You can listen to the new Muse album Black Holes and Revelations here. Go. Now.
This album is an aurally complex work of other-worldly art. Jesus, I don't even know if that makes sense and I'm drooling on myself. There's so much musical deliciousness going on at all times. I can hardly take it.
Make sure you listen to the ENTIRE thing, start to finish. You'll get lost in it, or your money back.
I just listened to it for the third time today. Fantastic.
Update: The whole album is no longer available, but check out the songs that are up anyway.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
runaway train
I love opening my mailbox and randomly finding two tickets to see Soul Asylum and Alice Peacock tomorrow. Wha?
Soul Asylum? They're still around?
This is gonna take me all the way back to sixth grade.
Soul Asylum? They're still around?
This is gonna take me all the way back to sixth grade.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
girl, stuck.
I want to move to Birmingham, AL, and work for this guy (thanks again to Andy for the tip). I'm frighteningly open to quitting my job, selling everything and transplanting myself to Alabama. Start over, start new, do something that I really love and am embarrassingly passionate about. Hell, the cost of living is practically zero there compared to Chicago. That's reason enough right there.
I want a job that revolves around music and/or writing. But it's one of those things that seems completely ridiculous to pursue. All of my education, experience and professional interests up to this point have been in the field of Biology and healthcare and research. Sure, I'm curing cancer everyday, but it's not lighting my fire.
But, how practical is it to run after a pipe dream when you are nicely established within a field that is comfortable? Baby steps, I tell myself. Find somewhere where you can freelance write about anything, just to get yourself started. But even that seems daunting. "You're not a writer," my practical half tells myself, "stick with what you know."
These fucking existential crises are enough to drive a seemingly normal girl insane. I can't stand the daily grind. I just can't. I know it pays the bills, and this is what life is about, just living and whatnot, but I'm bored. Uninspired. Dulled.
So dulled, in fact, that watching the trailer for Zach Braff's new movie, The Last Kiss, just made my gut sink and eyes well-up.
I want a job that revolves around music and/or writing. But it's one of those things that seems completely ridiculous to pursue. All of my education, experience and professional interests up to this point have been in the field of Biology and healthcare and research. Sure, I'm curing cancer everyday, but it's not lighting my fire.
But, how practical is it to run after a pipe dream when you are nicely established within a field that is comfortable? Baby steps, I tell myself. Find somewhere where you can freelance write about anything, just to get yourself started. But even that seems daunting. "You're not a writer," my practical half tells myself, "stick with what you know."
These fucking existential crises are enough to drive a seemingly normal girl insane. I can't stand the daily grind. I just can't. I know it pays the bills, and this is what life is about, just living and whatnot, but I'm bored. Uninspired. Dulled.
So dulled, in fact, that watching the trailer for Zach Braff's new movie, The Last Kiss, just made my gut sink and eyes well-up.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The Boys From Battle
When heading to the Keane show this afternoon at Schubas, I was cautiously optimistic. I enjoy the band. Their album "Hopes and Fears" has been in heavy rotation over the past year or so and the new stuff doesn't sound half bad. Granted, upon the first couple of listens to "Under the Iron Sea" I was quite underwhelmed. Keane is known for being mellow and this new album stays true to that. I stick with this band for the vocals and the lyrics. It never disappoints there.Schubas is one of my favorite venues to see a show in Chicago. Mostly because it's tiny and dark and intimate. You won't get any closer to a band than that. And to me, that's the epitome of a live show; the band stripped down to their core and seeing what they're made of.
Keane is my favorite kind of band; the kind that is better live. At today's show, it was just Tom at the mic, Tim on keys and Richard with a tamborine, and they sounded fantastic. Tom Chaplin's voice surprises you. It's not something you can pick up on an album. His baby-face paired with a modest and genuinely grateful demeanor (not to mention the British accent) doesn't seem to match the absolutely HUGE voice that comes out. It hits you straight in the face.
The band writes very emotional, dark songs (more so on the newest album). Seeing them performed with such intensity and passion adds a dimension you could never get from an album. The way that Chaplin talked about the band's obsession for their music made me want to kiss him on the mouth. I know that there are plenty of bands that feel that way, it's the way it should be, but I just loved to hear him say that for the years they were struggling and trying to get started, their friendship and their music was all they had to hold on to. For me, it's a nice reminder of why I love music like I do. I'm passionate because they're passionate, what a great relationship.
Even more endearing is the fact that they were just boys who loved music; friends who swapped albums then realized they had the talent to actually put a band together. They taught themselves everything they know, busted their asses and succeeded. Last year they went on tour with U2.
Now that I have burst into my accolades, I will state for the record that I know that Keane is a standard, Brit-pop type of thing. For all of the compliments given, I'm well aware that they retain a more mainstream, emo sound that would easily appeal to the masses. Nothing mind-blowing here, just good cry-your-eyes-out-after-a-break-up-or-during-a-life-crisis music.
Oh, and they're really great live, a total bonus.
Monday, June 26, 2006
When Good Karaoke Happens to Good People
Ann Marie Flaharty now has her Master's Degree. Mad props, lady.
