and mercilessly making fun of later with Christina. If not making fun of, then wondering why they didn't make more effort to improve upon their life. We only make fun of self-righteous, self-assured, obnoxious people - or people like us, but um...with bad hair and granny-panties.

Currently I have one person who lives far, far away hanging out with another person from high school. I'm just leaving them there. If I ignore them or delete them they will just add me again, and if I block them...I should just start blocking people. Though, doesn't it seem a bit harsh? Whatever.

I need to write a book on modern etiquette.

Rubadubdub, it's too cold for the tub

Until about three months ago, bathing was among my favorite activities. It was something that I looked forward to, would set time aside for - as to have the optimal bathing experience, a bath - and nothing beats being clean and looking good. It's a luxury to take a hot bath or shower without any interruptions, like people needing to use the bathroom, brush their teeth, etc. Thankfully, my roommate is rarely home, or more appropriately, thanks to her boyfriend.

Bathing has been something that I have always liked to do, except for the times when I didn't want to in rebellion to my father. My entire lifetime, I have enjoyed staying in the shower until I was a prune and then sometime after that. My parents hated this. They complained that I used all the hot water, that I needed to do homework, that I had to practice the piano, that I was going to be late for church. And yet, I'd still bide my time making soap sculptures with the remnants of bars that should have been thrown away long ago. This was my way of being creative, at the time, and they did not appreciate it.

For Christmas one year my sister bought me a canister of "moldable" soap from the "Art" line at Bath and Body Works. It was purple, made my hands purple, and did not hold it's shape the way regular soap did. I used it and smelled like grapes for a couple of weeks before it was gone.

I have not made soap sculptures since elementary school, and now I mostly use a form of liquid soap, but bathtime, when it can be fully experienced, is still among my most valued time.

Except for these last three months.

It's cold in Richmond. Like, it's fucking cold. All the time. Despite our $130 gas bill. Thanks to our drafty doors and windows. Our building is registered with the Historic Society, meaning even if our leasing company wanted to, they aren't allowed to replace the single-pane, drafty, broken windows. And what's better, the pipes take awhile to warm up, so the first five minutes of "hot water" is actually frigid. Thus, my bathing has suffered, and I've relied on visits northward to friends and family that have hot water, for longer than seven minutes at a time.

This isn't to say that I'm dirty, I'm not, I take care of my hygienic needs. I just currently don't enjoy it.

Reading pt. 1

I like planning enough time to be able to write. It bothers me when I’m interrupted, and so I have not had sufficient time to write so far this year. That’s probably a lie. I have lots of free time, but it’s usually spent in a daze on my uncomfortable loveseat watching Family Guy re-runs or sleeping. Or making lists of things I need to do, but will never get done because Family Guy is just so good.

(Scott Russell, you probably don’t read my blog, but if you do, I’m sorry I used to roll my eyes at your Stewy impressions, I didn’t get it then. I do now. )

A goal that I have set for myself this year is to read 26 books. That’s one book every two weeks. This may surprise you (or not) but I am not a good reader. I mean, I’m capable, and I enjoy it, but I do not have the patience for it. So I suppose another goal I have set for myself is to become more patient. I would also like to write more and get out of my horrible writing habits, but I don’t think I’ve read enough to write well, or at least not at the level that I would like to be able to write at.

I have read two books this year, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris and The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. The first because it’s easy reading, I needed something to get me back in the swing and that book had been in the trunk of my car for at least a year, it was time. I started reading The Lovely Bones years ago when I originally bought it, but I never finished it and so it’s been sitting on my shelf all that time and now with the movie, that despite bad ratings I want to see, I decided to read. It was written really well and I enjoyed it until the end. The end was not what I wanted in the least. If you have read it, I’d be interested to see what your take is.

Now I am reading Feast of Love by Charles Baxter. My friend Trevor and I saw the movie our senior year of high school and by the end of it I was in full panic-attack mode (there was one scene in particular that set me off that I don’t feel like relaying now). This was the first time he had seen me cry and unfortunately for him I drove, and I wasn’t ready to go home, so we drove from Springfield to Doswell and turned around in the Kings Dominion parking lot. I recall calling my sister April to see if we could stay at her house that night and she was adamant about me driving home as she knew our parents would be upset. We did, and by the time we got back I had calmed down and was really uncomfortable.

