I had the opportunity of watching the movie Julie & Julia last night with my steady movie buddy, Jeremy. I was glad to finally have the opportunity to see the film after several months of hearing about it and never really finding the time to watch. It was worth the time of the wait, and Meryl Streep is definitely deserving not only of the Academy Award nomination for her role, but also deserving of taking another statue home to add to her collection.
The story of Julie Powell reminded me of the reasons I initially had for starting this blog. She wanted to write, to commit herself to something, to maybe find a bit of recognition for her talent. Those were all parts of the many motivating factors that got me to begin one myself. Her ideas and attitudes have me feeling that I should, perhaps continue in this endeavor. Like Julie Powell, there are far too many projects I've begun and never completely finished.
As if the movie wasn't enough to serve as a reminder of everything I ever wanted to do with my life, I opened a few long-closed drawers this afternoon to find an old poem I'd written several years ago. I was hoping to find those lines to reinvent them and pass them onto a friend who is looking for something similar to give to her husband in honor of the upcoming Valentine's Day. Instead of finding the poem, I found old journals. Some complete. Some incomplete. Many with very little linear sense. Mostly tangents and circumstantial deviations from whatever point I was trying to make. Wow. You can tell a lot about how far you've come when you look back at what you were back then.
...at the beginning of the movie, Jeremy voiced the same thing I was wondering while watching Julie lunch with three of her contemporaries (non of which seemed to be very deserving of her company). "Why is she friends with them?" he asked. It made me realize something that I've been feeling some degree of contemplative guilt toward for the last few weeks. I have a history of surrounding myself with people that I call friends, but really don't particularly care for or respect or enjoy spending any amount of time in the company of, but continue to call and see, detesting every minute. Things have been different for a while, though. In fact, the past few weeks have been a bit quieter and more relaxing. I realized that there is no need to waste any time or energy worrying about fitting in. When you have the right ones around you, the relationship never seems like such a chore. I'm glad to be a little more on my own now, more so than I ever have been in the past. I feel more secure, more pleased with my daily life.
Like Julie Powell, I realize that the small things really don't matter. It's what you do to make out of every second you've been given that really counts.
07 February 2010
01 February 2010
Miles to the Jay's iTunes Shuffle-1
Music has existed as a constant in my life for as far back as my memories can reach. Nearly every one of my life's major milestones could be set to a particular tune, each representative of an entry in my own personal soundtrack. The first album I remember owning was Madonna's Like a Virgin , a Christmas gift from my older sister, which I was not allowed to play when my grandparents were around (it would be quite some time before I would understand why, or understand what a "virgin" was, or comprehend just what Madonna was suggesting in the provocative title track). The first popular group that I really remember following was The Bangles, and their lead singer, Susanna Hoffs, plastered the walls of my bedroom alongside Billy Idol and Duran Duran. There are artists that I associate with parties and overseas trips, R&B records that remind me of watching my parents dance around our kitchen during holiday breaks, finding comfort in the work of The Rolling Stones with my brother, and videos I remember watching debut on MTV, back when MTV actually showed videos, the premiers of which were monumental events. Music is ingrained in the very fibers of my essence, much like one of the essential body humors, along with blood or phlegm or either of the biles. However, just as there are certain genres I rely on to get me through a workout or a study session or a long, solitary, contemplative drive, there are also genres that grate my nerves to the very core of my being, types of music that I could easily do without.
I realize that I live near the buckle of the "stompin' donkey" belt, and maybe it's the associations that I make with what I consider to be an inexplicable phenomenon, but country music is one of the divisions that I dislike strongly enough to describe in this writing. Obviously, one could never argue that the artists of the country genre are talentless or without some credit for their artistry; however, if I were to find that I was lost in space with only a Clint Black CD for stimulation, I might prefer to suffer in the eternal, mind-numbing pestilence of silence. For me, the lyrics and the coordination of country music invokes melancholic memories, tears, and feelings of heartache. If I wanted a good, sturdy cry, I would prefer to watch an entire season of Grey's Anatomy from beginning to end.
The only genre that I detest more than country is the implausible entry of rap music. Although I recognize a handful of the artists as truly poetic and lyrical in their contributions, I have to question the overwhelming majority, especially when hearing a familiar chorus from some other great song mixed into another top forty hit, and knowing that the original version has been completely massacred or completely obliterated of any previous merit by several minutes of inexcusable sampling. Of course, I know every word to Lil Kim's Betcha She Don't, and there was a period in my life that I couldn't leave my apartment until, fully dressed, I sang Jay Z's Can I Get A… in its entirety to see how I looked and sounded in whatever particular outfit I had donned for the night. Still, I find the rap genre as a whole to be filled with more phonies than raw and admirable talent.