To celebrate we threw together a last-minute pub crawl in Roscoe Village. Stops included Riverview Tavern, The Four Treys, Village Tap and Mulligan's.
While we thoroughly enjoyed playing darts at Mulligan's (at a point in the evening where none of us could actually see the dart boards), The Four Treys was where our hearts belonged.
This place is a total dive. Carpet, low drop-ceilings, full of the shadiest molester-types, karaoke and dogs. I dare you to find something better.
Here we are with Max. His owners were out of town for the weekend so they sent him to the city to stay with their son. Who decided to take ol' Max out for a night on the town in the big city.
And, oh, the karaoke. I've never been a big fan, but something happened to me that night. I became one with that screen with words.
Here's a nice shot of us beginning Cheap Trick's "I Want You To Want Me." Please note the carpet and ceiling reminiscient of a creepy-ass basement.
We're calm, cool and collected. Just starting to get into it.
The audience was going crazy, so we started to loosen up a bit more. They were lovin' it.
When the drum solo kicked in, Annie handed me the mic and started the over-head slow-clap and I went to town.
We were basically the highlight of the night. Not hard to do with a clientele of rednecks and the honest to christ, grossest of the gross Chester Molesters.
Congrats, Annie!
To celebrate we threw together a last-minute pub crawl in Roscoe Village. Stops included Riverview Tavern, The Four Treys, Village Tap and Mulligan's.
While we thoroughly enjoyed playing darts at Mulligan's (at a point in the evening where none of us could actually see the dart boards), The Four Treys was where our hearts belonged.
This place is a total dive. Carpet, low drop-ceilings, full of the shadiest molester-types, karaoke and dogs. I dare you to find something better.
Here we are with Max. His owners were out of town for the weekend so they sent him to the city to stay with their son. Who decided to take ol' Max out for a night on the town in the big city.
And, oh, the karaoke. I've never been a big fan, but something happened to me that night. I became one with that screen with words.
Here's a nice shot of us beginning Cheap Trick's "I Want You To Want Me." Please note the carpet and ceiling reminiscient of a creepy-ass basement.
We're calm, cool and collected. Just starting to get into it.
The audience was going crazy, so we started to loosen up a bit more. They were lovin' it.
When the drum solo kicked in, Annie handed me the mic and started the over-head slow-clap and I went to town.
We were basically the highlight of the night. Not hard to do with a clientele of rednecks and the honest to christ, grossest of the gross Chester Molesters.
Congrats, Annie!
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Gloating? Why, yes I am.
Hi.
I just scored tickets to see Keane at Schubas on Tuesday afternoon.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bowl and stuff my face full of macaroni and cheese balls.
I just scored tickets to see Keane at Schubas on Tuesday afternoon.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bowl and stuff my face full of macaroni and cheese balls.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
reality bites.
He was two years ahead of me in college. He was the kind of guy that everyone had a crush on. Not because of his stunning good looks or suave ways. He was funny, genuine, real. Unattainable, yet somehow felt within reach. My crush began sophomore year.
We clicked right away. As friends. We knew something more was there, but neither one of us knew what to do with it. The time was never quite right; like when he asked me a day too late to a formal. I'd already agreed to go with a friend. I've never wanted to cancel so badly.
We were both involved in the same organization. Business-type phone calls that should have taken two minutes generally lasted two hours. We laughed non-stop. We talked about our shared dream of sailing from Maine to Key West. Did I mention we laughed? A lot?
It was his senior year. He was graduating and going on to medical school so nothing happened with us. His first year of med school and my junior year of undergrad we emailed a ton. The longest emails ever. The best emails ever. So good that I printed and saved most of them. Hinting at more than friends every once in a while, but knowing that it wasn't the right time or place. At graduation time, he was coming back to Dayton. He called me a few days before and asked me out to dinner. On a real date. One of the best dates ever. This man just made my soul so happy. His smile was perfect. To me.
Later that weekend, we ran into each other at a graduation party. As the party raged inside, he and I sat outside alone. On grey, old, crumbling concrete steps he told me he'd been crazy about me for the past couple of years, but didn't want to push things, didn't know how I felt, didn't want to mess up our friendship and knew he was leaving for med school. And then he kissed me. There is little that can compare to a kiss two years in the making. In my head I was literally screaming, "OH MY GOD, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT IS HAPPENING?! THIS CAN'T REALLY BE HAPPENING." But it happened. Sigh.
Later that summer he invited me to come visit him and go to an Eddie Money/Poison concert. I freaked out at the last minute and didn't go. I was seeing someone at the time and for whatever reason chose to stay. Big mistake. Huge.
We continued emailing throughout the next year, and come spring break of my senior year, he was stopping in the Dayton area. We planned on grabbing a quick lunch, as we were both heading out of town. This quick lunch lasted three hours.
It's been three years since that lunch, but he has remained this figment of perfection in the back of my mind. That one big "what if?"...
We exchanged a couple of emails last year. Same humor, same wit, same feeling in my gut. But, too much time had passed. Lives moved on.
Recently I found out that he's in a serious relationship. Possibly engaged. My reaction to this news caught me off-guard. A punch to the gut. A feeling of loss. Even after all of this time.
