This Sunday's Ride

There are girls in the Bible?

I am continually approached by well-dressed people who ask me if I've heard of the female image of God in the Bible.  Has this happened to anyone else? Last week, I was walking through Penn Station and had the following exchange:

A girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a lavender business suit approaches me.  She is followed by an older man in a suit who is carrying a clipboard.  Both lock eyes with me and I suddenly glued to the floor.

Girl: Hi, I'm Susan and this is my colleague Anthony.  We were just wondering if you had heard of the female image of God in the Bible.

Me (dejected to hear that I am not being "discovered" and approached with a modeling and/or acting contract): Oh, um... to be honest with you I'm not interested.  I gotta say though, you guys must be the fifth set of people who have approached me this month to ask me that question.

Girl: Well maybe there's a reason for that.

Me: I sincerely doubt it, but thanks.  

I wonder what religion these people are, and why all of a sudden, they are trying to incorporate this feminist outlook to the Bible.  Didn't we already get this with Alanis Morrisette in Dogma? 

Anyway, here's a link to my new blog for my design class.  Also, to the rando who commented on my last entry- unfortunately I tend to mention urine frequently, but I appreciate the fact that ONE person seems to read this so I will insert a warning from now on.  Additionally, I have written much weirder things.  It's the result of an overactive imagination. 

Propel vs. Vitamin Water

When it comes to Propel, I'm a brand loyalist.  It tastes better than plain water and doesn't have the calories and sugar of juice.  I go through multiple bottles a day, which probably explains why my urine smells of strawberry kiwi.  

I am also a fan of Propel's advertising campaigns.  The ones airing now are effective in explaining Propel's key benefits and pit the drink against Vitamin Water as a more sensible option.  In other words, Vitamin Water gets dissed.  And considering their spokesman is 50 Cent, I knew shit was going to go down.  50 doesn't take rap from nobody.  So since I've seen the commercials, I've been waiting for Vitamin Water to strike back.  

Today when I was running, a woman stepped out of nowhere and handed me a free Vitamin Water.  An ingenious move on her part.  How did she know I liked hydration? Then I saw a Vitamin Water van and did a quick read of the side panel, which proported the various health benefits of the drink.  I guess this must be the first move in Vitamin Water's counter-marketing attack.  

But it's a stupid move on their part.  First of all, Vitamin Water is nine grams of sugar and 50 calories shy of being Coke.  Plus the sugar is refined, bad sugar.  Not good fruit sugar.  I understand that they want to appeal to health-fads, but why not focus on the different supplemental combinations that each drink contains? Propel has vitamins as well, but they lack the variety of Vitamin Water.  Also, incorporate more of 50.  Women will remove their drawers and chuck them at the stage for him, I think they would go out and spend a little over a dollar on his grape drink if he told them to.  If I were writing the TV script, it would go something like this:

Close Shot on 50 Cent doing push-ups with his shirt off to "Out of Control," sweat is rippling down his well-defined front.  He stands up and chugs a bottle of Vitamin Water.

50 Cent: Bitch, buy my water.

End Scene.

Who isn't going to listen to this man? He was shot NINE TIMES.  

Just saying... that's all.  

Zen and the Art of... wait what?

I've been muddling through Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and find the theoretical discord between the rationalist and social constructionist traditions interesting.  In the book, Pirsig refers to it as classical versus romantic.  The first perspective methodically breaks down elements comprising the natural world into an infinite series of hierarchical parts.  As an example, the author divides the functions of his motorcycle to form a conceptual map.  This means of rationalization explains the inner form of the machine by relying on truth and fact.  When something on the bike goes haywire, the theoretical tools presented by the scientific method are methodically used to distill negative evidence against the prevailing hypothesis as to why the bike has stopped functioning.   

On the other hand, we have the romantic perspective.  This article expands upon this framework with a focus on French deconstructive analysis.  Basically this perspective argues that all human experience is socially constructed, including science.  So while the world exists outside of our perception of it, we can only view the world through this perception.  Rationality is just a ghost that haunts our minds.  

