I've always loved Bright Eyes and I've always loved this song, but I found a renewed love for it last week, ironically, the day before I went on an airplane. Oh, well. Also, the video is fantastic, and you can see it here.
"So, there's this woman, and she was on an airplane and she was flying to meet her fiance, sailing high above the largest ocean on the planet Earth. And she was seated next to this man who, you know, she had tried to start a conversation with him, but only, really the only thing she heard him say was just to order his bloody mary. And she was sitting there and she was reading this really arduous magazine article about a third world country that she couldn't even pronounce the name of, and she was feeling very bored and very despondent. And suddenly there was this huge mechanical failure and one of the engines gave out, and they just started falling, from 30,000 feet. The pilot's on the micorphone and he's saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, my God!" And she looks at the man and she says, "Where are we going?" And he looks at her and he says "We're going to a party. It...it's a birthday party. It's your birthday party. Happy birthday, darling! We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much!" And then, um, he starts humming this little tune, and it kinda goes like this. A one, two, a one two three four...
We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web,
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
And in the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair,
We must stare, we must stare, we must stare.
We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
And in the ear of every anarchist that sleeps but doesn't dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing.
And it'll go like this, alright...
While my mother waters plants
My father loads his gun.
He says 'Death will give us back to God
Just like the setting sun
Is returned to the lonesome ocean.'
And then they splashed into the deep blue sea!
Oh, it was a wonderful splash.
We must blend into the choir,
Sing a static with the whole.
I must memorize my numbers and deny we have a soul.
And in this endless race for property and privilege to be won,
We must run, we must run, we must run.
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats and moonlight laugh.
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past.
And into the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love,
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge.
And then we'll get down there, way down to the bottom of everything
And then we'll see it, oh, we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it!
Oh, my morning's coming back.
The whole world's waking up.
All the city busses swimming past;
I'm happy just because
I found out I am really no one.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Dear Sarah Palin
Today, this article caught my eye. Don't worry, it's short. Since Sarah Palin talked big during the election about how she wants to listen to the Average American, I have written her a letter in response to the article.
Dear Sarah,
Is it ok if I call you Sarah?
I'm sorry you feel exploited. I'll try to explain why you're being exploited in small words you can easily comprehend...er...understand...um....get. You have a personality that begs to be made fun of. Have you watched Tina's (we're all on a first name basis here, right?) impression of you in the Katie Couric interview? She didn't even add much. She was pretty much quoting you word for word. That's not an exploitation; that's a reenactment. And if your material pretty much makes fun of itself, well, whose fault is that really?
I guess I kinda get why you feel that Tina has exploited you, but what did poor Katie do? I mean, I know she asked you a lot of really hard questions, like what newspapers you read and what supreme court decisions you agree or disagree with (couldn't even think of one, huh?), but she's not a comedian. I'm pretty sure she isn't still talking about you or your interview with her. Which brings me to my next point...
No one is still talking about you. I think the vast majority of Americans are trying really hard to forget you exist. But you can't be kept down, no. You're going to keep doing interviews and making the news every time you can. Isn't that kind of exploiting yourself? Most people who don't want to be exploited lay low. So, really, you're bringing this on yourself. If you don't want to be exploited, stay home. If you keep going out and talking your idiotic head off, don't complain when people make fun of you.
-Average Jess
P.S. You're right. Caroline Kennedy is being treated better by the media than you are. It's not classism. It has to do with the fact that she isn't a moron and you are. The end.
Dear Sarah,
Is it ok if I call you Sarah?
I'm sorry you feel exploited. I'll try to explain why you're being exploited in small words you can easily comprehend...er...understand...um....get. You have a personality that begs to be made fun of. Have you watched Tina's (we're all on a first name basis here, right?) impression of you in the Katie Couric interview? She didn't even add much. She was pretty much quoting you word for word. That's not an exploitation; that's a reenactment. And if your material pretty much makes fun of itself, well, whose fault is that really?
I guess I kinda get why you feel that Tina has exploited you, but what did poor Katie do? I mean, I know she asked you a lot of really hard questions, like what newspapers you read and what supreme court decisions you agree or disagree with (couldn't even think of one, huh?), but she's not a comedian. I'm pretty sure she isn't still talking about you or your interview with her. Which brings me to my next point...
