10 Days Till 25
March 15th, 2011 § 2 Comments
“Once upon a time, there lived two rabbits. They were happy and they loved gardening. One day, they wanted to grow the biggest carrot ever. So they planted a carrot and it grew really big and juicy. Then one day, they decided to eat it. And so they did. The End.”
The above is a reproduction of the first story I ever typed on a computer, as best as my memory can recall. The original manuscript is lost and the Word file buried with the old Gateway computer, residing somewhere in the stratosphere of corrupted data afterlife, or wherever forgotten files go when they die. While my finite memory cannot reproduce the precise wording of that first printed masterpiece, it can recall that giddy feeling of seeing words I had written in print. A giddiness that was promptly replaced with horror at a dire copyediting oversight: My ending was redundant. Unacceptable.
I distinctly remember whisking the freshly printed page out of the printer tray, grabbing the nearest pencil, and scribbling all over the offending “and so they did” atrocity as if the lead could eradicate it from existence forever. There. That was better. And this was a step up from the handcrafted paperbacks I’d toiled over before computers changed the 90s forever.
I had publishing credits long before that first computer changed everything. I was the most popular kid at recess in first grade on days when it was too cold or rainy to play outside. I’d take sheets of drawing paper and staple them together (with help from Mrs. Allen, my publisher’s assistant), crafting pages into illustrated fairytales of self-assured princesses who were too cool for charming princes and fables of bears who had picnics with cats on the arches of talking, emoting rainbows. I worked furiously, words and images pouring out of my brain faster than my tiny hands could scribble them down. If I finished before recess ended, Mrs. Allen would let me read my stories to the class.
Some of my trend-following peers thought they had the chops to compete in the market I cornered. But I was the only first grader who got invited to read my stories to Mrs. Trulin’s second grade class during their afternoon snacks. After a few weeks, the kids were lining up in the hallway to hear my latest release.
I learned early on that putting words on a page made me cool. Putting words on a page gave me power. I didn’t get along with people sometimes. I was the awkward kid in hand-me-downs from my cousin who grew out of them in the early 80s. I was the social stereotype of “you’re adopted” jokes, and in my case it was actually true. But I always got along with words.
I have my mom to thank for the start of my getting along with the English language and literature. She read to me from the earliest days I can remember. We read everything together at every time of day and night. Picture books, A Little Princess, Charles Dickens, Bible stories, E.B. White. I ate words for bedtime snacks. Our most ambitious undertaking was David Copperfield when I was about 12 years old, which we read through about 75% of the way until we realized we had both lost track of the plot somewhere around the 200th page.
I was raised on my fair share of Disney princess movies, but it was the heroines in books who really inspired me. The Laura Ingallses and Jo Marches and Sara Crewes and Anne Shirleys and Caddie Woodlawns and Ramona Quimbys and other independent thinkers and dreamers who didn’t quite fit in with popular convention like I didn’t quite fit in with my grade school peers. They rarely felt inferior and even when they did, they imagined or wrote or survived their way out of it in a way that made me feel that I could be courageous like that, too. After all, I had my words, and words gave me power. I could say whatever I wanted when I arranged them the right way on a page. I found my voice through print.
And so I’ve continued to write and use words and learn words and live words and find courage in words. It may not be lucrative yet, but the benefits reach far beyond financial wealth. Through words, I understand myself and interact with the world around me. Words in any form give me the courage to be and believe.
Song Mix Sundays #8: Sláinte!
March 13th, 2011 § 2 Comments
I’m Irish. Very Irish. So Irish, in fact, that native Irish residents almost asked what part of Ireland I was from until they heard my American East Coast accent. Needless to say, St. Patrick’s Day is my third favorite holiday after my birthday and Christmas (I consider it a lucky coincidence that my birthday happens to be a week after St. Paddy’s Day).
In honor of my heritage and the biggest Irish Day of the year, I’ve compiled 17 songs in several genres that everyone can party out to all week long. This week’s Song Mix Sunday ranges from your traditional Irish pub song fare to some modern alternative and indie bands you may not have known were Irish.
Éirinn go Brách!
Modern / Alternative
Some Irish modern / alternative / punk / rock / indie bands of note.
