Wednesday, October 24, 2007
How small is it, really?
By hour 22 or so of our 24+ hour journey from D.C. to Bangkok, I was beginning to think that Disney was wrong, that the world was pretty damn big, if it took this long to get to the other side of it. But then, while waiting in line for the bathroom, I met a man who was born in the same tiny town in Kentucky as Bri and me. (Seriously. I was suspicious at first, but then he said something about how we'd just had the Ham Festival, and what are the odds that someone on a flight from Tokyo to Bangkok would just randomly know about the Ham Festival? Pretty slim.)
So far, Thailand is exactly what I thought it would be like and yet not what I thought it would be like at all. The biggest shocks of my culture shock have been how big the billboards are (they are HUGE--like 6 times the size of American billboards), the fact that Pepsi tastes like Coke and Coke tastes like Pepsi, and the inexplicable fondness of the Thai people for soft rock. (In our short time here, we've already heard Barry Manilow and Kenny G.) But I'm in a country where I can buy super-cute dresses for $7, so it's safe to say that, questionable taste in music aside, I'm already pretty much in love with Thailand.
By hour 22 or so of our 24+ hour journey from D.C. to Bangkok, I was beginning to think that Disney was wrong, that the world was pretty damn big, if it took this long to get to the other side of it. But then, while waiting in line for the bathroom, I met a man who was born in the same tiny town in Kentucky as Bri and me. (Seriously. I was suspicious at first, but then he said something about how we'd just had the Ham Festival, and what are the odds that someone on a flight from Tokyo to Bangkok would just randomly know about the Ham Festival? Pretty slim.)
So far, Thailand is exactly what I thought it would be like and yet not what I thought it would be like at all. The biggest shocks of my culture shock have been how big the billboards are (they are HUGE--like 6 times the size of American billboards), the fact that Pepsi tastes like Coke and Coke tastes like Pepsi, and the inexplicable fondness of the Thai people for soft rock. (In our short time here, we've already heard Barry Manilow and Kenny G.) But I'm in a country where I can buy super-cute dresses for $7, so it's safe to say that, questionable taste in music aside, I'm already pretty much in love with Thailand.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
"Sometimes someone says something really small, and it just fits into this empty place in your heart"*
Last time, I wrote about a song that captivated me even though it came into my life at exactly the wrong moment. But there's also something to be said for those songs that enchant you precisely because they seem to fit your life so well. At City Stages in Birmingham a few years ago, when I first heard Rachael Yamagata sing, "I'm not gonna live for you, or die for you, or do anything anymore for you," I thought to myself, "Yes. Yes." and it kicked off an obsession with the song "Sunday Afternoon," the likes of which weren't seen again until I discovered "Latter Days."
A week or so ago, I listened to the Patty Griffin song "Florida," and the refrain ("Isn't it hard sometimes/Isn't it lonely/How I still hang around here/I've got nothing to hold me") just seemed to fit. And indeed, in less than 24 hours, I'll be cutting loose and making my escape halfway around the world, a casting off of my normal life that honestly couldn't come at a better time. But barring any "man attacks" (a term invented by a friend of Bri's) and their consequences of life in a Thai prison, I'll be back in two weeks. No matter how thin the threads may seem right now, there is still something to hold me here.
*Today's My So-Called Life-derived title is brought to you by the news that they're re-releasing the entire series on DVD. This is almost more exciting than my impending trip to Thailand. Almost.
Last time, I wrote about a song that captivated me even though it came into my life at exactly the wrong moment. But there's also something to be said for those songs that enchant you precisely because they seem to fit your life so well. At City Stages in Birmingham a few years ago, when I first heard Rachael Yamagata sing, "I'm not gonna live for you, or die for you, or do anything anymore for you," I thought to myself, "Yes. Yes." and it kicked off an obsession with the song "Sunday Afternoon," the likes of which weren't seen again until I discovered "Latter Days."
A week or so ago, I listened to the Patty Griffin song "Florida," and the refrain ("Isn't it hard sometimes/Isn't it lonely/How I still hang around here/I've got nothing to hold me") just seemed to fit. And indeed, in less than 24 hours, I'll be cutting loose and making my escape halfway around the world, a casting off of my normal life that honestly couldn't come at a better time. But barring any "man attacks" (a term invented by a friend of Bri's) and their consequences of life in a Thai prison, I'll be back in two weeks. No matter how thin the threads may seem right now, there is still something to hold me here.
