For all of you psychology students who need a thesis topic, have I got a good one for you.
Please, dissect why it feels so much better to hear a favorite song on the radio than it does to simply play a CD or .mp3 file.
Of course the answer lies in the fact that it’s an unexpected surprise but I have a feeling there’s more. Is it partly because we relish in the fact that someone somewhere out there at a completely different point in their life might share this song with you and feel like you do? Is it because we crave familiarity and like to think that other people also want to hear the things that are our favorites? Or maybe it’s some sort of approval of our favorite things? Tell me everything that makes us feel that way.
Send me a thorough thesis and I’ll give you something (what it is will depend on how well off I am at the time). And then together we can figure out how to apply that beautiful “Omigod they’re playing my song” feeling to product perception and marketing.
***
And now for an artist you'll probably never hear on the radio but probably ought to listen to anyway. His name is Parov Stelar and he's an Austrian jazz electro guy who knows how to drop a beat.
Parov Stelar - "Matilda" (I can't even tell you how much I'd LOVE to be in this video, or at least throw paint water balloons around an empty room while wearing all white.)
There's a new paper that's made of stone. It's called TerraSkin and production takes half the energy of regular paper. According to a recent article in Business Week it's recyclable and durable, but if "exposed to sunlight and humidity long enough" it "breaks down like talcum powder." I'm not sure what long enough means, but sales of these bags are expected to triple by the end of 2009 and some proponents of green are calling TerraSkin a major solution.
All I have to say is that I can hardly wait to offer to carry a TerraSkin bag for someone and then say, "Goodness this is heavy! What do you have in here, rocks?!?!?!"
***
And in case that wasn't enough pun for one night, until you get your hands on a rock bag you should rock out to Frankmuzik electro style.
I figure it's only a matter of time before someone releases a movie in which Twitter is the central character? Perhaps they'll call it Twittered, or Tweet? I predict it's only a matter of time and suspect that the film will fall into the genre of horror.
Perhaps a quick release, poorly constructed slasher film where the killer knows exactly what you did last summer...and just a second ago. Or maybe they'll avoid the film because the prospect of Twitter stalking someone to their demise is just too realistic... Nevertheless, sometimes I think Twitter: The Movie is only a matter of time.
On a happier note, I'm going back to basics with an artist I don't think I've mentioned yet but have loved for a few months now. Check out the soulful Little Jackie, a duo who will leave you with head bopping hooks long after the song is over.
Apparently finding a dentist in New York City is much like finding a date online. I know of no hygienist bar scene and unfortunately I don't know anyone (or even know anyone who knows anyone) who accepts my insurance, and so I have (gasp) resorted to the internet.
When I started my search I expected to read small blurbs about each of my dental options in the city along with a potential review or two. Instead I found entire profiles outlining everything from bedside manner to average wait time. What got me most though, were the dentists' profile pictures.
Allow me to show a few of the dentists' pictures below, and I'm not bluffing.
Random Musing: New York radiates so bright that it's almost impossible to pick out a star if you look up at the Manhattan sky in the dead of night. Sometimes I miss getting lost in the constellations, but every time I step off the train about midnight with a book in hand, I appreciate New York's light. There are few places where I could read on the streets at two am without a portable light source. New York is one of those places though, and I'm loving every word.
***
Cool like Juno's Paulie Bleeker or argyle sweater vests with crisp shirts and double windsor knotted ties, Noah and the Whale is enchanting and totally nerdy in a good way. You've got to love a ukulele wielding band that describes love as "Two items in a molecule, inseparably combined" (see "Two Bodies, One Heart" below). If anybody will take you tiptoeing through the tulips it'll be Noah and the Whale in tracks like "Five Years Time." In more serious songs lead singer Charlie Fink sings from deep in his stomach, producing a voice that groans in a Chris Martin from Coldplay sort of way.
The prospect of adventure has always lured me in aggressively. For me it wasn't just adventure, it was ADVENTURE. I was determined to go all out and to make everything I could grand and incredible. I think in some ways I still live with that philosophy.
I remember wanting to bond with nature, so I smashed berries on rocks for ink and wrote with cattail and feather pens. I even went as far as bringing cattail pens to school, insisting on taking my spelling tests with long pens that made me feel adventurous and rugged. That was just how I was, and I didn't know any different. Everything was involved, ornate, and all out.