No one is still talking about you. I think the vast majority of Americans are trying really hard to forget you exist. But you can't be kept down, no. You're going to keep doing interviews and making the news every time you can. Isn't that kind of exploiting yourself? Most people who don't want to be exploited lay low. So, really, you're bringing this on yourself. If you don't want to be exploited, stay home. If you keep going out and talking your idiotic head off, don't complain when people make fun of you.
-Average Jess
P.S. You're right. Caroline Kennedy is being treated better by the media than you are. It's not classism. It has to do with the fact that she isn't a moron and you are. The end.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A Blog of Cheer
Christmas kinda snuck up on me. Ask my bank account. Usually, right after Thanksgiving, Christmas comes over me in full effect. I decorate my house (OK, that I did do), my desk at work, and start the joyous process of purchasing thoughtful gifts for my friends and family.
I never got around to decorating my cube at work. I was entirely too busy. I only just finished purchasing gifts, and now, RIGHT NOW, the day before Christmas Eve, I am writing this blog on a break from wrapping gifts. It seems the last week or so has been so busy, that I haven't even had much time to sit down and contemplate the season. So, here I am...contemplating for you lovely people.
Though I no longer identify myself as a Christian, this season still has a funny way of filling me with hope. Just now, in the bathroom ('cause one of my best friends, Q, and I can attest that is where we do some of our best thinking), I think I have figured out why. Hannukah celebrates the miracle God performed, allowing a candle that should have only burned one day to burn 8 days. Kwanzaa is a celebration of culture. Christmas is the celebration of the hope that surfaced about 2000 years ago in the form of a tiny newborn. It seems that hope is stitched into the fabric of all these stories. Hope that we will be provided for, that our history will live on, that the simple and mundane can contain majesty and wonder.
I have had some simple and majestic moments over the last few days...
- In RE (Sunday School for us UU's), we asked the children what holiday was coming up, and they answered overwhelmingly...Hannukah. That was interesting. Then, of course, Fletcher felt the need to explain to me what Hannukah is. He said, "Hannukah is when Santa comes and puts presents in shoes."
- We had quite a debate on the proper plural form of the word "Mongoose". Is it still Mongoose? Is it Mongeese? Fletcher insists it is Mongoosees.
- Shailie and I spent a good part of the weekend together. Saturday, she made quite a killing, getting to go to the mall, getting her Christmas present while we were there, having dinner, and then going out for Christmas lights. Sunday we went out for more Christmas lights, and we even rode a carnival ride there at the park. It was called Dizzy Dragons, and we spun and spun and laughed and laughed. She's an awesome kid, and is always grateful for what I give her. I hope she knows what she gives me.
- I blew out a tire on our car, and I freaked out. Beau, of course, met this dilemma with patience and unconditional love. I am always so surprised by that, for some reason, even though he is never anything but patient and understanding and loving. His first concern was calming me down, making sure that I was ok. Only then did he go out to deal with the tire. The tire thing sucked completely, but it was kind of an avenue to showing me how much my love loves me, even when I massively screw up. (Yes, the blowout was absolutely my fault.)
Anyway...that was kind of random and discombobulated, but here's a poem. Maybe it'll get my message across better than I can.
Now is the moment of magic,
when the whole, round earth turns again toward the sun,
and here's a blessing:
the days will be longer and brighter soon,
even before the winter settles in to chill us.
Now is the moment of magic,
when people - beaten down and broken,
with nothing left but misery and candles,
and their own clear voices
kindle tiny lights and whisper secret music.
And here's a blessing:
the dark universe is suddenly illuminated
by the lights of the menorah,
suddenly ablaze with the lights of the kenara,
and the whole world is glad and loud with winter singing.
Now is the moment of magic,
when an eastern star beackons the ignorant toward an unknown goal.
And here's a blessing:
They find nothing in the end but an ordinary baby,
born at midnight, born in poverty,
and the baby's cry, like bells ringing,
makes people wonder as they wander through their lives,
what human love might really look like,
sound like, feel like.
Now is the moment of magic.
And here's a blessing:
We already possess all the gifts we need;
We've already received our presents:
ears to hear music,eyes to behold sights,
hands to build peace on Earth,
and to hold each other tight in love.
