Oh babe when I'm in love with you

I'm in love with this man:

Who is also this man:
This man:
And finally, this man:

So I realize I wrote about Weezer not too long ago, but the concert last night has pushed me headfirst into obsession once again. It was everything I needed. Even though I am paying for it today with all the unique pains that come only when you are dancing in an insane manner, it was totally worth it. This isn't meant to be bragging, just me saying Wow. I really do love Weezer. More specifically, Wow. I really do love Rivers Cuomo.

Highlights:
*"El Scorcho"
*White jumpsuits that were changed to red tracksuits.
*Rivers jumping on a trampoline onstage.
*"Say It Ain't So"
*Rivers asking us to say HECK YES if we were having a good time.
*Singing the intro to "Dope Nose"
*The verbal intro to"Troublemaker", where Rivers told a story about playing with his daughter at the Children's Museum the day before. Adorable without being cheesy. Also good: during the song when he went and sat on the speakers and kicked his legs. The speakers totally seemed like a giant chair, and he looked like a little rebel stuck in time-out.
*The floor roll Rivers did during a guitar solo. And basically everything he did.
*Hearing "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived" live. It was pure gangsta, pure beauty, pure joy. Even though the vocal counterpoint was a little shaky, it still had me from the first siren. Plus, Rivers looks great in a cowboy hat. And even greater after he got rid of it.
*The Hootenanny that was the first encore. Picture 30-ish local kids with different instruments onstage jamming with the Weezer, and being interviewed by one awesome frontman. Oh yeah.
*Rivers kicking over the record player that was playing "Heart Songs" on the second encore.
*The hoarse voice while Rivers was saying goodbye and introducing "Buddy Holly", the final song. It proved that they were really giving their all, rocking it out of the park for some podunk Utahns. And man did we love it.
*Seeing Weezer live. One band down, ten...maybe fifteen... OK, lots more to go. But Weezer is checked off and gave a live performance that had me screaming like a teenage Beatles fan circa 1964. =w=

Lost & Found: In Memoriam

Last winter I went to this totally amazing Billy Collins lecture and came out from it with a burning desire to write poetry. I scribbled a couple poems on loose pieces of paper and random notebooks, taking inspiration from my daily surroundings and trying to see life as I thought Collins did. It didn't last long, maybe a week or so. I got lazy and soon moved on.

A few months later, I found myself in a creative writing class that completely fostered my once imaginative soul. When we came to the poetry section of the course, I remembered one of the poems I wrote during the Week of Poetry, and decided to submit that for my piece. The night before the assignment was due, I looked for the paper I'd written it on, only to find it had disappeared. I threw together a new version on the same theme, but was mostly disappointed with it.

Recently, I found the original poem! It wasn't as earth-shatteringly poignant as I thought it was, but that's hindsight. Anyway, here's both versions, in chronological order. Any suggestions?

The silence serves as a haven.
I take out my book and read,
until the silence, and the luxury
of an entire couch to myself
steal my thoughts away.
I start from feigning death
to a room surrounded by it.
I realize this quiet, morbid room,
is full of students studying,
glued to books, computers,
iPods, and sweet surrender of sleep,
oblivious to the tomb they sit in.
Display cases full of gilded names and plastic
roses on black velveteen,
a dark silhouette against a white orb,
red white and blue.
I cannot use this place so casually.
Haunted by the mothers, the wives, the siblings,
I walk into the warmth outside.
Glad to have my homework finished.


MEMORIAL

An enveloping quiet
highlights the silent cases
full of memory and sorrow.

Rows of enameled names gleam
golden against the burnished backdrop
held in oaken arms.

An eternal rose rests resplendent
on dark velveteen fields, behind
the garish glass.

Above, a circlet of white, holding
silhouettes of towers and figures
within the square of black.

This hall of death is shrinking,
crushing with the weight of lives
sacrificed for the "greater good".

I leave the tomb-like room, and step
into the warmth of outside day,
glad to have finished my homework.