Trevor gave me the book for Christmas that year and wrote a note on a piece of brown paper bag and taped to the inside cover: “ Amanda, Happy Christmas! This has been a strange year, for sure (and you added to the strangeness) but it would have been very lonely without you. Thanks for being a laugh when I needed one, and an asshole when I don’t. Cheers! Love, T”

I also found my interim report card from that grading period and am using it as a bookmark. My mark for work habits in Literature was a U, for unsatisfactory – from a teacher whom I got on very well. My life has not moved very far from this in the years since.

Starting The Feast of Love was slow, but I have gotten into and may very well finish within the week. This is something small, but something nearer than all the plans I keep making for the future that is so uncertain. Something small that keeps me somewhat grounded, even if I’m using it as a measure of time, too. So many books that I have bought and started and never finished, I will finish them this year.

Abridged Version

This is my atempt to fill you in, without losing my breath.

1. I moved into my apartment.
2. We have bugs.
3. We do not have the internet or cable, and will probably not be getting the later.
4. I have been using the internet at work at every opportunity, because I am an addict.
5. I kind of like Richmond.
6. The day I finally got my bike back (it had been locked up outside my dorm forever) I got a flat tire. Story of my life.
7. I have still been going to DC at every oppurtunity.
8. I had planned on having a relatively boy-less summer, spend time reading/writing, but I do not feel that that is realistic any longer. It's the summer, let the flings abound!
9. My mom ended up paying the rest of my tuition. FAFSA did go through, but not in time for VCU to accept it. So, now I have to pay my mom back. Yikes!
10. I'm only signed up for two classes for next semester and am working on getting into a couple others that are listed as full.
11. I taught my roommate how to clean.
12. She was not happy about it, but has since learned to appreciate it.
13. Going to the grocery store has become one of my favorite activities. I go just about every other day.
14. My vinyl collection is increasing/improving slowly, but surely.
15. I bought the Ben Folds "Landed" single, with "Bitches Ain't Shit" on the b-side, and scratched the b-side. FML.
16. I have been reading and listening to jazz with my breakfast most mornings. Ahhhhhh...
17. I'm currently reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and all of you are Basil Holland to my Dorian Gray. Though some may attempt to be Henry, you aren't, you are Basil.
18. The Washington Post called me yesterday and wanted to know if I was still interested in the summer internship for the Going Out Guide. I have an interview on Tuesday. And I feel like dancing more than usual.
19. I spend about half an hour after breakfast every day dancing and hula-hooping.
20. The guy with the Vespa that lives behind me is cute. The girls across the hall are loud and the lady with the baby always looks like she is going to cry.

*I HAVE AN INTERVIEW. ON TUESDAY. TO INTERN AT THE WASHINGTON POST. I don't know if you recall, but I applied for a bunch early this year and didn't hear back. So this is a very welcome surprise. I do not think there are words or actions that can express my excitement. And when they asked me if I spent time in DC and if I liked DC, etc. etc. I was like OH! MY! GOD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA! and then proceeded to explain my habit of going as often as possible as soon as I could drive. Anyway, even if I don't get it, being considered is awesome, and I still have time.

But, I am not very good at being grounded, and I have to get it. I'm Amanda. I'm awesome. How could I not get it?

10

I'm an exceptionally vain person, I know, and sometimes I kind of feel bad about it, but then I look at the people around me and don't feel so bad for inheriting way better genes than them. I am consistantly irritated by the fact that the dudes that I am or have been interested in go for chicks that are not prettier than me. Sure, sure, I'm shallow, whatever, I get there is more to a person than how they look, but I'm a ten and these dudes keep going for butterfaces and fives. But can't they find chicks that are good looking and interesting, smart, witty, etc.? I'm sure it's possible.

And then there are the girls that think that they're a ten and are fours. Those ones are the worst. Oh, and they wear really cheap polyester dresses from Charlotte Russe, god, it's really awful. Will someone please explain this to me? I'm not talking about you're average skank who's some one time thing, I'm talking dating, like relationships, with saggy boobs and bad dye-jobs.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be or sound like such a bitch, but this is part of that stupid "hating boys" thing I'm suffering through right now. I need to settle down in my apartment and then maybe socialize and find a nice twenty-something with a job, and because I live in Richmond, now, I don't care all that much what that job is so long as he has one. I suppose I can't really blame those boys for not going for tens seeing as my standards seem to be lowering. Ohdeargod, the black whole that is Richmond is slowly making me less, tense? High-strung? Snotty? Probably not, but I may learn to relax, and that might not be so bad.

