Thursday, July 16, 2009
For Love of a Planetary-Sized Synth
I listen to all kinds of music. Bluegrass, Rap, Hip-Hop, Country, Rock, Pop...seriously, I listen to everything. I am always struck by the different kinds of talents that people possess, and music is a prime forum to illustrate this thought.
Who is more talented? It's much easier to compare a Mariah Carey and a Whitney Houston as opposed to comparing a Whitney Houston to a Tupac Shakur. Neither can do what the other is capable of, yet they both are able to create art and awesomeness.
I took piano lessons for several years growing up, I also played the clarinet. I was good at both, but never had the drive, desire, or most important, the natural talent to really go very far with either. I think that was somewhat of a curse for me growing up. I was able to pick up on a lot of things easily, and become moderately successful at said activities, but I never really felt connected enough to anything to pursue it intensely. No. That's not true. One year my friends and I dedicated a good deal of time to stuffing cheez balls in our mouths. I think my friend eventually became the champion when she could stuff some ungodly amount of cheez balls (like 38) in her mouth at one time.
My friend Erik is really smart. I've always known this, but recently it is becoming more and more apparent to me. He works with computers, and frankly, I couldn't explain anything that he does. I think it involves programming, maybe? Recently Erik has discovered a new passion for music. He has been layering sounds together and creating music. He just started and has already been on the radio. Every time he sends me a clip I am totally floored. I just don't understand how he can make all of the individual sounds come together like that. It's been pretty awesome to watch Erik throughout this new stage. His synthesizer is his new baby. He really loves what he is doing, and I think I sometimes forget that that is the ultimate goal in life. I feel like most people are just fumbling around in the cosmos, moderately happy, but knowing that they could be happier.
I'm always a little confused that despite my love for music, I've never really felt compelled to make it myself. Music really touches me, and can make me pretty emotional. Stephen Jenkins sang, "The four right chords can make me cry" and I completely understand. For instance, "Smash Your Head" by Girl Talk is one of my favorite songs because I tear up every time I hear it. It's not a conventional song by any means; Girl Talk is one dude named Gregg Gillis. He mashes up songs to create brilliant remixes. In "Smash Your Head" he mashes Biggie Smalls and Elton John. This particular pairing pulls at my heartstrings a bit harder than your average Girl Talk jam.
The coolest thing for me about Erik's recent endeavor is that he's not a 5 year old discovering that he is an awesome trumpet player, or a 3 year old child that is already pegged as a future Olympian. He is a regular adult, who started to dabble in something new and found something that he loves. I'm really jealous of Erik on this account. My biggest fear is of course that I somehow missed the boat, and somehow missed the opportunity to be awesome at something that I love. I doubt it though. As I have previously written I am a big believer in Fate. Everything happens for a reason, so I am positive that something led Erik to the synth, just as that same something will lead everyone else to their paintbrush, guitar, potter's wheel or...maybe a blog.
Who is more talented? It's much easier to compare a Mariah Carey and a Whitney Houston as opposed to comparing a Whitney Houston to a Tupac Shakur. Neither can do what the other is capable of, yet they both are able to create art and awesomeness.
I took piano lessons for several years growing up, I also played the clarinet. I was good at both, but never had the drive, desire, or most important, the natural talent to really go very far with either. I think that was somewhat of a curse for me growing up. I was able to pick up on a lot of things easily, and become moderately successful at said activities, but I never really felt connected enough to anything to pursue it intensely. No. That's not true. One year my friends and I dedicated a good deal of time to stuffing cheez balls in our mouths. I think my friend eventually became the champion when she could stuff some ungodly amount of cheez balls (like 38) in her mouth at one time.
My friend Erik is really smart. I've always known this, but recently it is becoming more and more apparent to me. He works with computers, and frankly, I couldn't explain anything that he does. I think it involves programming, maybe? Recently Erik has discovered a new passion for music. He has been layering sounds together and creating music. He just started and has already been on the radio. Every time he sends me a clip I am totally floored. I just don't understand how he can make all of the individual sounds come together like that. It's been pretty awesome to watch Erik throughout this new stage. His synthesizer is his new baby. He really loves what he is doing, and I think I sometimes forget that that is the ultimate goal in life. I feel like most people are just fumbling around in the cosmos, moderately happy, but knowing that they could be happier.