- Victoria E. Safford
I never got around to decorating my cube at work. I was entirely too busy. I only just finished purchasing gifts, and now, RIGHT NOW, the day before Christmas Eve, I am writing this blog on a break from wrapping gifts. It seems the last week or so has been so busy, that I haven't even had much time to sit down and contemplate the season. So, here I am...contemplating for you lovely people.
Though I no longer identify myself as a Christian, this season still has a funny way of filling me with hope. Just now, in the bathroom ('cause one of my best friends, Q, and I can attest that is where we do some of our best thinking), I think I have figured out why. Hannukah celebrates the miracle God performed, allowing a candle that should have only burned one day to burn 8 days. Kwanzaa is a celebration of culture. Christmas is the celebration of the hope that surfaced about 2000 years ago in the form of a tiny newborn. It seems that hope is stitched into the fabric of all these stories. Hope that we will be provided for, that our history will live on, that the simple and mundane can contain majesty and wonder.
I have had some simple and majestic moments over the last few days...
- In RE (Sunday School for us UU's), we asked the children what holiday was coming up, and they answered overwhelmingly...Hannukah. That was interesting. Then, of course, Fletcher felt the need to explain to me what Hannukah is. He said, "Hannukah is when Santa comes and puts presents in shoes."
- We had quite a debate on the proper plural form of the word "Mongoose". Is it still Mongoose? Is it Mongeese? Fletcher insists it is Mongoosees.
- Shailie and I spent a good part of the weekend together. Saturday, she made quite a killing, getting to go to the mall, getting her Christmas present while we were there, having dinner, and then going out for Christmas lights. Sunday we went out for more Christmas lights, and we even rode a carnival ride there at the park. It was called Dizzy Dragons, and we spun and spun and laughed and laughed. She's an awesome kid, and is always grateful for what I give her. I hope she knows what she gives me.
- I blew out a tire on our car, and I freaked out. Beau, of course, met this dilemma with patience and unconditional love. I am always so surprised by that, for some reason, even though he is never anything but patient and understanding and loving. His first concern was calming me down, making sure that I was ok. Only then did he go out to deal with the tire. The tire thing sucked completely, but it was kind of an avenue to showing me how much my love loves me, even when I massively screw up. (Yes, the blowout was absolutely my fault.)
Anyway...that was kind of random and discombobulated, but here's a poem. Maybe it'll get my message across better than I can.
Now is the moment of magic,
when the whole, round earth turns again toward the sun,
and here's a blessing:
the days will be longer and brighter soon,
even before the winter settles in to chill us.
Now is the moment of magic,
when people - beaten down and broken,
with nothing left but misery and candles,
and their own clear voices
kindle tiny lights and whisper secret music.
And here's a blessing:
the dark universe is suddenly illuminated
by the lights of the menorah,
suddenly ablaze with the lights of the kenara,
and the whole world is glad and loud with winter singing.
Now is the moment of magic,
when an eastern star beackons the ignorant toward an unknown goal.
And here's a blessing:
They find nothing in the end but an ordinary baby,
born at midnight, born in poverty,
and the baby's cry, like bells ringing,
makes people wonder as they wander through their lives,
what human love might really look like,
sound like, feel like.
Now is the moment of magic.
And here's a blessing:
We already possess all the gifts we need;
We've already received our presents:
ears to hear music,eyes to behold sights,
hands to build peace on Earth,
and to hold each other tight in love.
- Victoria E. Safford
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Me Time
Last night, like just about every other weeknight, I was home alone. My fiance, Beau, works nights now, so I have the apartment to myself 4 nights a week. I guess that isn't really all that much, since that leaves three nights that he is there with me, or we are out and about. It seems like a lot of time. That's not necessarily a bad thing. Here's what I did last night. Granted, I got home early because of the icy weather, but this really is a pretty typical night.
-Watched Gilmore Girls on ABC Family
-Watched My Wife and Kids on ABC Family
-Got bored with My Wife and Kids, and decided to vacuum.
-Picked up everything off the floor and commenced vacuuming.
-Sat back down to have a smoke.
-Looked at how filthy the coffee table was
-Got Fantastik and cleaned the coffee table.
-Took the Fantastik back to the kitchen and noticed a sink full of dirty dishes.
-Washed dishes.