1. Snakes and Snakes – Bell X1, Music in Mouth (2003) These guys hail from County Kildare and remind me an awful lot of Snow Patrol (who, incidentally, is based in Northern Ireland). The album this song is from went double-platinum in Ireland and the band gained some attention in the US when “Eve, the Apple of My Eye” – another song from the same album – was featured in an episode of The O.C. [download]
2. Honey Power – My Bloody Valentine, Tremolo – EP (1991) Based in Dublin in the 80s and 90s, My Bloody Valentine are one of the originators of shoegaze – that lo-fi, dreamy, layers of fuzzy guitars sound that’s getting popular again under the guise of nu-gaze. [download]
3. The Irish Keep Gate-Crashing – The Thrills, Let’s Bottle Bohemia (2004) “Lust, Top 40 fame / I can smell your Catholic shame / But it goes on and on and on and on and on, oh my darling…” Another band originating in Dublin, The Thrills have a relaxed perky sound that takes cues from classic pop in the 70s and 80s. A little head-boppy, a little dancy, a little jangly, and a lot of goodness. Trivia bit: R.E.M.’s Peter Buck contributed a guest mandolin performance on this album. [download]
4. What You Know – Two Door Cinema Club, Tourist History (2010) Two Door Cinema Club formed in Northern Ireland in 2007. The name comes from vocalist Sam Halliday’s mispronunciation of the nearby Tudor Cinema. They stopped by the Y-Not Radio bunker in October last year to record a live acoustic session and interview, where they discuss recording, touring, and their appreciation of cats. Check out the live session here. [download]
5. Let There Be Love – Oasis, Don’t Believe the Truth (2005) *gasp!* A classic Brit-rock band on a St. Paddy’s Day mix? Well, yes, but that’s only because frontman Liam Gallagher is actually Irish: He was born in Manchester, England to two Irish parents. And Wikipedia includes him on their list of Irish musicians. So there. [download]
6. Alternative Ulster – Stiff Little Fingers, Wasted Life (2007) “Take a look where you’re living / You got the Army on your street / And the RUC dog of repression / Is barking at your feet / Is this the kind of place you want to live? / Is this where you want to be? / Is this the only life we’re gonna have? / What we need is / An Alternative Ulster / Grab it and change it, it’s yours…” Stiff Little Fingers is a punk rock band that formed in Belfast during the height of The Troubles in 1977. This song was originally recorded in 1978 and speaks to the anger, frustration, and turmoil in Belfast at the time. The Troubles were a time of extreme political unrest in Northern Ireland rooted in centuries of British occupation and religious and social oppression. Catholics fought violently for civil rights and Irish nationalism while Protestants fought just as violently for British loyalism. “Alternative Ulster” speaks to and against the violence of the time, advocating a sense of creative non-violence in seeing the North however you wish to embrace it instead of giving into violent factions. [download]
Pub Songs
You don’t belong in a pub on St. Paddy’s Day if you don’t know at least some of these songs.
