iris.

true confession: i have a secret affinity for iTunes celebrity playlists.

there was a time not too long ago when i neglected to distinguish my personal opinions about something from the truth about something. it took me awhile to learn that something's worth was not contingent on my appreciation of it. so, for example, you may have noticed that among my list of dislikes over there to your right is the name james taylor. (it should, i suppose, say "james taylor's music" as i have no particular objection to the man himself other than the way he pronounces "theeee.") it is true that i don't much care for james taylor's repertiore. however, it is not true that i believe james taylor, for lack of better words, sucks. there is the reality that james taylor is a successful singer/songwriter revered by not a few people who's musical tastes i respect and admire. and there is the reality that i don't like james taylor. i believe if more people were willing and able to make those kinds of distinctions this world would be a much more tolerant place. not that there isn't a time and a place to conclude that something has no inherent value. but that's a subject for a different kind of post. (see mine about bees.)

some people probably scoff at celebrity playlists assuming a false sense of musical superiority. does starring in one's very own FOX sitcom qualify one to make music recommendations to the masses? sure, why not. if the distinction is made between said FOX celebrity's opinions and the quality of his respective musical selections. i mean, if russell crowe can muster up enough enthusiasm about the goo goo dolls to make me want to download one of their radio hits from 1997, then more power to him. it's cool to be able to revisit songs from your past or look twice at music you might not have given a second chance otherwise. and who knows, maybe some day luke perry's earnest appreciation of his greatest hits will reveal to me the hidden joys of listening to james taylor.

though i highly doubt it.

real ultimate power.

i'm trying to justify writing a new program about ninjas. in my quest to find some usable material, i came across this website.* it's perhaps the most awesome ninja-related piece of funniness since that full-length motion picture about the big green turtles.

(raphael was always my favorite. apparently, as a ten year old, i felt i could identify with him and all his melancholy deepness. or maybe i just felt bad that he had to spend so much of the movie lying half-dead in that bathtub. don't think i didn't have the soundtrack to that movie either. i did. )

*warning: some naughty content.

matthew bellamy 

you're something beautiful

two things are true about me. one, i attend a lot of concerts. two, i am prone to hyperbole. so, you won't be at all surprised to hear that i attended one of the most incredible concerts i've seen in my entire life on saturday evening.

the band is called MUSE. it's three members hail from a small town on the English seaside. it's lead singer/songwriter, matthew bellamy, is classically trained in piano and guitar and possesses one of the most powerful and unique voices in rock music today. they've won critical acclaim for a number of reasons, not the least of which being their breathtaking live performances.

it would be impossible for me to even begin to describe this concert experience, even with all the words in the English language at my disposal. (a gift i had taken for granted until i started writing radio programs for WOH) the light show alone was worth the price of admission. the sound these three men were able to produce with only two guitars and a drum kit defies even the wildest imagination. for most of the performance i sort of stood in awe, my mouth agape, wondering if what i was witnessing was really happening or if i'd been suddenly and momentarily transported into some kind of alternate universe where men routinely play electric guitar solos while balancing precariously on their knees and the tops of their heads. (yes, that really happened)

if you'd like a taste of what i'm describing here, go to the MUSE website and watch the video for "butterflies and hurricanes." note matthew's solo at about the three minute mark. the guy is up there on this keyboard with a coordinating light panel on the front of it playing frickin piano concertos like that scene in bill and ted's excellent adventure where beethoven composes a symphony at the music store and gets kicked out of the mall.

the whole evening culminated when, during their encore, they released these huge balloons into the audience which would pop on impact and shower the arena with red confetti. so. unbelievably. awesome.

i'm afraid i'm out of words now. if you're lucky, you'll get to see what i'm talking about someday. if i'm lucky, i'll never forget it.

a picture of grass

a few random things...

first, i posted that picture of grass cuz i thought this site could use a little sprucing. think of it as a virtual accessory. or something.

second, the weezer article in this month's rolling stone is insane. read it if you have the time.

third, if you've never seen (or heard of) the television show sports night, please acquaint yourself with it immediately. i am forever indebted to keri sue for revealing its magnificance to me.

fourth, i'm about to go chop off my hair and dye it a different color. this makes me feel a little anxious and also excited. i'll try to post a picture of it tomorrow.

