I just got off the BEST plane ride EVER.

I just got off the BEST plane ride EVER. I'll tell you more about it later. I've got to run to a "meet-and-greet." Fun. Yeah. Hmm. 

TRIP! TRIP! TRIP! Oh, and I posted a new mix for the month.

Oh, I've posted the new mix for February, since February's only two days away and I'm going to be busy and out of town tomorrow until Monday. I'm going to another one of those "conferences" (meaning I'll probably be busy/bored) and well, it's in NY, so I'll be hopping on a plane tomorrow morning with a couple of colleagues to get there by that evening/afternoon (who really knows with all the time change switches I'll be going through). I'll be sure to enjoy it (woot)!

Anyways, my playlist for the coming month feels kind of . . . weak to me. I mostly put a bunch of crap on it that I have thinking about/wanting to/have been playing recently . . . so it doesn't really encompass, for me, the "feel" of February. Of course, how does one truly describe the feeling February in song? I haven't mastered it. But maybe I will. 

Stars. The Sky is Too Cloudy to See Them.

An old friend of mine from a childhood long ago (or maybe it just feels like it) posted me this video on my Facebook (dude, I am way too trendy) and I decided to post it here. Not only do I enjoy the music of Stars, the video reminds me slightly of my own childhood during the winter, usually spent everyday lying down on the ice of some forgotten pond on my father's property and staring up into the clouds or falling snow. 

Naturally, though, when my father found out that I spent my afternoons in the dead of winter lying on cold ice, he kind of freaked out. 

Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change. But pretty soon, everything's different.

Today, I saw two off-color things as I walked/wandered around campus. 

#1. On my brisk walk to today's topical brown bag luncheon, I found myself walking behind a grudgingly slow person. As I stared down at their feet, willing them to move faster, I realized something. This said person was wearing two different shoes, which in most cases could be any normal mistake to make (you know, accidentally throwing different but similar pairs of shoes while hustling to leave and not realizing it . . . we've all done it . . . or at least I have). However, it this case the two different shoes were not similar. One was a "flip-flop" sandal and the other a blue slide on flat. I should also note, it was snowing and not quite the right weather for either, especially the sandal. 

I wonder whether this was part of some observational analysis on human perception and reaction. 

#2. I had to catch the bus to ride over to West Campus. On the ride I peered out the window and saw a peculiar lady wrapping her arms around a large oak tree. She hugged it, stepped away, bowed, and resumed conversation (presumably with the tree). I pondered these actions. On the ride back to my office I peered out the window once more. Again, I saw the same actions being preformed other another, different tree. It was kind of amusing . . . I wonder what the lady is like personally. Interesting, probably. 

Hmm. Things like this make me wonder. Maybe I need to pop out the norm. Maybe not. I'm listening to Okkervil River for the evening . . . but I think I'm going to change it to some electronica/techno/house/funkadelic. I'm in that kind of mood and Okkervil River doesn't fit. 

Lying in Bed, Empanadas, and Nietzschian Philosophy: Why the Air Feels so Fresh.

After last Thursday's incident of unusually warm weather for the season, the temperature took a turn for the worst. The skies became clouded and the sun left (for warmer areas I suppose) leaving behind the chills of flurried snow and 5 degree weather. To suit such a day, I am lying in bed (the guest bed in one of the spare bedrooms, which, as of late, I've become accustomed to sleeping in for whatever reason . . . I think it makes me feel adventurous) comforted by the warmth of the covers and the soft glow emitted from the bedside lamp. 

I've spent the morning and afternoon reading more philosophy. Of course, all natural sense would tell me to finally dive into those French philosophical novels I picked up in Montreal, however, sense does not seem to apply to my reading choices (at least not for today). I've chosen a good standby, which in this instance is not Hesse (who can usually fill every circumstance with reading joy), but instead, I've gone with a little Nietzsche. For some reason I find that his works have a sort of . . . depth (so to speak) that fits dreary days (such as these). 

I'm currently working through "Uber Wahrheit und Luge im aussermoralischen Sinn" which titled in English is "On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense." It basically deals with the theoretical questions of truth and such as it is . . . making it quite and interesting read. If I finish it by this evening I'm going to start "Die Geburt der Tragodie aus dem Geiste der Musik," which in the English version is titled "The Birth of Tragedy" and it introduces his thoughts on the dichotomy of the Apollonian and Dionysian (I know, it's a little intense). 