Growing up on Costa del Sol I remember countless forts, but there's one that burns vividly in my memory. The fort was underneath a row of townhouses built on a hill, so structurally everything was already there before I came upon it. It was in what I called "the caves" and to get in I unscrewed a vent and walked in to find myself in the most massive fort I've ever seen a kid enjoy. One room was a large expanse, and I called it the master room. The other room, which I called the kitchen, was through a hallway and probably 1/6th the size of the other room.
The kitchen was barely large enough to comfortably fit a row of homemade makeshift cabinets (and an old filing cabinet I found) along with a card table and chairs. I liked to call the wall of cabinets and storage space my "walk-up pantry," and the card table and chairs fit perfectly without anyone getting too near the walls that we imagined were laden with black widows and tangled spiderwebs. Of course because the fort was under a row of townhouses it wasn't ever very bright, but a series of flashlights and lemon-fired-battery-rigged-lightbulb-lamps made us very aware of a dire pest problem that needed to be addressed. Except for the threat of spiders the fort was our sanctuary.
I reacted to the bug problem like the Department of Defense would react to a breach in homeland security. I took a broom and violently swept all the spiderwebs away (a jumpy process that requires the utmost courage) and then scheduled a regular, calendared series of bug spray installments. You'd be happy to know that for safety reasons the fort was given time to air out before we entered again for construction and play, but any given bug spraying outing could require anywhere from 1/4 to half a can of Raid.
The bugs were a constant and fearful battle but once they were mostly controlled I took to leveling the fort's floor. The incline of the room was impeding on our living space dramatically, and I decided there were far too many unusable square feet. There was even a point along one side of the fort that wasn't tall enough for storage because of the close proximity to the ceiling and possible threat of spiders. I dreamed of somehow bringing power machinery into the fort so I could level the floor easilly but ended up slowly chipping away the hill's incline with rocks. I made stair steps, reclining chairs (basically large and comfortable hill indents that I lined with sheets and other various materials), and evened out the softer ground.
When my hand held rock methods became intolerable and I felt I was blessed with enough even floor space for my friends and I to sleep if we wanted, I started in on aesthetic appearance. After all, I didn't want a fort. I wanted a house.
Although I'm sure I took far too many blankets and household accessories during my day (I'm pretty sure I even took potpourri) , most of the mansion's aesthetic adjustments were a direct result of the treasures I found while dumpster diving. There was constant construction around my neighborhood during elementary school so resources were easy to stumble upon. I found large pieces of wood for the flooring and eventually scored on a huge piece of cream colored and nearly new looking carpet. I couldn't imagine why, but it seemed like someone had decided to remove their perfectly fine cream carpet and replace it with something else. I recruited neighborhood kids and friends, and together we pulled the carpet through the vented door via an intricate folding, pulling, and feeding process. My fort was carpeted. I kept backpacks, canned foods, a sleeping bag, games, MagLites, sodas (a friend of mine used to have loads of Pepsi in fridges in her garage and she would take a few every time she came over for our fort stockpile), and much more. At one point a neighbor, concerned with how much I was taking to the fort, even phoned my house to make my parents aware of her concern that I might be planning to run away for good somewhere. My fort was incredible.
Then there came a day when I grew taller. I had to duck through the door a little before I came upon my mansion of a fort, whereas the door before was an easy step in. We still frequented the fort but it was different. My friends started getting boyfriends and we were seeing PG-13 movies like Ace Ventura Pet Detective more often.
One day they started construction on "the caves" around my fort and I was condemned from the space I felt I had built myself. Every time I tried to sneak a peak to make sure the workers weren't raiding my space I encountered a someone on scaffolding and had to leave. When the workers left for good and took their scaffolding with them I went back through the bushes and into "the caves." I was alone but wanted to sidle through my vent door and step on my welcome mat where I usually left my shoes so I could keep the cream carpet clean and undisturbed. I wanted the comfort of the musty, cool air but instead found a sealed vent door. In rage, I pulled out my keychain all-in-one screw driver and tried to peel away the caulked and painted seal. I tried to unscrew the screws holding the door on but found them too covered in stuccoed caulk to make any headway.