fifth, i think this blog is becoming everything i swore it never would be. like some teenager's diary. not that it matters. raise your hand if you're even reading this right now....

see, that's what i thought.

cheers.

music is food.

i've been reading a little bit about this condition called synesthesia. people who have this condition experience a phenomenon where their five senses essentially "bleed" into one another. some people taste sounds, others hear color. it's fascinating. and i was thinking about it last night while enjoying the iron & wine concert at calvin.

i often have trouble explaining to people just how much i love music. probably because i can't even really explain it to myself. at least not with words. sometimes i'll be driving in my car listening to a new cd and i'll be so overwhelmed with how wonderful it is that i want to remove it from the player and take a huge bite out of it. i want to ingest and digest it so that it will flow through my veins and sustain my life. like vegetables.

i don't think i actually have synesthesia. but i do believe i can actually smell, feel, see, and taste music. i wouldn't trade that condition for anything in the world.

on why i want to marry a rockstar:
i suppose it's a little bit like florence nightingale syndrome. there they are. positioned profoundly up on that stage. their scruffy faces awash in brightly colored lights. flaunting their fitted jeans and their unwashed unkempt hair. and they're creating something. they're creating this amazing thing that fuels my soul and gives me joy and life and energy. i'm powerless against it. it's not just some stupid criteria i have like some girls who make lists of all the qualities they want their future soulmate to possess. (plays guitar: check.) it's just that i think music is the only other thing that can occupy that deep place in my heart where my soulmate will also reside. so i guess i figure if they're going to be sharing a living space, they might as well have something in common.

quick survey

should i ?

or

should i not?

cut and color my hair similarly (not quite as blonde) to the picture you see below.

hmmmmm.....

kirsten's cute haircut 

the bees are come.

around this time of year my life changes in a very particular way. that is, my irrational fear of bees forces me to make adjustments in my daily activities. for example, i must keep one hand on the automatic window controls at all times in order to prevent the little handmaidens of satan from flying into my car while i'm paused at a stop sign. this has happened a number of times before and every time resulted in total disaster. i've learned my lesson. if you'd care to hear any of those stories, i'd be happy to recount them for you. they're quite entertaining. also entertaining is the story of the time a wasp the size of brazil got into my bedroom and perched in between my window and my blinds and my dad had to DRIVE over to my apartment and kill it for me because i was literally paralyzed with fear. no. literally. i. could. not. move. if he hadn't come over, i'd probably still be sitting there on my bedroom floor watching it right now.

whenever people hear these kinds of stories about my irrational fear they always try to talk me out of it. people. don't bother. yes, i've been stung before. yes, i know it doesn't hurt that bad. i don't have a fear of getting stung by bees. i have a fear of the ACTUAL BEE. the fact that they can sting me is just the icing on the cake. (imagine something that you are afraid of... now give it a sword.) you see, it's an irrational fear. there is no reason i could give anyone that would explain it. i understand that it's ridiculous. i understand that giving something less than 1/1000 of my size this much power over my life is completely insane. but, all that is kind of built into the definition, no? the thing is. to me, bees might as well be the size of dinosaurs. when it comes to bees: size matters not. if given the choice between two doors. one of which had seventeen escaped convicts armed with machetes behind it. the other, one bee. i'd walk into the room with the machete-wielding escaped convicts in it every time. every. time. people. this is my life.

some have suggested i seek counseling for this. you know what they do to help people get over these kinds of fears? they put you in a room with whatever it is that you're afraid of. first, they put the thing in a cage across the room from you. then, they move the cage closer. then, they open the cage. then, they take the thing out of the cage. then, they put it on your hand. if you could feel my pulse while i just typed those last six sentences, you'd think i was having a heart attack.

so, it is now about 4:30pm. and i'm already starting to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the ascent up the stairs to my apartment. you see, bees like to hang out there. they just. chill. outside my apartment. not working. not performing any worthwhile functions. like they're waiting for me to invite them in for tea or something. dream on, bees. i try to be brave. sometimes i even give them little names. but those ba****ds can smell fear.

wish me luck.