On a lighter note, I made some great empanadas for lunch/dinner. They turned out nice. I'm not usually into Spanish food (peppers kind of unnerve me) but for some reason I had this awful urge for it . . . and today it turned out that the urge didn't lead me astray as the empanada were great. 

Well, for now I am going to go back to reading. I'd like to spend the rest of the day without a thought about the coming work week ahead, but I know that that isn't possible, so I will just try to push it as far out of my head as possible. Oh, I've also gotten over my Elf Power fixation. Today, I put on some Golden Smog . . . which for now it just as good.  

Counting threes through the window, imitation glass, that's been stratched in code, to be read by someone else.

Oh, and if you can't tell . . . I still kind of love Elf Power. Maybe tomorrow that love will fade into a temporary dislike and I'll move onto something else. The Ladybug Transistor? I've kind of been dying to pull out the Abermarle Sound and put it on. 

Hold my head to the skin I said, when my heart wasn't always there. As you turn down the light in the long black night, peel back the moon, beware!

Today, I woke up. I showered. I stood contemplating my day's outfit. I was told the prior day offhandedly that my "attire" wasn't "professional" enough. I didn't know whether to take the comment seriously or not. I figured that the person that made this comment was just trying to make a jab at me for wearing jeans and tees rather than one of those tight (rather revealing) dresses that "Emily-down-the-hall" wears all the time. So, I dressed normally. I made a pot of tea. I nibbled on a croissant. I checked the time and got ready to leave pulling on my coat and scarf and hat and gloves. Bundled, to face the chilly winter weather I grudgingly walked toward the door. I stepped outside. I cursed, quite loudly. 

It was about 70 degrees and not quite the right temperature to be dressed for snow. 

I'm thinking of drinking the entire sea, where fishes makes wishes and swim into me. Oh, what a beautiful dream.

I've been in the laboratory since 3 this afternoon until 9 this night.  It was . . . intense. After that I came home and computed data sets for . . . god knows how long . . . with computation and data sets everything seems to last forever. Finally, I stopped. I gave up and tomorrow I am going to push the rest of the data sets and computation onto some menial lab tech. Sometimes it's great to have authority. 

Now, since I'm on one of those pseudo-adrenaline kicks from punching Excel files, I've let loose and put on the last.fm radio (tuned to Elf Power) which is something I normally wouldn't do (I enjoy picking my own musical delights way too much) but . . . as I said I let loose . . . and am letting everything wash away. It's like a ritual cleansing, except with music and wine (which, by the way, is homemade . . . not by me . . . but some buff in Geography makes it for fun and I swindled a bottle . . . and, sheesh, it's . . . strong). 

This moment would almost be perfect if I did have this itch telling me that I should at least try to get some sleep, so I can wake up tomorrow and do this all over again. 

I Don't Feel Like a Gardenia.

I just got back from the office. My schedule this semester is totally off . . . I work in the morning until 9:30 and then I have a free period from then until 3 this afternoon. So I thought I might as well head home and mill around here rather than sitting around trying to think of things to do on campus. I handed back the homeworks I graded this morning. I don't think many people were too happy . . . but that could have been either from their grades or the fact that it was early in the morning after a long weekend (in their cases probably involving too much alcohol). 

Here, the day is getting progressively colder . . . with the winds picking up in speed . . . and it started snowing again about an hour ago. The whole day just feels a little . . . down. Of course, the whole day could be feeling melancholy because I put on some Ida when I came home . . . I thought it would fit the mood . . . and it did apparently too well because all I want to do now is curl up in the comfort of cotton and down and sleep for forever (if that was only possible). Instead though, I am going to put some water on and make a strong pot of tea (I've been craving oolong). 

On that note, I finally found my teakettle, yesterday. For some reason I had misplaced in one of the spare rooms . . . I remember doing this now, I was searching for a book on Tetraodontidae (pufferfish) that I thought I had packed away sometime during the move but still can't find . . . anyways I had brought the pot of tea in with me so I could refill my cup while I searched through boxes and shelves of books. I must have left in it there. 

