the apple wasn't so sweet

Remember how I expressed my undying love for Apple just yesterday? Remember how they granted me access to re-download all of the music I've purchased on iTunes over the past three years? Well, I completed the download process....and about 75% of the songs sound like they are being played on a skipping CD. Biggest download fail ever. So, my heart is once again broken in the absence of my music.

I've crafted a nice little letter to my Apple representative and am compiling an excel spreadsheet of all the damaged songs. I am only in the E's and the list has 75 songs. Fingers crossed they come through for me again.

Updates to come.

in which i write about music...again

I've written multiple times about how I love music. You are probably sick of hearing (or reading) about it. But, I do. I love it. Music had me at hello. We are totally sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-Ging.

My little brother introduced me to this band and this video in particular. I will admit that I wasn't sold the first time I watched it, but I gave it another try. About 100 plays later I am enamored. It is amazing and beautiful and I want it to be my anthem.

'cause there is always a wrong to your right

and there will always be a war somewhere to fight

and god knows i've had some rough fucking years (ooh)

oh lord, oh lord, keep on keeping on

if music was renee zellwegger, i'd be jerry maguire because it had me at hello

I've written before about my love of music and I apologize, but you are going to have to read about it again. There is something about it. It makes my blood flow in a different direction, my heart skip a beat, and my soul come alive. I feel a good song stirring in my bones and some times I could just jump out of my skin...I am so in love with a sound.

I have this dream of walking the sidewalk with ear buds in, music playing, and just breaking out into some intuitive dance. Freeing my body of the sound or becoming one with it. Totally trippy, I get this. But, it takes over. I heart it.

my parent's daughter

I am going to pretend that I didn't take the longest blog hiatus ever and that the power cord fire thing didn't even happen. I would appreciate if you close your eyes and pretend too. Please open them again to start reading though.

There is no denying that I am my mother's daughter. I sound like her on the phone. I have her weakness for sweet foods. I stare at strangers and even smile at them sometimes if they catch me. I make up new words to songs or make songs out of things that don't need to be made into songs in the first place. I get annoyed and want to tell everyone about it. And, if you cover up her hair in pictures from about 20 years ago...it might as well be my face. There is no denying I am hers.


My dad is another story. Besides his stick straight brown hair and propensity to get overheated and break a sweat when temperatures reach 70 degrees, our similarities are harder to find. He is sometimes painfully private (to the point that he won't even tell me who he votes for in elections...even local ones). He could be outside all day long and is most days. He's not a "talk it out" kind of guy. He doesn't like change. He has blue eyes. And, he despises being in a city.

You have to squint to see the similarities.

...

It was Thanksgiving night and everyone in the house was asleep. I was laying in bed listening to music on my iPod and playing some iPod game. Right after a random pop song, Death Cab for Cutie's Bixby Cannon Bridge came through my ear buds.

Musical euphoria. I can't even think of a better way to describe it. There is something about music that can completely move my soul. Touch me and evoke the rawest of emotions. This song struck a cord and really always does. Things don't always go as planned. Sometimes your mom says that she misses your dad's family and really wishes she could be there with everyone for the holiday. Sometimes you look across the table and know that your grandfather is sick. Sometimes someone tells you there are no good memories. Sometimes you close your eyes and know that this moment will never happen again.

My dad and I were sitting in his den the other day and he put on a CD of bagpipe music. My dad has forever said that he wanted Amazing Grace and Coming Home played on the bagpipes at his funeral...as his coffin is lifted up onto a firetruck (since he has been a fireman for over 30 years...it is fitting). As we sat there, my dad told me that one day he came home from work and put this same CD on and listened and just cried. He said, "Sometimes it just feels so good to just cry. Really, cry." I've seen my dad cry a few times. I'm not one of those girls who thinks her dad is invincible. We left my dad. A lot of kids of divorced families talk about when their fathers left. Mine never did. He stayed in our house for weeks after we moved out. He stayed. And, he is like me. He hurts. He listens to sad music to cry. To feel.

So...on Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed and so happy that this song came to me on shuffle. I just started crying. I'm thankful for a lot, but I am really sad about a lot too. I wish I could pull my sadness from my being and rid myself of it. I wish I knew how to do that, so that I didn't carry it with me. But, I'm sad. Sad about things I can't even make sentences out of. Sad about things that don't form into words and roll off the tongue. These are things you are sad about in your soul and they well up in your eyes. Sad in your stomach muscles and tightened lips. And in this song...this beautifully emotional song I can let it all go for a fleeting moment...and be thankful for that.

And, it was this that made me see it. Squinting. I saw it. Our likeness may not be physical. It may not be our mannerisms or habits. But, it is found in how we feel. Or, don't. Or, try to. We turn on a song to feel and we do. We are the same.

i'm leaving on a midnight train to georgia...

....okay it is really a 6:30pm train and I am going to New Jersey, but it sounds better saying it that way.

Yep, I can't wait! I am also jazzed about this long train trip. I know. I am crazy. I have two Netflix movies and three books and plan on updating my iPod. Even though, if I am totally honest, I will probably sleep for a good 85% of the 23 hour trip. That's right. I can sleep for a really long time. Deal with it.

