LeaV

Still Can’t Get Over It

Languishing thoughts of better and best, and the debacle

Of the race to get better; and the worry of never

Living up to expectations that were set

So low anyhow; and the worry of a place to sleep, and

Something to eat, and a hobby to entertain.  The soft hum of a radio

Tuned to a station not worth listening to, happy banter about a new

Release that sings of love, and joy, and nonsense; things not to care for

When it’s raining, and it’s cold, and there’s a low that seems so cruel

But so expected and deserved.  And when the sun does shine,

It’s a lie and mocking; because it still is frozen on the inside,

And no amount of sing-song, sunshine yellow will thaw ahead--

Set on destruction.

-LeaV

*submitted* @2008 I All Rights Reserved

THE GUITARS!

(AKA..."This is a public service announcement...with guitars!")

I am fixated on the sound of a guitar.  And not just shredding solos or soothing melodies, but the whole dynamic of the chording, the finger picking, the tone, the timbre.  A guitar player can make or break my love affair with a band...hence, the continued, unabashed adoration of Queen and, of course, Brian May.  So, these songs on my playlist really relate to the guitars. 

1.  "Bring on the Night" by the Police.  Andy Summers, for those of you not familiar, was the guitarist for the Police.  I won't eschew his impressive background (by the way...did you all know he's 65 years old).  I will say that I love the tinny, aluminum sound of his guitar on this track.  I love his use of effects to get that "silver" sound, as I like to call it.  I love that he customized the hell out of, I believe, his Telecaster to get this space-aged, dreamy-like crunch.  Plus, listen to the rhythm of the song.  That's finger picking at its finest, although I do believe he uses a pick. 

2.  "Thunderhorse" by Dethklok.  Okay, this is a cartoon (Metalocalypse) on Adult Swim that amuses me to no end.  However, when I first started watching (and I've been around since the original episode), I noticed that the music in the cartoon was actually pretty good.  I was embarrassed to admit it; but, they've released an album (well, not Dethklok but the creator behind the band Dethklok Brendon Small who also does all the music and guitar playing) and are touring again!  Phew, I wasn't the only one who liked it.  You have to admit, it's pretty melodic.  Check out the bridge.  That really is sweet.  I want to learn how to play that and be all metal and brutal!

3.  "White Queen" by Queen.  This beautiful ballad was off Queen's second album, aptly titled "Queen II."  It is such a romantic, renaissance, as close to a love poem as you can get type of song.  However, it's the guitar that hooks me.  It's so unobtrusive and quiet, as an accompaniment to an impassioned plea; and yet, it comes in strongly as if echoing the heartache of the melody.  Listen to the solo...(which I believe may be a sitar) and then the lead into the chorus with the guitar...the guitars almost sound as if they are crying and then triumphantly announce defeat.  Okay, I'll admit, I've spent most of my life analyzing every possible bit of music Queen ever did.

THE MEMORIES

I associate a lot of random, albeit important memories with a song.  I think that's self-explanatory. 

1.  "Reach Out" by the Four Tops.  My parents divorced when I was very young.  I wasn't very close to my mom, even though I lived with her.  I missed my dad, even though I didn't spend much time with him when he was around.  Anyhow, I still like listening to this song, because it reminds me of the excitement I had as a kid getting to spend time with my dad when he was around.  Driving around with him with the radio on to an oldies R&B station and going out to eat at George Webb's (everyone from Wisconsin...ya' love their cheeseburgers, right?) or to Coney Island for hot dogs (it's a fast food place in Wisconsin).  My dad wouldn't even get upset with me when I wanted mayonnaise on my hot dog instead of ketchup.  When this song would come on, my dad would sing it to me; adding his own words in of course ("Reach out, mija.  Just ask, and I'll be there").  I loved those times and that's why I still love this song.

2.  "Plush" by Stone Temple Pilots.  I couldn't get enough of this band when I was younger; but it also reminds me of the start of something bad.  I like to listen to it to remind me of where I came from emotionally and just how far I've come.  So, it can be construed as my "you did okay," song.

