Today you were far away
and I didn't ask you why.
What could I say?
I was far away.
- The National
"About Today"
there are so many things i could say. so many things that i want to say. yet i am floating in a summer that has trapped my words inside my soul. almost as if i let them out, i will lose them. and i don't want to lose them.
best.
summer.
ever.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Now Playing: ME
My favorite part of going to a movie is watching the previews. Even crappy movies look awesome with a good trailer. The voiceovers, the music, the drama, the action, the anticipation... I love it. Why? I don't know why. Why are McDonald's cheeseburgers so delicious?
Previews, recommendations, hot tips, taste tests, warnings, horoscopes, coming soons... I'm a sucker for these things. As such, I try to share things I love with people sometimes. And maybe it's because I am not an expert in any one area that people don't really love what I'm sharing... and maybe it's ridiculous that I get mad when people don't thank me for changing their lives with a song... but I still try. And I am still immeasurably happy when someone feels the same way I do about a band or show or restaurant or color or movie or ice cream flavor.
So what's the next big thing? What is this summer's blockbuster? ME. That's right. This year is quickly shaping up to be an amazing time for me. I feel more like myself than ever. Chloe, old friends, new friends, siblings, Smokin' Sundays, BluBlockers, music, vacations... there is a certain feeling of newness and happiness in all these things.
"And the thing is, it's hard not to look good in BluBlockers."
Fade to black.
Previews, recommendations, hot tips, taste tests, warnings, horoscopes, coming soons... I'm a sucker for these things. As such, I try to share things I love with people sometimes. And maybe it's because I am not an expert in any one area that people don't really love what I'm sharing... and maybe it's ridiculous that I get mad when people don't thank me for changing their lives with a song... but I still try. And I am still immeasurably happy when someone feels the same way I do about a band or show or restaurant or color or movie or ice cream flavor.
So what's the next big thing? What is this summer's blockbuster? ME. That's right. This year is quickly shaping up to be an amazing time for me. I feel more like myself than ever. Chloe, old friends, new friends, siblings, Smokin' Sundays, BluBlockers, music, vacations... there is a certain feeling of newness and happiness in all these things.
"And the thing is, it's hard not to look good in BluBlockers."
Fade to black.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Oh, Omaha.
Omaha is one of those places you visit that makes you think, I could live here. People are friendly, it's laid back, there are quaint record stores and even quainter coffee shops, the food is tasty, the city is green and then... then there is the music. And it's everywhere. It's in the trees. It hides in the wrinkles of the people who live there. It creaks from the hinges on every door.
So many bands I love have sprouted from Omaha. The music, like the city, feels like home. It feels like driving down an old familiar street and getting a quick pang of excitement because you're almost there. It feels like walking around barefooted in wet grass and on scratchy roads. It's like knowing you can sleep all summer, and waking up to the smell of waffles. The Omaha Sound feels like summer's first sunburn. And one band that precipitates these feelings for me is Cursive. Lucky me. They are bringing a little piece of Omaha to Salt Lake City tomorrow night.
Lucky you. Taking the Daytrotter model to a visual level, Lake Fever Productions brings you high-def crack cocaine: Lake Fever Sessions.
Watch Tim Kasher and team record "From The Hips" in Nashville. And then keep going. It's quickly becoming my favorite website.
So many bands I love have sprouted from Omaha. The music, like the city, feels like home. It feels like driving down an old familiar street and getting a quick pang of excitement because you're almost there. It feels like walking around barefooted in wet grass and on scratchy roads. It's like knowing you can sleep all summer, and waking up to the smell of waffles. The Omaha Sound feels like summer's first sunburn. And one band that precipitates these feelings for me is Cursive. Lucky me. They are bringing a little piece of Omaha to Salt Lake City tomorrow night.
Lucky you. Taking the Daytrotter model to a visual level, Lake Fever Productions brings you high-def crack cocaine: Lake Fever Sessions.
Watch Tim Kasher and team record "From The Hips" in Nashville. And then keep going. It's quickly becoming my favorite website.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Regrets, I've had a few.
This morning, when I couldn't squeeze into any of my pants, I started regretting all the Big Macs and dark beer I've been consuming over the last few weeks. I've had an insatiable appetite as of late and it's catching up with me. I think I do this every summer; sabotage any chance of going to the pool. Despite having the flu last week, I think I managed to put on 12 pounds.