1. Fields of Athenry – Dropkick Murphys, Blackout (2003) “Low lie the fields of Athenry / Where once we watched the small free birds fly / Our love was on the wing / We had dreams and songs to sing / It’s so lonely ’round the fields of Athenry” This ballad was written by Peter St. John in the 1970s. Rife with political meaning, it tells the tale of a young man sentenced to prison for stealing food for his family during the potato famine. Don’t sing this song anywhere in Northern Ireland, as it’s often tied with pro-IRA chants. Do belt the chorus if you’re a big fan of the Republic of Ireland national football team, or the Connacht, Munster, London Irish, or Ireland rugby union teams. [download]
2. Tell Me Ma – Gaelic Storm, Special Reserve (2003) “She is handsome, she is pretty / She’s the belle of Belfast city / She is a-courtin’, one-two-three / Please won’t you tell me who is she!” [download]
3. Dirty Old Town – The Pogues, Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash (1985) “I met my love by the gas works wall / Dreamed a dream by the old canal / I kissed my girl by the factory wall / Dirty old town, dirty old town” This song was originally written in 1949 about a town in England. Because bands like The Dubliners and The Pogues made it popular, most people think of it as Irish. [download]
4. The Leaving of Liverpool – Gaelic Storm, Special Reserve (2003) “So fare thee well, my own true love / When I return united we will be / It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me / But my darling, when I think of thee!” [download]
5. Wild Rover – Dropkick Murphys, Live on St. Patrick’s Day (2002) “And it’s no, nay, never! / No, nay, never, no more! / Will I play the wild rover / No never, no more!” A temperance song that turned into a drinking song. Naturally. Don’t sing it unless you know how to sing it right: Clapping four times after the first “no, nay, never!”, twice after “no, nay, never, no more!”, once after “wild rover,” and twice more after “no more.” Pounding your glass on the table is an acceptable substitution for clapping. [download]
6. Tim Finnegan’s Wake – The Clancy Brothers, Irish Drinking Songs “Whack-fol-de-dah now dance to your partner / Welt the floor your trotters shake / Wasn’t it the truth I told you? / Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake!” This is my favorite Irish drinking song ever. A fine Irishman dies, his friends gather at his wake, a fight breaks out, and Tim Finnegan is brought back to life by the powers of whiskey. My favorite performance of this was at The Brazen Head in Dublin where I sat next to the musicians and the spoon player played the spoons on my knee. The band sang the verses all slow and dramatic and rushed through the chorus – the only time when the audience was allowed to participate. Anyone caught clapping after the chorus finished had to take a drink. [download]
7. Rocky Road to Dublin – The Young Dubliners, Rocky Road (1994) “Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin whack-fol-la-de-da!” [download]
Traditional Irish Music
Because it’s not St. Patrick’s Day without some traditional instrumental tunes you can clog or start a reel to.
1. Diddling Set – Bill Jones, Two Year Winter (2003) Bill Jones is actually a British folk singer. She wrote this song in the style of “mouth music,” a way of singing that developed in Scotland and Northern Ireland where the occupying English government repressed forms of traditional cultural music. Certain instruments were banned from being played publicly, so singers would imitate these instruments with nonsense syllables instead. [download]
2. Live from Matt Molloy’s Pub – The Chieftains, Water from the Well (2000) [download]
3. Bodrhan – The Young Dubliners, Red (2000) [download]
4. The Devil Went Down to Doolin – Gaelic Storm, Herding Cats (1999) [download]
Adventures in Boxed Wine
March 10th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
There are two things I enjoy in life nearly as much as music and writing: Good wine and cheap alcohol. Good wine on the cheap is even better.
Anyone who is friends with a writer knows that we’re alcoholics — or at the very least, lushes. The fruit of the vine ferments vats of inspiration. Or something to that effect. And to marry my lush-writer lifestyle with my love of good wine on the cheap, I offer this new series of Adventures in Boxed Wine: Where I Review Several Varieties So That You Don’t Have to Suffer™.
I know what you’re thinking. Everyone knows that boxed wine is mediocre. You have your fine wines, you have your good wines, you have your hit-or-miss $10 wines which can often surprise you by landing in the “good” category, you have your bad wines for when you want to attempt a sense of sophistication while hammered, and then you have boxed wines. The lowest of the low. The kind of wine soccer moms buy for book club on Thursday nights, or the kind of wine you asked your big sister to use her fake ID to buy at the grocery store so you could look rebel-classy at your middle school sleepover. This sounds more like an exercise in futility.
But we’re not talking about that kind of boxed wine. In recent years, companies and wineries known for producing quality affordable wines in bottles (the kind that would fit in the $10 to $15 “good” or “really good” category as indicated above) have expanded into the economical and eco-friendly realm of boxed wine. The wine is sealed in an air-tight 3 liter bag (that’s four bottles worth!) that survives unoxodized for up to a month. It’s a lush-writer-wine-lover’s dream! Especially when it’s coming from the same kind of people who produce wines like Three Thieves and Gnarly Head (who, in my opinion, has the best cabernet sauvignon on the planet at a dangerously affordable $10 a bottle). These boxed wines are begging to be tasty and trendy and enjoyed by the same drinkers who appreciate tasty, trendy wines in general.