All of this makes me wonder what would happen if the Earth were to regenerate and humanity were to start all over again.  Would history repeat itself? Or would we be governed by different objective truths and facts from the ones we have now? 

In other news, I was listening to KCRW Morning Becomes Eclectic at work on Monday and the station featured this band, Great Northern.  Later on, I was watching The Hills and one of the songs was played.  I think it was a sign from LC herself that I should buy the new EP.  

Great Northern- Telling Lies        

Riding the train

Currently I am on a homeward-bound train.  I don't mind the five-hour journey as I can usually find a multitude of ways to entertain myself.  First, I scour the content of bawdy gossip magazines in hopes that Hayden Panetierre's beach-toned body will magically transfer over to mine, shimmering magazine gloss intact.  Once we get to around Connecticut, I scorn my materialism and listen to Nick Drake while admiring the scenery.  Sometimes I'll munch on carrots, one train ride it was a pear.  I'm unpredictable like that.  

But my favorite part of the ride is arriving at Penn Station.  The train takes a giant loop around the outskirts of the city, giving you a nice panoramic view before taking a sharp right and diving underground.  It embodies my prefect New York where it's at such a distance that the Big Apple appears polished.  Too bad actually going into the city is akin to rolling around in a dirty newspaper intermingled with the scent of poop and peanuts.

Riding the train also presents an opportune time to check some books off my reading list.  I've read Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, which constitutes a dying priest's last recollections of his life addressed to his son.  Definitely a slow read, but full of beautiful prose.  Half of my copy is dog-eared from all of the quotes that stayed with me.  I also just finished The Trap by Daniel Brooks.  The author examines how the people in our generation must choose between taking a job that goes against their values but pays well or a more altruistic pursuit that pays less.  His main argument is that we must adopt egalitarian systems such as universal healthcare to even out the playing field.  Not only are Brooks' arguments compelling, but he often presents them in a humorous manner (for example comparing a creative job in a corporate context to prostitution).  All in all, another recommended read.

I'm going to California for a few days.  Be back next week.

Old People

I've been dissing regular mattresses since 2004 in favor of the inflatable kind.  One drawback to my insisting on sleeping on an airbed is that my bed at home has sprung a leak.  This leaves me with a nasty surprise every morning when I wake up to discover that I am being swallowed whole by deflating vinyl.  Luckily I roll in style and rock a remote control that allows me to inflate the sucker on command.

Saw Away from Her yesterday.  Objectively it's a movie that takes the woman with Alzheimer's and the man who loves her plot and sucks the idealism out of it.  As any critic would probably tell you, it made for a movie that was sad, beautiful and uplifting all at the same time.  But I'm shallow.  I don't like my movies to portray romance with any sort of emotional complexity.  After I finished The Notebook, I sobbed on my couch for a good 45 minutes while clutching a spoon laden with the sorry remainder of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food.  After Away from Her, I muttered "Old people are sad" and finished eating some pretzel sticks.  

Hey, click here to learn some vocabulary and feed some people.  Oh and here's that song from the Toyota Matrix commercial.

Oren Lavie- Her Morning Elegance

Madonna

I just found the new Madonna song featuring JT and Timbaland.  For some reason I can't physically download the song, but have linked to it here (press the play button at the bottom).  I'm a biased listener as I think anything that comes from Madonna is fabulous... the woman shits gold and farts rainbows in my book.  

I have just blasted the song four times in succession.  Poor Margot is attempting to compete with this by playing the ethereal, atmospheric music that she's been digging lately next door.  Unfortunately for her the rump-shaking dance dance revolution that is occurring my room is an all night party with never ending horn loops and galloping beats.  

My deep love of Madonna can be blamed on my mother, who decided to infiltrate the impressionable brain of a toddler with The Immaculate Collection, as well as foster within this aforementioned child a favorable reception toward high ponytails and cone-shaped bras.  After an incident in kindergarden where I got a little too involved with pelvic thrusting while singing "Borderline," I was put on Madonna probation.  But like the subject of any good psychological study, this punishment only gave me forbidden fruit syndrome, making me spend countless afternoons searching the house for the Madonna cassettes my mother had hidden from me.  I became obsessive and fantasized about rolling on the carpet of my My Little Pony themed bedroom wearing a wedding dress.  