There is nothing in me that seriously believed that one day we would really be together. Well, maybe somewhere deep down, just a little bit, if the planets aligned and we were meant to be. And all of that crap.
There is something to be said for the idea of someone. The idea of something. The fantasy of a relationship with someone so seemingly perfect for you. Somewhat star-crossed lovers who just can't seem to find the right time and place.
But the truth of it all is that, most likely, the fantasy is so much sweeter than the reality. My feeling of loss is not the loss of something real, an actual person or relationship, but the loss of an idea of something so right and so wonderful. The potential of perfection.
The wondering of "what if?" has been replaced with "what is." A sobering thought, wholly lacking in romanticism, but a necessary step in finding what is truly real.
We clicked right away. As friends. We knew something more was there, but neither one of us knew what to do with it. The time was never quite right; like when he asked me a day too late to a formal. I'd already agreed to go with a friend. I've never wanted to cancel so badly.
We were both involved in the same organization. Business-type phone calls that should have taken two minutes generally lasted two hours. We laughed non-stop. We talked about our shared dream of sailing from Maine to Key West. Did I mention we laughed? A lot?
It was his senior year. He was graduating and going on to medical school so nothing happened with us. His first year of med school and my junior year of undergrad we emailed a ton. The longest emails ever. The best emails ever. So good that I printed and saved most of them. Hinting at more than friends every once in a while, but knowing that it wasn't the right time or place. At graduation time, he was coming back to Dayton. He called me a few days before and asked me out to dinner. On a real date. One of the best dates ever. This man just made my soul so happy. His smile was perfect. To me.
Later that weekend, we ran into each other at a graduation party. As the party raged inside, he and I sat outside alone. On grey, old, crumbling concrete steps he told me he'd been crazy about me for the past couple of years, but didn't want to push things, didn't know how I felt, didn't want to mess up our friendship and knew he was leaving for med school. And then he kissed me. There is little that can compare to a kiss two years in the making. In my head I was literally screaming, "OH MY GOD, DO YOU REALIZE WHAT IS HAPPENING?! THIS CAN'T REALLY BE HAPPENING." But it happened. Sigh.
Later that summer he invited me to come visit him and go to an Eddie Money/Poison concert. I freaked out at the last minute and didn't go. I was seeing someone at the time and for whatever reason chose to stay. Big mistake. Huge.
We continued emailing throughout the next year, and come spring break of my senior year, he was stopping in the Dayton area. We planned on grabbing a quick lunch, as we were both heading out of town. This quick lunch lasted three hours.
It's been three years since that lunch, but he has remained this figment of perfection in the back of my mind. That one big "what if?"...
We exchanged a couple of emails last year. Same humor, same wit, same feeling in my gut. But, too much time had passed. Lives moved on.
Recently I found out that he's in a serious relationship. Possibly engaged. My reaction to this news caught me off-guard. A punch to the gut. A feeling of loss. Even after all of this time.
There is nothing in me that seriously believed that one day we would really be together. Well, maybe somewhere deep down, just a little bit, if the planets aligned and we were meant to be. And all of that crap.
There is something to be said for the idea of someone. The idea of something. The fantasy of a relationship with someone so seemingly perfect for you. Somewhat star-crossed lovers who just can't seem to find the right time and place.
But the truth of it all is that, most likely, the fantasy is so much sweeter than the reality. My feeling of loss is not the loss of something real, an actual person or relationship, but the loss of an idea of something so right and so wonderful. The potential of perfection.
The wondering of "what if?" has been replaced with "what is." A sobering thought, wholly lacking in romanticism, but a necessary step in finding what is truly real.
I lose my breath despite the air.
Current new music obsession is The Weepies (thanks to Chris and Andy).
One song that I can't get enough of is "Take It From Me" (you can hear it here).
Her voice in the opening lines just does something to me. It's so rich, tangible; I want to hold it in my hands and rub it all over my face then bottle it up and keep it forever. Good work, Deb Talan.
Oh, and "World Spins Madly On" gives a nice tug to the ol' heartstrings.
In other news, my two favorite men are currently working together. Zach Braff is directing Joshua Radin's first video, "Closer" (see the making of the video here in the video posts section of Braff's site).
This is the guy equivalent of Angelina Jolie and Salma Hayek covered in oil, writhing around together. Naked. With plenty of open-mouthed kissing. Amen.
One song that I can't get enough of is "Take It From Me" (you can hear it here).
Her voice in the opening lines just does something to me. It's so rich, tangible; I want to hold it in my hands and rub it all over my face then bottle it up and keep it forever. Good work, Deb Talan.
Oh, and "World Spins Madly On" gives a nice tug to the ol' heartstrings.
In other news, my two favorite men are currently working together. Zach Braff is directing Joshua Radin's first video, "Closer" (see the making of the video here in the video posts section of Braff's site).
This is the guy equivalent of Angelina Jolie and Salma Hayek covered in oil, writhing around together. Naked. With plenty of open-mouthed kissing. Amen.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
This girl totally lives in a trailer.