Moving on, to pick any single genre that I consider the best of all that is out there is impossible. The music I have uploaded to my iPod spans the spectrum of every possible type, offering a broad basis for selection depending on my mood or its appropriateness to the situation. I would, for instance, never listen to a soundtrack like Chicago with anyone else within auditory proximity, but I find musical theatre familiar and just ketch-y enough for the shower or a two-mile run. I had an obsessively compulsive need to listen to a variety of techno bands in a period dating back to my early twenties, most prominently during my exposure to what I prefer to call "the garden of nocturnal delights." I still listen to some of the discs that I bought back in those blurred days of my youth, Bad Boy Bill and AK1200 are steadies that remain in my collection. In fact, the one band that I can always lean on to get my heart racing and my blood pumping is The Prodigy, and I believe their album The Fat of the Land is a complete work of art in the same way I think Abbey Road from The Beatles is their grand opus.
Although one could always clump the scintillating sounds of meditation music and Celtic beats and Gregorian chants with the carousing chords of classical, these are actually variants on very different themes. Meditative mood music is perfect for reading a chapter in the fine arts text and the sounds of the rainfalls of Ireland set to their native hymns are key when posting to Blackboard, but the classical genre is one that could fit into play when enacting any of life's myriad pursuits. In fact, I'm much inclined to agree with the notorious Alex DeLarge from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange when I say that Beethoven's work is "bliss and heaven…g orgeousness and gorgeous-ity made flesh," and Vivaldi is a master at uplifting the spirit and offering the listener a sense of hope and connection, making the idea of setting mundane tasks to his work much more fascinating and tolerable.
All other genres, however, are eclipsed when I discuss the one which elicits the most from my accolade reserve of reverence. The punk-goth-synth-pop-new wave blend that began at CBGBs in the late seventies and spans to some of its grandchildren today is the genre for which I must express the most fondness. With ancestry in groups like the Sex Pistols and The Clash, the genre reached its peak in popularity in the decade now known simply as " the eighties" and exists today in the hearts, souls, and sounds of Radiohead, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and now, to some degree, the formidable and always re-inventive Lady GaGa. However, the true masters have, and will always be, represented by the likes of names like The Smiths, New Order, The Joy Division, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Bronski Beat, The Go-Gos, ABC, The Cars, Violent Femmes, Oingo Boingo, Queen, Rush, The Talking Heads, David Bowie, The Thompson Twins, Erasure, and the absolutely haunting brilliance of Alison Moyet's lead vocals on the Yaz album, Upstairs at Eric's , an integral and essential component to any self-respecting music lover's collection. Today, they play on the Sirius satellite stations, "the 80s on 8" and, my personal favorite, "First Wave," and to say that this particular genre is near the top of my list would not do my passion for it justice; however, I cannot, in good conscience, overlook any of the others for which I have expressed varying degrees of favoritism for earlier in this post.
In closing, I have to accept that in posting this particular discussion board entry, there will be readers who think I am positively certifiable for my tastes in favor of some and in opposition to others. However, the greatest thing about music as an art form is that for every one major genre, there are countless sub-genres and branches from which to listen and appreciate. For me, it doesn't really matter if I don't care for your particular taste in music as long as you have some. I respect other music lovers, and I am not sure that I would want to cross paths with a person who doesn't like some of any genre of music at all. In fact, I don't see how the idea of such a person is really even possible, it's certainly disturbing.
1 … It's a long story, but "Miles to the Jay" is going to be my rapper-DJ name if I ever get famous for anything and host a big party for the rich and famous….
I realize that I live near the buckle of the "stompin' donkey" belt, and maybe it's the associations that I make with what I consider to be an inexplicable phenomenon, but country music is one of the divisions that I dislike strongly enough to describe in this writing. Obviously, one could never argue that the artists of the country genre are talentless or without some credit for their artistry; however, if I were to find that I was lost in space with only a Clint Black CD for stimulation, I might prefer to suffer in the eternal, mind-numbing pestilence of silence. For me, the lyrics and the coordination of country music invokes melancholic memories, tears, and feelings of heartache. If I wanted a good, sturdy cry, I would prefer to watch an entire season of Grey's Anatomy from beginning to end.