Greet the brand new day

I just had an experience I really want to write about, and when I realized it's been way, WAY over a month since I've written anything on here, I thought what else could I do? So here I sit. Writing once again.

Yesterday, I went through surgery for the first time ever. It was just a minor procedure (or whatever you call it), but I have never been so terrified in my life. The morning before going into the doctor's office, I decided that you know what? Those medieval folks were right all along. Medical treatment really IS an abomination. I mean, going in and messing with someones insides just isn't right. Leonardo da Vinci deserved to be persecuted for all those cadavers he experimented on. Who really needs to know more about the human body? I don't. All this technology is just wrong, and goes against everything I believe in. Or at least that's what I told my mom. She still made me go.

Once we were there, the fear took over. The whole idea of surgery, the thought of "going under the knife" really shook me up. I don't like to be in situations I can't understand... no, understand isn't the right word... situations I can't control. That makes it sound like I'm a micromanaging freak, but that's not it. I'm just pretty independent, and used to being able to rely on myself and handle things. And the thought of being completely unconscious with my fate in the hands of others scared me. Even though I knew everything was going to be fine, even though I knew that my family was behind me, even though I knew I had the care I needed, I was still full of fear. Was it irrational? Maybe a little. But it was there, and I couldn't shake it. And so it was there, right after the nurse had left and I changed into the gown and the slippers and that baggy blue hairnet, that I lost it. Not in a big showy way, but I put my head in my hands and let a series of sobs escape. I felt vulnerable, and small, and alone. The tears were gone by the time the nurse came back, but the things that prompted them were still there.

Then they put the IV in and gave me a run down of things to expect when I woke up. They'd ask me to rate my pain, and if I felt any nausea. I just nodded and tried to smile. The doctor came in, and he must have seen the pure terror in my eyes, because he held my hand and did the whole 'it's going to be fine' bit. Next came the big event. They asked me to take my glasses off (a moment of panic, because not only was I going into this thing, but I was going into it blind) and started wheeling me to what I guess was the operating room. We stopped on the way so the anesthesiologist could squirt something into my IV tube, and I'm pretty sure I was out in less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops.

The next thing I knew, I felt that warm comforting feeling when your are waking up from a particularly excellent nap. The feeling where you know you are going to get up soon, but sleep just felt so good, so you want to cling to that darkness and not open your eyes yet. The song "Dear Prudence" kept going through my mind, which was a little weird because I hadn't listened to the White Album for a while, but it's a great song and I was enjoying it. Looking back, I guess it was appropriate, with the whole "open up your eyes" lyric. Eventually, I did open my eyes, and after a moment of disorientation I realized where I was. An older blond nurse was standing over me, asking me the questions I had been prepped for in an exasperated tone and shoving a cup of water with a straw towards my face. At least I think it was a blond nurse with a cup of water. All I saw was a blob with a smaller whitish blob. I remember asking for my glasses, and she just said they were with my mom and was there any nausea? I evaluated myself for a moment and realized no, there was no nausea. Pain? Not really any of that either. And then it hit me. It was over! Maybe. I asked the nurse just to be sure. Yep, I was done. Let me repeat that. I WAS DONE! THE NIGHTMARE WAS OVER! AND I DIDN'T HURT! YES! I'm pretty sure the grin on my face didn't leave for quite a while.

The best thing about coming out of the anesthesia was how with it I thought I was. I expected to come out of it all trippy and loopy, but in my mind I felt completely normal, and told my nurse this fact. Except when I told her, I used words like cohesive, coherant, and maybe, but not positively, that I was performing at an optimum level of comprehension. Yeah. I think I was more druggy than I thought. Anyway, I rested in bed for a while and drank water, finally (finally!) got my glasses, and then was wheeled out to our car and went home. All in all, the ordeal wasn't as bad as I thought, and I went home in high spirits. Now I'm just resting, watching tons of movies, and reading loads of books. It's total down time. I love it.