3.  "Wild World" by Cat Stevens (now, Yusuf Islam).  Like the Four Tops remind me of my dad, Cat Stevens reminds me of my mom.  She used to play a lot of Cat Stevens and Linda Ronstadt and Richie Havens.  I mostly remember her putting on albums on a Saturday afternoon and doing her sewing projects.  It was calm and peaceful, and I like to remember things that way.

JUST BECAUSE I'M A FAN AT THE MOMENT

1.  All of the songs by the band HIM.  They are my band at the moment. So, bombarding my playlist with HIM songs really doesn't need explaining, right?  But, I do love when they put their spin on covers.  HIM got their foot in the door, so to speak, with their cover of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game," but they also do a pretty neat cover of Neil Diamond's "Solitary Man," serving it up Finland rock style.

2.  "Clubbed to Death."  The Matrix is one of my favorite movies.  It's the only other movie besides the "Road Warrior" where I know every single line of dialog and will repeat them annoyingly (accents included) when watching.  I liked this part of the movie, as well, where this song is playing.  It's when Morpheus is teaching Neo what he needs to do, and they go into the Matrix, talk some obscure philosophical stuff, Neo gets distracted by a girl, and finds out the Matrix is a tricky bastard, as it was Agent Smith. 

3.  "Go All the Way" by the Raspberries.  Am I a fan of the Raspberries?  No, I'm a fan of singing loudly to old 70s songs.  This happens to be my favorite right now (prior to that it was anything by the band Sweet).  I love to sing the chorus of this song, because I can copy that high falsetto...and that pleases me.

I CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT EITHER

Songs I just like.  I have no reason why.  They just get under my skin and into my bloodstream and infect my cells and eventually kill my reasoning as to why I liked these songs to begin with.  You figure it out...I can't.

1.  "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s.  This song makes perfect sense to me, hmmm.

2.  "Caught in a Mosh" by Anthrax.  For my need for speed.

3.  "Low Rider" by War.  Keepin' it real, yo! 

4.  "Turning Japanese" by the Vapors.  For the potty humor giggle factor.

And finally, my extremely special song that I've finally put on my playlist, and it will stay there until I leave...

"Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley.  The only song that no matter what mood I'm in will instantly make me start crying.  It will make me cry, because I'm happy and hopeful.  It will make me cry, because I'm down and hopeful.  It will make me cry, because I miss what more Bob Marley could have given the world.  It will make me cry, because it's such an honest, true statement of a song.  I never listen to this song in the presence of other people, by the way, because I never, ever like to let other people see me cry. 

So, what's on your playlist and, uh, why?  Later gators!

Today, Mayo Clinic here in Rochester once again had the opportunity to host the Dalai Lama as the guest speaker for Mind and Life XVI:  Investigating the Mind-Body Connection (Mind Life Institute).  Now, just for a little background...The Mind Life Institute "...is an independent, not-for-profit organization devoted to establishing a mutually respectful working collaboration and research partnerships between modern science and Buddhism - two of the world's most fruitful traditions for understanding the nature of reality and promoting human well-being."  This was taken directly from their website (http://www.mindandlife.org/).

Now, just a few quick observations before I'm off...First of all, if you're wondering why The Mind Life Institute would be working in conjunction with a clinic/hospital in the remote southeastern corner of Minnesota...well, because it is THE Mayo Clinic.  Secondly, believe it or not, Minnesota has the second largest Tibetan community in the entire United States.  Go figure, hey? 

As for the Dalai Lama...well, I didn't get to see him speak.  There was a lottery for passes to get to see him, and I didn't win any.  Shucks.  However, I heard two great things from the Dalai Lama from his speech today.  He first mentioned when addressing the audience words to the effect of he only came here for his annual physical exam (ha. ha.  The Dalai Lama made a funny); but this piece of wisdom from the Dalai Lama I share and I leave to all of you...

"If you can do it, don't worry about it.  If you can't do it, don't worry about it." 

