Key Notes

Mushaboom - Feist

2011-01-02T21:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Faustyna,

Flippity flop. Flutter and hop.

My heart, my dear, it just won’t stop.

Tippity tap, clippity clap.

My hands, my dear, they snap, snap, snap.

Up and down, round and round

My feet, my dear, dance on the ground

For who, dear boo, you ask for who?

For you, dear boo, it’s all for you.

Love,
Hubby

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fr7zVwX4fsU&playnext_from=QL&feature=bf_play&playnext=1

The Trapeze Swinger

2010-07-04T21:23:00.000-07:00

The Trapeze Swinger- Iron & Wine

Tonight I am tired. I walk on, passing streets and storefronts and people that I do not see. Every day there are people, people behind and in front and beside. But, tonight I am tired, and people I do not see. People I will not see.

Tonight I walk, gazing up and down and around, observing the crevices that every day remain unnoticed. Untouched they have waited, waited for me to become tired and to notice. Tonight I do.

They notice me back, quietly gesturing toward me. In my fatigue, I am unable to understand. Their outstretched arms call out toward me, beckoning not to come but to go. To go where, I do not know. I simply know to go.

So I go. Wearily I walk. I walk toward a nothing that is a something, a something that only the unnoticed secrets of the city can foresee. I am too tired to question. I can only trust. I can only trust in the nothings to lead me to the something, the something that, perhaps, will make me untired.

"That's Why You're Beautiful"

2010-04-27T20:29:00.001-07:00

That’s Why You’re Beautiful

Beyonce: I Am…

Sometimes people just get it, and sometimes it’s better than that. Sometimes, people just get you. I am fortunate enough to be surrounded, encircled, smothered even, with these people. Smothered because, those times when I might feel upset or frustrated, these people sweep in and stifle those feelings.

Although, I guess now that I think about it, they don’t stifle them. They dissipate them, and those unwanted feelings become no more.

This is an inspiring thing, to think about the people that do what they do, only because they be who they be, and, in doing and being, they make.

They make me happy.

Happy, though, isn’t quite enough, for the word doesn’t quite cover the full extent of that feeling that I feel from their doing and being and making. Perhaps they make me ecstatic, although it is not always that hyper. Sometimes yes, but not always.

Perhaps they bring me peace.

I am peaceful, that is true, but it is also more that that. These people, they inspire me to be and do and make for others what they is/does/makes for me.

Maybe they make me.

Hrmmm. Now that’s a thought. I exist without them, though, that is true. Were they not here, I would walk, feel, breathe, and live. I would continue on. But, these people have such an effect on me. They shape the ways that I think and I do. They motivate me to walk, feel, breathe, and live in ways that I never have before. I suppose I’ve thought of it then, just now when you were lost in thought thinking about the people that be, do, and make for you.

These people, they make me, me.

Yes. That is it.

[That's Why You're Beautiful]

"Deep Blue Sea"

2010-02-21T14:16:00.000-08:00

Deep Blue Sea Grizzly Bear- Dark Was the Night

I tell my friends that I can chronicle our relationship according to the bottles that line my kitchen cabinets. Each one has a story, a night in which we laughed, talked, embraced, a night that marked our friendship in some way or another. Sometimes I feel like my life, similarly, can be chronicled by the many disappointments that come my way. Like each bottle, they happen within a set time period, and they do not hinder the progress of the line. There is still more room above, in front of, and behind for more. But, also like the bottles, they have some sort of lasting effect; they leave a mark that can be recounted, retold, dwelt upon, and picked out upon request.

They come in all colors and sizes, in all different types. Some are a deep, dark red, and others are olive green. Some are clear and easily seen through. Others are harder to see into. But they are all there, building upon each other; my biter-sweet collection of obstacles and achievements.

But while they become more and more, and some see them as a growing number of difficulties, I prefer to think of them the way I think of those bottles. They tell not of headaches and slight queasiness. No, they tell of stories, nostalgic memories of growth. We can see the growth of our relationship from one bottle to the next. Do you remember that bottle there? That was the first time you came over for dinner. And this one here that I put up now, this is to end a night in which we have become more like family and less like friends.

Growth. My disappointments are about change, evolution, becoming more. I am now not what I was before, not necessarily better or worse, but different. I understand more about the world than I did before, and that is all right with me. So, I am hurt, I am disappointed or temporarily upset. But, I understand.

I do not make mistakes; I make choices. Some appear more beneficial at the time while others may disappoint me, but all help me grow into an understanding that was not there before.

[Deep Blue Sea]

"I'm Good, I'm Gone"

2010-02-16T19:13:00.001-08:00

I’m Good, I’m Gone Lykke Li- Youth Novel

Oh, hello there. Welcome to my playground. As you can see, it is very colorful; hand-painted by yours truly! Why have the same, old, drabby steel when you can have all these great colors?