A 14-year-old girl is suing MySpace.com, claiming that the company does not do enough to protect it's under-age users. She says a 19-year-old guy lied to her and said he was a senior on a high school football team to "gain her trust." She gave him her phone number and he then allegedly sexually assaulted her.
She's suing MySpace (NOT the dude who assaulted her, mind you) for 30 MILLION DOLLARS. Maybe because, and I'm just assuming here, the guy isn't walking around with $30 million in his wallet.
W.T.F?!?!?!?!?
I do think that an online forum like MySpace makes it easier for terrible things to happen, especially to the younger, naive folks. But seriously.
30 MILLION DOLLARS?!?!
That amount of money is laughable. Terrible. Horrible. A travesty. I'm dying.
Let's blame MySpace for her being a total fucking idiot. Let's blame MySpace for a guy being a disgusting piece of shit. Let's blame MySpace for her parents not having the common sense to warn her about these situations.
Stranger danger, folks, STRANGER DANGER.
(read more here)
She's suing MySpace (NOT the dude who assaulted her, mind you) for 30 MILLION DOLLARS. Maybe because, and I'm just assuming here, the guy isn't walking around with $30 million in his wallet.
W.T.F?!?!?!?!?
I do think that an online forum like MySpace makes it easier for terrible things to happen, especially to the younger, naive folks. But seriously.
30 MILLION DOLLARS?!?!
That amount of money is laughable. Terrible. Horrible. A travesty. I'm dying.
Let's blame MySpace for her being a total fucking idiot. Let's blame MySpace for a guy being a disgusting piece of shit. Let's blame MySpace for her parents not having the common sense to warn her about these situations.
Stranger danger, folks, STRANGER DANGER.
(read more here)
Monday, June 19, 2006
lay off me, I'm busy
work is hell. i have three ulcers and a constant feeling of mounting anxiety and impending doom. i have so much on my plate and so much to do and so little time and so little help that it feels as though i am drowning.
my laptop at home died. completely died. even though i replaced the hard drive last year. and it has all of my music on it and it's my connection to the outside world when away from my desk. can you imagine living without the internet at home? for me, it's torture.
both of these terrible things keep me from all that is blog.
the real bitch of it all is that writing keeps me sane. i never realized how much i enjoyed writing until i started this mother up. right now i have six blog post ideas saved as drafts. this is making me even more stressed out. i have all of this stuff to say and it's just sitting there, backed up and waiting to come out.
for me, writing is like a drug addiction. all day, i watch and listen and read and think about things to write about. ideas consume me until i can sit down and write. i get my fix. the adrenaline rush of the writing and then the euphoric release of the publication. glorious.
so, if you want to buy me a new laptop or pay me to write for a living, please leave your contact information in the comments section below.
i'm craving cottage cheese like it's my job.
my laptop at home died. completely died. even though i replaced the hard drive last year. and it has all of my music on it and it's my connection to the outside world when away from my desk. can you imagine living without the internet at home? for me, it's torture.
both of these terrible things keep me from all that is blog.
the real bitch of it all is that writing keeps me sane. i never realized how much i enjoyed writing until i started this mother up. right now i have six blog post ideas saved as drafts. this is making me even more stressed out. i have all of this stuff to say and it's just sitting there, backed up and waiting to come out.
for me, writing is like a drug addiction. all day, i watch and listen and read and think about things to write about. ideas consume me until i can sit down and write. i get my fix. the adrenaline rush of the writing and then the euphoric release of the publication. glorious.
so, if you want to buy me a new laptop or pay me to write for a living, please leave your contact information in the comments section below.
i'm craving cottage cheese like it's my job.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Goodbye, Britney, We Hardly Knew Ye.
I don't like to meddle in celebrity gossip on here (nevermind the hours spent everyday reading about and discussing such things), but this is just so beyond any rational comprehension that I have to put it front and center.
Bitch is gone forever. Crack-whore Whitney Houston has a better chance of staging a come-back.
Have a great weekend.
Bitch is gone forever. Crack-whore Whitney Houston has a better chance of staging a come-back.
Have a great weekend.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
How about a Reuben with a side of rage?
Corned beef? Check.
Sauerkraut? Check.
Cole slaw dressing? Check.
Swiss cheese? Check.
Rye bread? Check.
Male chauvinist pig? Double-fucking-check.
My friend Scott had me over for his famous Reubens last night. The shit the man can do with corned beef is unprecedented. I've had the Chicago standards, like Manny's, and Scott's are by far and away the best. And the fact that he voluntarily put together an entire meal without killing someone (or himself) made it all the more delicious.
In the midst of dinner preparations, his roommate, Brad, returned home from work. I've hung out with him a few times, nice enough guy. At one point the conversation turns to bike-riding and Brad is telling Scott and I of a nice trek that he and his girlfriend took last weekend. And ends the story with:
"Yeah, it was nice. A good time. And a damn good way to keep the woman in shape."
Wha? Huh? I was certain there was NO way I'd heard him right. He had to be kidding.
But I had. And he wasn't.
I was all, "you've got to be fucking kidding me," and he was all, "no, I'm serious, I don't want my girlfriend getting fat," and I was all, "that's terrible," and he was all, "well, that's the way it is," and I was all, "well, fuck you."