I'm always a little confused that despite my love for music, I've never really felt compelled to make it myself. Music really touches me, and can make me pretty emotional. Stephen Jenkins sang, "The four right chords can make me cry" and I completely understand. For instance, "Smash Your Head" by Girl Talk is one of my favorite songs because I tear up every time I hear it. It's not a conventional song by any means; Girl Talk is one dude named Gregg Gillis. He mashes up songs to create brilliant remixes. In "Smash Your Head" he mashes Biggie Smalls and Elton John. This particular pairing pulls at my heartstrings a bit harder than your average Girl Talk jam.
The coolest thing for me about Erik's recent endeavor is that he's not a 5 year old discovering that he is an awesome trumpet player, or a 3 year old child that is already pegged as a future Olympian. He is a regular adult, who started to dabble in something new and found something that he loves. I'm really jealous of Erik on this account. My biggest fear is of course that I somehow missed the boat, and somehow missed the opportunity to be awesome at something that I love. I doubt it though. As I have previously written I am a big believer in Fate. Everything happens for a reason, so I am positive that something led Erik to the synth, just as that same something will lead everyone else to their paintbrush, guitar, potter's wheel or...maybe a blog.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Bear Killed in Buffalo, NY for Stealing Picnic Baskets and Pies off of Windowsills. And for being Black.
I have never had a teddy bear; (I think everyone knows why. Cabbage Patch Dolls are awesome)but I think I need to get one soon in solidarity for all of my furry friends who don't get no respect. The teddy bear came into being after Teddy Roosevelt refused to shoot a little Black Bear cub whilst out hunting with his friends.
I was on Facebook this afternoon and saw that my cousin Amy had posted a news story about a black bear getting shot in Buffalo, NY.
http://www.wkbw.com/news/local/50586832.html
Amy was upset that the bear got shot, and frankly so was I. I definitely think that there was a better solution to the problem aside from shooting the poor creature. It just looks so cute in the picture!
Then I stopped being a whiny babypants and realized that about a month ago I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I saw a video of a bear getting shot with a tranquilizer gun.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42Or3_SOn70
Watching that again just made me cringe, but I cannot stop myself from laughing. At least the people from Missoula had the bear's best interest in mind when they attempted to remove it from the tree and take it back into the wildlife. I grew up in the woods and have seen many, many black bears in my time. I also know how to shoot a gun. I have never shot a black bear. Nor do I have any desire to. Black bears are pretty gentle as far as the bear community is concerned.
The American Black Bear (Ursus Americanus) are omnivores, but they mostly eat larvae and other gross stuff in nature. Humans are rarely, if ever, on the menu. Black Bears are not aggressive and usually run away if they sense a human presence. The poor Black bear can't even get a break from it's own species! Brown Bears are bigger, stronger and faster, and usually dominate the scene when they interact with the Black Bear. According to David Mech, wolves will also gang up on the Black Bear and attack it; though they are rarely successful in killing the creature. (L. David Mech & Luigi Boitani (2001). Wolves: Behaviour, Ecology and Conservation. p. 448).
Since the Black Bear is getting attacked by everyone, it's no wonder that sometimes they need to relax and unwind a little. This bear in Washington, decided to drink a case and a half of beer before it passed out at a campground!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/3580626.stm
You know what? Now that I think about it, I would definitely shoot a bear if it drank all of my beer.
I was on Facebook this afternoon and saw that my cousin Amy had posted a news story about a black bear getting shot in Buffalo, NY.
http://www.wkbw.com/news/local/50586832.html
Amy was upset that the bear got shot, and frankly so was I. I definitely think that there was a better solution to the problem aside from shooting the poor creature. It just looks so cute in the picture!
Then I stopped being a whiny babypants and realized that about a month ago I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I saw a video of a bear getting shot with a tranquilizer gun.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42Or3_SOn70
Watching that again just made me cringe, but I cannot stop myself from laughing. At least the people from Missoula had the bear's best interest in mind when they attempted to remove it from the tree and take it back into the wildlife. I grew up in the woods and have seen many, many black bears in my time. I also know how to shoot a gun. I have never shot a black bear. Nor do I have any desire to. Black bears are pretty gentle as far as the bear community is concerned.
The American Black Bear (Ursus Americanus) are omnivores, but they mostly eat larvae and other gross stuff in nature. Humans are rarely, if ever, on the menu. Black Bears are not aggressive and usually run away if they sense a human presence. The poor Black bear can't even get a break from it's own species! Brown Bears are bigger, stronger and faster, and usually dominate the scene when they interact with the Black Bear. According to David Mech, wolves will also gang up on the Black Bear and attack it; though they are rarely successful in killing the creature. (L. David Mech & Luigi Boitani (2001). Wolves: Behaviour, Ecology and Conservation. p. 448).