Speaking of regrets, I heard a lot of 'em last week. So instead of continuing to stare blankly at a growing pile of tootsie roll wrappers, I thought I'd write some of them down, ahem, type them up. Down, up, whatever.
"I am already regretting my outfit."
"I have been regretting last night's Beto's all morning."
"I regret wearing the same clothes to work two days in a row, without a bra."
"I've pretty much been regretting every decision I made since 9 o'clock last night."
The thing about regrets though, is that they don't seem to stop us from doing anything. Consequences stop us. Regrets hardly detour us. Regrets are like the ultimate disclaimer: I regret to inform you (but I'm going to anyway). It's essentially apologizing in advance. I am sorry I have to do this but... I do. I am going to regret drinking this whiskey, gulp. Don't make me regret this relationship. I already do.
I can say, with sincerity, that I have made one decision in my life that I truly regret. Everything else I'd probably do again. Because I have happy regrets. My mistakes make me who I am, too.
Speaking of regrets, I heard a lot of 'em last week. So instead of continuing to stare blankly at a growing pile of tootsie roll wrappers, I thought I'd write some of them down, ahem, type them up. Down, up, whatever.
"I am already regretting my outfit."
"I have been regretting last night's Beto's all morning."
"I regret wearing the same clothes to work two days in a row, without a bra."
"I've pretty much been regretting every decision I made since 9 o'clock last night."
The thing about regrets though, is that they don't seem to stop us from doing anything. Consequences stop us. Regrets hardly detour us. Regrets are like the ultimate disclaimer: I regret to inform you (but I'm going to anyway). It's essentially apologizing in advance. I am sorry I have to do this but... I do. I am going to regret drinking this whiskey, gulp. Don't make me regret this relationship. I already do.
I can say, with sincerity, that I have made one decision in my life that I truly regret. Everything else I'd probably do again. Because I have happy regrets. My mistakes make me who I am, too.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
i have a fever.
curse this flu. curse it and its miserable symptoms.
i hope they play Beehive State. they have to, right?
Monday, June 22, 2009
What Once Was Lost...
..has now been found!
And yes, I had an awesome time!
Whew. I survived the weekend. Sure did. And it was a blast. Here is a short recap with pictures! Heeeehhhh!
I found out that my grandma definitely needs me around, but kinda likes me around too.
I found my Drunk that had been lost for about 2 months and 3 weeks. He came back to me at the Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band show. Of course this adorableness was before the debauchery started, and while we still had dates to take our pictures. (And don't pass by the little guy with his fancy mustache on the right. He was trouble!)
The show was just as expected, fabulous. Conor and his cronies immediately started playing new songs with the ferocity as if they were trying to heat the cold audience with their energy. The dynamics on the stage were almost too built-in, as if they were planned before the band's inception. But they weren't. At all. Conor never knew the Mystic Valley Band would come to be, or how it would work. He left on a trip to Mexico to write a solo album and ended up plucking friends out of their own lives to join him. This sort of patchwork assembly of the band makes me love it even more. Hearing the froggy and adorable Taylor Hollingsworth croak out a few songs was great. And I love watching Nate Walcott--a permanent fixture in any Oberst project--plinking on keyboards as he stares at the crowd, unfazed and expressionless if not a little perplexed. It was excellent. Bliss and pure innocent happiness.
I am not sure when I decided to let go of the reins. But I did. And, okay, sure, I did trip over Gina's lawn chairs and fall headfirst into mud to save the beer I had in one hand and the wine I had in the other... and I may have been wearing a white sweater when I went down. HARD. And I ate it, right there in front of about 100 people. And my date was SO embarrassed, he was like, "Really? This is really happening right now? Ugh." He was trying to help me up and I couldn't believe he was so composed. I would have been on the ground, laughing hysterically. He just helped me up and brushed me off a little, and looked at my once white sweater, now completely sprayed with red wine and Cutthroat. Sigh. I was still giggling.
The funniest part about the story is that Megan was with our friend a little ways away and she couldn't stop laughing because "someone had tripped over our lawn chairs." Silence. "It was Carly." Exponentially more laughter.
This is where things started getting a little starry. I do remember thinking, in the words of Matt Berninger, I'm on a good mixture, I don't want to waste it. And for awhile, it was perfect. The mixture of the sun reluctantly sliding behind the mountains, the dew from the rain lingering, and the lights on the stage... The mixture reminded me of warm, wet summer nights. Being on the grass with so many of my favorite people, having someone put their arms around you and love you in that moment, watching perhaps my favorite singer-songwriter ever, WITH a glass of wine AND a glass of beer. Ya, I can't beat that mixture. And I do not want to waste it. So... let's go sprint to the clubs and start dancing, being in photo shoots, drinking, and such. Because that was the pinnacle and we are on the downward spiral.