I love that, and it has officially become my new mantra.  Later gators!

So, this is the time I need to "unplug", so to speak, for awhile.  I'm in search of a part-time job to fund my summer shenanigans and will need to concentrate on that wholeheartedly this week, as I hope to secure something and begin working by April 21 (yeah, I'm a bit of a go-getter).  It's just that it is quite an intensive process securing this part-time job as I have a lot of hoops to jump through to prove my worthiness.  So, I may not be quite as active this week (boo!), because the job hunt takes a lot of time. 

Other than that, I watched the movie "Bug" this weekend, the one that starred Ashley Judd.  The funny thing is that I am a horror movie pro.  I can watch anything, and all I do is analyze plot, filming, characters, situation.  I did that with this movie, of course, although it wasn't really a horror movie so to speak.  There was a glaring flaw in this situation between the two main characters that I couldn't get past; but despite all that, I had a bad dream that night after watching this movie.  Can you believe that?  I dreamt that I lost every single tooth in my head and not in a pleasant way either.

And lastly (sadly), Peanut will have company as well in "rattie Heaven," as my other rat Squeak passed away this evening.  It was expected considering she was also very old and had a tumor under her leg...just I didn't expect it this quickly.  I have a very heavy heart this evening, but I'm just thinking that she needed to go and soon as her and Peanut have never been apart.  Thinking that way makes me feel better about her passing.  She was in my lap from the moment I noticed her acting strangely this evening until she finally took her last breath.  I'm not going to have any more rats for awhile...not saying never, just I need some time.

I'll see you all off and on this week everyone...just not as much as I like, blah! 

Hahahaha...Gotcha!  So, you see, I was going to do a blog today...something along the lines of how I wish American Idol could "give back" to me the two hours or so of my life I wasted watching that show last night.  Seriously, I really, really, really hate Fergie now; and judging by the look on Ann Wilson's face during Heart's performance of "Barracuda" along with Fergie (stinking everything up)...I think I can safely say that Ann hates Fergie too.  But, I wanted to feed you with enriching word nourishment and fill your bellies with the wisdom of the rant...but, I'm afraid that the hoopla surrounding the engagement of Pete and Ashlee would overshadow any of the creamy goodness I could give you in terms of my own words of wisdom.  Do I have an opinion on their engagement?  Nah.  As a matter of fact, one of my nephews is a big Fall Out Boy fan; so, being the good auntie that I am, I bought him front and center floor tickets for their concert here last year.  As the day of the concert drew closer, I started having panic attacks about having to go.  I seriously didn't think I would be able to make it through the entire concert.  Oh, I'm not hatin' on anyone who likes Fall Out Boy or on Fall Out Boy in general.  That's cool if you like them, really!  It's just I personally couldn't fathom the possibility of having to endure this entire concert without the overwhelming desire of wanting to jab my keys into my ear holes just to make myself deaf.  It's just me.  I don't like their music.  But, I still like you if you like their music : )  Okay, just so we're clear on that.  So, I talked my sister into taking him.  She's a trooper.  She doesn't like Fall Out Boy, either.  This is more her speed....

My sister's concert pic of the Killers (don't loot).  She had to go by herself.  Yup, I started having the same panic attacks about this show when she asked me to go with her.  I'm not as hearty as she is.  When exposed to things I don't like, I have these uncontrollable impulses to try to hurt myself to escape.  I think that's why the Saw movies wouldn't work on me.  If I'd be willing to self-mutilate my ear holes to avoid listening to music I don't like, I totally could saw a leg off to escape a serial killer.  Totally.

 
This is my nephew's very own picture of the Fall Out Boy concert (don't loot).  He's really proud of it.  This was his first ever concert.  I'm glad my sister could enjoy the experience with him (and not me, phew).

This is more my speed...HIM (Ville Valo) performing at the Myth nightclub (my pic..so, please don't loot, k?  Thnxbai).

So, yeah...let's recap. 