I never entered the fort again and I wonder if any of the construction workers ever found out what I had made my second home. Did they take their shoes off at the welcome mat as I had done so many times? Did they relax in one of my recliner chairs and enjoy a Diet Pepsi before sealing the fort for the last time? Or did they go about their job routinely, never seeing the personality and life that my friends and I breathed into my fort house in the span of hours and years? Either way, I still think about the fort. Sometimes I feel its cool air or see something that triggers my memory. I think about the black Nike backpack with the red swoosh that's probably still there and wonder if that Cat In the Hat patch is intact like when I first brought it into the fort. Are there still cans of pineapple and other foods in the walk up pantry, and is there still art on the wall? Or did all that disintegrate when the spiders took over their land again?
In some ways I hope that the pieces of my fort are entangled in webs, somehow supporting new life and making new stories. The fort and everything in it, including what happened inside, is part of my memory. It was part of what sculpted who I am today.
When the vent door was sealed for the last time without my knowing it I was forced to grow up a little and realize that childhood is temporary and memories become just that. They say the most important things in life happen in your absence. Perhaps that is the case through the vent door, looking in on the memory of my mansion of a fort.
***
And now I'll share perfect music for memories, a blues artist who makes the cello sound like Jack Johnson caressing his guitar. Check out Ben Sollee and and groove to his truthful lyrics. Then look for a review of his debut full length album "Learning to Bend," which comes out on June 10th, at Thrill Magazine.
Take a listen below (don't mind the long intro, this video is beautiful and well worth the time), and while we're at it, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed that long winded window into my past.
Thrill Magazine is more than a dream, it's a dream come true. Your lifestyle guide to music, style, and the arts is now online. We're still in a halfway beta testing mode right now and have a bit of development left but since my readers here are mostly friends and loyal followers, I thought I would give you an exclusive glimpse before we pull out all the major tricks. Feel free to visit the site often, because your clicks create our funding. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the content and please feel free to contact me with any questions, comments, or concerns. You'll find a rough webshot below, as well as a letter from the publisher...a few heartfelt words that get a little more personal than I traditionally reveal. I hope you enjoy it all...
*** A Letter From the Publisher
On Beginnings Courtships and Crushes and Falling in Love
Love for me has always been vehement. Whether I’m electrified by the syncopated percussions of a favorite song, the art that pulls my soul through my eyes, or the power of a crush, when I let love overcome my existence something in me changes forever.
I remember my most recent crush, the way my heart skipped violently toward madness every time my eyes met the other person’s. I gravitated toward the object of my attraction, lost in the drumbeat of ethereal delight. The beginning of love changed the tint of my perspectives, and my investment into making love thrive was infinite.
That’s how I feel as Thrill Magazine comes to fruition. It’s like a new beginning, the result of countless late nights and hours of deep conversation with those who have helped make Thrill what it is today. It’s madness but nothing short of the investment of my life: a dream come true.
I hope you that as you read our content about music, style, and the arts that it captures your attention and holds your affections. After all, this is the object of our devotion and a beautiful new beginning, the kind that we hope sends electrical currents down your spine and anticipation through your body. May you enjoy this new beginning and fall in love with Thrill the way I have.
For now I recommend a classic, "Mother We Just Can't Get Enough" by the New Radicals. Bask in the beautiful crescendos of this song and then check out Thrill Magazine for more music recommendations and news updates.
We see the world differently as children. I learned that when I walked through my once humongous Judkin's Junior High only to find that my empire was a small postage stamp of a school. It takes time to process the world and all it's magic, and I've always been amazed by the ways we process and make sense of the world as children. In considering this I've remembered and written out a few instances of my childish misconceptions.
1) I remember the Wednesday night routine just before bed. We would tote the rolling trash can and recycling bin out to the curb just as the street lamps were turning on for Thursday morning pick up. My parents called it preparation for "trash day" so growing up on Costa del Sol I always wondered if Thursday was an official trash day for everyone in the world. I guess I supposed being a trash man wasn't such a bad life. One day weeks, six day weekends, what's better than setting out to rid the world of its trash every Thursday with the rest of the trucks? Then every Friday the world would be clean...
2) I'm not sure whether you would call it stubborn, stuck in my ways, or fiercely loyal, but as a kid I stuck by what I liked. Such was the case with everything from Taco Loco (my favorite Mexican restaurant) to brands of toothpaste. My parents bought Aquafresh and Mentadent and I remember diligently dispensing perfectly equal amounts of each color of toothpaste onto my toothbrush. It was magic to me though, the way the colors could stay separate, unmixed and true. I was convinced that because of the color stripes, that these multicolored brands were top of the line, unmatched dental products.