Several months ago, I was intrigued and succumbed to my first regrettable purchase of what I hoped would be a respectable wine from a box. It started with a Black Box Cabernet Sauvignon, and it’s no surprise that it was awful seeing as it’s produced by the same company that churns out gallons of Arbor Mist. I think I drank a glass or two, then used the rest in several batches of drunken shepherd’s pie.
Last week, when I had a craving for wine and a limited booze budget, I was bitten by the boxed wine bug again. I mean, four bottles of wine in one airtight box for the price of 1.5 bottles! You can’t beat that kind of deal, especially with a variety of wine that’s trying so hard to break its old stigmas. I gave in to the urge and bought a box of Falling Star Malbec.
I’ve tried two different $12 bottles of malbec in the recent past which I would classify as “really good” and “best-wine-outside-of-Gnarly-Head’s-Cab-excellent,” respectively. In my limited wino vocabulary, I would describe my favorite malbec as somewhat dry, smoky, woodsy, with some hint of ripe, juicy berry and a little spice on the finish. Perfect to sip in early December just after dusk when the snow begins to fall.
The Falling Star boxed variety doesn’t even come close. In my limited wino vocabulary, I would describe it as flat with a hint of sour vinegar. Like that $5 pinot noir with a screw-top cap I bought one time under the mistaken impression that it might fall into the “half-decent and drinkable” category. It had some juicy-berry malbec characteristic, but the bland sourness ruined any other flavor that might have been hiding in there.
The box is salvageable, however. On a refrigerator quest to find some juice to mix with the wine for a sort of impromptu cooler, I discovered that mixing in some Pom Wonderful pomegranate-cherry juice releases some of the dry, smoky malbec characteristics that first made me fall in love with the style. Cranberry juice adds some nice balance too, but the combo of dry cranberry juice with a dry red wine was a little too dry for my tastes.
If you’re adventurous enough to journey into the dark world of boxed wine with me, here’s one box we can both scratch off our lists.
Song Mix Sundays #7: MTWTFSS
March 6th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.
This week’s mix features seven songs from my library, one for each day of the week from Tegan and Sara on Monday to Augustana on Sunday. Make your week a little bit indie, a little bit pop, a little bit alt rock, and a little bit shoegaze with a different feel for each day from the following tracks.
1. Monday, Monday, Monday – Tegan and Sara, If It Was You (2002) “Monday, Monday, Monday / Your house or mine / I don’t really care about it any more…” [download]
2. Tuesday Morning – Michelle Branch, Hotel Paper (2003) “Tuesday morning in the dark / I was finding out who I was…” Michelle Branch was the first non-embarrassing-to-my-peers artist I became a fan of in middle/high school. I’m still a fan and can’t wait for her new solo album that she’s recording right now. I always come back to this song when I’m feeling angstily introspective. [download]
3. Wednesday – Tori Amos, Scarlet’s Walk (2002) “Just a hang-up call / And the quiet breathing of our Persian we call Cajun on a Wednesday…” [download]
4. Thursday – The Futureheads, News and Tributes (2006) “You should feel like it’s all okay / But every day still feels like a Thursday…” [download]
5. Friday Night – Lily Allen, Alright, Still (2006) “Friday night, last orders at the pub / Get in the car and drive to the club / There’s a massive crowd outside so we get into the queue / It’s quarter past 11 now – we won’t get in till quarter to…” A song for those Friday nights when you’re feeling hot, ready to hit the club with attitude, and break some hearts (and egos and noses, too). [download]
6. Come Saturday – The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (2009) “Come Saturday you’ll come to stay / You’ll come sway in my arms / Who cares if there’s a party somewhere / We’re gonna stay in…” [download]
7. Sunday Best – Augustana, All the Stars and Boulevards (2005) “When she’s sleeping on the sofa / When she’s laying in her Sunday best / When she’s turning over Friday / I could swear I’m sleeping less and less…” [download]
20 Days Till 25
March 5th, 2011 § 3 Comments
Early Morning, March 5
Twenty days until I turn 25. It’s 3 a.m. and I’m sitting on the couch with my computer, still wide awake. The Boy is passed out next to me, cuddling a blanket.