This entire topic brings me up to point on the fact that, now, after moving from my rundown flat where nothing worked to this house where everything works, I have too much space . . . too many rooms to lose things in. And now, since I'm liquidating all of my aquariums , due to a lack of time and because I'll be leaving this summer and staying in France for 4 months, I have all the space left behind from them. I mean, you never really realize how big a 250 gal. aquarium is until it's gone and leaves this big void . . . and then of course take away that and about three others and you have an even larger void. 

My other issue is . . . cleaning. In total the house has about twelve rooms, only about five of which I regularly: kitchen, living, dining, bed, and bath rooms. However, despite my non-usage of most of these spaces they still somehow become unclean over time, gathering dust and age and just that feeling of something . . . decomposing. After finding my kettle yesterday I went on a cleaning rampage . . . trying to void the house of every single dust particle. It didn't work. I woke up this morning and there was more dust. 

Well, I'm glad I'm confronting these problems now . . . almost a year later. I'm going to go and change the music. If I listen to anymore Ida I really will fall asleep . . . and miss the time that I need to leave to go back to campus. I'm thinking Stephen Malkmus . . . or something related. 

Recuperation. Rejuventation.

Jazz last night was wonderful. I feel awkward saying I "boogied all night long" but that's the only way to describe it. About two years ago I enrolled in a jazz dance class (to get outside myself and relieve stress) so I know the gist of jazz dance . . . a little swing, a little jitterbug, even the Charleston. So now, I'm worn out. I woke up way past dawn, had a throbbing ache in my head and feet regions, and now am just trying to soothe all those ailments. I put on some music  . . . I started with Grandaddy and am working my way down the alphabet (which usually doesn't work for me . . . but the transition from Grandaddy to Grizzly Bear to Guided by Voices to Headlights to Hercules & Love Affair isn't that bad actually). Now I should go and mill around a bit . . . It's a holiday tomorrow so all offices at the university are closed (thankfully) . . . I have to go into the eye doctor and pick up my eye glasses, though, so I can't stay in all day lounge around. Sheesh. 

Rock Skippin' at the Blue Note!

I'm going out to the jazzhaus tonight, which equals jazz music, tired feet from too much jittertbug and swing dancing, and a throbbing head in the morning from a combination of loud music and too much alcohol. Well, in a whole, it sounds like it's going to be a great night. To prepare for the night I put on some old Duke Ellington at about mid-afternoon . . . and just soaked it in. It was wonderful. I bopped along to the beat while messing around in the kitchen and then while I finished up the last of the 200+ papers I was grading (I kind of feel sorry for a people belonging to the assignments I graded last night . . . I didn't have Duke playing then, so I was in a less forgiving mood . . . tough break). Now I'm going to take a shower. Lounging around all day makes me smell funny. 

Woke Up Late, Lost My Teakettle, Munched on Greek Pizza: Why I am the most exciting person . . . ever.

I slept in too much this morning. By the time I had woken up the sun had already risen high into the mid morning sky . . . and I was sitting in the kitchen wondering the teakettle had been misplaced so I could make a strong batch of tea. I still haven't found it. I had to pull out of storage the older . . . slightly grosser . . . one I that use for cases like this. It threw of the whole morningoff when it was kind of already off to begin with. 

Isn't greek pizza the most delicious food? That's what I rocked out for dinner last night (and this morning as well), instead of grilled cheese . . . and I have to say I think it was a good choice. In other news, I'm still stuck inside grading (which means being completely unenjoyable) and listening to Atlas Sound's album "Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel." After I've played through it a bit I'll move onto something more . . . upbeat.

It's Beautiful Outside.

So, I was advised against rolling the snow, whether I actually would have or not, by John. He called to suggest that we have a grilled cheese night, and if so he'd pick up some deli slices after work. I said sure, because, well who refuses grilled cheese? and it gives me a reason to whip up a brothy noodled soup with tons of chopped veggie goodness. Anyways . . . I said, "I'm going to roll around in the snow," and he said,"Uh, are you sure that's a good idea?" and I said, "Why not?" and he said, "Well if you nose pops open and starts bleeding everywhere on the snow people might think you killed someone in the backyard," and I said, "Oh yeah, I forgot, the nose . . . right." End of conversation. 