1.  I totally got out of taking my nephew to see Fall Out Boy, and I don't feel guilty about it one bit.   Besides, who was the one that had to take all the little kids to all the damn Pokémon movies, huh?  Yeah, I did.  And every time I'd try to catch a little sleepy during the movie, I'd have the kids poking me and telling me, "Wake up.  You're missing the movie."  Duh, that was the point but oh well.

2.  I've postponed my blog today because of Pete and Ashlee's engagement.  ***EDIT*** I've postponed my blog today, because nobody will care what I have to say no matter how sublime or profound, because they're all like OMG about Pete and Ashlee's engagement.  For the record if you failed to read this at all...I REALLY DON'T CARE THEY GOT ENGAGED!  Thank you!

I'm off now to go to the doctor.  I've nailed my persistent cough down to a few things...a bad cold that has now morphed into bronchitis (which will need antibiotics, unfortunately) or TB...so, figured I'd go get checked out.  BRB : )

If you must know...I have a very serious obsession with "stuff."  Not serious stuff, mind you, but fun stuff.  So, like any idiot with an internet connection and a serious lack of funds to invest in more "fun stuff," I play online games and sweepstakes.  It seriously is a very time-consuming and laborious habit, but a labor of love I must say.  I keep playing because of the intermittent reinforcement I receive from investing my precious time into this endeavor.  For example, this just came in the mail today from a win I had about three months ago, and I'm over the moon with happiness...check me out...

OMG...A SHREK FUN PACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SQUEAL!!!!!!!!!

Here's the insulated Shrek lunch bag close up.  I am so totally going to use this forever!!!

A glow spoon.  Yeah...glow spoon!  Plus, a Shrek necklace.  Breakfast is going to seriously rock now.

This is the Pièce de résistance...A Shrek-Spert T-shirt.  I'm going to wear this thing all the time, although it could kind of be taken as a little naughty, or is that just me?

I've won a bunch of cool stuff, which is why the reinforcement is intermittent.  I get a cool win like this or the prize package I won from Zatarain's, and believe me, if you love food as much as I do, this was an awesome win.  I've won a lot of gas cards and gift cards, music downloads and what not; but I've had a dry spell recently and am playing with gusto again to get another fix of win.  This could explain my sporadic presence on Buzznet lately...that and the fact that I'm in the market for another part-time job and looking intently right now.  So...just thought I'd share.  Later gators : )

I've been called a lot of things...and to be honest, nothing really bothers me that much.  Don't get me wrong, being called a rude thing by someone is not a pleasant experience.  Most of the time, I just recite that nursery rhyme in my head..."sticks and stones..." and all.  I can't say I'm mellow or laid back either.  I'm a pretty hyperactive, moody, verbose, loud, and annoying person.  Soooo, if someone calls me a name...I'll counter with something back.  I'm guaranteeing that.  I give full credit to my mom...who single-handedly raised three of the wildest kids ever (well, maybe just two...my little sister was pretty chill).  I've got stories, too.  Me and my sister backed up my mom's car across a busy lane of traffic and into a ditch when we were like 5 years old; and all I can remember about the whole incident is that the guy who got us out of the car and rescued us was wearing Jesus sandals.  But, my mom is fearless.  She's not afraid to speak up for herself.  It embarrassed the hell out of me when I was a teenager, of course---but now I relish it. 

So, I'm not afraid to say something to someone, despite my diminutive size.  I've learned from the master (my mom) to have a voice!  Most people are a little taken aback half expecting me to shuffle off quietly and not say anything...like a group of "scene" type kids at Wal-Mart who thought it would be hilarious to call me "short" and within ear shot of me.  First of all, spending your Friday night hassling shoppers at Wal-Mart...yeah, that's just too easy.  Secondly, all you could do is criticize my height?  Really?  I mean...it was like 1 in the morning.  I had on pajama bottoms and a black leather jacket.  I was talking to myself (come on, I was trying to remember what I needed and I figured if I kept repeating it out loud...I wouldn't forget).  There were like four or five things you could have nailed me on...like, "was the shelter full again" or "off your meds" or "did Michael Jackson dress you tonight."  But, you make fun of my height?  That's all you got?  So, when I hunted these kids down and confronted them...all they could do was laugh nervously and apologize. 