We had a great time. We really did. Dancing was super fun and although Cody ran from us at the end of the night, it was still a success. A long walk home, lesbian blankets, pot stickers, moldy pita quesadillas, the big white bowl you sit in, and more... it was sweet.
The next day we initiated Smokin' Sundays at the studio with pulled pork sandwiches so... sounds like a pretty good summer to me! Next Sunday: brisket. Yay!
A couple of other things I found this weekend:
1. My sister's old Bronco II. Ohhh, the memories. She's still on the road, folks! Yesssss.
2. An accidental softball picture for my heart throb companion:
Still Missing:
My car keys
My camera
My dignity
It's a start. I realize this is a disconnected entry, I really wanted to remember more about the mustaches and the gum throws... I guess I just wanted to convey the feeling of freedom and happiness we had running around and being with each other. It was nice. Hmmmm. I guess that's it. Rest in peace, beautiful white sweater..... Rest in peace.....
And yes, I had an awesome time!
Whew. I survived the weekend. Sure did. And it was a blast. Here is a short recap with pictures! Heeeehhhh!
I found out that my grandma definitely needs me around, but kinda likes me around too.
I found my Drunk that had been lost for about 2 months and 3 weeks. He came back to me at the Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band show. Of course this adorableness was before the debauchery started, and while we still had dates to take our pictures. (And don't pass by the little guy with his fancy mustache on the right. He was trouble!)
The show was just as expected, fabulous. Conor and his cronies immediately started playing new songs with the ferocity as if they were trying to heat the cold audience with their energy. The dynamics on the stage were almost too built-in, as if they were planned before the band's inception. But they weren't. At all. Conor never knew the Mystic Valley Band would come to be, or how it would work. He left on a trip to Mexico to write a solo album and ended up plucking friends out of their own lives to join him. This sort of patchwork assembly of the band makes me love it even more. Hearing the froggy and adorable Taylor Hollingsworth croak out a few songs was great. And I love watching Nate Walcott--a permanent fixture in any Oberst project--plinking on keyboards as he stares at the crowd, unfazed and expressionless if not a little perplexed. It was excellent. Bliss and pure innocent happiness.
I am not sure when I decided to let go of the reins. But I did. And, okay, sure, I did trip over Gina's lawn chairs and fall headfirst into mud to save the beer I had in one hand and the wine I had in the other... and I may have been wearing a white sweater when I went down. HARD. And I ate it, right there in front of about 100 people. And my date was SO embarrassed, he was like, "Really? This is really happening right now? Ugh." He was trying to help me up and I couldn't believe he was so composed. I would have been on the ground, laughing hysterically. He just helped me up and brushed me off a little, and looked at my once white sweater, now completely sprayed with red wine and Cutthroat. Sigh. I was still giggling.
The funniest part about the story is that Megan was with our friend a little ways away and she couldn't stop laughing because "someone had tripped over our lawn chairs." Silence. "It was Carly." Exponentially more laughter.
This is where things started getting a little starry. I do remember thinking, in the words of Matt Berninger, I'm on a good mixture, I don't want to waste it. And for awhile, it was perfect. The mixture of the sun reluctantly sliding behind the mountains, the dew from the rain lingering, and the lights on the stage... The mixture reminded me of warm, wet summer nights. Being on the grass with so many of my favorite people, having someone put their arms around you and love you in that moment, watching perhaps my favorite singer-songwriter ever, WITH a glass of wine AND a glass of beer. Ya, I can't beat that mixture. And I do not want to waste it. So... let's go sprint to the clubs and start dancing, being in photo shoots, drinking, and such. Because that was the pinnacle and we are on the downward spiral.
We had a great time. We really did. Dancing was super fun and although Cody ran from us at the end of the night, it was still a success. A long walk home, lesbian blankets, pot stickers, moldy pita quesadillas, the big white bowl you sit in, and more... it was sweet.
The next day we initiated Smokin' Sundays at the studio with pulled pork sandwiches so... sounds like a pretty good summer to me! Next Sunday: brisket. Yay!
