Coldplay Viva la Vida is an excellent CD!
I don't usually like music. Yes, I would much rather sit or drive in silence than with music (usually), but this CD has been playing constantly since Tuesday when I bought it.
I'm not sure what makes it so noteworthy, except that it's different, much different than anything that has come out recently. Every song is unique blending rhythms and vocals, music, guitar and drum solos, and a world theme that incorporates regional sounds.
Anyway, just wanted to let you guys know in case you hadn't heard anything about this CD yet.
Here is the music video for a song called Violet Hill. I think it's the only music video that they have for this CD so far.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
I don't write very often on this blog. Not like I used to. I wonder why...oh, that's why (sheepish grin). There was a little more incentive to blog when a certain person was a few thousand miles away and not living with me day in and day out.
Another reason is that I've been writing about someone else on a daily basis. I'm creating another person, well several people actually, and I write about them almost every day. Some people would say I'm writing a book, and I guess they might be correct, but I prefer to think that I am completing a prerequisite for my grad school application--a complete fiction manuscript. I spend several hours daily thinking and writing in another world, transitioning between Seattle, France, and various other locations. I've taken a break though for about a week because I'm stumped with Savannah (my title character). I have a tendency to want to make her flawless and I don't like her anymore, she too cute, too friendly, a perfect blend of tomboy phlegmatic and charismatic sanguine, she's athletic, witty, and a sucker for practical jokes. I've been trying for a week to break her down and flaw her, but everything is just too cliche, too realistic, too normal. She needs to give a reader something to strive for, a desire to emulate, an endearing flaw that makes you inclined to root her on and then in spite of yourself you realize that you have grown with her, that she's no longer to be pitied, but she's someone to look up to. I'm rolling my eyes at myself now because I realize that in the past few months I have become a writer and I probably care way too much, but then at the same time not enough. I'm determined though that I will figure her out this week. Maybe I'll go to the mall and eavesdrop on people I walk by. That's sure to give me some good ideas.
When I'm not writing I'm reading. I read almost as obsessively as I write. It's not that I love books or reading, but these books, their authors are my mentors and my teachers. Someone gawked that I was trying to write without formal training, but I just scrunched my nose at them because who better to learn from than those who are the best, who have lasted for decades and centuries and been newly released or come highly recommended. Reading is like studying and learning and being tutored very, very, attentively.
I still eat and sleep and cook meals and do laundry. In fact, I compulsively clean my house because there is nothing like scrubbing toilets and the strong scent of bleach that brings me back to reality. Sometimes I feel crazy because I've spent hours somewhere else, but all along I've been sitting in my house and suddenly I'll surface and I'll feel so stifled and overwhelmed and consumed in my mind that I just scrub and sniff and fold and stir my way back into reality.
And...the best part of my day is limited (to my intense dismay) to a few measly hours every evening that I get to spend with Patrick. He is still my favorite thing and person and friend and I just don't get to spend enough time with him. It's really quite irritating. Here you think "I'll get married to this person and we'll be together all the time" and then you never get to see them! Wouldn't it be smarter if you like someone this much to become co-workers (because no one will hire a husband and wife team!) Anyway, we do our Patrick and Noël things, which is mostly just talking while we walk or play tennis or play video games or read. I think if people could be a fly on the wall at our house they would be so bored. We talk about a lot of boring things and I'm so happy he enjoys it as much as I do!
So, this is why I don't blog often-- I'm either lost in my own head, reading about someone else's make-believe existence, or spending time with Patrick (and other visitors, and our one set of friends Jon and Erin).
I like pictures, so I'll end with this one. I was sewing something last week and I lost my rabbit, seriously had no idea where it went, but after a few hours I found it here:
Another reason is that I've been writing about someone else on a daily basis. I'm creating another person, well several people actually, and I write about them almost every day. Some people would say I'm writing a book, and I guess they might be correct, but I prefer to think that I am completing a prerequisite for my grad school application--a complete fiction manuscript. I spend several hours daily thinking and writing in another world, transitioning between Seattle, France, and various other locations. I've taken a break though for about a week because I'm stumped with Savannah (my title character). I have a tendency to want to make her flawless and I don't like her anymore, she too cute, too friendly, a perfect blend of tomboy phlegmatic and charismatic sanguine, she's athletic, witty, and a sucker for practical jokes. I've been trying for a week to break her down and flaw her, but everything is just too cliche, too realistic, too normal. She needs to give a reader something to strive for, a desire to emulate, an endearing flaw that makes you inclined to root her on and then in spite of yourself you realize that you have grown with her, that she's no longer to be pitied, but she's someone to look up to. I'm rolling my eyes at myself now because I realize that in the past few months I have become a writer and I probably care way too much, but then at the same time not enough. I'm determined though that I will figure her out this week. Maybe I'll go to the mall and eavesdrop on people I walk by. That's sure to give me some good ideas.
When I'm not writing I'm reading. I read almost as obsessively as I write. It's not that I love books or reading, but these books, their authors are my mentors and my teachers. Someone gawked that I was trying to write without formal training, but I just scrunched my nose at them because who better to learn from than those who are the best, who have lasted for decades and centuries and been newly released or come highly recommended. Reading is like studying and learning and being tutored very, very, attentively.
I still eat and sleep and cook meals and do laundry. In fact, I compulsively clean my house because there is nothing like scrubbing toilets and the strong scent of bleach that brings me back to reality. Sometimes I feel crazy because I've spent hours somewhere else, but all along I've been sitting in my house and suddenly I'll surface and I'll feel so stifled and overwhelmed and consumed in my mind that I just scrub and sniff and fold and stir my way back into reality.
And...the best part of my day is limited (to my intense dismay) to a few measly hours every evening that I get to spend with Patrick. He is still my favorite thing and person and friend and I just don't get to spend enough time with him. It's really quite irritating. Here you think "I'll get married to this person and we'll be together all the time" and then you never get to see them! Wouldn't it be smarter if you like someone this much to become co-workers (because no one will hire a husband and wife team!) Anyway, we do our Patrick and Noël things, which is mostly just talking while we walk or play tennis or play video games or read. I think if people could be a fly on the wall at our house they would be so bored. We talk about a lot of boring things and I'm so happy he enjoys it as much as I do!
So, this is why I don't blog often-- I'm either lost in my own head, reading about someone else's make-believe existence, or spending time with Patrick (and other visitors, and our one set of friends Jon and Erin).
I like pictures, so I'll end with this one. I was sewing something last week and I lost my rabbit, seriously had no idea where it went, but after a few hours I found it here:
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Arbie
Meet Arabella, "Arbie." We've been meaning for MONTHS to find a second car and eliminate the 6+ hours per week that I spend driving Patrick to and from work in order to get to my job by 7:30am!
I've considered so many different cars. A Toyota, of course. I'm pretty sure I might now be excommunicated from my family now that I drive a (gasp) Volkswagen! Something with air bags, a roof, fewer than 100,000 miles, and with great gas mileage. But, after a long search I realized that I love old, classic, and vintage so much more than newer practical, safe/boring cars. I prefer to sweat a little, and smell the warm pleather seats, hear the roar of a healthy old engine, and coax my little cars through several more thousand miles--I'm referring to my Mustang and now my VW Cabriolet.
I found this car on Craigslist yesterday morning and decided it was "the one."
1992
$2,300.00
125,000 mi.
6 sp. manual
power windows
New breaks, catalytic converter, shocks, and a new cover still in the box
30 MPG in the city
Nothing but Blue Sky!
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