3) If my memory serves me right I wore pants twice to Elementary School. I thought pants were incredibly uncomfortable and was convinced that I, Lauren Proctor, would be able to live a perfectly normal, professional, grown up life without having to suffer through any sort of clothing that might impede on my ability to run around as if I were wearing athletic apparel. Thank goodness that perception has changed but I appreciate the fact that I was permitted to go through that stage of self expression through shorts.
4) My favorite consideration of how my perceptions of the world have changed since I was younger live in my old journals, notes, and blogs. I was perusing my old Xanga blog the other day and found an entry that I think represents who I was in high school, oh so long ago. It reads...
"Have all of you tried the phenomenal Bubble Tea? I found a recipe to make bubble tea at home, which has always been thrilling to me. I've always loved making things myself. I remember attempting to make Sweet Tarts in the oven at Rachel Byrne's house. Rather than hard glossy artificially flavored treats, we ended up with some sort of tart crispy bread...all natural. At the time I had my heart set on the imitation sweet tart. But now I think I should have settled for the all natural treat. Too bad I didn't get the recipe for that one. I also remember making liquid candy with Nicole in elementary school. Our best client was Katie Wong. God bless her! I actually found some of our candy the other day and took a daring taste. It was in our patented packaging...one of those film bottles that prevents the roll of film from being exposed. Much to my surprise, it was good. Too bad the carbonation was gone and I didn't record the recipe." -- May 2nd 2004, four years ago to the day. I was already reflecting on my childhood, and already listening to Kings of Leon, a band that would become famous later on.
The way I process and perceive the world will continue to change as I learn life lessons and experience living. Regardless, I believe my recommendation of Greater Good will remain static. The band's full length album "Shake it Till I Let You Go" releases on May 20th, so feel free to take a listen. You'll find yourself tapping your toes and singing along with some upbeat rock and roll.
Click on the banner above to listen to some tunes from the upcoming album from Greater Good.
Violence on college campuses used to be the rare exception to the norm, the lion in William Blake's poetry that people fear even though they're unlikely to ever encounter their dread. I'm not sure how it happened, but I feel like our society suddenly regressed and now we live in a world where violence on campus is everywhere.
The sixth victim of the Illinois College shooting died just hours ago and the eighth grader who was shot in Oxnard, California earlier this week was declared brain dead. Fortunately he was taken off of life support today, but nothing can erase the damage the shooter has done. Locally at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, the latest rage is the lacrosse team violence and recent stabbings that have taken place in the past week or so. A year ago as an RA I began to see the violence rising as I was increasingly awoken to blood spattered walls resulting from pointless drunken, ego driven feuds.
These young people are supposed to be our leaders. They're supposed to be the increasingly involved voters in this upcoming election, and the ones who reverse the climate crisis. What is it though, that makes them so violent? More important, how do we reverse this trend of increasing violence? Is violence going to become the norm or is this something we can stop before more damage is done?
***
On a more cheerful note, I found yet another modern British marvel. Let Scouting for Girls take those worries of violence away with their staccato sounding and youthful pop. Laden with handclaps and beautiful timing, this band is incredibly catchy.
Unfortunately the sound quality of this video is poor, but if the keyboard intro makes your heart flutter for a second then check out this group's Myspace page. They're a great time.
I woke up this morning to Monty the radio DJ listing off a series of cancellations. "Just about everything is canceled today due to this terrible storm," he said cheerfully over the airwaves. Then he mentioned UMass, which was only delayed until 11 am.
It had been snowing the previous evening and then the snow turned to heavy rain. I've never seen it pour so steadily in my life, but UMass was determined, despite all the adverse weather, to trudge through the slush. Determined to go to campus with the few brave and worthy students, I cleared off my car and drove to campus in what most closely matches the consistency of a Slurpee. Wet, icy, and uncontrolled, puddles of water with floating ice covered the ground unevenly. Snow is blocking the rain gutters and as a result Weather.com has been flashing with a series of flood warnings.
When I got out of the car the weather was initially a little treacherous. After repeatedly and inadvertently dousing my pant leg in a high puddles though, I realized avoiding total submersion in the water was probably impossible. So rather than complain, as most New Englanders like to do when it feels like they're living in a brown Slurpee, I decided to embrace the weather. You only live once, right?