So that's why I won't be rolling anywhere. The nose. It's still broken, obviously. I have like six stitches on it that will have to be removed and a "brace" around it to help mend the cartilage after they snapped it back into place. It's actually quite gross . . . the entire area is this swollen lump of bruises that I suppose would be sore to the touch if I wasn't abusing my pain medication, which makes my entire body kind of numb. My greatest hope is that it'll heal without scarring . . . I mean, the doctor told I'd probably have a lump in my nose from now on from the scar tissue . . . but I hope the big gash that had to be stitched up shows minimal tissue damage. On the brighter side, scars aside, I do fall to sleep easier without relying on my sleep aids . . . it must be a side effect of the drugs. 

However, despite the whole "not being able to roll around in the snow thing" (sheesh, I sound like I twelve or something . . . maybe this is a side effect of the painkillers as well . . . hmm), I did pick out the perfect music for the day. Think Britpop. What do you think of? Blur, of course! (or at least I do . . . maybe they're a little too rocky for pop, but whatever). I've put on their album "Parklife" and intend to keep it on all afternoon. I even hooked up the speakers to play the sound outside so I can run around in the back yard and still hear the music . . . Hmm, I feel like twirling in circles. That's probably a bad idea too. 

Well, I'll think of something to expend some of this energy I have building. For now I'll just listen to some Blur inside . . . and grade papers (even though it's boring). 

Strange winds are blowing me down this way: Why I'm going to need Headlights to drive through the snow.

My 7:30 this morning was cancelled because the prof apparently didn't feel like showing up. It's a bummer since this was my only course and I need to be in office, so I basically woke up and came here for no reason. So what's the plan now? To take the papers I have to grade home and work on them there in the warmth of the hearth (that was an odd thing to say) rather than staying here in this . . . building. 

Oh, on a side note, it's snowing again. I think I'll go take a walk outside later today . . . maybe when and if the sun comes out from behind the clouds and the temperature rises above 4 degrees.

I feel kind of weird writing this but I just kind of want to roll in it . . . like a child does in the snow. Odd, hm. 

What am I Feeling? Melancholy.

I'm listening to the Silver Jews. I've started with their album "American Waters" but I think I'm going to keep this up long enough to make it through "The Natural Bridge" and "Starlite Walkers" as well. But I don't know how long this will last since I have the strongest craving for Smog since I began writing. We'll see how it goes. 

I suppose I don't have much else to write in this post. I went to eye doctor today, as I said I would yesterday. I'm not sure whether I'm going to enjoy my new frames. To cut costs, I bought a pair vintage from a third party dealer, and I'm having the lenses made to fit them, rather than buying new. They're just a little different older pair which were a solid brown with green inlay. 

Anyways, I think I actually am going to switch over to some Smog . . . so I should go and do that before the feeling passes. Maybe later tonight I'll get a little more creative with my listening choices . . . like some Sparklehorse . . . or Headlights . . . no, now I'm feeling so soul or blues, like Dead Prez. 

I'll just put it out there . . . I have no idea what I'm feeling. 

A Follow-up Side-Note

Oh, I'm going to be posting some writings on all the musicians mentioned in the previous post sometime tomorrow . . . after I get back from the eye doctor . . . for some reason they require an entire new examination of my eyes for me to buy new frames and lenses . . . despite the fact that I doubt my prescription has changed much. I just hope the bandages on my face don't prove to be a problem for the examination. 

Existing Can Be Kind of Disfiguring: Why I'm Living Off a Diet of Bran Muffins and Pain Meds.

What can I write that will for me subdue this urge to cram everything in my mind into words to create an amalgamation of text to describe this overwhelming . . . feeling? I suppose I could start by describing the most perfect worse day of my life so far. Really, it was perfect in that this was the kind of day that hollywood execs write scripts about where famous stars play leading ladies and there is this huge triumph over insurmountable obstacles . . . with exception to that whole triumph part, for me there was no triumph, no win, just despair.

So picture this:

It’s Monday morning. I woke up. Lying in bed wondering why I made myself get out of the comfort of down and cotton. The sounds of Public Enemy are in the background . . . with “Burn Hollywood Burn” sounding out from my alarm clock. It’s kind of the perfect song to wake up to in the morning.