Since the Black Bear is getting attacked by everyone, it's no wonder that sometimes they need to relax and unwind a little. This bear in Washington, decided to drink a case and a half of beer before it passed out at a campground!
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/3580626.stm
You know what? Now that I think about it, I would definitely shoot a bear if it drank all of my beer.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Slippery Slope of the Emoticon
I'm not a big fan of the Transformers but I think I can grasp the basic concept. Some stupid machines somehow start to think for themselves and rise up and wreak havoc. Seems implausible and just the stuff that summer blockbusters are made of. (It's too early in the morning for me to get started on Megan Fox and her bizarre desire to emulate Angelina "The Devil" Jolie...that is another post for another day. And don't worry. I could write a book about my feelings for Angelina).
But yeah, a car turns into a robot and now it wants to kill people or something. Normally I don't pay attention or care about storylines like this, but lately something has given me pause. What the HELL is with these emoticons?
I understand that texting and AIM completely changed the way that my generation speaks. I will also be the first to admit that I am a huge abuser of the system. I speak in "text slang" almost exclusively. I have always loved acronyms (my nickname is just my initials for crying out loud) and I loveloveLOVE being able to punctuate a sentence with a "BRB" (be right back) or "OMG!" (oh my God).
I first started to grasp that the text slang was a problem when my best friend Beth came to visit me and began saying, "OMGWTFBBQ!" (Oh my God, What the Fuck, ....) what did the last part mean? Beth calmly explained that BBQ had not changed it's meaning and still meant barbeque.
So this meant that people were actually going around saying, "Oh my God! What the Fuck?! Barbeque!!!" It's ludicrous and ridiculous and really made me start to think.
I did some research on the web and realized that some "OT's" (old-timers) probably have no idea what we young people are blabbing about when we speak in our choppy, new made up language. There are a myriad of websites to help the OT's with their difficulties.
www.noslang.com
www.web-friend.com/help/lingo/chatslang.html
www.netlingo.com/acronyms
....and the list obviously goes on.
So since we have obviously mastered abbreviating our words, I assume it was logical that the next step would be abbreviating our feelings and emotions. Enter the Emoticon.
Now, I like a good smiley face just as much as anyone. Sometimes a :( can say a lot in a text to a friend who is going through a rough time. I can handle the wink ;) but that is the limit for me. Yesterday my friend Ben was showing me all of his new emoticons, and I got riled up! He was showing me a mustache emoticon, a "more cowbell" emoticon, a crab emoticon, a ROBOT (???) emoticon, and a pile of shit emoticon. WHAT??? A PILE OF SHIT? HOW IS THAT EQUIVALENT TO A SMILE??
The entire point of the emoticon is to express an emotion that you would not be able to convey over electronic communication. If you are in front of the person you can SEE that they are smiling, or frowning or winking. An emoticon is an emotion that you have to show via text, because the person on the other end of the phone or the computer cannot see you! If my friend ever asked me how I was doing and I felt like a piece of shit, I would not bring said friend into the bathroom with me and show her a pile of shit. I would not perform the act of taking a shit, nor would I have left a shit in the toliet so that I could really illustrate how shitty I felt.
The pile of shit emoticon (in case you are wondering it is ~@~) brings this new text slang to new heights. Previously I was really annoyed by ROTFLMAO because I couldn't figure out what the hell it meant. (The beauty of an acronym is usually it's simplicity). Well ROTFLMAO means Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off. The last time I was on the floor laughing my ass off I wasn't shouting out random acronyms... I was rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.
As previously stated, I love a good acronym. A good one. These ten letter acronyms that don't mean anything or these emoticons that symbolize fecal matter are too much for me. And I'm not saying that if you type ~@~ that a pile of shit is going to come to life, squirt out of your computer and destroy the planet; but you never know.
But yeah, a car turns into a robot and now it wants to kill people or something. Normally I don't pay attention or care about storylines like this, but lately something has given me pause. What the HELL is with these emoticons?
I understand that texting and AIM completely changed the way that my generation speaks. I will also be the first to admit that I am a huge abuser of the system. I speak in "text slang" almost exclusively. I have always loved acronyms (my nickname is just my initials for crying out loud) and I loveloveLOVE being able to punctuate a sentence with a "BRB" (be right back) or "OMG!" (oh my God).
I first started to grasp that the text slang was a problem when my best friend Beth came to visit me and began saying, "OMGWTFBBQ!" (Oh my God, What the Fuck, ....) what did the last part mean? Beth calmly explained that BBQ had not changed it's meaning and still meant barbeque.