-Grandma called and we talked for a LONG time.
-Simultaneously watched "Countdown with Keith Olbermann" and "The Rachel Maddow Show"
-Called Querida as soon as I hung up with my Grandma to tell her about a study they were talking about on TV regarding romantic comedies. Yes, movies. Apparently, they set "unrealistic expectations" and "oversimplify" the process of falling in love. I could have told them that for free. Hel-lo, I was once a single woman in my early twenties who spent long Saturdays with the likes of Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts.
-Hung up, smoked another cigarette and went to sleep.
*Somewhere in there I had a dinner of frozen bean burritos topped with Pasturized Processed American Cheese Food Slices.
There are variations to this routine, of course. Some evenings are more cleaning oriented than others. Like a good little woman, I told my fiance the hard worker that I would take care of all the housework during the week so we wouldn't have to worry about it on the weekends and we could spend more time together. I regret saying this often.
Some evenings, I read. I have been super into Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Mysteries featuring the badass heroine Sookie Stackhouse. Sound familiar? Yeah, if you watched "True Blood" on HBO, it would. These are the books that the series is based upon. While the show is awesome, the books are a different and wonderful kind of awesome. You should read them. Now.
Sometimes I play Rock Band. I have been working on my guitar skills. I can now play any song you want (even the really difficult ones) on the Easy setting. I was moving on to Medium last week, but I lost my motivation.
That being said, I spend a lot of time with myself these days. When I tell people this, I get one of two reactions. "Aw, that sucks. You must be really lonely," or "Wow, it must be awesome to have all that free time without Beau around." The real truth is somewhere in between. Sure, I would never have done as much reading as I have been lately or practiced as much rock Band or have as clean of an apartment as I do with him around every night. But I definitely miss him when CSI is on and when it's time to go to sleep. On the bright side, it makes that wonderful weekend time that much more special. I think I'll go smoke that cigartette I never got around to last night. Did you guys notice that?
-Watched Gilmore Girls on ABC Family
-Watched My Wife and Kids on ABC Family
-Got bored with My Wife and Kids, and decided to vacuum.
-Picked up everything off the floor and commenced vacuuming.
-Sat back down to have a smoke.
-Looked at how filthy the coffee table was
-Got Fantastik and cleaned the coffee table.
-Took the Fantastik back to the kitchen and noticed a sink full of dirty dishes.
-Washed dishes.
-Grandma called and we talked for a LONG time.
-Simultaneously watched "Countdown with Keith Olbermann" and "The Rachel Maddow Show"
-Called Querida as soon as I hung up with my Grandma to tell her about a study they were talking about on TV regarding romantic comedies. Yes, movies. Apparently, they set "unrealistic expectations" and "oversimplify" the process of falling in love. I could have told them that for free. Hel-lo, I was once a single woman in my early twenties who spent long Saturdays with the likes of Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts.
-Hung up, smoked another cigarette and went to sleep.
*Somewhere in there I had a dinner of frozen bean burritos topped with Pasturized Processed American Cheese Food Slices.
There are variations to this routine, of course. Some evenings are more cleaning oriented than others. Like a good little woman, I told my fiance the hard worker that I would take care of all the housework during the week so we wouldn't have to worry about it on the weekends and we could spend more time together. I regret saying this often.
Some evenings, I read. I have been super into Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Mysteries featuring the badass heroine Sookie Stackhouse. Sound familiar? Yeah, if you watched "True Blood" on HBO, it would. These are the books that the series is based upon. While the show is awesome, the books are a different and wonderful kind of awesome. You should read them. Now.
Sometimes I play Rock Band. I have been working on my guitar skills. I can now play any song you want (even the really difficult ones) on the Easy setting. I was moving on to Medium last week, but I lost my motivation.
That being said, I spend a lot of time with myself these days. When I tell people this, I get one of two reactions. "Aw, that sucks. You must be really lonely," or "Wow, it must be awesome to have all that free time without Beau around." The real truth is somewhere in between. Sure, I would never have done as much reading as I have been lately or practiced as much rock Band or have as clean of an apartment as I do with him around every night. But I definitely miss him when CSI is on and when it's time to go to sleep. On the bright side, it makes that wonderful weekend time that much more special. I think I'll go smoke that cigartette I never got around to last night. Did you guys notice that?
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