I put my belongings in a safe, dry place, and allowed myself the type of pleasure kids only dream about. At first the water was unbearably cold, but after awhile my skin reddened with numbness and my clothes began to function as a wet suit. I slid, splashed, sped, and tumbled through the puddles with careless vigor. At one point my friends and I were half swimming through a particularly large Slurpee-like puddle and chortling uncontrollably. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have a care in the world. All my self imposed pressure to succeed was gone and every ounce of my body was filled with joy. Nothing mattered but the moment I was living at that instant, and it felt amazing.
As insignificant as it sounds to frolic through the rain, I think today reminded me of something important. Lately I've been tied to tangible results, success, and working toward achieving a series of specific goals. In all of that, I think part of me lost a sense of pure joy. It had been far too long since I had completely freed myself from what I expect out of myself. Nothing will ever prevent me from losing sight of my goals, but today I realized that no accomplishment really matters if it makes you lose sight of your identity and happiness. It's important to have goals, but it's even more crucial to make sure your goals don't replace who you are as an individual. So here's to living in a Slurpee, if even for a day. I think it was enough to remind me of the importance of letting yourself go with uninhibited pleasure.
I began applying my new perspective by wading through knee high water to help a stranger who was floating in a puddle in her minivan. I pushed her about 100 feet to a parking spot and although she was in a tough situation, we had a great time. Today has me on top of the world, so here's to living in a Slurpee.
***
In honor of a sophisticated and feel good band, I'll recommend The Bird and the Bee today. They have an EP called "Too Many Hearts" coming out tomorrow for Valentines Day, so enjoy. This video is a little bizarre, but the song is brilliant, so check them out.
Brandice Balschmiter stepped onto the Florida Atlantic University softball field yesterday in black and white skull earrings. After months of anticipation, the University of Massachusetts had finally started their season, and Brandice was just one of UMass' players who was looking for a new and improved self.
Most of the team wants their changed selves to show up in the form of more hits and better defense, but Brandice took her transformation a step further. "It's a new look for a new season," she announced proudly in the UMass weight room months ago. New eye black, slightly intimidating earrings, and a new attitude have all helped her so far, and B, as we like to call her, is flinging 72 mile an hour fastballs over the edges of the plate.
Our team started the season ranked 30th in the nation, but we kicked off the year with a loss against number 12 ranked Michigan 1-0 and another one against Maryland. This morning we continued the second day of the 2008 season with a loss against Northern Florida and then a win against 23 ranked South Carolina. We have yet to put everything together, but when we do I think our results will start to improve. Tomorrow's game will be announced later this evening pending the results of other games in the tournament, but we'll most likely play at nine a.m. Then it's back to snowy Massachusetts.
***
On the other side of my life, I feel like I'm at a point where I'm waiting to see where what I've done so far is going to get me. I applied to NYU, Columbia, Brown, and Northwestern. I was also nominated for the Lowe's Award and the 21st Century Leader's Award. I suppose the best thing to do is continue to work as best as I can, but sometimes it's tough to wait without knowing where you'll be in a few months. I suppose it's a reminder for living in the moment.
In the spirit of living in the moment, take a listen to Horse Feathers. Their singsong instrumentals fuse with a low key folk sound. They'll suck you in and slow you down until you're relaxed to the max.
I never was one for combing my hair or dolling up my physical appearance but when I saw my first boutique sneaker shop I fell in love with fashion and style. For the first time I had entered a store that customized its products exactly to my lifestyle and shopping was revolutionized. Buying a product felt like buying an extension of my identity and that felt nice.
In a world where nearly anything can be customized I think the demand for buying products that feel like an extension of who we are will become increasingly important. People want to customize exactly what feeds they receive through RSS and customized clothing made by tailors is a growing business. As a result, I think boutiques will grow in popularity. Of course these places won't replace Wal Mart or Macy's, but the marketplace for boutiques like the ones pictured below will grow.
That being said, I recently found a one of a kind sneaker brand called Creative Recreation. I fell in love with a shoe and can't seem to find it anywhere. So if you can find a place where I can buy a pair of size 7.5 Creative Recreation Cesario Lo Platinums in black and gold like the item pictured below I will pay you ten of my own hard earned dollars. The shoes can't be inordinately priced ($120 is the most expensive I've ever seen them even though they're out of stock) and I have to be able to ship them to my home in the United States for a reasonable cost. I'll pay you via PayPal, cash, or whatever. Just call me or send me an email at Lproctor@student.umass.edu
Before I leave to pine over my dream sneakers I'll fill you in on my new musical affinity. The laid back Kelley Stoltz combines intricate weavings with genuine acoustic show tunes style to create a unique and beautiful sound. Best of all, his new album Circular Sounds is set for a February 5th release on Sub Pop Records. You can't go wrong with "Morning Sun," which you'll find on his myspace page jukebox.
