I'm not sure what this family was doing when they had the idea to recreate the Simpsons intro in real life, but I like it. I would like to think that they were sitting at the dinner table eating pork chops and apple sauce when the Lisa equivalent said (because of course Lisa would be the type to have an idea like this), "Hey, Bart (or whatever his real name is) doesn't have any sleep overs this weekend and dad isn't working late this Friday night, let's become famous on YouTube by recreating the Simpsons intro."
From there Maggie gave her pacifier a few sucks and the deal was sealed. The family set into filming. At least that's how I imagine that magical night in the three dimensional Springfield of real life. You can check out the final product below:
Random Thought: Why does it always seem like I need three Oreos to even feel like I've eaten one? I don't necessarily need four but being limited to one or two is a simply dreadful thought. Does anyone else feel this holy Oreo trinity?
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I was introduced to a band called Lowry earlier today. I'm getting an advance of their new album so glue yourself online to look for the review I'll put out soon. Or, just believe me now when I tell you that if you like Bright Eyes or think you might enjoy a folkier Frou Frou or tamer Flaming Lips then you'll probably love Lowry.
They're deep, layered and intense, and they constantly drop lines like, "There is a color that smells like her hair; I can't name it." Lowry is a calming escape, so don't let them slip through your fingers.
If you've seen me since January you have probably noticed the spiral hemp bracelet hanging from my wrist. It was a good luck charm, one that I traditionally acquired prior to every season of softball, and now my wrist is naked.
The bracelet tradition started in high school, back before Livestrong and Nike Baller bracelets were all the fad. I had multiple bracelets of that type and rotated them frequently, always feeling like they were an accoutrement of luck. The question of luck was confirmed one day when I slid my hand into home plate. The opposing team's catcher landed on my wrist but her metal cleat cut through my layers of bracelets leaving me with only a minor abrasion.
From there on out I needed a bracelet. It couldn't just be any bracelet, but one that I connected with spiritually, something that made me feel like I could center myself. My freshman year it was hemp, and my sophomore year it was part of a material label that was wrapped around a Brooks Brother's shirt. Junior year I connected with a maroon and white watch band, and senior year I returned to the knotted spiral hemp.
Initially I thought that my bracelets gave me luck and the power to succeed in softball. Eventually I learned that the bracelet was more about life. Each bracelet, just like every year of my life, seems to have taught me a lesson.
Freshman year I learned that sometimes ignorance is bliss, because a new, confident and fresh approach can be unstoppable. Sophomore year about the rewards of quietly succeeding under the radar. Junior year I learned about balance, and senior year was another lesson entirely.
At first the spiraled hemp of my final year of softball was tight. Through its journey the lifted seams faded, the bracelet loosened, and I acquired red and chrome accent colors on one chunk where a friend with Alzheimer's thought we could "spiff things up a bit and make it jazzy." Over time even the red and chrome faded.
My most recent bracelet seemed to have taught me to endure struggle, although in so many ways I am too lucky to claim anything but a charmed life. I slumped my softball season in that bracelet, tried to make everyone happy in that bracelet, realized I didn't have everything figured out about my future in that bracelet, and finally learned that no matter what I would get through.
Now that I am for the most part settled in New York though, I decided to shed myself of the bracelet. It just felt like the right moment, the perfect time and place. Stripping the bracelet off my wrist doesn't mean that I am throwing out what happened while it was there though. I'm not trashing everything and starting with a new beginning. Instead I have learned something entirely different.
I learned that struggle is inevitable, and that sometimes all it takes is endurance and the power to grin and bear it. With enough work and the inevitable luck that ensues, everything will sort itself out in its own time. It might take patience but it's well worth the persistence.
With this past season and this past bracelet I was humbled and grounded. It was a lesson I needed to learn, and now I feel like I can take on any situation with a strong and even headed approach.
As I begin graduate school at NYU, assistant coach for Columbia Softball, transform myself into a personal trainer, tutor, and write, I will succeed. There will be waves that crash and try to knock me around but I will get back up and swim into the current.
I will always keep every good luck bracelet stored and safe but more important, I will preserve the lessons I learned in my bracelets as long as I live. Hopefully they will make me a better person. My wrist may be bare at the moment but I am covered with the lessons I have learned. And maybe, just maybe, I will find a new excuse to wrap a bracelet around my wrist.
Most people will dismiss it as yet another sporty superstition, but you, my dear reader, will know otherwise.
***
Catharsis and Humdrum makes me feel like I just popped in a great rock disc from the late 90s. This band is The Get Up Kids all over again, with a slightly futuristic element. Check out the cover of "Every Breath You Take."
Welcome to the new and improved LaurenProctor32.blogspot.com. I apologize to any regular readers who were thrown by the disappearance of the old "To Measure Yourself At Least Once" design, but hopefully this is a tasteful and refreshing blast of something new and different. If not, let me know and I'll turn right back around. After all, without you readers I'd just be like that tree of questionable existence, falling in the forest. Enough about change and tree trunks though, let's blog.
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Five word reviews and six word memoirs, they're so in style right now just about every publication I subscribe to (and that's saying a lot) has had some sort of drawn out praise for brevity. First it was Wired, then the New Yorker, the newspapers, and now Time. Blender Music Magazine hasn't discussed the phenomenon but you'd better believe that they employ brief, bold font reviews above their more "lengthy" 100-200 word critiques of new album releases.
In a society where we are inundated with data our response has been to condense. Japan's best seller list is half cell phone novels and adept info snackers have become the new readers of Tolstoy. Don't get me wrong, I love tiny bits of information that I can store safely in the pockets of my mind.
I also love six word memoirs for their endlessly entertaining and quirky appeal.
I have to draw the line at some point though, and that's five word reviews. Radio news (other than NPR) is infamously inferior because it has no substance other than quick headline type coverage. It's good for a taste or a summary, but it's nothing more. And that's exactly why I have an axe to grind with something that's supposed to convey an opinion in so few words. Granted, I'm not so talented with the brevity, but stick with me here.
I went to see Vicky Christina Barcelona the other day and a friend and I both set ourselves to the task of writing five word reviews. They are as follows:
Women seek love, crazy journey. Love and lust complexities made human.
Based on these five words I don't think anyone would get a true sense of whether or not they ought to see the film. Without barbaric reaction words like "Meh" or "Eeeks" it's difficult to convey any sort of opinion beyond just a summary. This kind of brevity strips the critic of their opinion, and opinion is the very essence of reviews. I don't mind five word summaries, but when it comes to films lets opt for a combination of that and five star rankings, something that actually tells us whether or not something is worthwhile in the first place. After all, if you don't have the time to read the review in entirety there's no sense in spending time on the actual product unless it's la creme de la creme.
So five word reviews, here's my five word review of you:
Brief reviews, useless without stars.
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In the spirit of today, check out Dressy Bessy. Their LP Style Review would go like this:
Dressy Bessy Melodic powerpop led by biting female. ****/ (4/5 Asterisks aka Stars)
I am a determined lover of life who insists on trying almost everything at least once and becoming passionately obsessed with most of it. I read constantly, eat frequently, and rarely lose sight of my goals.
My work has brought me into LuxuryLab (a new think tank/luxury brand consulting company), music publicity, magazine writing (music features, restaurant reviews, etc), and coaching Columbia University softball. Learning is at the core of my being so I'm an aspiring DJ and renegade marketer on the verge of new academic discovery at NYU.
More than that, I'm the person you'll find dancing in the living room as the sun rises over New York City.
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