Oh, Deary!

Oh, GEEZ! I haven't written in over two months! And if you know me (and presumably, you do) then you know that I am busybusybusybizzybuzzbuzzbuzzbuzz... I've been meaning to, I just haven't gotten around to it, because I know that once I start I won't be able to come back to it, I'll want to start over, and because of this writing blogs takes me forever. So, I try not write them unless I know that I don't have to be anywhere for a couple of hours, this is very rare.

So, let me give you the abridged version of my life for the past two months:
- I had a wonderful Thanksgiving and after tiring of my family was able to spend the remainder of it with my friend Couch as it was his birthday and I had made him a cake and a pie. I am an excellent baker.
-I had exams. I passed. That is all.
-I went to Sugar Mountain in Boone, North Carolina for Christmas with my family. It was relatively drama free.
--On the way there I almost hit a deer, it was huge, and when I stopped the lady behind me hit the back of the family mini-van. Everyone was fine, including the deer who just starred at me for a bit before running back into the woods.
- I was not born to "shread" - this was manifested in my inability to stand up on a snowboard for more than five seconds.
- I went to New York City for four days the week of New Year's. I will do it better next time. I did make a new friend though, he is Russian and thinks I'm silly. He is correct.
-I have been to a lot of shows and have been a part of dramadramadrama. I'll probably won't write about a certain encounter more than this right here because the last time I wrote about one 239842739 people read it (Hi, everyone!)
- As a result, I'm attempting to avoid it. I'm even being nice-ish, you all know how I feel about nice people (they are so boring) so I'm going more for the, "oh, she's fun!" girl.
-My love life has gotten more complicated, and up until this past weekend, I was hoping for something more than what it is, but I realized that it's just fine after all I'm nineteen, and I don't need a boyfriend.
-I got yelled at in the metro.
-Right after that I found an iPhone.
- I met an amazing woman at the Inauguration, she claims I "saved her life" (I will blog about the inauguration, I promise).
- I wrote a story. It will get published. And you will read it. And if you have anything to do with me and DC, you will read and go, "OMG,really?"
- My grades were crap last semester so I'm on "academic warning" (pre-academic probation) so I've been trying this thing called studying, I've always heard about it, but busied myself with other things.
-I've started going to the library, and I like it. I'm there right now.
-I have to blog for one of my classes everyday, so I may be posting multiple times over the next few days to attempt to make up for it. Some of them will have prompts, I'll tell you and you can skip those. I thought about creating a seperate blog, but I already have a ton of things to keep track of and it wasn't worth it.
- I am going to be famous by the time I am twenty-two, or at least published in something worth reading and/or have a TV show on Bravo or Style, etc. I'm writing the pilot now. And I don't know if you've heard this, but it's my theme song of 2009. Joel is going to be my personal photographer and replace Annie Lebowitz as resident at Vanity Fair when I take over there.

girls suck

Boys suck. A lot. And so do their gal pals.

I had a recent encounter with a girl that is friends with guy-friend of mine. She thought it would be appropriate to go on about how "he's not worth (my) time" and "he will always belong to (this other chick who was a rebound to begin with)" and on about that sort of stuff. I explained to her that we're just friends, and retained my left hook.

I do not understand where girls get off being so overly protective of their guy-friends. I mean, this is not the first time this has happened to me and I haven't told him about it.

I played nice that evening and even went home and added her on facebook, she of course declined and well, that's just petty.

I have plenty of guy friends and while I'll tell them what I think of the other people they hang out with, I would never in my life dream of being as rude as this chick.

For example, I have a friend I'll call Mark, and he's liked this chick for most of this semester. But she is boring and unmotivated and doesn't have an opinion about anything, she is a follower, and they are annoying. It has taken weeks for him to realize this. I got it from the first time I met her, but I am cordial and polite, and make friendly conversation. I would never have told her, "Hey, Mark prefers girls that have ambition and opinions and enjoy being out and about as much as he does. He's also not over his ex, so you should really stop wasting your time." That would have been rude, and while I'm known for being very outspoken, I know where to draw the line.

I understand that people want what is best for their friends, I certainly do, but one can encourage what they believe is best without imposing, no? Of course we are attracted to all our friends, so maybe what she meant to say was "I am in love with him and am moving farfar away to try and get over him, he knows this and is encouraging me to do so." Yeah, I think that's what she meant. And that's what is happening at least as far as I understand.