I roll over to look at the clock. For some reason it reads an hour later than it should. Maybe I subconsciously set the alarm to go off later than normal so I’d purposefully be late to work. I still haven’t actually figured whether it was a slip of my subconscious or faulty manufacturing, but either way I was late and when people are late they rush. They pull themselves out of the state they are in and try to make up all the time lost by moving quicker than normal.

Because of this I walked out of the house forgetting my wallet, scarf, gloves, and the sack lunch I had prepared the previous night. I sped down the highway to the sounds of the album “thickfreakness” by The Black Keys . . . you know, a little roadway blues. I pulled into the parking lot and then proceeded to run to the campus building to both fight off the cold and make myself feel like I was going to be less late than I already was.

I arrived to my office with red nose and blossoming cheeks. I soon realized after arriving that I had forgotten to grab my satchel and rucksack containing all of my work files out of the backseat of the car in my rush to make to the office. I run back to my car. I search my pockets, searching for my car keys. I realize I forgot them in my office. I run back to my office. I search my desk, bags, and all the drawers for the missing keys. They aren’t there. I realize I must have dropped them in route somewhere. I backtrack. Twice. Then, finally out of desperation I run back to my car and peer inside the window. I see my keys dangling from the ignition. I try to open the door. Locked. I try to open every other door. Locked.

Fuck.

I walk miserably back to the office. I hear the dulcet tones of Elf Power’s “Come Lie Down With Me (and sing my song)” playing from somewhere in background, possibly the adjoining office. I phone John. He has my spare. He doesn’t answer and continues to not answer for the next 6 hours. I do what work I can without my files. I mill around. Get that bitter chiding from my superiors for being late. Finally, John answers. He brings my spare and says he’ll meet me in the parking lot.

I run out to meet him. I see him in the lot walking around as if searching. I wonder what he’s searching for. Then I realize what it is. My car. It’s not there. It seems in my rushing pace I had inadvertently parked zone that my permit did not authorize. It had been towed. I crawl into John’s car to . . . relax. I made all the necessary phone calls. From the speakers I could make out “Put Us Back Together” by Headlights chiming out. It was soothing. Of course, once I got to the tow yard I realized that in the rush of the morning I had forgot my wallet with my license and registration in it . . . so I had to bum a ride all the way home to retrieve it before I could pick my vehicle up. 

After the fiasco was completed, I reunited with my auto in the tow yard, paid the overpriced fine and charges, and left feeling quite joyous. I mean was else could go wrong? However, joy must cloud the senses somehow, because halfway through the drive home I heard the flashing whirring of a police car pulling me over. I was speeding, apparently. I began to search for my wallet. I couldn’t find my wallet.

Fuck.

Here, I don't exactly know what happened . . . apparently somewhere between me obtaining car car at the tow yard and me thanking John for his helpful services, I misplaced my ID. I would later find out that it was left, somehow, crammed between one of John's car seats. So not only did I get a ticket for speeding but also one for driving without a license. My drive home was spent listening to the Starlight Mint’s album “The Dream that Stuff was Made From” and thinking about how I could pinch my savings to cover all the money that had to pay “the man” today.

Then in no time I was home. I got out of the car. I grab my bags and paperwork. Then, I slipped. I don’t even think it was icy but as I walked up the steps to the doorways my footing became misplaced and I tumbled down about ten stairs and rolled into bushes in front of the steps. I felt . . . pain . . . from the fall naturally but also because the bush I had rolled into had thorns that were quite large . . . and they were poking into my skin. I crawl out of the bush. I saw red. I felt red. I wondered where my glasses were.

At this point I heard John walking from his car over to me. He gasped. I would soon know why. Looking into the mirror, I gasped. My nose had taken a beating. It was bleeding slowly and bent in some abnormal position . . . quite hideous really. At that I had myself drove to the hospital. While in the car, I was still wondering where my glasses where because without them I’m practically blind and I heard The Violent Femmes coming from the speakers. It seemed far off.

At the hospital I found out that my nose was broken. The doctors proceeded to pop it back in place and bandage it. Thankfully I couldn’t see any of this happening . . . oh, and thankfully they gave large doses of pain meds to “deal’ with this. I couldn’t really think about anything other than the fact of how this was really going to eat up my savings.