If I were to sum up in one word what going through this taught me, I guess it would be faith. I learned that sometimes, you can't do everything, and that's when the trust comes in. I had to trust in my doctors to do what they were trained to perform in the best way they could. I had to trust that my family would be there after to take care of me. That ability to take a leap of faith (kind of like the one in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade), not knowing where you'll end up or what will happen, but believing that things will be alright, is something I don't really have down yet, but I'm working on it. And that's what the purpose is. I mean, the phrase is "exercising faith". You won't wake up one day and have that part of life understood perfectly, but the more you work at it and exercise that faith, the easier and more natural it will become.

So I will try and have more faith and trust in the future. As for right now, I think I'll cuddle up in a blanket, have some soup, and stick in another movie.

Whoever came up with the phrase "Good Morning" should be shot

So today I posted earlier, but I took it down because it was all serious and angsty and included some of my real-life, actual FEELINGS about awkward issues, and who wants to read about that? Those who come to this Wonder of a blog (if there really are any of you) are here for my wry observations about things that don't matter, and that's the way I like it.


This morning I was woken up by my current roommate's cell-phone, and then her loud conversation with her boyfriend, and then her alarm clock going off. There was no chance of drifting off to sleep again after that. As consciousness slowly flooded my brain and my eyes squinted open, I realized I couldn't see OR breathe. Because sometime during the night, I had shoved my head completely under the pillow, where I nestled up to the mattress, making a lake of saliva that left the right side of my face drenched. I sat there, in the stifled darkness, slowly roasting as the layers of cottony pillow entrenched my head, and listened to my roommate move around the room getting ready for the day. Only one thought resonated through my skull: DON'T MOVE. If I moved, my roommate would say good morning. And then I'd have to acknowledge her presence and be nice and say good morning back to her, when before noon, all I want to do is eat breakfast and read and not see another person. If you get in my way in the morning, I will most likely either a) kill you with the evil death rays emanating from my glare, or b) take off your head in one bite, chew it up, and then spit it on you.

So rather than make contact with another human being, I sat very still under my layers of blankets and pillows, trying to make my breathing as regular as possible even though I was being smothered by my monstrous pillow. As soon as I heard her leave, clicking the bedroom door shut, I emerged from my pile of bedding and gasped ... I mean gasped ... for air, kicking off my extra blanket and throwing the offensive pillow across the room and into the laundry basket.

To top it all off, when I was making breakfast a couple hours later, I decided it was a good idea to test the stove burner with my fingers. Guess what? It wasn't.

Feeling Proud

Because if you google the phrase "Peter Frampton robot burp", this is the first site to appear. I can now die happy.

"Imma do the things that I wanna do..."

Album Review: Weezer (The Red Album) by Weezer
4 out of 5 stars


So I realize it's been three weeks since the official release of the Red Album, and this review is not exactly timely. But that's what happens when an awesome CD comes out during finals week, and the next week your internet fails, rendering you cut off from the wonderful world of blogging. On the bright side, I have listened to it so much that this opinion is relatively solid, and not likely to change or have any nostalgic first time listen sympathy. Now on to the review!

The follow-up to mediocre Make Believe, the Red Album is a refreshing change of pace for Weezer. Here, they acknowledge their aging rock star status while trying to reconnect with what made them great in the first place. Rivers' solo project, Alone, a compilation of his personal recordings through the years, might be responsible for this shift in mood. By going back and looking at his past works, Rivers regained some musical perspective. Instead of wandering through the mire of pop acceptance, as Make Believe and Weezer (the Green Album) did, struggling to appeal the masses, the Red Album throws convention out the window and does what it wants. Screw the masses, Weezer is making music. Again. Finally.

That is not to say this is the perfect album. By trying to experiment, Weezer has made a few missteps. One of the most glaring and distracting is the decision to have the other members of Weezer sing. Let's get one thing straight here. Rivers Cuomo, and only Rivers Cuomo, is the singer for Weezer. There is a reason this is so. As much as I love Pat and Brian, please don't sing. And don't even get me started on Scott, whose vocal foray "Cold Dark World" is by far the worst song on the album. When Rivers does his faux rap style, we can accept it. Rivers does it recognizing how ludicrous, how white, he sounds, and this gives his tone a nice tongue-in-cheek sensation. When Scott gives rap a try in "Cold Dark World", he takes himself seriously, truly believing he pulls it off. He doesn't. Add a Peter Frampton-robot-burp effect as a bass beat, and you've got a boring and ridiculous song. Lose the attitude Scott. And lose the robotics (that goes for you too, "Automatic").