Oh, did you see the swing set? It’s my favorite. Shall we take a spin? No? Are you sure? It really is the best thing in here. You mean you wandered in by accident? You don’t know where you are…

Oh, no, I don’t know where that is. Are you sure you don’t want to go for a swing before you leave? No? Okay. It’s no matter to me. I love it either… Oh look at the colors!! I can get so high on it- I always do…

Oh hello there. Do you want to go for a swing? Oh, I see. I guess I did already ask you, didn’t I? I just get distracted by the colors sometimes. I can already feel that arch upward, can’t you? Huge kick and away we go! No? Oh, well, are you sure you don’t want to swing with me? There are two seats…

I was just asking. No need to get flabbergasted. Don’t feel special. I invite everyone who looks like they’d enjoy it. Yes, I’m fine. I think I’ll just go for a swing. It’s so fun you know…

Oh, this was exactly what I needed. Pump. Pump. Higher and higher and higher. Oh, wind. Wind! Against my face. Against my tongue! Oup! Dry mouth. Better close that. No… Too good it feels!

Now what was that? I vaguely remember something… or someone, maybe… Oup… Oh well. Sun!!

“And if you say I'm not OK

Then that's the goal.

If you say there ain't no way that I could know,

If you say I aim too high from down below,

Well, save me now 'cause when I'm gone...

You'll be callin' but I won't be at the phone”

[I'm Good, I'm Gone]

"Adam Lives in Theory"

2010-02-03T22:03:00.000-08:00

Adam Lives in theory lauryn hill- MTV unplugged

Lauryn Hill sings a song called “Adam Lives in Theory.” Now, I love this song, but in this moment I am much more interested in her live and unplugged MTV intro. For, as she introduces this song, she reminds her audience that “fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.” Today I found myself disappointed, and, despite my generally jovial demeanor, getting out of this drag was rather difficult. Keep in mind, now, that we are still talking about me. This drag lasted a total of maybe three hours. Still, for me it lasted ages.

As I began my walk home tonight, I was still in my slump. I had just left a swarm of amazing friends, all of whom I love. In their presence my heart could not help but soar, yet after their departure I slipped back down. It was then that I remembered this line of Lauryn Hill’s, and I did not hesitate to put it on. As her song played, I thought about the problem that I had created, for I had created this dilemma for myself. I had created a fantasy, an expectation that was unreachable. I had found myself in a situation that seemed perfect; every piece seemed to fit together in a way that rarely ever happens. At least, that is what I thought.

I realize now that I had only succeeding in enveloping myself in a lie. It was as if I were assembling a monochromatic puzzle, equating a similarity in color for a similarity in shape. I saw the obvious similarities, the seemingly evident clues, and pieced together the rest for myself. Tonight, I realized that this fantasy of mine was impossible. I saw for myself that what I had thought to be true, in fact, was not. This then, is why I fell into my slump. I ached with a disappointment and burned with a shame at my childlike beliefs.

Our biggest problem is that we, as a general population, stop there. We trail off with the shame, attempting to ignore our mistakes and forget them, and this is the cause of the lasting feelings of disappointment. We are freed from our falsities, but we are not delivered from our shame and sadness.

Tonight, as I walked down Broadway to my apartment, Lauryn Hill’s strumming and singing resonating through my mind, I realized that grasping the truth is not enough. We have to accept it. Just because this reality is not as perfect as our imagined preconception that does not mean that it becomes unworthy of our time or our care, our attention or our love.

No, this reality asks me not to wait for my fairy tale to find me. It demands that I embrace it, that I act upon it to understand it and to make it mine. My life stands before me, constantly surprising me with each new development. But who is to say that, although it does not match my expectations, my reality is worse than my fairy tale. People might be flawed, situations might not live up to what I want them to, but they are real. I can touch them and feel them. I can love them. And at the end of the night, that is all that matters.

So now, I look back on the last couple of weeks, at this situation, and I cannot help but smile. Silly me, thinking that things would be that easy. People are people and things are things; places are places and, well, sometimes I simply cannot change them. I cannot mold them to be what I want them to be. I think, now, that that is alright with me. I am going to do me, and you can do you. He will do him and she will do her. And maybe, just maybe, what I do is he does is she does is we do, maybe they will all fit together somehow. But I will not force it. I will sit back, smile down at them all, and actually see them before I attempt to piece them together.

[Adam Lives in Theory]

"Disappear"

2010-02-02T21:23:00.000-08:00

Disappear
Beyoncé-I Am…

Tonight I took a walk. I glanced out the window of my favorite Starbucks and simply could not stop myself. I slowly gathered my belongings together, softly neglecting my Chinese homework until a later day, and I said my goodbyes.