When the tapes were finally returned to me, I was so appreciative that I holed myself in my room and listened to "La Isla Bonita" on repeat while crying with happiness.  Since then, I have learned to make my Madonna dance parties private events.  It's probably best that way.  

Also, I am seeing this as soon as it comes out.  Just saying...

MTV

Ever since I watched Save the Last Dance, I've wanted to be that awkward white girl who could toss off her glasses, tear off her conservative dress, pull out a fierce weave from beneath her ponytail and shake what her momma gave her.  Unfortunately all my hip-swiveling, air humping and break moves have not secured my membership in any dance crews.  And the hip-hop class I'm taking this semester has only served to heighten my awareness of how much my dancing resembles the movements of a dying swan.  So should I go on MTV's MADE? Am I too old? 

Incidentally, I'm watching a show on MTV right now, True Life: I Have a Drinking Problem.  It just makes me wince because I don't understand how these girls are constantly going balls out at night, drunkenly inhaling some dude's cologne on a dance floor and waking up the next morning to dried puke, several text messages and a head that feels like a cracked eggshell.  I'd much prefer to spend my nights more productively, doing important things like watching movies and reading.  You know how it is...

The new Madonna song has leaked.  If anyone can deliver information as to where I can obtain a copy of this glorious gem, please let me know.  In the meantime, I DIG this remix:

Usher- Love in this Club (Jeansbjorn Club Music)

I hope you're not hating on Usher right now.   Because I think he's incredibly smooth.  Here's one more remix I really like:

Bjork- Wanderlust (Ratatat Remix)

Growing Up

"Whatever happened to my lunchbox? When came the day that it got thrown away and don't you think I should have had some say in that decision..." - John Mayer

When I was younger I used to love going over my friend Andrew's house.  We would play video games in his basement while our parents sucked back beers and enjoyed the luxury of pretending they didn't have children for a few hours.  Toward the end of the night we would come upstairs, sugar-high from countless grape sodas and challenge our tipsy fathers to a wrestling match.  To a seven-year old, the matches were epic.  But what appeared to be an endless battle between the forces of good and evil realistically was nothing more than fifteen minutes of rolling around on the basement rug until someone got hurt.  

And then one day, the matches didn't really matter anymore.  Andrew and I started to hang out in his room instead, where we'd talk about guys (me) and girls (him).  And it still bothers me that I can't draw a line between our last wrestling match and our subsequent evolution into prepubescent tweens who preferred discussing the merits of Abercrombie and Fitch products to pointless "wrestling" in his damp basement.  

Oh growing up... if it were more definitive maybe I wouldn't be so confused all the time.

John Mayer- 83

Rejection

I hate rejection.  In fact, I hate it so much that I push people away who I'm afraid will ultimately reject me.  That's why I ultimately admire those who have the guts to suck it up and admit their feelings, even if it means a stinging rebuke.  

At the top of my list of those whom I admire in the face of rejection adversity are the guys who have the misfortune of liking me.  I wish that I could send them all a conciliatory package.  I don't think they would feel as bad if they knew what they were (weren't) missing.  I've given it some thought and I think the package would include the following:

- Unattractive pictures of me (there are many)

- An invitation to spend a few hours with me when I've forgotten to take my Beano before eating Indian food

- A rousing rendition of the entire Music Man collection with my vokills and trombone skills

- The opportunity to go hiking with me and read passages from Walden at all the rest stops

- Videos of me awkwardly dancing

- A nice tofu and lettuce lunch prepared by yours truly 

There are plenty of other things I could provide, however I feel as if these items would be enough to make even the staunchest admirer recoil in horror.   

Justin Vernon of Bon Iver is for those Waldenites among us.  He spent the winter living off the land in a log cabin in Wisconsin.  During this time, he managed to write and record an album that is both musically notable and surprisingly well produced.  I could go camping to this.  In fact, I would love to go camping sometime this spring... anyone want to come?  