Like others, I am a person of ritual. There's the ritual of whispering "I love 32" as I tap the doorway leaving practice, or the ritual of waking up and eating my breakfast slowly and thoughtfully. I put on my cleats with in a reverential ritual, and I ritually check my email throughout the day. And although I repeat all the aforementioned often, nothing quite tops my ritual check of The Weather.
Whether I'm deciding what clothes to pick out for the approaching day or trying to decipher whether we'll be able to squeeze in a softball game or not, I feel like knowing the weather is invaluable. It's a form of social currency, a way of finding yourself constantly in the know. And I like to know if there's a 30% or 80% chance of rain between the hours of 3 and 5. It makes a difference. Not only that, but lately I've taken quite a liking to whoever it is that writes (or more appropriately yells because all caps is a form of yelling in cyberspace) weather.com's weather statements.
Maybe my lowered exposure to humor due to writer's strike has caused the semi-funny to become funnier, but there's just something about weather statements that really get me. Problem is, I don't think they're intended to be funny. Below is an example of a weather statement from earlier today. I'll let you read it, and then tell you why I think it's so quirky.
A WEAK DISTURBANCE ALOFT IS BRINGING SOME VERY SPOTTY LIGHT FREEZING RAIN... SLEET...AND SNOW SHOWERS THIS SATURDAY EVENING. WHILE AIR TEMPERATURES MAY BE JUST ABOVE FREEZING IN SOME INSTANCES...THE RECENT SUBZERO COLD WILL PROBABLY HAVE RESIDUAL EFFECTS IN KEEPING PAVEMENT TEMPERATURES AT OR JUST BELOW FREEZING AS THE SCATTERED LIGHT PRECIPITATION MOVES THROUGH THE REGION. THIS MAY RESULT IN LOCALIZED SLIPPERY SPOTS ON AREA ROADS OVERNIGHT. PRECIPITATION AMOUNTS WILL BE VERY LIGHT...WITH JUST A TRACE TO TWO HUNDREDTHS OF AN INCH OF LIQUID EXPECTED IN SPOTS. SEVERAL LOCATIONS MAY JUST REMAIN DRY."
1. I just don't understand the caps. Is it supposed to create panic and unease about the encroaching "WEAK DISTURBANCE ALOFT"?
2. What interesting word choice, ellipsis, and sentence structure. Just look at that. The meteorologist is much more eloquent on television.
3. That brings me to another point. Who in the world writes these? Is it the meteorologist, pecking away at his computer or do they hire a writer of some sort? And whoever it is, are they proud of the weather statements. Obviously their name doesn't make it into print, but do they call their friends and say, "Golly gee, Holly, look at that pristine weather statement that just went online. I used some big words, and my sentences are almost as long as Hawthorne's."
It makes me WONDER...THINK...AND CHECK THE WEATHER STATEMENTS WITHOUT FAIL EVERY DAY... It won't help my writing but maybe it'll help me prepare for two hundredths of an inch of slippery liquid in the morning. Or perhaps my location may just remain dry. I suppose I'll have to go outside to find out.
With that said, I hope the weak disturbance aloft misses you altogether. Good night and good tidings, may tomorrow bring you peace.
Always,
Lauren
P.S. In the meantime check out this sweet "Butterfly Dub" lounge track as you watch this video. I think Parkour (what these city boys are doing here) is going to become my sport after softball.
I hope 2008 finds each and every one of you happy and healthy. I celebrated the New Year quietly and the year has treated me well so far. I haven't read as much as I anticipated over the holiday, but I saw Juno and Charlie Wilson's War, and also spent the day perusing Roman and Greek artifacts in the Getty Villa. I've got 40 more hours to bask in the La Jolla warmth and then I'm back to the beloved East Coast.
Beyond that the only other significant news flash is that after months of drooling over what Time Magazine called 2007's best invention, I got an iPhone. It's beautiful. Rather than discuss its value to me I've decided to add some of my favorite iPhone related user generated videos.
If you're a sap-geek like me you'll enjoy this one.
This one is also beautiful.
And because I do offer a music recommendation before closing every blog, I'd like to honor the artist that was actually featured in the video above.
It's called "Young Folks" and it's by Peter Bjorn and John, whom I absolutely adore.
