Go see this movie

Across the Universe

A New Haircut

I feel so spunky!

On Biking and the Tour de France

I have been opposed to bikes since my freshman year of college. I discovered that biking was not easy, especially when faced with the near endless seeming hill from south campus to north. Also, it made me look like a drunken old woman or a spindly legged spider…at least more than I usually did.
My scorn continued after I graduated. I moved to the UofA, where parking permits cost more than saffron encased in diamonds. But a bike provided me with an affordable way to get to and from class. My miserly ways overcame my hatred for the contraptions; I bought a bike.
In foolishness, I bought a used bike that needed some work. It was a cruiser, an old Schwinn with front and rear fenders, a fully steel frame (read: fucking heavy) and maybe 16 gears. It seemed perfect. It was cheap, sturdy, and reliable. Except for one thing: it needed a derailleur cable. For those of you who don’t know, the derailleur cable is what changes the gears. Without one, you’ve got a single speed. Lucky me, my bike’s chain was stuck on a high gear. Which meant accelerating was a bitch. On the whole, I did not enjoy riding my bike.
But every once in a while, I would get this euphoric feeling….I loved the wind in my face, the smells of the desert around me, and seeing the houses blur by me. It was weird and rare, but a welcome respite the normal drudgery of my daily commute.
Amidst all this, I met a very nice boy named Eric. We started dating. He got into cycling and bought a bike. A nice one, complete with derailleur cable and Italian brand name. And suddenly, a completely different attitude toward biking was in front of me. He liked riding his bike. It was ‘fun.’
I’m still sort of skeptical about that ‘fun’ part, but Eric has gotten me to start watching the Tour de France. I thought watching professional cycling would be akin to watching golf. Boring. But its not. Its amazing to watch these guys. They’re machines. Their resting heart rates are in the 40s. That’s basically dead. Honestly. And their heart rates when they’re really exerting themselves are in the 180s. They’re not people, they’re robots! They sustain 25mph speeds up mountain highways, like the one in Oak Creek Canyon. On a fucking bike! Its ridiculous. And sort of inspiring.
Its really got me thinking its time for a new bike.

Nostalgia is a bitch

I miss the past. I miss Flagstaff. After a weekend there the proverbial old days seem even farther away. I saw Gen. Everyone else was gone. And then this morning, little nuances of the past kept popping up. Fraser comments on my bolg this morning. I stumble upon Lobe's myspace page. Andy rhapsodizes about his favorite band, just as he used to. Its all just creeping around in my head and I"m not getting a thing done. I should be packing. I'm moving in a week. Not to Portland like Gen, or even to New Zealand like Chris did, but really just down the street. Its not hard. But I'm sitting here listening to "Growing Pains" and all I can think of is Fraser, Karen and I dancing like crazy hippies and drinking beer and Flag Brew. The beer was the same on Friday night, but instead of shoulder to shoulder dancing drunken fools, the place was packed with yuppie families, reveling in how neat the place was. I miss it the way it used to be. I miss the comeraderie of Flag. How it never mattered who was there and who wasn't...you just had a good time with who was around. There were no plans except for "we're going out tonight...want to come?" We never even had to be doing anything. Just sitting around somewhere talking about whatever was the best time. Where did that go? Away, for sure, and I know people wax poetic about stuff like this, but that doesn't seem right. It just doesn't seem like it should be that hard to find that again, but it seems like "what's lost once is lost forever." I guess all there is is to keep looking, keep having a good time, and the stupidly fun (as in so fun its ridiculous) times come back. At least I still have my Lobe cds.

King of Glory

I don't really care for his show, but the man can dance and praise God almighty! Can I get an amen??

Starting summer with a bang

So here's a recap of the past week:

Eric's haircut

My boyfriend's previously glorious man-hair has been shorn. Instead of flowing locks ala pirate style, his hair is now maybe a quarter of an inch long. The change is quite drastic, and while I miss the whole pirate thing, I really like the new look. Grandma does not, however, which brings us to our next topic:

Grandma's surgery
Grandma went in for triple bypass surgery on Friday. We found out she had chronic heart disease about three weeks ago, and since then the entire family has been waiting for her to get fixed up. The surgery was successful, but it took an hour longer than we thought it would. That last hour sucked. Hard. Grandpa was a wreck. But finally the doctor came out and told us the surgery had been successful. Grandma was in the ICU until today. She's been doing great, but she's very frank about a)her distaste for Eric's haircut and b) her readiness to go home. I can't really blame her. I would want to go home too. Hospitals suck. But she should be home by this weekend. Keep your fingers crossed.


