Here's some music that is perfect for a rainy, cold NYC day, or for you all to enjoy over the weekend. Fair warning, I'm posting because the music is awesome, the videos, maybe/maybe not...
Heartbreaker by MSTRKRFT feat. John Legend
In my head, I never would have imagined a collaboration between MSTRKRFT and John Legend would be as good as it turned out to be. Also, I do not know what game is being played, but I could probably waste hours playing it...
Zap Zap by Cut Copy
Great Australian band. A little 80s, electropop beats and general fun.
Asleep by The Smiths
Any fan of Perks of Being a Wallflower will love this one. AMAZING song.
Enjoy.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
life-changing moments and changing-life moments
It had been just over a month since my high school graduation, where, with a sense of accomplishment, I stood under the lights of the stadium at the school where I spent many days. My entire high school experience, ending. Signified by tossing a hat into the air. A hideous, purple hat. Flung high into the swarm of insects that had taken over the muggy sky.
It was the day of my eighteenth birthday, July 3, 2003, and I was standing somewhere very different than good ol' Bobcat Stadium. I was at the Harrison County office of the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles.
“Now be sure to line up your toes against the blue tape and look up here,” the middle-aged woman, who had most likely lived in East Texas her entire life, bellowed out across the linoleum desert between us. “Now move to the left a little, and give me a big smile. Come on now. You’ll have this license for a long time and you don’t want a bad picture, do you?”
I smiled. Puka shell necklace and all. They were “cool” then, right?
Snap.
“Well, honey, we’re all done,” she said. “You should get your license in a couple weeks.”
I kept smiling as I signed the machine and turned to walk out the door. I was eighteen. On top of the world. As the motivational posters always said, “the sky was the limit.” I always hated that poster for some reason.
A couple of weeks later, I received my license just as the nice lady said. I tore open the envelope while standing in the kitchen at my house.
“Expires: July 3, 2009,” I read out loud. “Wow, that’s such a long time away.”
Of course at that time, the only date that mattered to me was the one a little over a month away, the day on which I would be pulling out of the driveway and down the old roads I drove on everyday for years, heading to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, an unfamiliar place I would be calling home for the next stage of my life, yet still, that would only be four years.
-----------------------------------
Standing in a crowded subway car on my way to work in the heart of Manhattan, I suddenly remembered something.
“Oh man,” I thought to myself. “If I don’t renew my license online soon, I’ll have to give up having a Texas ID.”
There were only a few more days until July 3, 2009; it was just another abnormally rainy New-York-City day in June.
The train stopped on the tracks, frozen in a tunnel beneath the city, not an unusual occurrence on my now routine morning commute. I abandoned having a car months ago when I moved, now solely at the will of the MTA.
Another train passed by on the tracks adjacent to ours. Looking out the doors across from me, I drifted from thoughts of renewing my license and saw my reflection in the passing train. door. metal. window. metal. door. metal. window. door.
It seemed as though I was dancing as I watched my figure reflect off the varying surfaces, at some moments seeing the faces of the other train's passengers sharply cut through my ghost-like presence, dancing.
My trance was broken as the train lurched forward.
"I can't believe it's been so long since I got my license," I thought as I started right back into my earlier thoughts. "2003 was so long ago. Six years? That’s forever."
And it was true, so much had happened in the six years between the two times I reflected upon the date printed on the small piece of plastic that lived in my wallet. I had earned a degree at the once unfamiliar place I grew to call home, I flew for the first time and kept on doing it, there were people I loved whom I saw for the last time, I had made the decision to move across the country—more than once.
There were life-changing moments and changing-life moments.
At that point, the six years that once felt as if it would take an eternity to live through only existed in memories.
Finally, as I emerged from the subway onto a street engulfed by buildings hundreds of feet tall, I made my way down the busy street to my office building. Gripping the ugly purple bag that held the bagel and coffee I bought from the same people I buy a bagel and coffee from every day in one hand, and an open umbrella in the other.
Just a year prior I had to tolerate slow cars and pass by Dairy Queens and pastures as I drove to work, to my first "real" job.
Now on the way to the office I maneuver around apprehensive pedestrians to cross the street without a sign telling me it's legal to do so, surrounded by the buildings I once only saw on screens and in photographs from past trips.
-----------------------------------
“Please confirm the below address and submit to renew your Texas Drivers License,” the screen on my computer told me.
I did.
“Thank you. You will be receiving your new license in a couple of weeks.” I thought of the lady who had snapped my picture six years before. Was she still in the same chair?
A few weeks passed and the shiny new piece of plastic my computer had promised me arrived.
I opened the envelope and looked down at it.
“Expires: July 3, 2015,” I read out loud. “Wow, that’s such a long time away.”