Goodnight my friends, and best of luck to you in 2008. May you accomplish everything you dreamed of and more.
Lost luggage, it happens to nearly every traveler at least once in their lifetime. Hearing the doorbell ring at 3 am after the airline remembers to direct your bag to your final destination isn't all that uncommon. But I am now on day three without any luggage, and what an experience it's been.
Apparently my bag disappeared into some black abyss. Last night I couldn't sleep, asking myself why I had to pack every single one of my favorite articles of clothing in my black duffel bag bound for San Diego. Perhaps I could have chosen to leave my favorite maroon shorts, my best overcoat, or my fanciest sweater and button up set safely behind in my home? But no, I had to take the best of the best to San Diego. And now I wonder why. Even more disturbing, why does a misplaced bag feel like I've lost a runaway child?
I've spent hours on the phone searching for my precious beloved, and nothing seems right without the extra presence. I haven't even had the opportunity to change my underwear.
Fortunately Frontier Airlines allowed me to spend $200 on clothes and they claim they'll compensate for what I spent even when they find my beloved black duffel. (Perhaps it's time to change that underwear.)
But nothing can replace the items carefully tucked away in my duffel bag. I mean, I take pictures of every single item I own before giving it to Good Will or the Salvation Army. Somehow I feel like the photograph can help me remember what I felt and experienced when I wore the clothes I gave away. It works for me, but now we're talking about parting with clothes I haven't photographed or even emotionally distanced myself from.
Of course I'm exaggerating here, and I am quite lucky for many reasons. 1. I made it to San Diego safely. Better my bag than me. 2. None of my friends or relatives have gone missing in the past few days. 3. I'm fortunate to have clothes I like. 4. At least I have my health.
I try to look at the positive in the situation, and I haven't really shown my disappointment to those who surround me.
Even so, oh how I miss my dear lost luggage. No matter where you are, allow my blogging voice to travel toward you at 340.29 meters per second. No matter where you are, you'll get my message eventually. I send you this:
Lost Luggage--
Please find home quickly. Your mother is sighing deeply, waiting for you expectantly. She can't sleep without you, and she hasn't even changed her underwear. Don't get sold in an auction in Alabama. Come home, lost luggage, come home. I'll treasure you like never before.
Love,
Lauren
P.S. If you come back, lost luggage, I'll wear your clothes as I dance around to Ben Lee's new songs from his latest album deemed Ripe.
In the interest of conforming to the most popular literary style for year end publications, I've chosen to blog today about ten things that make me kind of uncomfortable. Not totally uncomfortable, but the types of things that stir me up just a little (in no particular order).
1. The word "footsie." Even worse, footsie in the plural form, "footsies." 2. Cirque du Soleil. It's amazing what these people can do, but please, spare me the costumes. There's something slightly creepy about that. 3. Buying toilet paper. I know everyone does it but for some reason it embarrasses me just a little. 4. Stretching. This one actually makes me physically uncomfortable though, while the others give me a slightly uncomfortable feeling in my gut. 5. Calling businesses. There's nothing I'd rather do than avoid calling and talking to a stranger, especially if I have to disagree with them or ask a question. 6. Accidentally unzipped flies or UFO's in people's teeth. That's one's self explanatory. 7. Asking for favors or for people to pay you back money they owe you. 8. The action of other people cutting their nails in public. I had one of those in my Spanish class last semester and her nail clippings would fly. Sort of discomforting. 9. Eating with people who eat fast. I like to enjoy my food, and when the waiter takes my friends' plates but not mine, and then I'm left savoring my meal, I feel like an inconvenience to the waiter. Oh well, I'd rather enjoy my food. 10. Wet paper products. Actually this makes me more than "kind of uncomfortable" but what would a list about things that make me feel weird be without my phobia of wet paper products?
As we turn to music, I'd like to talk about an artist that also makes me kind of uncomfortable. His name is Jandek, but he's not really a man. Instead, Jandek is a collective referring to himself/themselves as "Corwood Industries." Jandek is mysterious, and anyone who appears in Jandek's name is simply a representative of Corwood Inustries. He chooses to remain reclusive, depressive, and mysterious and his music sounds similar. It's Daniel Johnston like, and causes infinite unease. But if you're into that type of thing, enjoy Jandek. Below is a 1985 interview between Jandek and SPIN Magazine. It's a nice, compact introduction to the lighter side of Jandek and Corwood Industries. The interview is only audio and the images are typical of Jandek's album covers.