"Thought I Knew", sung by Brian Bell, is the best of the bandmate vocalist experiment. Even though he affects a drawl similar to Tom Petty, a sound I don't usually go for, the tune is pretty catchy and not too annoying when it gets stuck in your head. Despite this, once again, Rivers is the singer for a legitimate reason. He rocks. Plain and simple. Especially with this album.

I've heard a lot of complaints about the lyrical quality of the Red Album. True, the lyrics aren't great, but they aren't bad either. And what we need to realize is that lyrics are not the focus, the purpose of the Red Album. Here, Rivers delves into the complexity of pure sound, playing with the tone and melodics of the singing, pushing his voice to see what it can do. How he does this is simple, from the vocal slide in "Troublemaker" ("Marrying a beyyoootch/ Having seven keyyiiids) to the contrast of a single sustained sung note versus instrumental melody at the beginning of "The Angel and the One".

His vocal prowess is most obviously displayed on what is the single most impressive song on the album, "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived". With a musical ADD that makes the listener almost feel like they are flipping through radio stations, the building upon a theme with vastly different variations gives Rivers a chance to strut his stuff. Starting with a rap segment, "TGMTEL" soon evolves into power guitar, crooning, choral work (including an a capella counterpoint section that is mind-blowing) and a rock ballad featuring Rivers in falsetto that sends chills down my spine every time.

Practically anytime Rivers is singing, this album is pure gold. Some exceptions are the disappointing "Heart Songs", which had a promising premise but disintegrated into an easily forgettable and, quite frankly, cheesy melody. If it wasn't for Rivers voice, this would be laughable. And "Everybody Get Dangerous" has a ridiculous chorus and sounds like a bad ripoff of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But once again, when Rivers sings, you listen, regardless of content. His voice is magical.

If you're going to get this, you HAVE to get the Deluxe Edition. Within the bonus material are three of the best songs: "Pig", "Spider", and my favorite, "Ms. Sweeney". "Spider" is ethereal and heartbreaking, and "Pig" is a hilarious yet touching account of a pigs life, completely humanized. And "Ms. Sweeney" contains all of the repressed and frustrated longing that peppered Weezer's earlier works. Pure beauty.

Never been so glad to be alive

Have you ever been so overcome with beauty that you wanted to cry? That's what happened to me this afternoon. I was walking home from school and it was ... amazing. The sky was the deepest, purest blue I have ever seen in my life. The trees were a luminescent green, with light from the sun glancing off them and creating a shimmery sensation. Everything seemed brighter, fresher.

I read a story somewhere about someone from the East coast coming out to Utah and being awed by the scenery. They said everything looked like it was straight from a painting. The colors out here were unbelievably vivid. I guess I'd never noticed that before.

I don't know. Maybe it was the fact I was listening to Radiohead, which always tinges life with a touch of wistful melancholy. Maybe it was because I'm so close to being finished with this term, and about to go home for a whole week and relax. Or maybe it's because this winter's been so long, so cold, and so difficult. In winter, at least up here in Northern Utah, the world is gray. The sky is perpetually overcast, the ground is wet and slushy, and the cold invades every orifice. This year, winter lasted until halfway through May. And now it's over. The world is new again.

Anyway, here are some photos I took. Pictures never do things justice, especially since cameras just can't capture light in the way I see it. But at least I tried. So here's the view from my mailbox. Commune with nature, and enjoy.



I had to take that shot of the robin. He just looked so proud. Right after I took the picture, he turned his head to look at me with this "you happy? are we done now?" attitude, then just hopped off that sign and walked (well, once again, hopped) away nonchalantly. Totally happened. It was rockin'.

*SPOILER ALERT*
Watch out for my review of Weezer (the Red Album) coming soon!