I knew that, if you had not already been engaged somewhere else, you would have walked with me. You hate the cold, but I knew that you would have carefully slipped your fingers into mine, coming with every step closer to loving the snow as much as I do. It was cold, this is true, but what would it matter when you were with me? You would have smiled at me gently and cherished every block.

I knew as I felt each fit of flurries caress my cheek that you were thinking of me too. I cannot say how, but I just felt it. I could not remember where you said you would be, but I knew that you were somewhere in the snow, imagining that we were together. Every step took me further or closer to you, but it didn’t really matter. I knew you were thinking of me, and that was enough.

I knew when I danced my way across Canal Street that you would have danced with me too. You would have been slightly reluctant at first, but I would have coerced you out of it. You would have broken into that bright smile that makes my heart float, and you would have danced my favorite jig. We would have reached the other side and stopped with a soft, snowy kiss. Or maybe not. Maybe we would have boogied the whole way home. We both come from very spontaneous breeds.

I knew that we would come home together and crawled into bed. There would be no need to shower; the snow had washed us clean, and it would be a gentle night. We both had spent so many nights before alone, and now the warmth is all we need. I knew before I met you that one day I would find you, find your warmth, and that is why I waited.

I know that tonight you thought of me. I know because, as I contentedly walked myself through the snow, I thought of you. I returned home and softly shook the remnants of winter out of my hair, calmly watching as the flakes floated down to my feet. I undressed, showered, redressed, and I crawled into bed.

Here I am.

Here I lie.

Here I wait.

I know that someday, somewhere, I will meet you. Someday, somewhere, it will snow. And someday, somewhere, we will take a walk.

[Disappear]

"Far Far"

2010-01-30T13:44:00.000-08:00

Far Far Yael Naim- Yael Naim

It is midday on an overcast yet not quite gloomy Saturday, and it is one of those days in which productivity skips away tauntingly; the best I can hope to do is to gaze off and acceptingly watch it fleet away. Sometimes it happens, and I suppose I am okay with that.

Today I exist in a sphere of binaries, a place in which total contradictions of being befuddle my lazy mind. My thoughts flutter across concepts and emotions at an unrepressed speed, and yet, I cannot focus on a single one long enough to craft a concrete idea. I feel as if the world around me continues to live, as I sit here immobilized. I, however, departed from the present place and time almost as soon as I sat down. My inability to concentrate frustrates me, for there I have feelings that need articulating and thoughts that need developing. Books need reading and posts need posting, but all I can do is sit here, sit here and attempt to think. Attempt failed.

So, eventually I succumb. I replace Rousseau within the confines of my book bag, and I just listen. Not to the world around me, not to the dozens of students who currently thrive at my failed attempts to study. I carefully insert my earphones and it is Yael Naim to whom I listen.

It is no longer midday on an overcast Saturday, for I think it is fair to call this time early evening. I also no longer suffer from the confusion of my contradicted state of being. Naim soothes my mind, and, while it still flutters, I have learned one thing: acceptance. My feelings are irrational and my thoughts unnecessary, for there are certain things that I cannot control. My insecurities, they are natural and uncontrollable. Some advocate a dispensing of these insecurities, an attempt to overcome them and gain a certain confidence. I say, nay. They are mine, and I proudly claim them. I will not rule my life by them, but I refuse to cast away my most innate, involuntary reactions to life.

So here I sit, fleeting thoughts and fluttering images cascading around the inner walls of my mind. All are foolish and I know it. But, I step to the middle and gently lie down, eyes calmly examining the shapes and colors that cast themselves across my world. And it is okay. Me, you, we, it, the world: we are all okay. We think the way that we think because we are the way that we are. To be truly loved is to be loved for these insecurities, accepted for the unique way in which we, as individuals, irrationalize the world. And that is more than okay.

“How can you stay outside? There’s a beautiful mess inside.”

["Far Far"]

"Wagon Wheel"

2009-12-25T05:25:00.000-08:00

Wagon Wheel Old Crow Medicine Show-O.C.M.S.

The time is five in the a.m. and the day begins soon. I feel it coming on. It has not, however, started just yet. I awoke sometime in the hour of four, and then it simply felt wrong. Everything in me screamed for sleep, sleep until nine or ten at least. I tried, but this morning it is just not happening. Today, the Christmas of two thousand and nine, I was just meant to rise early.

So as I sat in my bed, plastic orange juice-filled cup to my left and laptop to my right, I supposed that now would be a good time to update the blog. My song of choice was to be “Here Comes the Sun,” the classic tune from the Beatles. Once again, I just did not feel it. Instead, I felt something else tug at me, something that I did not own. This something belongs not to me, but to five beautiful women. This morning, this something just feels right.