I would like to say more, because I am just so angry, but I will restrain myself and hope that in the future she will as well.

The end.

modern masochist

Today I have eaten two pieces of toast with butter and strawberry jam, about twenty gummy bears (the green ones, I'm eating my least favorite first, you know, saving the best for last) and one kinder egg. My stomach is probably hungry but at this point I feel like I would throw up anything I consume.

I have a headache, and have tried napping. It didn't work, so I watched last weeks episode of Gossip Girl, too many SNL sketches and wrote some shitty poetry with my new Cerruti pen. It works quite well, and has a two year warranty. I hope I don't lose it. I always lose things that I really like. I'm usually a ball-point bic type of chick, but I think I might be changing.

In addition to all of this BYT has posted "The Big Empty" as their (Vintage) Video of the Day. It is a very depressing short film that really has sent my lethargy for the day over the edge. I like it though, I like sad things. I hope no one ever discovers an artic landscape in my vagina and then dies in it. I can imagine that would be really awful. I like not being empty.

I'm also rediscovering writing. I mean I write almost every day, usually I don't think it's very good, and the past few weeks I've felt like it's just gotten worse. But maybe it's getting better and I'm becoming more critical of my own work. That's not so bad, I guess. And I have a great new pen, and even if my computer doesn't always like to play music, it still let's me write, usually without interruption.

And in addition to all of this the sweater weather that I usually enjoy this time of year is getting me down. My fore-arms and shins have been achey for about a week now, and I'm almost positive that it's the change in weather.

I've been listening to Frightened Rabbit too much, that's probably detrimental to my emotional well being. But here are the lyrics to the song that I cannot get out of my head (well this one more than the others, but they all sound about like this).

The Modern Leper

A cripple walks amongst you all you tired human beings
He's got all the things a cripple has not working arms and legs
And vital parts fall from his system and dissolve in Scottish rain
Vitally he doesn't miss them he's too fucked up to care
Well is that you in front of me?
Coming back for even more of exactly the same
You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
On his last leg
Well I crippled your heart a hundred times
And still can't work out why
You see I've got this disease I can't shake
And I'm just rattling through life
Well this is how we do things now
Yeah this is how the modern stay scared
So I cut out all the good stuff
Yeah I cut off my foot to spite my leg
Well is that you in front of me?
Coming back for even more of exactly the same
You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
Well I am ill
But I'm not dead
And I don't know which of those I prefer
Because that limb which I have lost
Well it was the only thing holding me up
Holding me up
Well I'm lying on the ground now
Walking through the only door
Well I have lost my eye sight
Like I said I would
But I still know
And that is you in front of me
And you are back for even more of exactly the same
Well are you a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
And you are not ill
And I'm not dead
Doesn't that make us the perfect pair
Just you and me
We'll start again
And you can tell me all about what you did today
What you did today

so many things to do

I need to get in touch with the dental school here. My left wisdom teeth are coming in, and I now know what it feels like to be a baby, those poor, poor babies, cutting their teeth. No wonder they cry all the time, this sucks! So, I need to get them removed. Icky.

I also need to call the doctors, again, because my throat is an explosion of red and goo. Mmmm... I told them to give me something stronger, but no, they just had to no better. And they were wrong. So, I'll probably go by today or tomorrow and make them give me something stronger.

I should probably re-write a paper, but I really don't feel like it. But I probably will tonight, because I'm incapable of getting anything done unless I'm down to the wire.

I also need to do a write up from the Built to Spill show. That was amazing. I saw them for free because I'm on the radio/magazine/soon-to-be-newspaper staff, basically I'm on my way to taking over VCU's student media center.

I dropped my Energy! class (that wretched combination of physics and chemistry, which I wouldn't have minded if there wasn't to much of the conversion crap, who cares how many time you multiply or divide watts to find joules? not me) I'm going to take biology next semester.

After I get that immunization form turned in. Apparently I didn't ever send it in and won't be able to register for classes for next semester until I do.

I also need to make an appointment with my academic adviser, but I don't like her. And she did recommend Energy! But I have to see her before November in order to register for next semester.

I could be doing all of this, but instead I'm listening to Frightened Rabbit and writing this, and it's raining outside, and I'm bloated, and I really just do not feel like doing anything constructive. I will probably call my dad so he can help me get my itunes set up (I finally got my ipod in the mail, in the jenga game my parents sent me with scrabble, yesterday) and then take a nap. I love naps.