Meanwhile I’m still awake doing the same thing I have since college, and since I quit CVS to move to the city, and since I quit that day job where that office manager yelled at me every day of every week for three months until I decided I valued my sanity and self-esteem more than a paycheck, and since I was “let go” from that other job that wasn’t necessarily my dream job but was a damn sight closer to writing for a living than any other attempt at employment I’ve tried on since graduation. I’m practicing my self-induced insomnia that creeps up on me when I’m bored or indecisive or trying not to think about bills and how much 300-word scholck I’ll have to write tomorrow – on a Saturday – to be able to pay them. I write about payday loans for $8.50 an article so that I can rent my apartment in the city without needing to borrow one myself. The only “easy cash, wired fast!” that will hit my bank account is the weekly payout from a few douchebags in Philly who hired me as their in-house writer and then decided that programmers deserved office space and health benefits more than the person who translates their search engine marketing into readable English that makes Google list their sites first. To quote my favorite line from an Andy Samberg SNL Digital Short, “Welcome to the real world, jackass.”
So this is me at 24-almost-25. Still awake surfing the Internet at 3 a.m. just like I was at 18-almost-19 in college. The setting has changed, but my feelings towards adulthood and my preparedness for it haven’t.
3:24 a.m. Time to close the computer and go to bed. Turn off the kitchen light, rouse The Boy from his sofa slumber.
“Honey…” I stand in front of him, poking his knee.
Sleep grunt. He hides it under the blanket.
“Honey, come to bed.” I shake his other leg.
“Mmm, I mmnammnammm…” His words aren’t working right now.
“Honey…” I curl up on top of him, which is hard because even though I’m tiny, he’s pretty tightly wound. I give a pleading look to his closed eyes. “Get up and come to bed.”
He wakes up with all 100 pounds of me on him. “…Halp.”
Sliding my feet to the floor, I stand, taking his hand to pull him up. He sits on the edge of the cushion for a moment, head dozing forward until I lift his chin and coax him back to bed.
As he stumbles off, I reach up to turn off the light on the bookcase, stroking Kenzy on the nose a few times as I do and wishing him goodnight (he’s been sleeping up there all night, his favorite perch in the apartment). I turn 25 in 20 days, and this cat is the only life form I feel comfortable being responsible for right now.
I’m not old enough to be almost-25. Tomorrow I’m going to clean the apartment like an adult.
Learning Love
March 3rd, 2011 § 2 Comments
My parents made friends with a toll taker on the Betsy Ross bridge. The relationship began in 2007, when I was in college and my mother was in the hospital with a lesion on her lung the week before Thanksgiving. That November was the scariest month of my life. I spent a week worrying that my mom had cancer and what would happen if she didn’t wake up from surgery. (The answer was graduating from college and moving home to work full-time supporting my dad.) I spent a day relieved to hear that no, it wasn’t cancer. Then I spent another week worried that they had to operate anyway to heal the lesion caused by my mother’s decades of smoking. She was in her early 60s, and when you’re a 20-something in college and your parents are in their 60s, you can’t help but devote a few hours a week to wondering what might happen if their vices or genetics get the best of them before they watch you graduate with a college degree. My mom’s surgery day was the worst, especially when my dad didn’t call like he promised to tell me that everything was all right.
What I didn’t know was that my dad was even more scared than me. I’ve seen my dad scared before: When he was diagnosed with agoraphobia in my high school years, I saw him spiral into sweating, hyperventilating panics at the mention of piano recitals, family reunions, and going to work. But I never remember seeing him flinch in the face of health, finances, or creepy-crawly insects — the kinds of things that scare me. His eternal motto is that God provides for His children and faith is bigger than fear. But this time, the threat to my mom’s health scared him so much that he asked for prayer from a toll collector who wished him a “God bless,” as he collected the $4 toll.