50 years young

i think you can tell a lot about people by the company they keep. great people tend to have great friends. my mom has great friends. (and you too dad, but this post is about mom cuz it's her special day :) anyway, people love my mom. it's easy to understand why.

she's silly and sassy and particular and organized and considerate and funny and passionate and and easygoing and emotional and the little things in life amuse her. she has great friends. and many of them are coming over tonight for her party. i'm excited.

incidentally, i also have great friends. and today i'm going to give the credit for that to my mom. thanks for teaching me how to be the kind of person that people want to love.

happy birthday mom!

crimson and clover

i don't think i want a career.

i spent yesterday afternoon browsing a few internet job sites and listening to tommy james and the shondells on my dad's old vinyl. i'm just sort of feeling uninspired by, under qualified for and generally uninterested in most of what the job market has to offer me. i'm plagued by this feeling that i've become a sort of jack-of-all-trades, but master of none. after watching a bit of the apprentice last night, however, i think i may be selling myself a bit short. seriously... those are the best examples NBC could find of successful american business people? if that's true, i'm apparently over-qualified to be the CEO of a major corporation. who knew?

yeah
my mind's such a sweet thing
i want to do everything
what a beautiful feeling
crimson and clover
over and over

kate is home from cali. i like her. 

i don't trust this thing.

yesterday i had a delicious post all typed out for you to read wherein i recounted the tale of the harrowing walk i took around my old stomping grounds while spending sunday at my family's home in cascade, mi. i noted memories of apple juice ice pops, tree forts and haunted houses. i may have also mentioned that i was wearing ripped jeans and listening to my ipod at a rather high volume. then i proceeded to explain something that happened to me while rounding the corner of the block. that something was three 12-year-olds who were out playing basketball calling out to me as i passed something to the affect of "hey baby...how you doin..." i articulated how their comment had made me feel self-conscious and diminished and chastised any guys who actually thought that women enjoyed being greeted in that fashion. then i expressed my outrage and general incredulousness that a 12-year old would even have the nerve to speak to a 25-year-old woman in that manner. and then i lamented for a bit about these boys and wondered who was teaching them to be MEN. [sigh] and then i tried to redeem my dad's reputation by suggesting that, while i know he enjoys being the father of three girls, i think he would have raised some kick-ass boys who would have been respectful and kind and funny and never say things like "hey baby how you doin" to girls they'd never met. and then i think i said something really cheesy about how i appreciated all the real MEN who were reading this post who have always treated me with respect. then a single tear fell down my cheek. then i pressed "publish." then it told me there was an internal error and assured me that the bloggermaintenanceworkers were working hard to fix the problem. then i believe i clenched my fists in fury and cursed said bloggermaintenanceworkers in my head. then i curled up in the fetal position under my desk and whimpered for about 5 minutes. then i vowed to never attempt posting on this blog ever again.

all in a day's work.

this is the story of my life.

when i was young i was constantly plagued with insecurity. i took myself way too seriously, i was a pathological perfectionist, and more often than not i made mountains out of molehills.

all this was never more evident than when my dad took me out to play golf at the CRC rec center. ..

my dad is probably the most laid back person i've ever known. he never yells, he rarely gets angry, and usually the only thing to ever get him in any way riled up is when someone disagrees with his political views. i still remember the first time i ever heard him swear. around the 4th hole at fellowship greens was when i would usually start whining and being generally insufferable because i wasn't playing at the level of a pga tour champion. my dad, bless his heart, usually endured my temper tantrums with patience... but this one time he had simply had enough. after bearing with me for a couple of minutes, he pronounced in frustration "well you take the game so d#$% seriously!" i can honestly say i don't think i've heard him swear since.

thankfully, i've since matured out of most of these fatal personality flaws. i can, as a matter of fact, play an entire round of golf now without throwing my clubs on the ground like a petulant child. but, unfortunately, that doesn't mean that these old characteristics don't read their ugly heads from time to time.

case in point: i created this blog over a week ago and this is my first post. i can blame this on a number of things, not the least of which being the simple fact that i've had nothing interesting to say. but i think mostly it has to do with me. wanting this blog to somehow alter the state of the universe. knowing full well that it won't even make a dent.

i started this blog because of the proverbial "everbody else is doing it..." but i have to admit that i'm looking forward to keeping it. and i'd like to thank sara nelson for pressuring me to finally get over the hurdle of this first entry by threatening to kill me. or at the very least, remove the link to my blog from hers.

the end. or should i say... the beginning.

[cue inspirational elevator music]