Then in no time it seemed everything was fixed, so with bandages and pain meds in tow I arrived home, again, finally. I needed a nap . . . a long sleep. Thankfully, I didn’t have office hours the next day, so I wasn’t technically required to come in . . . and my classes . . . oh yeah, I’d be skipping them. I made a large cup of strong hot tea and put on whatever was easiest to find. It turned out to be Citay. It was kind of fitting. Then I fell asleep.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the phone ringing. I managed to find it. It was John. He called to say that when he left the house that morning he found my glasses near the steps. He’d left them on the table. I said my thanks, popped in my contacts, and made my way downstairs to pick them up.

On the table, there they were, snapped in half and lenses smashed to bits. Kind of fitting, heh? I wallowed in this a little bit. I suppose one say that this day, yesterday, wasn't that bad. I mean, at least no one died . . . of course, I've dealt with the loss of death before . . . and I've got to say, it just doesn't sting the same way a getting hit with three different police tickets, a towing charge, hospital bill, a broken nose, and a smashed pair of glasses coming at you all in the same day.

There are no benefits of lying (with your friends).

Do you know what the best smell I've ever experienced is? A smoking cigarette mixed with a breeze of cold snow from an open window and a bit of sage from a potted plant sitting nearby.

Add the experience of this smell with the Apples in Stereo playing in the background and you will have the best winter morning ever. Toss in a hot homemade apple turnover and you have my morning.

I think I need to live life more.

What the Hell is an Aquagem?

My fingers are swollen. Why? I spent all morning and afternoon knitting . . . and most of last night as well. I've made three pairs of mittens and watched about a million bad films, listened to some some great orchestral chamber music, and downed at least a full bottle of wine while making them.

I think I'm going to stop for the night and take an aspirin. Tomorrow I'm going to start on matching socks. I don't exactly know if people wear matching socks with their mittens but, I think I'm going to start. I think the color of yarn that I used are actually better suited to be worn on the feet rather than the hands . . . I mean really they're labeled names like "Fruity Fiesta," which is basically a vomiting of all the colors on the color wheel dyed in wool, "Berry Bonanza," which is series of blues and purples dyed into alpaca, and "Aquagem," which is this violent turquoise that should never be seen on a person's foot or hand dyed into an eco-cotton blend.

Hopefully by tomorrow my fingers will lose their swell so bending them won't be as painful . . . and maybe by then I'll be off this knitting buzz that I've thrown myself into. Maybe not. I've got a week left until the holidays end for me and I have to go back to work and classes and everything else (you know, those dreadful obligations), so I'm going to try do things that I wouldn't be able to do once everything picks up again.

Maybe I'll be ambitious and start reading through all those French novels I bought in Montreal.

Maybe not.

Body Language, Foreign Families, and Walks Outside: I Finally Get to Experience the Joys of Home.

Sheesh. I haven't posted in nearly two weeks. I've been a little out of touch with my computer. After arriving in Chicago I stayed there over the holidays . . . hung out . . . had a run in with Septimus (who never showed up in Montreal . . . but did make it for a reunion in Chicago) . . . and then caught a rental car to St. Louis to meet up with John and his . . . uh, family. We stayed there until Tuesday the next week. I have to say those five days with the entirety of the Hagebak family was the best family reunion I have ever endured . . . and I'm not even related to them. I think it's because they don't speak a tongue that I know very well, so I either had to have everything important translated for me, or I went with my more enjoyable option, I interpreted everything they were saying via body language. Overall the stay was splendid, I got to enjoy my yearly fill of lutefisk (yum) and pushy grandmothers.

After arriving back here, home, finally, I rested for the entire day. Lounged. Read. The weather warmed up to such a tolerable degree that I went outside and ran around in the trees soaking up the shine of the sun. Hmm, I think I've covered the past two weeks up to the present. Oh wait, I suppose I should mention something about the new year . . . okay, well, it's a new year. Enjoy it and the coming seasons. My mother had the colloquialism that "what you do in the first of the new year is what you will be doing for the rest of the year." The first of the year has past, so I guess this really wouldn't help anyone.

On a side note I spent my new year's day playing Scrabble, drinking grape soda, and watching old silent films. I guess I'll being doing that all the time now.