Before I leave I need to do laundry, wash probably every dish I own because they all sit dirty in my kitchen, change the sheets on my bed, clean up the mess I have made of my apartment, and pack. Just a few things, ya know? So, what am I doing right now with this long To Do list waiting to be completed? Lounging my my office (i.e. my bed). Have I said before how much I enjoy not working? If not, I heart not working.

It's a little chunky...

It's time to get serious here.

I'm not even sure how I haven't blogged about this before. Perhaps it has become as natural and normal as breathing that I forgot to mention it. Perhaps I was trying to avoid talking (or blogging) about it. It can be somewhat of a taboo topic for some...I guess some people just get uncomfortable. But, I can't let it go unmentioned anymore. It is time to talk about the elephant in the room (or the next room in this case). That's right, boys and girls, I'm talking about my neighbor. The vomiter.


Side note: I was enjoying that build up and could have gone one much longer. I love that it made it sound like I was about to reveal some deep dark secret or something. Mwuh-haha...I laugh and tap my fingertips together. I fooled you this time.

Okay, a little background. So, I moved into my apartment at the end of March this year. My apartment leasing company was awesome enough to allow me to move in early since April 1st was in the middle of the week and it is much nicer to move on a weekend...when friends are off of work. Anyway, I moved out of a house that I lovingly call The Orphanage after living there for about a year and a half. It was very fittingly called The Orphanage, as in the year and a half that I lived there I had a total of eight roommates. That's right. The front door was definitely revolving. Needless to say, it was nice to finally get my big girl place and be alone for a little while. My first night here was odd. It was so quiet and no one was home...no one would ever be home but me. No one was there to say goodnight to me or turn out the light if I fell asleep with them on. It was just me in my quiet little....WHAT THE FUCK? Suddenly I heard the most violent vomiting that I've ever heard. And trust me, I've heard some violent vomiters. I used to asked my friend Stacey to quiet her vomiting when I was hung over because it was too loud and making me sick. No, no, this vomiting...the vomiting I heard on my first solo night in my apartment blew all other vomiters out of the water (the toilet water). This vomit was intense. As I lay in bed unsure of whether I am disgusted, impressed, or concerned I think to myself, "Wow, someone had a bad night." Without much more thought about it I rolled over and went to sleep. Yay new apartment.

I woke up the next day still super pumped about my new place. I had all but forgotten about the vomiter. I was too excited to be in my new place. Yes it was a big change, but one I had been looking forward to for a while. I spent the first day running errands, unpacking, and enjoying my new space. As I am sure everyone knows, moving is exhausting. My first weekend in my new place was not spent going out and celebrating. No, it was spent unpacking and going to bed early. So, I snuggled into bed for my second night in my new place and began slowly drifting off to...WHAT THE FUCK?!? He's back. Seriously dude, AA much?

What I learn was that the events (i.e. vomiting) of that first weekend were not going to be isolated. This dude meant serious business. Serious vomiting business. I came to learn that his vomiting didn't follow any schedule. Nope. He vomited in the day. Sometimes early evening. Sometimes at night. He wasn't time discriminatory. He lived to vomit on no man's schedule. The only thing that was habitual about the vomiting was the frequency and the rhythm. Oh yeah, three big hurls at least once a day. Every time. Always the same. Huwahck. Huwahck. Huwahck. Done. (Yes, h-u-w-a-h-c-k. That is how you spell the noise made by a vomiter. Look it up.)

The vomiter has become quite the legend amongst friends and family. Everyone knows about him. We all have our own theories as to what is causing this chronic vomiting. Alcoholism. Terrible gag reflex when brushing his teeth. Chemo therapy. Bulimia. Weak stomach. There are so many theories. All I know is that this guy is a mystery. Like Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster. I've never seen him. I've been living next to the dude for over six months now and have not seen him once. I really am beginning to wonder if he is he even real? It isn't just me though. I've had witnesses here to experience the vomiting. It is always the same combination of shock and amazement.

Okay, the other day I was awake at about 6am and he was up to his old vomiting ways when I realized that if I stood at my peep hole long enough I would probably see him exit his apartment. I couldn't bring myself to do it though. It is almost like how you don't want to know to real identity of a superhero. Next time I heard him vomit would be like the Christmas after you find out that there is no Santa Claus. It isn't even worth waking up at 5am to see what your mom bought you at the mall. It ruins the magic.

I did have a friend say that I needed to find out what he looked like because what would happen if I hooked up with someone and it turned out that the person I hooked up with was the vomiter. I shot this down pretty quickly because the fatal flaw is that I am pretty sure if I hook up with someone, regardless of whether it is my apartment or theirs....one of us would be all, "Hey, weird. We are neighbors." I would quickly gasp and be all, "Hey, weird. You vomit like all the time. What's up with that?"

In a way I feel like we are a match made in heaven. I once had a friend tell me that I spend like 60% of my time fake throwing up...this vomiter has given me so many more ways to work vomiting into conversation and to do some fake throwing up.