Bon Iver- For Emma

Garden State

This weekend I went home.  I basically slept and read Walden on my new ebook reader, which I guess wouldn't have made Thoreau too proud seeing as I'm an early adopter of material excess.  Oh, and I watched some movies too:

The Big Chill- I'm attempting to catch up on the classics and really enjoyed this movie about college friends who reunite for a friend's funeral.  I kind of have a jones for William Hurt as the coke snorting badass in this movie.  Shhh, don't say anything.

On Golden Pond- Full-circle.  This film is a strong career completion for Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn, who both won Oscars for their portrayal of an aging couple returning to their summer lake house.  It's just a serene movie that says a lot about death and relationships.  

There Will Be Blood- I knew this movie would be great from the trailer.  Daniel Day Lewis is a cinch for the Best Actor win and Paul Dano gives another great performance.  In fact, he hasn't picked a bad movie yet- L.I.E, Little Miss Sunshine, The Girl Next Door ?! This kid has great taste.  

Step Up to the Streets- Um, why did this movie take itself seriously? When I pay my hard-earned nine dollars to see a movie entitled Step Up to the Streets, I expect beads of sweat to be constantly glistening off Channing Tatum's painstakingly defined abdominal region as he seductively gyrates to "Get Low."  I don't care about a plot! Why would you give this movie a plot? Zero out of ten.

Next up, I will give you my predictions for the 2008 Oscar Winners.  But for now, here's a track I dig from Vampire Weekend, Paul Simon's Weezer.  

Vampire Weekend- Walcott

I really don't think I"ll ever understand the drunken phenomenon of women entering bathroom stalls simultaneously.  It's cramped and doesn't save any time.  Plus it's a little creepy when you inevitably glance over at your bud and make casual conversation over the tinkling.  Just saying...

Moving on, I am a big fan of White Hinterland, mostly because she sounds like a combination of Joni Mitchell, Vince Guaraldi and Sufjan Stevens.  Below is a song from Casey Dienel before she changed the name of her outfit.  I think you'll find it a little less quirky than what she's putting out under the new name.

Casey Dienel- Dr. Monroe 

95 W Medford via Mystic Ave

Besides being embarrassingly awkward, I'm also an idiot.  I decided that I should try a new route to Sullivan Square Station (a three minute walk from my building) via bus and impulsively boarded the first one I saw.  After a few stops, I realized that we were going in the opposite direction of my destination.  Since I did not want to look stupid, I thought the best idea would be to wait out the bus ride and see if the final station stop intersected with a commuter rail.  Forty-five minutes later, I realized this probably was not the best idea.  

I was the only one left on the bus and hesitantly inched up to a seat nearer the driver.  I then admitted my ignorance and my new friend Michael turned the bus around (he was off duty after the final stop) and gave me a tour around town before dropping me off at Sullivan Square.  So now if anyone wants to trek out on the Orange Line to Somerville, I know some places to go.

There's something about being alone really late at night that I really enjoy.  I put off going to bed on the weekends just to be able to have that time to multi-task, while marveling over the handsome cooking wonder that is Curtis Stone from Take Home Chef.   The only flaw I've found in this strategy is that I can't physically sleep beyond eleven, so I rarely get my required amount of sleep hours.  Oh well, there are worse things.

Once upon a time I exploited Nick for his Boston Symphony connections and previewed a trombone concerto written by Dave Brubek's son, Chris.  Chris was a pretty chill, burly dude who seemed to dig that I was a female trombone player.  The concerto was great, as is the music put out by Chris' dad.  Here's one of my favorites:

Dave Brubek- Take Five

Regrettable things

Things I do that are embarrassing (this list is a substantial understatement, but I am just concentrating on present behaviors):

1. Somehow I have dropped the "s" from the word "oops."  This means that every time I bump into someone, every time I manage to yet again fall UP the stairs, I end up letting out this high pitched "oooOOOP!" that makes me sound like a cross between a forgetful old woman and an annoying cartoon character.  Afterwards I mutter to myself about how stupid I am, which just makes me sound schizophrenic.  