A couple of other things I found this weekend:
1. My sister's old Bronco II. Ohhh, the memories. She's still on the road, folks! Yesssss.
2. An accidental softball picture for my heart throb companion:
Still Missing:
My car keys
My camera
My dignity
It's a start. I realize this is a disconnected entry, I really wanted to remember more about the mustaches and the gum throws... I guess I just wanted to convey the feeling of freedom and happiness we had running around and being with each other. It was nice. Hmmmm. I guess that's it. Rest in peace, beautiful white sweater..... Rest in peace.....
Beautiful White Sweater
Born 8:00 pm on Saturday. Loved whiskey, whiskey & red bull, whiskey, whiskey, wine, Cutthroat, red wine, Cutthroat, red wine, red wine, whiskey, vodka, blue shots, whiskey, beer, mud. Sometimes mud. Retired quietly with friends at Megan's house at 2:30 am. A good sport. Even though her colors changed, she didn't. We'll miss you.
Friday, June 19, 2009
The measure is the nation’s vote.
The peaceful demonstration chanting "God is Great" has filled the streets of Iran and continues to build. Millions, even, protesting, creating a revolution, standing on their own two feet, to overturn a controversial election. It's scary and hopeful to watch. Two of my favorite people (the cute intern and my big sis) sent me news articles that reported Twitter as one of the channels being used to organize the rallies and coordinate protests. The emphasis, in my mind, is more on the activism of people and communication than the messaging service itself. Sooo, the tweets about how much you love donkeys are still lame. Sorry. (Neither the cute intern or my sister are on Twitter.)
First of all, it's great that people are getting involved on a global scale. If it's helpful. Is it? I don't know. The flow of communication is obviously favorable in this situation. The days of censorship are over, maybe? How much support do I offer and how much do I really know as the truth? If I join an online group, how am I helping? Does that make me an activist? Or am I just jumping on the bandwagon?
I think, more importantly, it is awesome that "we" get to watch people in action changing the world they live in. Social activism being something that, in my opinion, my generation studies and even appreciates that our predecessors did for us, but none of us will ever experience. Some of us still don't vote in our own elections. I can appreciate that we are connected with the ability to pull together for a good cause. And I believe being informed makes us smarter.
My support (for now) will be to keep my love for hotdogs off the Twitter feed so those using it effectively (activists, programmers, local freedom fighters, the State Department, whomever) can continue communicating. And in the meantime, I can listen and learn more about Iran's situation to see if I really can help. It's easy to pithily say something online. Do it. Or at least make sure you're willing to do it for your own situation. Just think first. It's not about you. It's not about me. There is a rather articulate blog entry about how online media is impacting the situation at Iran Protests: It’s not about Twitter, it’s not about us. Check it out.
Of less importance, I played two softball games tonight and I literally can't move my legs because they hurt so bad. I feel like a jerk complaining because I love playing softball, I am physically able to, and I get to come home and sleep next to my beautiful daughter in a warm, safe bed. But they hurt damn bad--the legs. And we got killed in the second game.
Sigh.
First of all, it's great that people are getting involved on a global scale. If it's helpful. Is it? I don't know. The flow of communication is obviously favorable in this situation. The days of censorship are over, maybe? How much support do I offer and how much do I really know as the truth? If I join an online group, how am I helping? Does that make me an activist? Or am I just jumping on the bandwagon?
I think, more importantly, it is awesome that "we" get to watch people in action changing the world they live in. Social activism being something that, in my opinion, my generation studies and even appreciates that our predecessors did for us, but none of us will ever experience. Some of us still don't vote in our own elections. I can appreciate that we are connected with the ability to pull together for a good cause. And I believe being informed makes us smarter.
My support (for now) will be to keep my love for hotdogs off the Twitter feed so those using it effectively (activists, programmers, local freedom fighters, the State Department, whomever) can continue communicating. And in the meantime, I can listen and learn more about Iran's situation to see if I really can help. It's easy to pithily say something online. Do it. Or at least make sure you're willing to do it for your own situation. Just think first. It's not about you. It's not about me. There is a rather articulate blog entry about how online media is impacting the situation at Iran Protests: It’s not about Twitter, it’s not about us. Check it out.
Of less importance, I played two softball games tonight and I literally can't move my legs because they hurt so bad. I feel like a jerk complaining because I love playing softball, I am physically able to, and I get to come home and sleep next to my beautiful daughter in a warm, safe bed. But they hurt damn bad--the legs. And we got killed in the second game.
Sigh.
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