I tried to remember when the ceremonial “Wagon Wheel” dance came into my life, but I cannot pin it down. I can tell you, however, how. This strangely appealing banjo song country-waltzed into my life with five amazingly beautiful women. Now, do not underestimate the appeal of these women. A first glance at any of them will not suffice, and even a second, closer observation will leave you unsatisfied. There is something about each one of them that mysteriously grabs onto your heart, and it grabs on tight. They are the gentle sirens of whom you need not beware. They will not drag you down, but their genuine smiles and warm embraces will, instead, lift you up.

These girls, though they rarely bless me with their presence, always supply me with the moments of my life that I love the most. They all erode life down to the purest form- it is love and nothing more. And with thoughts of them, at now five twenty a.m. on this Christmas, I greet the morning. Rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel.

I love each of you ladies, and I cherish every moment that you give me.

[Wagon Wheel]

"Strawberry Swing"

2009-12-14T19:35:00.000-08:00

Strawberry Swing Coldplay-Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends

A curious beat for a curious girl; for you, Morgan Turnage, are nothing other than a curious girl. The guitar is a twisted sort of merrymaking incarnate; the sporadic and jovial beat is an open field, wide freedom begging to be seized; the escalating strings are a steady joy. Every moment so precious, my dear Morgan, I would not want to waste a thing.

This song, a flickering montage of perfect days, Morgan Turnage, this song is for you. It swells with the wet showers of Hurricane Hannah and sings of spontaneous wanderings. It stretches from Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street to Central Park South, from Little Haiti to Santa Monica, every so often pondering the curious irony of metal statues and metal allergies. This song, Morgan Turnage, cries of your strange, strange destructive habits of inquiry, of your near monumental massacre by the multitudes. It softly hums of your self-proclaimed paparazzi in the park, and, Morgan Turnage, it realizes that today is such a perfect day.

I love you, Morgan Turnage, and I love today; I love every day in which you grace my life with your presence. You might someday find yourself in your beloved India, but I will find you, Morgan Turnage. I will find you.

[Strawberry Swing]

"Say (All I Need)"

2009-12-09T23:14:00.000-08:00

Say (All I Need)OneRepublic- Dreaming Out Loud

Sometimes life is hard, and there is simply nothing that we can do for the moment to change it. We want nothing more than to collapse onto our bed and crawl under the covers. So what if our clothes are on? So what if New York street germs are still clinging like death to our shoes? Right now, we just do not care.

Maybe those finals are slowly vacuuming the air from our lungs as we stare beyond those Plexiglas safety walls. Maybe we have problems larger than school, ones that seem to reoccur in new forms but still reek of the same, old stench. Large or small, even if insignificant on the other side of tomorrow, they bog us down. They threaten to perpetually deny us of the simple joys that usually keep us alive.

Now, my friend, now is the time for us to embrace OneRepublic. All we need is the air we breathe, and a place to rest our heads. Life, it is hard, but it will never get any easier; it can only promise to be different. We are so fortunate to laugh our way through most of lives. We live in one of the most thriving cities in the world, and we have some of the best, most genuine friends. To expect perfection from life is to tempt it to take us down, to ask life to punish us for our ego. We are not perfect. How can we expect perfection?

No. We must embrace difficulty as one half of the dichotomy. There is this difficulty, these obstacles that scatter themselves throughout our lives, and there is the ease with which we live most of it. So lay your head down, allow your emotions to rise with the tension in the song, and then let them go. We cry tonight, but tomorrow we live again.

I love you, oh sister of mine, more than you can imagine. Together we press on.

[Say (All I Need)]

"The Heart of Life"

2009-12-08T20:01:00.000-08:00

The Heart of Life John Mayer- Continuum
The soft strumming of a guitar, it sounds like fall. The notes are neither slow nor fast, but live within the steady realm of contentment. The tempo is one of an easy stroll, one that allows you to calmly gaze at the world around you. Turn it up, for the song will never feel too loud. Drown out the racket of tourism and daily monotony that define December in New York City, and feel contented with just this- the soft lull that is John Mayer’s voice.

The song emanates a peace that is rarely found in the city. With a repeating rhythm and a simple spirit, it describes a crisp day in the park. It tells of the warmth that Christmas lights and candles know best and the friendly calm of wine shared with a close friend. I, along with most close friends of mine, agree; John Mayer is the douche bag with the guitar. It remains undeniable, however, that with this song he captures something great.

As you walk through these streets, weaving your way in and out of person after person, take a moment to play this song. Perhaps you, like me, will notice that your pace slows down. That shadow of things left to do- the one that continuously flattens your heels as you speed through your day- maybe it disappears, even if just for three minutes and nineteen seconds. And for that temporary peace, my friends, I must thank good, old John and Stephanie DeVita (pictured above), the dear friend who sent it my way.

But do not get me wrong. I still think he is the douche bag with the guitar.
[The Heart of Life]