Finals
My Greek final was (of course) scheduled the Monday after Grandma's surgery. Last year, Grandpa was in a car accident the day my biggest seminar paper was due and the week before my Latin final. So I was a trifle off my game for finals. This year, its Grandma. Of course I don't blame the g-rents for that; they can't help it that their medical conditions have really shitty timing. But it sucks nonetheless. My test went much better than I anticipated (considering I've spent most of the weekend at the hospital), and I got my paper back with a shiny A on it.

A Raise
I got a raise! Hooray! I still don't have a "career path," something I heard a lot about this weekend. But oh well, a raise is always appreciated.

A visit from a friend
Gen was in town this weekend. I couldn't hang out because of Grandma's surgery, but she and her man-friend stopped by the store on Sunday and I slacked off for a while to talk and catch up. It was awesome to see her, especially since she's moving to Portland in August.

A good week, in all. Grandma's surgery was a little scary, but it turned out great. And everything else has gone swimmingly. Finals are over, I got to see my family and a good friend, and my financial situation got a steroid shot.

Definitely a good way to start the summer

On Rudeness while Driving

I generally consider myself a good driver. I'm not overly cautious, nor am I dangerously reckless. I also consider myself a considerate driver. If someone has their signal on the change lanes, I'll generally make room for them. If someone's waiting for a parking spot, I won't swoop in and take it. And I never pass on the right. So I hate it when people mistake what I consider to be consideration for rudeness.
Yesterday I was driving to work. Sometimes I'll stop at McDonald's for a tasty sausage mcmuffin with no egg. The McDonald's that I usually patronize is at the corner of Alvernon and Speedway. Being situated at a corner means that the right turn lane into the McDonald's is also the turn lane for the intersection. As I was approaching the turn-in, I saw a cyclist ahead of me. I turned on my turn signal and slowed down so I wouldn't hit him. As I moved into the right lane, I checked my blind spot only to see a silver speeding jeep about to careen into me. I got back into my own lane, but as the jeep passed, the woman driving mouthed a very obvious "fuck you!" to me as she sped by. I was a little shaken by the whole experience, but as I started to think about it more, I was pissed off.
First off, I acknowledge that I should've checked my blind spot earlier. But she had come up so quick that I didn't see her before. I was doing something that I thought was right. Cyclists are traffic too, and there was no way for me to speed up and get around him and still get into the McDonald's. I had to slow down. Also, that's usually just a nice thing to do. Its much easier and less scary for everyone if I just put my foot on the brake pedal rather than cut off a cyclist (who's definitely more vulnerable in a crash) and then slow down to make a turn. So braking was really my only option. But this lady seemed to think that the only reason I was slowing down and getting over was to cut her off. She was so pissed that she had to brake that she didn't even think about why I was doing it. To make matters worse, she probably cut off the cyclist in her rage and that was the very thing I was trying to avoid.
I just wish people would think about why other people are acting the way they are. If I'm slowing down approaching a crosswalk, there's probably something in it, so don't be the asshole and pass me. If I speed up and pass you, maybe I need to make a turn at the next light. If I'm slowing down at a right turn lane, MAYBE THERE"S A FUCKING BIKE THERE! Its not like motorists do stuff to deliberately piss off other motorists, as least the great majority of the time. So just hold your horses and think about what someone else is doing and consider that maybe there's a good reason for it before you scream obscenities at them.