                                 Me:  Hey, did you just say something to me?

                                 Scene Kids:  What?  Ah, no, really!  We were just laughing at a joke my friend made.

                                 Me:  Yeah, I didn't think so.  Have a good night.

                                 Scene Kids:  (nervous laughter) Ah, yeah. You, too.  Sorry if, you know.

By that time, they had scampered away already.  But, I'm not about talking about taking on shit-talkers and what not.  My point is that say what you want...I'll counter and then be done with it.  It really doesn't bother me.  Call me whatever you want...I'll usually forget about it by the time I blink my eyes.  But this......this bothers me to no end.  I was called..."immature."  Really?  So, was the cut based on something I said or did in particular?  No, not really.  It was an assumption made because...my musical tastes, my television tastes, the things I like to do in my spare time, my passions.  So, because I watch Family Guy or Aqua Teen Hunger Force or Robot Chicken or South Park...I'm immature.  So, because I listen to HIM or Amon Amarth or even Dethklok...I'm immature.  So, because I choose to go to Cheese Festivals and amusement parks in the summer...I'm immature.  Because I make jokes and wear penguin pajamas and buy more hoodies and sweatshirts than I really should...I'm immature.  So, because I collect horror DVDs and think George Romero is a directorial deity...I'm immature.  Plus, how dare I set such a horrible example for the young tutelage under my adult supervision (that being my 16-year-old nephew). 

I've never been so riled up about being called something as I was with being called immature.  How dare you sit up on your high horse and judge me immature based on the fact that I don't watch educational television or read books nonstop or listen to only classical music or only watch foreign films with subtitles.  See, you've dragged me down to your level, and now I'm overgeneralizing. 

Let's just say this...not everyone agrees with everything.  Deal with it.  If I like random potty humor and Doritos...it doesn't mean I'm immature.  If that guy likes Nascar and grilled cheese...it doesn't mean he/she is a hick.  If that person likes the History Channel and jazz rock fusion...it doesn't mean he/she is necessarily high brow.  I believe that this "Peter Pan" syndrome that I have so lovingly adopted into my life keeps me young at heart and able to enjoy my life with gusto.  I'm not hurting anyone by this way of life.  I work hard, sometimes up to 12 hours a day, sometimes (most of the time) seven days a week.  I pay my taxes.  I don't break any laws.  I smile frequently.  I care about my neighborhood and community.  I vote.  I join political campaigns and do my part.  I pay my bills and take care of my house.  I take care of my nephew...that's the big thing.  I just don't feed him, do his laundry, see to it that he gets to school...I interact with him.  I'm interested in what he thinks.  Even if we're not doing something relevant and just watching cartoons, we talk.  We talk about the cartoon.  We talk about stuff that makes us laugh.  We talk about something that happened with our family that made us laugh.  We talk about how something in school made him laugh.  He talks about school.  He talks about his friends.  He talks about what he'd like to do in the future and what he's worried about.  Yeah, you see my point. 

So, don't call me immature and make the assumption that based upon my personal likes and habits that I'm too immature to be a positive influence in my nephew's life.  Don't decide for the good of the future of society that my way of being an influence in my nephew's life is horrible, because we play video games together which is just "rotting his mind,"  and we watch crappy television and movies together.  So, I've run out of steam now. 

Let's review...don't call me immature...jerk face.  At least, it opened up a discussion on parenting styles.  I may not agree with yours and you may not agree with mine and call me immature; but the good point is that we both care about how to parent kids, right?  Here's the bad news...I'm totally not the person you should be lecturing.  Actually, the people you should aim your discussions about parenting styles at will not even read this or care or pretend to care.  These are the parents (and I use that term very, very lightly) with the feral children running around murdering, robbing, vandalizing, impregnating and getting pregnant...sigh...