So this meant that people were actually going around saying, "Oh my God! What the Fuck?! Barbeque!!!" It's ludicrous and ridiculous and really made me start to think.
I did some research on the web and realized that some "OT's" (old-timers) probably have no idea what we young people are blabbing about when we speak in our choppy, new made up language. There are a myriad of websites to help the OT's with their difficulties.
www.noslang.com
www.web-friend.com/help/lingo/chatslang.html
www.netlingo.com/acronyms
....and the list obviously goes on.
So since we have obviously mastered abbreviating our words, I assume it was logical that the next step would be abbreviating our feelings and emotions. Enter the Emoticon.
Now, I like a good smiley face just as much as anyone. Sometimes a :( can say a lot in a text to a friend who is going through a rough time. I can handle the wink ;) but that is the limit for me. Yesterday my friend Ben was showing me all of his new emoticons, and I got riled up! He was showing me a mustache emoticon, a "more cowbell" emoticon, a crab emoticon, a ROBOT (???) emoticon, and a pile of shit emoticon. WHAT??? A PILE OF SHIT? HOW IS THAT EQUIVALENT TO A SMILE??
The entire point of the emoticon is to express an emotion that you would not be able to convey over electronic communication. If you are in front of the person you can SEE that they are smiling, or frowning or winking. An emoticon is an emotion that you have to show via text, because the person on the other end of the phone or the computer cannot see you! If my friend ever asked me how I was doing and I felt like a piece of shit, I would not bring said friend into the bathroom with me and show her a pile of shit. I would not perform the act of taking a shit, nor would I have left a shit in the toliet so that I could really illustrate how shitty I felt.
The pile of shit emoticon (in case you are wondering it is ~@~) brings this new text slang to new heights. Previously I was really annoyed by ROTFLMAO because I couldn't figure out what the hell it meant. (The beauty of an acronym is usually it's simplicity). Well ROTFLMAO means Rolling On The Floor Laughing My Ass Off. The last time I was on the floor laughing my ass off I wasn't shouting out random acronyms... I was rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.
As previously stated, I love a good acronym. A good one. These ten letter acronyms that don't mean anything or these emoticons that symbolize fecal matter are too much for me. And I'm not saying that if you type ~@~ that a pile of shit is going to come to life, squirt out of your computer and destroy the planet; but you never know.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Re: Missed Connections
This was sent to me by Laura...ironically this is a Missed Connection from Philadelphia.
I guess this is what happens when a Missed Connection goes horribly wrong....
http://dontevenreply.com/view.php?post=20
(this is the link but I cut and copied the text as well)
Original ad:
i saw you outside market east station. you were getting into a red ford truck. i was wearing a yellow shirt and had dirty blonde hair. our eyes met and we smiled. i hope you find me so we can meet up :)
From Mike Anderson to *********@***********.org
That was me. I don't know why you thought we had a moment. I was smiling because of how disgustingly fat you were. I was trying to hold back laughter as I got into my truck. When I got in I just fucking lost it. Dirty blonde hair? Try dirty, grease-soaked hair.
From Chelsea ******** to Me
FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!
I guess this is what happens when a Missed Connection goes horribly wrong....
http://dontevenreply.com/view.php?post=20
(this is the link but I cut and copied the text as well)
Original ad:
i saw you outside market east station. you were getting into a red ford truck. i was wearing a yellow shirt and had dirty blonde hair. our eyes met and we smiled. i hope you find me so we can meet up :)
From Mike Anderson to *********@***********.org
That was me. I don't know why you thought we had a moment. I was smiling because of how disgustingly fat you were. I was trying to hold back laughter as I got into my truck. When I got in I just fucking lost it. Dirty blonde hair? Try dirty, grease-soaked hair.
From Chelsea ******** to Me
FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!
Missed Connections
Recently I have become obsessed with Craigslist.com's "Missed Connections". This probably is largely due to the fact that every time I walk into a grocery store, public library, or gym I am convinced that every person that makes eye contact with me is in love with me. Somehow in less than a second, simply based on my good looks and my swagger this poor gent is ready to throw his life away to run away with me.
So I sashay through the frozen food aisle with an imaginary gaggle of lovestruck boys in my wake, knowing that they are incredibly turned on by the fact that I just picked up a 6pack of Heath Bar Crunch Klondike Bars.
As much as I try to poopoo and shy away from the rom-com genre (romantic-comedy), it has definitely helped define Fate for me. Fate could be getting ready to walk outside of your house, and then turning around to realize you forgot to turn off the light in the basement. As soon as you walk back inside you hear a CRASH! and someone has dropped a piano directly where you would have been standing, had you not remembered to turn out that basement light.