An Evening at the Opera

So I went to the Opera last night. As a great lover of theatre, and musical theatre at that, I was atwitter with anticipation. The opera was Puccini's "Madama Butterfly," first staged in the early 20th century. It tells the story of a callous American sailor who marries a young Japenese girl who is as faithful as she is beautiful, and then abandons her. I won't go into the details, but its a very tragic story and I'm usually a sucker for tragedy. Its one of the reasons I love studying classics so much. There's just such a poetry to it; as Fraser would say, its epic. So I fully expected a real gut-wrencher.
But opera, it seems, is not for me. As a musician, I can fully appreciate the work and technique and general difficulty of what those singers are doing. They're singing difficult music without amplification mostly at the top of their respective ranges and they're doing laying down...or sitting...or some other position that is not condusive to singing powerfully. So I can fully appreciate that. But damn, is it too much to ask to keep the facial contortions to a minimum?
I suppose so. Given what I just said about the difficulty of performing opera, I suppose I should've just shut up and enjoyed the musical marvel that was in front of me. But all I could think about were the stupid faces the musicians were making. So much so, that it actually distracted me from the story. I just couldn't get worked up about the suffering of someone who looked like a hungry goldfish.
It was definitely fun to get dressed up and go out though. There's so little opportunity to do that in Tucson, so it was fun. I loved wearing my pearls and my fancy new jacket. And the people watching was awesome. Let me just say, feathers and old ladies should not go together.
So, while the evening as a whole was enjoyable, I don't think I'll be attending the opera again any time soon.

At a loss

Over the summer I got into rock climbing. Its a fun sport, challenging physically and mentally. I freaked out a little bit the first time Eric lowered me from the top of my first route. It was scary, trusting only a little bit of nylon stitched together and a rope to keep me from falling 50 feet to the ground. Its still scary every once in a while. I still get a little thrill when I fall off the wall.
But you get used to it. You learn to trust your equipment and your belayer. You get used to double checking everything: whether your caribiner is locked, if your knot is tied right, if your harness is double-backed on all the buckles like its supposed to be. Because if you don't, well, you could die. So you back everything up, at least twice, more if you can. But shit still happens.
A friend of mine died ice climbing yesterday. He was one of the most experienced climbers I knew. He was even professional for a while. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to make climbing as safe as it can be. And he did too. Chris Hunnicutt was not a sloppy climber. But he was ice climbing and something happened and he fell and he died.

Its just shitty to think about.

A Tribute

Andy has inspired me. Here are my top ten favorite songs in no particular order:

1. A Case of You - Joni Mitchell
One of the simplest, prettiest songs ever written, and I first heard it when I was 'frightened by the devil, but drawn to those ones that ain't afraid.' It was perfect for that time in my life, and it still resonates. When I hear it, I remember that time and tend to feel as weary as Joni Mitchell sounds. Still a favorite.

2. Adagio for Strings - Samuel Barber
The only song to consistently move me to tears. Enough said.

3. Sarah Mclachlan - Do What You Have to Do
I love Sarah Mclachlan. She's probably my favorite musician ever. This song was and still is a favorite. I still don't quite know what the lyrics mean, "created you a monster, broken by the rule of love..." and at points I'm not sure I even understand them. But lyrics have never meant that much to me and ethos of this song speaks to me more than any words ever did.

4. Dancing Queen - ABBA
This is why certain members of my circle of friends think me devoid of musical taste, but damn, how can you not like this song?? Its purely fluff, but every time I hear those strings and that piano, I am the Dancing Queen.

5. I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt
One of the saddest songs ever written, and the one that got me through my angsty years in high school. What's worse than pretended love? Or the helplessness that goes along with understanding that "I can't make your heart feel something it won't"? Worst feeling ever. And this song nails it on the head.


6. Under African Skies - Paul Simon feat. Linda Ronstadt
Is there a song that does harmony better than this one?? I don't think so. Its just gorgeous. And its got a good beat. And good lyrics. And I think its awesome

7. Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy
Its a song called "Moonlight" and that's how it feels to listen to it and to play it. Like you're playing slivery fingers of white light.

8. Smooth Sailing - Ella Fitzgerald
A song that makes me want to get up and dance and/or sing along every time I hear it. I sing this song in the shower, I hum it under my breath at work and its what I tap my feet to when I'm doing homework. I think the fact that there are no lyrics makes it that much better for me. Ella Fitzgerald doesn't need words to groove.

9. Je Te Veux - Erik Satie
Just a litling little waltz with simple lyrics ("I want you"), but infectious. I want to sing it, I want to listen to it, and I want to dance to it.

10. Just Like a Dream - The Cure
The song that proves that the Cure are not a bunch of goth depressos. How can you write this song, how can you even listen to it without feeling happy and dreamy? Even if the lyrics are depressing (which they're not in this case), the synthesizers at the beginning make this one of the best dance tunes ever, and (sorry gothy Cure fans) not a sad one.


The honorable mention list is too long to even fathom. Thanks for the fun idea Andy!