The man was dead serious. No being an ass for affect here. He continued to state his case and I swear to christ the following lines came out of his mouth:
"I keep in shape, my girlfriend needs to stay in shape. I don't want her gaining any weight."
"I know that someday I'll gain weight, maybe 20 pounds, probably get a beer belly. I sure as hell hope she doesn't gain 20 pounds."
"There's no reason for her, or me really, to gain any weight. Even after kids. Women lose all of that weight all the time."
"I'm always trying to come up with stuff for us to do to keep her in shape."
"I just wouldn't be attracted to her if she gained weight. There's no reason for it."
I argued steadfastly with him, clearly getting very heated. And he didn't abate one bit. He held firm to his beliefs. At one point, realizing that I was looking into the eyes of a pathetic lost-cause, I calmly (calmly as in, trying not to rip his balls off) explained to him that we had better quit with this conversation because I was getting very seriously angry. Very seriously fucking angry.
I'm all about people staying healthy and in shape, etc. There's no reason (except because it's easier and more fun) to sit around and eat unhealthy food and drink. I'm not advocating purposeful obesity here, I'm just supporting basic tolerance.
How sad is it that this guy bases so much of his relationship on how his girlfriend looks? I know guys get all googly over hot, naked chicks, but come on. I've met his girlfriend, she's tall and has a nice, normal, healthy body. Not too thin, not anywhere near partially overweight. She's a nice girl. Sweet, fun, cooks, cleans, decorates. I couldn't help but wonder if she has any idea how he feels about this particular subject. Talk about driving someone into an eating disorder.
I have never given a moment's pause to the weight of someone I'm dating. If I notice their face filling out, or more of a belly, whatever, I just find it more endearing. It's just the person that I'm in love with, flabby abs and all. Even more so, my sexual attraction towards someone never changes if their body changes. For me, all of that attraction is based so much their personality, sense of humor and how they make me feel. Sure, I need to find them physically attractive, but some shifts in weight won't change that for me.
And I think I'm lucky that I'm this way. And I wish more people were. It makes for much healthier and happier relationships.
It blows my mind that some dumbass seriously thinks that through the years his partner will maintain her weight and won't change. It makes me angry and terribly sad. Sad for the woman that will be held to this expectation. And sad for him that he doesn't realize what loving someone unconditionally really means.
Oh well, one less douchebag to weed out.
Sauerkraut? Check.
Cole slaw dressing? Check.
Swiss cheese? Check.
Rye bread? Check.
Male chauvinist pig? Double-fucking-check.
My friend Scott had me over for his famous Reubens last night. The shit the man can do with corned beef is unprecedented. I've had the Chicago standards, like Manny's, and Scott's are by far and away the best. And the fact that he voluntarily put together an entire meal without killing someone (or himself) made it all the more delicious.
In the midst of dinner preparations, his roommate, Brad, returned home from work. I've hung out with him a few times, nice enough guy. At one point the conversation turns to bike-riding and Brad is telling Scott and I of a nice trek that he and his girlfriend took last weekend. And ends the story with:
"Yeah, it was nice. A good time. And a damn good way to keep the woman in shape."
Wha? Huh? I was certain there was NO way I'd heard him right. He had to be kidding.
But I had. And he wasn't.
I was all, "you've got to be fucking kidding me," and he was all, "no, I'm serious, I don't want my girlfriend getting fat," and I was all, "that's terrible," and he was all, "well, that's the way it is," and I was all, "well, fuck you."
The man was dead serious. No being an ass for affect here. He continued to state his case and I swear to christ the following lines came out of his mouth:
"I keep in shape, my girlfriend needs to stay in shape. I don't want her gaining any weight."
"I know that someday I'll gain weight, maybe 20 pounds, probably get a beer belly. I sure as hell hope she doesn't gain 20 pounds."
"There's no reason for her, or me really, to gain any weight. Even after kids. Women lose all of that weight all the time."
"I'm always trying to come up with stuff for us to do to keep her in shape."
"I just wouldn't be attracted to her if she gained weight. There's no reason for it."
I argued steadfastly with him, clearly getting very heated. And he didn't abate one bit. He held firm to his beliefs. At one point, realizing that I was looking into the eyes of a pathetic lost-cause, I calmly (calmly as in, trying not to rip his balls off) explained to him that we had better quit with this conversation because I was getting very seriously angry. Very seriously fucking angry.
I'm all about people staying healthy and in shape, etc. There's no reason (except because it's easier and more fun) to sit around and eat unhealthy food and drink. I'm not advocating purposeful obesity here, I'm just supporting basic tolerance.
How sad is it that this guy bases so much of his relationship on how his girlfriend looks? I know guys get all googly over hot, naked chicks, but come on. I've met his girlfriend, she's tall and has a nice, normal, healthy body. Not too thin, not anywhere near partially overweight. She's a nice girl. Sweet, fun, cooks, cleans, decorates. I couldn't help but wonder if she has any idea how he feels about this particular subject. Talk about driving someone into an eating disorder.