That is definitely an example of Fate. That is not the image that that word conjures up in my head, however. For me, Fate is sitting next to a handsome stranger on the 47 bus and realizing that he is thumbing through a dog-eared copy of Catcher in the Rye, your favorite book. Fate is going out to drinks with a friend who randomly sees a person from their eighth grade gym class that you can't take your eyes off of. And, recently, Fate is "Missed Connections" on Craigslist.
I once read a "Missed Connection" that was about me. It ended up being a disappointment. But, for the short amount of time that it took me to read it, I felt awesome and special and wanted. I had no desire to talk to the person who had written it, because invariably this person would be a disappointment. A "Missed Connection" authored with you in mind can be a real day-maker. We all know what a day-maker is. You are walking through life feeling lousy, and an old Vietnam Vet in a wheelchair will say, "Well aren't you just the purdiest thing I've seen all day". While you don't have any desire to strike up a conversation with this man, you will think of him all day because he made your day. Day-maker.
I consistently think about being a day-maker. Last night in the liquor store I passed a woman who had a sour expression on her face. I told her that I liked her earrings and her shoulders relaxed, she smiled and she didn't look as villainous for a brief moment. Let's be honest here. The woman's earrings were hideous, but I think that those minute details are basically irrelevant when we are talking about day-makers. "Missed Connections" are the ultimate day-makers because someone actually has to mean it.
I am completely obsessed. I'm enthralled. I'm enraptured. I think I'm mostly inspired and hopeful because of this tiny little link in the jungle that is the world wide web. To be fair, "Missed Connections" is the equivalent of shouting into space or shining a flashlight into a black hole. The chances that the guy who smiled at me when we were both buying milk two days ago will ever read my post, are slim to none. (If I were a gambling woman I would probably put all of my money on none). But...I don't gamble. So I'll keep reading these "Missed Connections", and I'll keep posting mine, and one day maybe I'll get some good old fashioned Hollywood Fate.
So I sashay through the frozen food aisle with an imaginary gaggle of lovestruck boys in my wake, knowing that they are incredibly turned on by the fact that I just picked up a 6pack of Heath Bar Crunch Klondike Bars.
As much as I try to poopoo and shy away from the rom-com genre (romantic-comedy), it has definitely helped define Fate for me. Fate could be getting ready to walk outside of your house, and then turning around to realize you forgot to turn off the light in the basement. As soon as you walk back inside you hear a CRASH! and someone has dropped a piano directly where you would have been standing, had you not remembered to turn out that basement light.
That is definitely an example of Fate. That is not the image that that word conjures up in my head, however. For me, Fate is sitting next to a handsome stranger on the 47 bus and realizing that he is thumbing through a dog-eared copy of Catcher in the Rye, your favorite book. Fate is going out to drinks with a friend who randomly sees a person from their eighth grade gym class that you can't take your eyes off of. And, recently, Fate is "Missed Connections" on Craigslist.
I once read a "Missed Connection" that was about me. It ended up being a disappointment. But, for the short amount of time that it took me to read it, I felt awesome and special and wanted. I had no desire to talk to the person who had written it, because invariably this person would be a disappointment. A "Missed Connection" authored with you in mind can be a real day-maker. We all know what a day-maker is. You are walking through life feeling lousy, and an old Vietnam Vet in a wheelchair will say, "Well aren't you just the purdiest thing I've seen all day". While you don't have any desire to strike up a conversation with this man, you will think of him all day because he made your day. Day-maker.
I consistently think about being a day-maker. Last night in the liquor store I passed a woman who had a sour expression on her face. I told her that I liked her earrings and her shoulders relaxed, she smiled and she didn't look as villainous for a brief moment. Let's be honest here. The woman's earrings were hideous, but I think that those minute details are basically irrelevant when we are talking about day-makers. "Missed Connections" are the ultimate day-makers because someone actually has to mean it.
I am completely obsessed. I'm enthralled. I'm enraptured. I think I'm mostly inspired and hopeful because of this tiny little link in the jungle that is the world wide web. To be fair, "Missed Connections" is the equivalent of shouting into space or shining a flashlight into a black hole. The chances that the guy who smiled at me when we were both buying milk two days ago will ever read my post, are slim to none. (If I were a gambling woman I would probably put all of my money on none). But...I don't gamble. So I'll keep reading these "Missed Connections", and I'll keep posting mine, and one day maybe I'll get some good old fashioned Hollywood Fate.
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