I don’t know where I’ll be standing on July 3, 2015. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The only things that should be scripted are movies and speeches—not life.
So while I don’t know where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing on the day I turn 30, I welcome the memories that will be made in the next six-year chapter of my life, the firsts and the lasts…the uncertainty. Well, I’m sure there will at least be a few certainties.
Chances are good that I still won’t like the color purple.
It was the day of my eighteenth birthday, July 3, 2003, and I was standing somewhere very different than good ol' Bobcat Stadium. I was at the Harrison County office of the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles.
“Now be sure to line up your toes against the blue tape and look up here,” the middle-aged woman, who had most likely lived in East Texas her entire life, bellowed out across the linoleum desert between us. “Now move to the left a little, and give me a big smile. Come on now. You’ll have this license for a long time and you don’t want a bad picture, do you?”
I smiled. Puka shell necklace and all. They were “cool” then, right?
Snap.
“Well, honey, we’re all done,” she said. “You should get your license in a couple weeks.”
I kept smiling as I signed the machine and turned to walk out the door. I was eighteen. On top of the world. As the motivational posters always said, “the sky was the limit.” I always hated that poster for some reason.
A couple of weeks later, I received my license just as the nice lady said. I tore open the envelope while standing in the kitchen at my house.
“Expires: July 3, 2009,” I read out loud. “Wow, that’s such a long time away.”
Of course at that time, the only date that mattered to me was the one a little over a month away, the day on which I would be pulling out of the driveway and down the old roads I drove on everyday for years, heading to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, an unfamiliar place I would be calling home for the next stage of my life, yet still, that would only be four years.
-----------------------------------
Standing in a crowded subway car on my way to work in the heart of Manhattan, I suddenly remembered something.
“Oh man,” I thought to myself. “If I don’t renew my license online soon, I’ll have to give up having a Texas ID.”
There were only a few more days until July 3, 2009; it was just another abnormally rainy New-York-City day in June.
The train stopped on the tracks, frozen in a tunnel beneath the city, not an unusual occurrence on my now routine morning commute. I abandoned having a car months ago when I moved, now solely at the will of the MTA.
Another train passed by on the tracks adjacent to ours. Looking out the doors across from me, I drifted from thoughts of renewing my license and saw my reflection in the passing train. door. metal. window. metal. door. metal. window. door.
It seemed as though I was dancing as I watched my figure reflect off the varying surfaces, at some moments seeing the faces of the other train's passengers sharply cut through my ghost-like presence, dancing.
My trance was broken as the train lurched forward.
"I can't believe it's been so long since I got my license," I thought as I started right back into my earlier thoughts. "2003 was so long ago. Six years? That’s forever."
And it was true, so much had happened in the six years between the two times I reflected upon the date printed on the small piece of plastic that lived in my wallet. I had earned a degree at the once unfamiliar place I grew to call home, I flew for the first time and kept on doing it, there were people I loved whom I saw for the last time, I had made the decision to move across the country—more than once.
There were life-changing moments and changing-life moments.
At that point, the six years that once felt as if it would take an eternity to live through only existed in memories.
Finally, as I emerged from the subway onto a street engulfed by buildings hundreds of feet tall, I made my way down the busy street to my office building. Gripping the ugly purple bag that held the bagel and coffee I bought from the same people I buy a bagel and coffee from every day in one hand, and an open umbrella in the other.
Just a year prior I had to tolerate slow cars and pass by Dairy Queens and pastures as I drove to work, to my first "real" job.
Now on the way to the office I maneuver around apprehensive pedestrians to cross the street without a sign telling me it's legal to do so, surrounded by the buildings I once only saw on screens and in photographs from past trips.
-----------------------------------
“Please confirm the below address and submit to renew your Texas Drivers License,” the screen on my computer told me.
I did.
“Thank you. You will be receiving your new license in a couple of weeks.” I thought of the lady who had snapped my picture six years before. Was she still in the same chair?
A few weeks passed and the shiny new piece of plastic my computer had promised me arrived.
I opened the envelope and looked down at it.
“Expires: July 3, 2015,” I read out loud. “Wow, that’s such a long time away.”
I don’t know where I’ll be standing on July 3, 2015. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The only things that should be scripted are movies and speeches—not life.
So while I don’t know where I’ll be, or what I’ll be doing on the day I turn 30, I welcome the memories that will be made in the next six-year chapter of my life, the firsts and the lasts…the uncertainty. Well, I’m sure there will at least be a few certainties.