I have never given a moment's pause to the weight of someone I'm dating. If I notice their face filling out, or more of a belly, whatever, I just find it more endearing. It's just the person that I'm in love with, flabby abs and all. Even more so, my sexual attraction towards someone never changes if their body changes. For me, all of that attraction is based so much their personality, sense of humor and how they make me feel. Sure, I need to find them physically attractive, but some shifts in weight won't change that for me.
And I think I'm lucky that I'm this way. And I wish more people were. It makes for much healthier and happier relationships.
It blows my mind that some dumbass seriously thinks that through the years his partner will maintain her weight and won't change. It makes me angry and terribly sad. Sad for the woman that will be held to this expectation. And sad for him that he doesn't realize what loving someone unconditionally really means.
Oh well, one less douchebag to weed out.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Good Night, Sweet Girl
Beautiful Girls is one of those movies that I continually forget that I love. It disappears into the back of my subconscious until I see it, and then I'm enamored all over again.
Willie C. leaves his life in NYC to travel home to a small town in Massachusetts for his high school reunion and, most importantly, to sort his life out. He's at a crossroads with his serious girlfriend and his career. He and his old buddies get together, drink a lot, and go through a whole host of situations that force them to reevaluate what's important in their lives.
The screenplay is fantastic. With so many great lines and conversations, it's a veritable feast for the brain. The big life issues, the burning relationship questions, the witty banter...I'm emotionally drained by the end.
Willie: [from a window] Hey.
Marty: Romeo and Juliet, the dyslexic version.
Most impressive is the relationship between Marty and Willie. It blows my mind that, between Scott Rosenberg's writing and Natalie Portman's acting, a 29-year-old man with an infatuation with a 13-year-old girl doesn't gross me out and is entirely believable. It's not sexual or raunchy, it's endearing and heartbreaking. He's not looking at her as a sex object; he's intrigued by her wit and intellect. And what (normal and healthy) girl wouldn't want that? Natalie Portman owns that role and is the highlight of the entire film.
Willie: You know how it is, the beginnings? When you first fall in love and you can't eat, you can't sleep and getting a call from her, it makes your day. It's like seeing a shooting star.
Andera: It's the best.
Willie: Yeah, but, inevitably it goes away. It quiets down. So, this is my thing see, why get married now? Why not have two, three more of those beginning things before I, you know, settle into the big fade?
Andera: The big fade, that's an awful way to put it.
The "shooting star" part takes it a little too far. Excuse that. But the rest of it is so true to life it hurts. We all treasure the beginning of a relationship. When it's all rainbows and unicorns and shit. And once that goes away, the majority of people assume that means that they are settling or that the relationship is not working. They don't take a step back and ask the real question, "are we truly in love and happy?"
And, I'm sorry to generalize, but I think this is truer with the guys. The lure of a new woman to have the beginning ease and giddiness with, as opposed to staying with the same chick who is comfortable and established (and probably thinking about settling down) is just too great. Thus, why you see so many men freak and run to dodge commitment.
Paul: You told her things, didn't you?
Willie: What things?
Paul: You let her behind the curtain, didn't you?...You let her behind the curtain, I know you did. You never let them behind the curtain, Will. You never let them see the little old man behind the curtain working the levers of the great and powerful OZ. They are all sisters, Willie... they aren't allowed back there... they mustn't see.
First of all, that makes me pee. It's hilarious. And sad. Sad because it's true. I can't tell you how many times in my own life I've dated people that did the whole "not allowed behind the curtain" thing. Or how many times I've listened to friends cry/bitch about the same thing. I know that women can put their guard up just as much, but I find that this wall crumbles much easier with the female population.
Tommy: Can I ask you a question?
Andera: Go ahead.
Tommy: How long have you been going out with your boyfriend?
Andera: Eight months.
Tommy: And it's good?
Andera: It's very good.
Tommy: He makes you happy?
Andera: Yeah. I look for that in a man, you know. The ones that make me miserable don't seem to last.
Tommy: Right.
Andera: You know, there are four words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words. "Good night, sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up those four words is a guy I want to stay with.
I know this part is cheesy as all hell, and normally I hate this kind of fluff, but there's something about the last part that rips my heart and soul out of my body and throws it on the ground. I just love it. Lines in movies that make you feel like you just got punched in the gut are the reason we all continue to watch films. That, and to see hot people having sex and shit getting blown up.
Willie C. leaves his life in NYC to travel home to a small town in Massachusetts for his high school reunion and, most importantly, to sort his life out. He's at a crossroads with his serious girlfriend and his career. He and his old buddies get together, drink a lot, and go through a whole host of situations that force them to reevaluate what's important in their lives.
The screenplay is fantastic. With so many great lines and conversations, it's a veritable feast for the brain. The big life issues, the burning relationship questions, the witty banter...I'm emotionally drained by the end.
Willie: [from a window] Hey.
Marty: Romeo and Juliet, the dyslexic version.