2. I have taken to masticating my gum with such fervor that it alarms the average person.  Although I keep my mouth closed, my chomping is earthquake inducing and I tend to swallow hard afterwards.

3. My internal organs are perpetually distressed sounding especially when I'm surrounded by people and it's quiet.  

4. Sometimes my hearing gives out when someone is talking to me and I don't quite catch what they say.  Rather than asking them to repeat the last thing they said, I pretend that I heard it and either laugh or say "yes."  Nine times out of ten, they are either commenting about a grave situation or asking a question with a non-categorical answer.  

5. I am in a hip hop dance class.

Oh, and um... if they actually make this I can die happy.  

In other news, I love The Great Lake Swimmers.  Don't you?

Great Lake Swimmers- Your Rocky Spine

Great Lake Swimmers- Various Stages

One second is too late, you sore loser

Is it bad that I currently reside in New England but am extremely pleased that the Pats were part of the biggest upset of Superbowl History? If not, I'm definitely sitting on my futon with a smug grin on my face.  I guess I just won't go outside for the rest of the night, no sense in getting jumped by disgruntled New England fans.

Had a delicious brunch this afternoon.  I cooked frittata, which I used to make with six whole eggs, heavy cream, goat cheese, dill and lox.  It's really dense, but very delicious.  After some playing around with the recipe, I came up with a healthier version that I cooked today that involves egg whites, skim milk, zuchinni, red peppers and onions.  Since the mixture is lighter, it requires less time in the oven so if you are going to try a healthier substitution make sure to supervise it while it's baking and grease the pan beforehand.  I forgot to do that today and had to scrub burnt egg off of the sides afterwards.  

During brunch, Nick told me about a day last semester where he go to take Natalie Merchant out for coffee at Expresso Royale.  Apparently she's playing with the Symphonic Orchestra this summer, so I have already invited myself to go as Nick's guest.  Nick and I are also going to see Wilco when they play at Tanglewood (he casually mentioned these plans, however I am holding him to them).  In celebration of seeing both Natalie and Wilco this summer, I felt it was only appropriate to post a collaboration between them and Billy Bragg:

Billy Bragg & Wilco (feat. Natalie Merchant)- Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key

This morning, I got back from the gym and watched Seven while double-checking my Stats homework.  I personally think Brad Pitt is sexiest in this movie.  Probably something to do with him being grimy, dirty and angry that gives me a major jones for his character, although I wouldn't want my head in a box as a result of acting on these urges.  Also from a design standpoint, I really enjoy the art direction of the movie.  All of the physical elements of the film down to the smaller details such as the frenetic typography synthesize to create this brooding, creepy atmosphere.  And Mr. Kevin Spacey is one of the creepiest horror movie villains.  I think it was really clever that the distributors left him out of the movie's marketing, so it really was a surprise when you realize halfway throughout the film that he plays the killer.  I'm going on now... but I really like that movie.  

Later on I decided to appease my inner elderly woman by putting on my slip ons with orthopedic support and taking a walk, simply for pleasure, while listening to John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk.  I don't think I'll ever get sick of looking up at the city when it's lit up at night.  

I found an mp3 flash player that I'm going to try out.  Last week, this gal auditioned for American Idol with this rich, jazz-tinged tone to her voice that I absolutely dug.  Anyway, I just found out that not only is she a Berkley School of Music alumni, but also she has this really cool indie music outfit with her friend and now I can't stop listening to this song.

Alex & Sam- See You Through

End of January

I and the Village by Marc Chagall

Apologies for the slacking on this blog, but I've been working on a slight format change.  I can't believe January is over.  It seems like last night I was watching To Catch a Predator to ring in the first hours of New Year's Day.  And now one month later, I'm repeating history and giggling at the silly excuses an awkward collegiate virgin gives as to why he would solicit the company of a 13 year old for something other than sexual companionship.  Tutoring, anyone?  Hey, at least I'm somewhat dependable.  