So, in a way, I guess I should really thank the Vomiter (that's right, he deserve a capital letter now) for all that he has done for me. Thank you Vomiter, you complete me. You had me at Huwahck....

Again with F*cking Disney stuff...

I just got off of the phone with my little brother. He called because I emailed him this video. You see, after I wrote my last post with this video linked I became nostalgic and started watching other videos. Twenty minutes later after singing along I had this out of body experience where I saw myself watching effing Disney videos on youtube at about 1AM...I wanted to hide from myself because it was that embarrassing.

Anyway, I sent my brother the video (linked above) because he was this huge Lion King fan when he was little. He would bring all of his stuffed animals into the living room and blast the soundtrack. It always ended up with him hobbling around and triumphantly holding his Winnie the Poo stuffed animal up in the air (a la Rafiki and Simba).


Oh, he would also sit at his little plastic piano and pretend to be Elton John as he would sign along to Can You Feel the Love Tonight.

As a twelve year old, I didn't find this cute. As an almost twenty-eight year old (yes, my birthday is one week from today even though I am sure you already know that because it is on your calendar and you have a countdown just like I do), I think it is adorable and it makes me miss my brother.

This brings us to today. He called to say he got my email and it made him laugh. He asked what I was doing and why this even crossed my mind. I explained the whole Little Mermaid link from my last post and he started laughing. He then busted out, "Look at this stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't ya think my collections complete?" He laughed. I laughed. And then I said, "Wouldn't ya think I'm a girl, a girl who has everything." He again laughed, as did I. Then he says, "I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty." To which I joined in, "I've got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs, I've got twenty." Five minutes later finishing the song off...we officially became losers.

This, right here, is why I need a job.

to build a home

there are some things that i really love. you've read about some of them (if you are reading my blog...and now i furrow my brows and look sternly at you because you better be reading my blog). i love air conditioning, sleeping/naps, my friends, chickens in wheelchairs, etc.

i will get back to the things i love topic, but i first need to make a note about being unemployed. having all the time in the world allows one to do a lot. or a little depending on the productivity levels of said person. for me, what it has allowed me to do is indulge in the things i love. i love music. not just a small crush, but the kind of deep love that radiates through your body and sends shock waves through the universe. music moves me. quite often, literally. my body moves to music and so does my life. being home for more hours than most people has allowed me to have a nonstop soundtrack playing in the background. music has the ability to effect my moods and stirs emotions that few other things can in the way music does. i don't know how to describe it really. it as if the beating of my heart is synced with the rhythm of the sound. there are songs that make me want to jump out of my skin, in the best way possible, and dance across the universe. trippy i know. this isn't some drug rant, although i will fully acknowledge that it sounds like one. it is just that i felt it important to note my love for not only the sound of music, but for its feeling. i will say in a very cocky fashion that i am blessed with a really good music collection (thank you iTunes) and it is this collection that makes me smile every day. even on the days when i don't want to get out of bed or i would rather see the inside of my eyelids more than the world...i want to hear music. it gives me something. feeds my soul. so, if i had a glass to raise, i would raise it to you...music. thank you for all that you have given me in life.

(and, a big thank you to The Cinematic Orchestra for To Build a Home. it served as the soundtrack to my writing and it is a song that totally moves me.)

i'm going to switch gears a little and talk about my love for friends (not the show, but the real deal). friends are this amazing creation. there is that cliche saying about how you can't chose you family, but you can chose your friends...or something like it. well, this is going to be somewhat contradictory to that. i sort of believe that you can't chose your friends. your friends, your REAL friends are chosen for you. they are destined to be your friends. they become a force of nature.

this weekend i spent time with many of my dearest friends: having drinks, laughs, food, shopping etc. it reminded me, once again, of how fortunate i am to be able to call these people my friends. to know that they will do anything for me. and vice versa. it's an honor.

due to my current employment status, it seemed like the perfect time for a visit from one of my bestest besties. i've written a lot recently; not just here, but books and other forms. well, in one book that will probably never see a closing chapter, i wrote about rebecca and our friendship.

My friendship with Rebecca is one of those friendships they write novels and movies about (queue Sex and the City, Beaches, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, yadda yadda yadda). I can call her and say anything and trust she will just listen. She is the kind of friend that will hold your hair back when you're drunk and will then buy you a drink to celebrate when you make it out of that bar bathroom. She will also sit up with you all night smoking cigarettes and contemplating life when you leave said bar…even if neither of you really smoke. She is the type of friend you call when you are crying, laughing, sad, mad, happy, nervous…she is that friend. My best friend.

i could go on and on about my friendship with rebecca. she is just one of the few people in the universe that just get me. i can be unabashedly myself and no matter what, she will still be my friend. we often joke that we have the same brain because we know what the other is thinking or feeling without words. we have this ability to communicate with each other's soul. this weekend just reminded me once again how fortunate i am to have the people i do in my life. to know that no matter what...there is someone out there who will be there. it's a great thing to have...to have people like that.

so, to bring this full circle and to turn the music off of repeat...if i could, i'd build a home with friends being the bricks and music being the mortar. i would truly live happily ever after in that house.