Chances are good that I still won’t like the color purple.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Way I See It # 21
One of my favorite things to do is to hear other people’s views on things…no matter the topic. I can’t even think of a topic I would consider taboo either. Why? One small reason is that there are more than six billion people alive right now. That means there is a multitude of stuff out there I will never be able to experience, let alone come close to fully understand. Cultures, foods, customs, beliefs, etc. The best way for me to even attempt to understand it all is by talking to people who aren’t like me. And yes, even those who are like me.
To me, our differences are what make us who we are. Individuals. Unique individuals. What we believe in, what we stand for, our political persuasion, religious preference, gender preference, where we live, where we come from, the whole enchilada. Some people view certain topics as taboo, when they shouldn’t be. Because when you really think about it, open discourse with people who aren’t like you is pretty much the only way to ever know how to communicate with people who, well, aren’t like you…it’s not rocket science. How boring would the world be if it were full of six billion clones of you…or me! Despite all of our differences, we are all human. It blows my mind that people ever thought—and that people still do think—that one race, gender, nationality, denomination, anything, somehow makes them “better” than someone else.
As I was sitting at Starbucks tonight (I know, I know…I had a gift card) talking with a good friend about a multitude of topics I won’t even begin to list here, some of which we agreed on and some of which we did not, I happened to look down at my cup and read the lovely black letters that adorned my hot and tasty vanilla latte. A simple quote from some musician I had never heard of, Youssou N’Dour. And yes, it was what inspired me to actually post this lovely update on my blog. It was, in my opinion, (a) by far my favorite quote from the “The Way I See It” campaign at Starbucks, and (b) something we should all acknowledge and think about.
The Way I See It # 21
“People need to see that, far from being an obstacle, the world’s diversity of languages, religions and traditions is a great treasure, affording us precious opportunities to recognize ourselves in others.” –Youssou N’Dour, musician.
Agree with it or disagree with it, but at least think about it. If we didn’t all have a passion for something different, something new, something undiscovered, there would be no such things as the Travel Channel for instance, or vacations at all. As humans, we have an intrinsic need for interaction with others. We are programmed to interact, not to ignore what is around us.
We can all think of that person who just got back from a trip or new adventure and wants to show everyone the hundreds of pictures they took, to show them what they experienced, what they saw and did. Be it the “oohs and ahhs” that normally follow the pictures of places you’ve never been, or the piqued curiosity of watching others eat “gross foods” in foreign countries, our fascination with different things is there. Embrace it once and a while.
So, with all that said, why not go and learn about something different? Pick a specific person, culture, denomination, country, language, religion, gender, anything. See if you can relate something about it to yourself. You might be surprised that it’s not so hard to do after all.
To me, our differences are what make us who we are. Individuals. Unique individuals. What we believe in, what we stand for, our political persuasion, religious preference, gender preference, where we live, where we come from, the whole enchilada. Some people view certain topics as taboo, when they shouldn’t be. Because when you really think about it, open discourse with people who aren’t like you is pretty much the only way to ever know how to communicate with people who, well, aren’t like you…it’s not rocket science. How boring would the world be if it were full of six billion clones of you…or me! Despite all of our differences, we are all human. It blows my mind that people ever thought—and that people still do think—that one race, gender, nationality, denomination, anything, somehow makes them “better” than someone else.
As I was sitting at Starbucks tonight (I know, I know…I had a gift card) talking with a good friend about a multitude of topics I won’t even begin to list here, some of which we agreed on and some of which we did not, I happened to look down at my cup and read the lovely black letters that adorned my hot and tasty vanilla latte. A simple quote from some musician I had never heard of, Youssou N’Dour. And yes, it was what inspired me to actually post this lovely update on my blog. It was, in my opinion, (a) by far my favorite quote from the “The Way I See It” campaign at Starbucks, and (b) something we should all acknowledge and think about.
The Way I See It # 21
“People need to see that, far from being an obstacle, the world’s diversity of languages, religions and traditions is a great treasure, affording us precious opportunities to recognize ourselves in others.” –Youssou N’Dour, musician.
Agree with it or disagree with it, but at least think about it. If we didn’t all have a passion for something different, something new, something undiscovered, there would be no such things as the Travel Channel for instance, or vacations at all. As humans, we have an intrinsic need for interaction with others. We are programmed to interact, not to ignore what is around us.
We can all think of that person who just got back from a trip or new adventure and wants to show everyone the hundreds of pictures they took, to show them what they experienced, what they saw and did. Be it the “oohs and ahhs” that normally follow the pictures of places you’ve never been, or the piqued curiosity of watching others eat “gross foods” in foreign countries, our fascination with different things is there. Embrace it once and a while.
So, with all that said, why not go and learn about something different? Pick a specific person, culture, denomination, country, language, religion, gender, anything. See if you can relate something about it to yourself. You might be surprised that it’s not so hard to do after all.
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