*Today's My So-Called Life-derived title is brought to you by the news that they're re-releasing the entire series on DVD. This is almost more exciting than my impending trip to Thailand. Almost.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
"What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be"
I can still remember the exact day I fell in love with the Over the Rhine song "Latter Days." That may sound strange, but it was the same day as Hurricane Katrina, so it's not that difficult to remember. As you may recall, I left work early that day and went by the library, where I checked out Season 3 of Felicity with the goal of finally capturing my holy grail (Episode 3, "Hello, I Must Be Going," also known as "the one where Julie goes apeshit and leaves the show"). The song came on at the end of that episode, and as soon as I heard Karin Bergquist's clear, plaintive voice sing the line quoted above, I knew I had to possess this song. In fact, my infatuation with it ran so deep that I not only downloaded it for free on my computer at home, but also bought it from iTunes on my work computer so that I could listen to it there.
A week or so after I made this life-altering musical discovery, I visited Dave in D.C., and we took the first tenuous steps in transforming our friendship into a romance. I was well aware that a gut-wrenching break-up song perhaps was not the best accompaniment for starting a new relationship, but my love for this song just wouldn't be quenched. For two years, it's been one of the first songs I turn on whenever I'm feeling sad, no matter what the reason. Still, I always knew in the back of my mind that there was something a little off about the emotion in the song, that it never resonated perfectly with whatever emotion I was feeling at the time.
But right now, two years later? That break-up song fits my life like a glove--so snugly, in fact, that I almost can't bear to listen to it, an irony that certainly isn't lost on me. I've never been one to post song lyrics on my blog as a substitute for writing something original, but this time, I have to concede defeat. This says it so much better than I ever could:
What a beautiful piece of heartache
This has all turned out to be
Lord knows we've learned the hard way
All about healthy apathy
And I use these words pretty loosely
There's so much more to life than words
There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me; you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken their toll, these latter days
Nothing like sleeping on a bed of nails
Nothing much here but our broken dreams
Oh, but baby, if all else fails
Nothing is ever quite what it seems
And I'm dying inside to leave you
With more than just cliches
There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me; you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken their toll, these latter days
Tell them it's real
Tell them it's really real
I just don't have much left to say
They've taken their toll, these latter days
I can still remember the exact day I fell in love with the Over the Rhine song "Latter Days." That may sound strange, but it was the same day as Hurricane Katrina, so it's not that difficult to remember. As you may recall, I left work early that day and went by the library, where I checked out Season 3 of Felicity with the goal of finally capturing my holy grail (Episode 3, "Hello, I Must Be Going," also known as "the one where Julie goes apeshit and leaves the show"). The song came on at the end of that episode, and as soon as I heard Karin Bergquist's clear, plaintive voice sing the line quoted above, I knew I had to possess this song. In fact, my infatuation with it ran so deep that I not only downloaded it for free on my computer at home, but also bought it from iTunes on my work computer so that I could listen to it there.
A week or so after I made this life-altering musical discovery, I visited Dave in D.C., and we took the first tenuous steps in transforming our friendship into a romance. I was well aware that a gut-wrenching break-up song perhaps was not the best accompaniment for starting a new relationship, but my love for this song just wouldn't be quenched. For two years, it's been one of the first songs I turn on whenever I'm feeling sad, no matter what the reason. Still, I always knew in the back of my mind that there was something a little off about the emotion in the song, that it never resonated perfectly with whatever emotion I was feeling at the time.
But right now, two years later? That break-up song fits my life like a glove--so snugly, in fact, that I almost can't bear to listen to it, an irony that certainly isn't lost on me. I've never been one to post song lyrics on my blog as a substitute for writing something original, but this time, I have to concede defeat. This says it so much better than I ever could:
What a beautiful piece of heartache
This has all turned out to be
Lord knows we've learned the hard way
All about healthy apathy
And I use these words pretty loosely
There's so much more to life than words
There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me; you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken their toll, these latter days
Nothing like sleeping on a bed of nails
Nothing much here but our broken dreams
Oh, but baby, if all else fails
Nothing is ever quite what it seems
And I'm dying inside to leave you
With more than just cliches
There is a me you would not recognize, dear
Call it the shadow of myself
And if the music starts before I get there
Dance without me; you dance so gracefully
I really think I'll be okay
They've taken their toll, these latter days
Tell them it's real
Tell them it's really real
I just don't have much left to say
They've taken their toll, these latter days
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