A few years ago affordable watches used to be all about Fossil. Now it's all about Nixon. If you want to be cutting edge these days it's time to fork up a little more money to show you have style.
My old Fossil has served me well but it's time to upgrade. And since I'm not in the realm of Rolex at this point in my life, I've been obsessively searching for semi-affordable sturdy watches. In my search I stumbled upon Nixon's green and white Rayna, the blingy Player, and the first class Banks. Nixon helps me believe it: time is beautiful.
Of course my search hasn't been limited to Nixon. I've always had an affinity for LED lights so when Thinkgeek emerged with their own LED watches I about fainted. Not only that, but a friend emerged with a Dakota Hybrid watch which isn't too shabby either.
But while we're onto this LED light stuff, let's talk about this new gadget worth drooling over. It's called the Ibiza, and it's hot in an extremely weird and geeky way. Below is a customer action shot. The caption reads, "I asked for the time, not a light show."
To top it off the bottom of Thinkgeek's shopping section reads:
"Never offend people with style when you can offend them with substance." --Sam Brown
It lights up my life, these watches.
Now I think it's time (no pun intended) for a little music talk. I'm currently listening to "My Best Friend" by Hello Saferide.
Today was my final day of regular classes and I'm delighted to report that it's snowing. We've been inundated with weather alerts but there's nothing like watching a blanket of snow slowly accumulate outside. I'm taking some time to relax and as I result I think this blog will turn out to be a random menagerie of random thoughts and comments.
1. I want, sometime in my life, to see the Northern Lights also known as “Aurora Borealis." It seems like it would be one of the most amazing experiences someone could witness.
2. I Am Legend. Children of Men, Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I've noticed an outpouring of post apocalyptic type works of art recently. What does that say about the world? Discuss.
3. Naturally, while unwinding I was checking out Youtube. User Nalts (www.willvideoforfood.com) is brilliant. Check out some of his videos. I've been absolutely rolling.
Now to the music: I found Rilo Kiley in high school and fell in love with "The Frug" and "Glendora." Now I'm obsessed with Rilo Kiley's song "Silver Lining."
If you want you can watch the video and sing along to my favorite line, "I was your silver lining, but now I'm gold!"
Office supplies, they do it to me every time. Give me a whiff of plastic sheet protectors and I'm delighted, show me the ink flow on a new pen and I'll covet it until the ink runs out, or bring me a notebook and I'll feel compelled to buy it. Regardless of how hard I try to resist, office supplies are the weakness in me (as well as technology and a number of other things but that will come up later).
My affinity for office supplies has resulted in two things. The first is rationed trips to office supply stores. The other is the horrible accumulation of notebooks. "Oh, this one is the perfect size," I'll say about one as soon as I see it. Or "Wow, look at the way the pages fold as a result of the smooth three ring spiral redesign," I'll say about another. Then the justification comes in. I think of every reason why I absolutely need this notebook, and usually if it's only a couple bucks I splurge.
When I first acquire a notebook it becomes my best friend. I carry it along with me everywhere (in addition to a couple magazines) and write various notes, story ideas, or compelling metaphors inside. After awhile I gradually withdraw from the notebook. Maybe I feel like my writing kick is too off topic to go in the notebook I've been carrying around so I switch, other times I just get tired of lugging the same thing around all the time and I let my notebook stay in one place. As a result, I have a collection of half filled (optimism intended) notebooks.
Sometimes I look back at notebooks, and when I needed something for my overnight interview with The Donut Man I sifted through the pages of a few to find something suitable for interview notes (as well as splatters of donut fixings). One notebook was a small black covered book, and in it I found a quote from Theodore Roosevelt that I love. It reads:
"It's not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again...who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly."
With jewels like that, small reminders of what impacts me greatly at any given time in my life, I suppose my obsession with notebooks isn't all that bad. Maybe I'll head to the office supply store. After all I do need more printer ink. And what better reason to purchase another notebook than quotes like Roosevelt's?
This video doesn't require much of an introduction. Let's just say these riders are heroic, and possibly a bit crazy. But isn't some degree of crazy a prerequisite for any type of heroism? I won't bore you with that thought process, but check out these unicycle riders as they tear through Manhattan.
Before I leave you I'd like to introduce you to an amazing band. Check out The Feeling. These guys are like the Elton John of the new millennium.
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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