Most impressive is the relationship between Marty and Willie. It blows my mind that, between Scott Rosenberg's writing and Natalie Portman's acting, a 29-year-old man with an infatuation with a 13-year-old girl doesn't gross me out and is entirely believable. It's not sexual or raunchy, it's endearing and heartbreaking. He's not looking at her as a sex object; he's intrigued by her wit and intellect. And what (normal and healthy) girl wouldn't want that? Natalie Portman owns that role and is the highlight of the entire film.
Willie: You know how it is, the beginnings? When you first fall in love and you can't eat, you can't sleep and getting a call from her, it makes your day. It's like seeing a shooting star.
Andera: It's the best.
Willie: Yeah, but, inevitably it goes away. It quiets down. So, this is my thing see, why get married now? Why not have two, three more of those beginning things before I, you know, settle into the big fade?
Andera: The big fade, that's an awful way to put it.
The "shooting star" part takes it a little too far. Excuse that. But the rest of it is so true to life it hurts. We all treasure the beginning of a relationship. When it's all rainbows and unicorns and shit. And once that goes away, the majority of people assume that means that they are settling or that the relationship is not working. They don't take a step back and ask the real question, "are we truly in love and happy?"
And, I'm sorry to generalize, but I think this is truer with the guys. The lure of a new woman to have the beginning ease and giddiness with, as opposed to staying with the same chick who is comfortable and established (and probably thinking about settling down) is just too great. Thus, why you see so many men freak and run to dodge commitment.
Paul: You told her things, didn't you?
Willie: What things?
Paul: You let her behind the curtain, didn't you?...You let her behind the curtain, I know you did. You never let them behind the curtain, Will. You never let them see the little old man behind the curtain working the levers of the great and powerful OZ. They are all sisters, Willie... they aren't allowed back there... they mustn't see.
First of all, that makes me pee. It's hilarious. And sad. Sad because it's true. I can't tell you how many times in my own life I've dated people that did the whole "not allowed behind the curtain" thing. Or how many times I've listened to friends cry/bitch about the same thing. I know that women can put their guard up just as much, but I find that this wall crumbles much easier with the female population.
Tommy: Can I ask you a question?
Andera: Go ahead.
Tommy: How long have you been going out with your boyfriend?
Andera: Eight months.
Tommy: And it's good?
Andera: It's very good.
Tommy: He makes you happy?
Andera: Yeah. I look for that in a man, you know. The ones that make me miserable don't seem to last.
Tommy: Right.
Andera: You know, there are four words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words. "Good night, sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up those four words is a guy I want to stay with.
I know this part is cheesy as all hell, and normally I hate this kind of fluff, but there's something about the last part that rips my heart and soul out of my body and throws it on the ground. I just love it. Lines in movies that make you feel like you just got punched in the gut are the reason we all continue to watch films. That, and to see hot people having sex and shit getting blown up.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
Cirque du Shut The Fuck Up
Cirque Shanghai (performing at Navy Pier through the summer) is no Cirque du Soleil, but they do have these people. On unicycles. On unicycles rolling around on these huge balls. On unicycles rolling around on these huge balls jumping rope.
I just want to say it one more time. Huge balls.
I just want to say it one more time. Huge balls.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Tuesday, June 6: Training Day #2
Sorry for the delay. I've been doing a little traveling and having a pretty constant work-related anxiety attack.
Days until Event: 117
Out of the House: 7:20pm
Workout Breakdown: walked 10 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 2 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 5 minutes.
Back to the House: 8:05pm
Total Workout Time: 45 minutes
Personal thought for this workout: I still suck and hate running.
Days until Event: 117
Out of the House: 7:20pm
Workout Breakdown: walked 10 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 2 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 5 minutes.
Back to the House: 8:05pm
Total Workout Time: 45 minutes
Personal thought for this workout: I still suck and hate running.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Friday, June 2nd: Training Day #1
More for my amusement than yours, I'm going to be chronicling my training process for the Chicago Half-Marathon. I'm hoping that by putting this out for the whole world to see that I'll be forced to stick with it. And kick it's ass (gasp! Look how confident she is!).
Here goes nothing.
Days until Event: 121
Out of the House: 6:15am
Workout Breakdown: walked 10 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 2 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 2 minutes, walked 4 minutes
Back to the House: 6:50am
Total Workout Time: 35 minutes
Personal thought for this workout: I suck.
Here goes nothing.
Days until Event: 121
Out of the House: 6:15am
Workout Breakdown: walked 10 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 2 minutes, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 5 minutes, walked 1 minute, ran 2 minutes, walked 4 minutes
Back to the House: 6:50am
Total Workout Time: 35 minutes
Personal thought for this workout: I suck.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
It's Not Me, It's You...Or is it?
My life is currently resembling an Austin Powers film. Not the accent or the bad teeth or lame jokes.
I think I've lost my mojo.
Since when did going on dates become a source of anxiety for me? Since when did the thought of going to a guy's apartment after dinner to "watch a movie" make me break out in hives?
An actual conversation that occurred last night, standing outside of a Lakeview Thai noodle establishment, at the end of the third date:
Dude: "Hey, so do you want to go back to my place and watch 'Ice Harvest'? I know you wanted to see it."
Me: blink. blinkblink. blink.
Dude: "You said you wanted to see it, right?"