The only genre that I detest more than country is the implausible entry of rap music. Although I recognize a handful of the artists as truly poetic and lyrical in their contributions, I have to question the overwhelming majority, especially when hearing a familiar chorus from some other great song mixed into another top forty hit, and knowing that the original version has been completely massacred or completely obliterated of any previous merit by several minutes of inexcusable sampling. Of course, I know every word to Lil Kim's Betcha She Don't, and there was a period in my life that I couldn't leave my apartment until, fully dressed, I sang Jay Z's Can I Get A… in its entirety to see how I looked and sounded in whatever particular outfit I had donned for the night. Still, I find the rap genre as a whole to be filled with more phonies than raw and admirable talent.
Moving on, to pick any single genre that I consider the best of all that is out there is impossible. The music I have uploaded to my iPod spans the spectrum of every possible type, offering a broad basis for selection depending on my mood or its appropriateness to the situation. I would, for instance, never listen to a soundtrack like Chicago with anyone else within auditory proximity, but I find musical theatre familiar and just ketch-y enough for the shower or a two-mile run. I had an obsessively compulsive need to listen to a variety of techno bands in a period dating back to my early twenties, most prominently during my exposure to what I prefer to call "the garden of nocturnal delights." I still listen to some of the discs that I bought back in those blurred days of my youth, Bad Boy Bill and AK1200 are steadies that remain in my collection. In fact, the one band that I can always lean on to get my heart racing and my blood pumping is The Prodigy, and I believe their album The Fat of the Land is a complete work of art in the same way I think Abbey Road from The Beatles is their grand opus.
Although one could always clump the scintillating sounds of meditation music and Celtic beats and Gregorian chants with the carousing chords of classical, these are actually variants on very different themes. Meditative mood music is perfect for reading a chapter in the fine arts text and the sounds of the rainfalls of Ireland set to their native hymns are key when posting to Blackboard, but the classical genre is one that could fit into play when enacting any of life's myriad pursuits. In fact, I'm much inclined to agree with the notorious Alex DeLarge from Stanley Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange when I say that Beethoven's work is "bliss and heaven…g orgeousness and gorgeous-ity made flesh," and Vivaldi is a master at uplifting the spirit and offering the listener a sense of hope and connection, making the idea of setting mundane tasks to his work much more fascinating and tolerable.
All other genres, however, are eclipsed when I discuss the one which elicits the most from my accolade reserve of reverence. The punk-goth-synth-pop-new wave blend that began at CBGBs in the late seventies and spans to some of its grandchildren today is the genre for which I must express the most fondness. With ancestry in groups like the Sex Pistols and The Clash, the genre reached its peak in popularity in the decade now known simply as " the eighties" and exists today in the hearts, souls, and sounds of Radiohead, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and now, to some degree, the formidable and always re-inventive Lady GaGa. However, the true masters have, and will always be, represented by the likes of names like The Smiths, New Order, The Joy Division, Depeche Mode, The Cure, Bronski Beat, The Go-Gos, ABC, The Cars, Violent Femmes, Oingo Boingo, Queen, Rush, The Talking Heads, David Bowie, The Thompson Twins, Erasure, and the absolutely haunting brilliance of Alison Moyet's lead vocals on the Yaz album, Upstairs at Eric's , an integral and essential component to any self-respecting music lover's collection. Today, they play on the Sirius satellite stations, "the 80s on 8" and, my personal favorite, "First Wave," and to say that this particular genre is near the top of my list would not do my passion for it justice; however, I cannot, in good conscience, overlook any of the others for which I have expressed varying degrees of favoritism for earlier in this post.
In closing, I have to accept that in posting this particular discussion board entry, there will be readers who think I am positively certifiable for my tastes in favor of some and in opposition to others. However, the greatest thing about music as an art form is that for every one major genre, there are countless sub-genres and branches from which to listen and appreciate. For me, it doesn't really matter if I don't care for your particular taste in music as long as you have some. I respect other music lovers, and I am not sure that I would want to cross paths with a person who doesn't like some of any genre of music at all. In fact, I don't see how the idea of such a person is really even possible, it's certainly disturbing.
1 … It's a long story, but "Miles to the Jay" is going to be my rapper-DJ name if I ever get famous for anything and host a big party for the rich and famous….
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