Anyway, here's the rundown of movies I saw in January:

Fucking Amal- A film about two Swedish, high-school age girls who develop feelings for one another and how they cope with the social difficulties of starting a same-sex relationship.  Recommended by my Reelviews guide and definitely worth a view.  I especially liked the unexpected bits of comedy and understated performances of both girls.  You can find the movie pretty easily on You Tube if you'd like to see it for yourself.

Teeth- I've definitely been looking forward to seeing this movie for a while and was stoked to get free passes to see a screening of it in Cambridge.  It was everything I hoped for and more.  The movie goes above the call of duty to deliver grotesque and comedic moments based on its highly unusual premise, but most importantly it calls into question power based on gender roles.  You can't help but wonder how different gender relations would be if all girls had razor sharp teeth protecting their chaste parts.  

Saw 4- I never said I have a fantastic taste in movies.  My predilection for gore has lead me to continue following the Saw series, even though each movies gets less clever and more implausible as we move further into the series.  I'd say this was a little better than Saw 3, but not by much.  And as much as I enjoy the aestheticism that some directors can sculpt out of scenes of violence and gore, this movie leaves something to be desired.

27 Dresses- It's only downhill from here.  I found this movie pretty slow at the beginning but once Marsden and Heigel establish a relaxed chemistry mid-way throughout, it becomes fun and fairly engaging.  

Take the Lead- Just watched this one tonight.  Definitely a good, mindless movie to watch after a busy week.  I'm not even going to go into the implausibility of inner-city kids who ultimately come to love the Waltz and Foxtrot with a little prodding from Antonio Bandares.  Although it is based on a true story, so who knows.  

Christmas in Connecticut- I've always taken a certain comfort in Black and White movies.  After enjoying Barbara Stanwyck's performance in Walk on the Wild Side, I decided to see her in a more favorable role as an intelligent writer who constructs an ulterior identity for a popular news column.  While her acting wasn't as polished and mature as the later films I have seen her in, Christmas in Connecticut is an enjoyable romantic comedy.  

That's all I can remember seeing at the moment.  For now, I'll end this with two songs ideal for sitting inside a warm room while watching the rain and hail outside (and yes, these are lifted from other mp3 blogs, once I figure out how to host my own files, I will do that instead):

Kaki King- 2'oclock 

Iron & Wine- Boy with a Coin

I definitely dug Sweeny Todd.  Johnny Depp's performance reminded me of Morrissey's stage presence and Edmond Dantes' passion for revenge.  In particular, I enjoyed Burton's aesthetic.  The lighting bore such sharp contrast that the movie seemed to be in black and white, save the thick crimson blood dancing across the throats of Sweeny's victims.  And while some claim nepotism regarding the casting (yet again) of Helena Bonham Carter, I continue to enjoy her distinctive quirkiness and thought that she followed the complicated syncopation of Sodenheim's music like a pro.  

In other news, I've had this as my away message for a few days now but I thought I'd post the trailer on here.  This movie comes out at the end of the month as an independent release and I'm really hoping that a theater near me picks it up.  It looks like a horror comedy in the vein of Slither:

Only confirming what I already knew...

I often dream of being Celine Dion's son.  I mean, who doesn't want to grow up as a beautiful fairy?  I'm sure little Renee Charles gets to ride unicorns in the backyard while the wind caresses his luminous hair.  And I bet his room rocks too.  I imagine it to be a combination of The Secret Garden and Cirque du Soleil with a Liza Minelli revue thrown in somewhere.  

So one of my resolutions this year is to become more intellectually well-rounded.  I hope that my knowledge will turn me into a better reader and writer, and also help me win a few games of Trivial Pursuit.  Here are some books that I'd like to read this year:

On Writing by Stephen King

Invitation to Philosophy by Martin Hollis

Into to the Wild by Jon Krakauer

The One Percent Doctrine by Ron Suskind

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Washington by Meg Greenfield

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

The Israel Lobby by John J. Mearsheimer

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig

The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene

The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins

My ambition to read outside of my comfortable range was inspired (ironically) from training to complete a half marathon.  Training taught me that by pushing muscle, I could build upon my preexisting resources to accomplish a goal that I once considered insurmountable.  I'm attempting to pull my weight intellectually in the same fashion.