Me: (worried that the internal alarms, sirens and shrieks can actually be heard outside of my body) "Uhhh. I. Uh. I, uh. Um. Well. You see. Well, I'd really like to, but it's my friend's birthday and I have to meet her for drinks at Sopo."
Dude: "Ok, well, maybe some time over the weekend then."
He then pulls me to him via the front of my jacket and plants one right on the kisser. Open-mouthed. (Which, would have been very fantastic and movie-esque, had it been warranted or even hinted at.)
My inner dialogue went a little something like this:
"Ok, don't freak out.
You like this guy, right?
It's the third date, give it a chance.
Don't freak out, I said.
I know you haven't been in the dating world for over a year, but just relax.
Give it a few seconds...
hmmm, he's not a bad kisser.
But oh my god, we're kissing in a parking lot right next to a busy street!
People might see us kissing!
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
What if someone sees us kissing?
IN PUBLIC?
On a Wednesday?
Sober?
Why am I caring so much if people see us?
Why don't I feel the urge to lift my rigid arms from my sides and touch him?
Why am I not feeling anything?
WHAT IF SOMEONE SEES US KISSING?
I do not want to continue kissing this person.
But he won't get his tongue out of my mouth.
I hope they have the Sangria special tonight at Sopo.
Stop with the kissing already, for the love of christ."
We've been on three dates, all of which were a great time, tons to talk about, plenty of laughs. He's intelligent, interesting, loves music and movies, writes screenplays, is mature, witty, and cute. I was attracted to him enough to continue with the dates. So what if I didn't want to rip his clothes off by the end of the first date (a standard pre-requisite for me)? I was taking it slow, seeing where it was going. Keeping it casual.
But then came the first kiss. Out of nowhere. The make or break. And it broke.
So immediately the analysis is that he just doesn't do it for me. That we're missing that "something;" that spark. But is that all it is? Is it that simple?
Or is it me?
I've thoroughly enjoyed my year-long hiatus from dating; it's the best thing I have ever done. But have I inadvertently enjoyed it so much that I've made it more difficult to date anyone? I've become so used to not making eye contact or striking up conversations or flirting with guys that I hardly know how to comfortably do so these days. I've become so content being by myself or with good friends, that I don't even notice any available males in the room. It's amazing how you can train yourself to do such things.
Can you become too content with being single?
I think I've lost my mojo.
Since when did going on dates become a source of anxiety for me? Since when did the thought of going to a guy's apartment after dinner to "watch a movie" make me break out in hives?
An actual conversation that occurred last night, standing outside of a Lakeview Thai noodle establishment, at the end of the third date:
Dude: "Hey, so do you want to go back to my place and watch 'Ice Harvest'? I know you wanted to see it."
Me: blink. blinkblink. blink.
Dude: "You said you wanted to see it, right?"
Me: (worried that the internal alarms, sirens and shrieks can actually be heard outside of my body) "Uhhh. I. Uh. I, uh. Um. Well. You see. Well, I'd really like to, but it's my friend's birthday and I have to meet her for drinks at Sopo."
Dude: "Ok, well, maybe some time over the weekend then."
He then pulls me to him via the front of my jacket and plants one right on the kisser. Open-mouthed. (Which, would have been very fantastic and movie-esque, had it been warranted or even hinted at.)
My inner dialogue went a little something like this:
"Ok, don't freak out.
You like this guy, right?
It's the third date, give it a chance.
Don't freak out, I said.
I know you haven't been in the dating world for over a year, but just relax.
Give it a few seconds...
hmmm, he's not a bad kisser.
But oh my god, we're kissing in a parking lot right next to a busy street!
People might see us kissing!
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
What if someone sees us kissing?
IN PUBLIC?
On a Wednesday?
Sober?
Why am I caring so much if people see us?
Why don't I feel the urge to lift my rigid arms from my sides and touch him?
Why am I not feeling anything?
WHAT IF SOMEONE SEES US KISSING?
I do not want to continue kissing this person.
But he won't get his tongue out of my mouth.
I hope they have the Sangria special tonight at Sopo.
Stop with the kissing already, for the love of christ."
We've been on three dates, all of which were a great time, tons to talk about, plenty of laughs. He's intelligent, interesting, loves music and movies, writes screenplays, is mature, witty, and cute. I was attracted to him enough to continue with the dates. So what if I didn't want to rip his clothes off by the end of the first date (a standard pre-requisite for me)? I was taking it slow, seeing where it was going. Keeping it casual.
But then came the first kiss. Out of nowhere. The make or break. And it broke.
So immediately the analysis is that he just doesn't do it for me. That we're missing that "something;" that spark. But is that all it is? Is it that simple?
Or is it me?
I've thoroughly enjoyed my year-long hiatus from dating; it's the best thing I have ever done. But have I inadvertently enjoyed it so much that I've made it more difficult to date anyone? I've become so used to not making eye contact or striking up conversations or flirting with guys that I hardly know how to comfortably do so these days. I've become so content being by myself or with good friends, that I don't even notice any available males in the room. It's amazing how you can train yourself to do such things.
Can you become too content with being single?
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