My dad had met this man before, on one of his many trips to pick me up from college for a weekend at home. My dad might be agoraphobic, but you’d never know it when you watch him talk to strangers. He loves strangers, but more importantly he seems to love connecting. Connecting in a way that makes strangers feel heard, appreciated, accepted. Connecting, perhaps, in a way he imagines Jesus would. And not the Republican-voting, welfare-hating, white-upper-middle-class-loving Jesus, but the Jesus who touched dirty contagious lepers, talked to skanky prostitutes, and ate and drank with skeevy, hated tax collectors who were just doing their jobs to make ends meet and didn’t deserve all the hate. That’s what I’ve watched both my parents embody for the 25 years I’ve been alive.
So my dad connected with this man four years ago on his way to drive me home from college. Their first exchange happened in October the weekend of Fall Break. On the ride home, my dad told me how happy this guy was and how he wished him God’s blessings as my dad drove off from the toll booth. The next time he drove across the bridge to get me, he made a point of driving through that same toll booth to see his new friend Robert. Over the following weekends, he learned how Robert should have been retired but couldn’t afford to stop working, how much he loves his wife and family, how he wants his toll booth on the Betsy Ross Bridge to be his mission field of showing God’s love to everyone who drives through. And that weekend before Thanksgiving after my mom’s surgery went well but my dad was still scared, he asked his new friend for prayer. And Robert looked at my dad and said, “I believe that God is going to heal your wife. I’ll pray, but I already know that she’s going to be all right.” My parents returned the favor a few months ago when they saw him at the toll booth again (this time on their way to visit my apartment in Philly) and he was concerned for his own wife’s health. He also told them he’d be retiring in a few weeks.
I had the chance to meet Robert in January, the week before he retired. My parents had taken me to lunch that afternoon and pulled through his toll booth when they drove me back to the city. I listened while my dad asked him about his wife and thanked him again for his prayers four years ago. He introduced me and I waved from the back seat. He asked Robert about his retirement plans and didn’t care that a line of cars started to build behind us while they chatted. Connected. They promised to visit next week the day before his last shift.
They visited, all right. They drove to the Delaware River Port Authority with a retirement cake and a letter for an old man they had only interacted with from behind an open car window. As it turns out, someone else was covering Robert’s shift that day, but the manager assured them he’d see that the cake and kind words reached their friend. Robert called a few days later and left a message to thank my parents for their kindness in the last four years, a message they still have saved on their answering machine two months later.
This is just one example of how my parents care for strangers and inspire me to do the same. Sometimes I feel embarrassed by the lengths they take to connect with people who others might not think to interact so deeply with, but then I feel refreshed and inspired. My parents love, and they love everyone. I hope some day I have the courage to love the same.
Song Mix Sundays #6: Colorful
February 27th, 2011 § 1 Comment
Song Mix Sundays took a hiatus last week as I was busy being a bridesmaid in my brother’s wedding. This cell phone snapshot taken at 7 a.m. the morning of the wedding captures my memory how the whole weekend felt:
Sisters cat-napping on the floor before hair and makeup commences. We had a rough night.
Lots of crazy family fun. Congratulations to my brother and sister-in-law for finally having the ceremony they wanted, and safe wishes for my brother as he just deployed for a tour of duty in Iraq this weekend.
After spending a weekend in Houston, Texas where the daytime highs reached 75 degrees and the nighttime lows never dipped below 60, I came home to more snow and grey skies in Philadelphia. All of this gloomy February weather calls for something bright and cheerful. I present to you this weekend a collection of songs all about color – 14 songs in my library with colors in the song title. Less commentary on individual tracks this week, since the theme is pretty straight-forward. Without further ado:
Song Mix Sundays #5: With Love
February 14th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Looks like WordPress published this week’s mix before I was done editing it! Oops! Thanks to a weekend filled with taxes, paying attention to the Grammy’s, and taking care of a sick Boy, this week’s Song Mix Sunday faced a few delays. Nevertheless, in honor of Valentine’s Day, I present several mini-mixes representing various stages of love. Whether you’re looking, mourning, or in it for the long-haul, there’s a mix in here for you. So enjoy, and happy Valentine’s Day.
Song Mix Sundays #4: Storytelling
February 7th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
As a writer, I’m a sucker for songs that tell a good story. From vibrant characters to imaginative narratives, I love it when lyrics engage my literary senses. Here are 10 songs from my library that tell stories about people, times, and relationships that inspire my writing soul.
