These are 25 of the most influence bands and albums of my life. I’m not out to impress anyone with my eclectic or good taste, and in fact these albums aren’t necessarily my favorite albums, just the albums that have effected my life or remind me of better times. They are not in order of preference and I do realize that there are two Gun’s N’ Roses albums there, but they were both a huge part of my life for many years.
n. pl. ca·thar·ses (-sz)
A release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.
The one who these poems are for will probably never know they are here. There are here for her, in order of my feelings and never to be read by her. I have lost and may never have again and my heart is broken in two. These poems are from a movie, “In Her Shoes.” Lame.
E.E. Cummings – I Carry Your Heart With Me
I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it
(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate
(for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
Elizabeth Bishop- “One Art”
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Warning: For some reason, writing of any form seems to be harder and harder for me to manage lately, so I apologise in advance for how boring this entry just may be.
It’s been 12 days since I last pretended to post here, but a lot has happened so I think I can be forgiven. I’ve moved out with two of my best friends, Mark and Daly, and it feels really good to be getting out on my own. I spent a hot summers day procrastinating until the last minute and then moving my important belongings within the last 2 hours of the day. It was a fun day and it felt so good to be on my own, but I just ended up passing out while my friends all went out and had a great time.
Since then it has been much more work than play I am afraid, working all day and usually finding myself with so many things to do every afternoon when all I want to do is lay down and watch a movie or catch up on some reading or writing. Right now is the first time I’ve actually had to sit down since last year and suddenly I realise that I have posted only 10 times in over a month and a half and that is really bad considering just how much I enjoy writing here.
So now that my friends are out at a poker game and I am sitting her by myself listening to The Get Up Kids, I am taking the time to recount the events of recent and all I can think about is sleep. I’m going to drag my lazy butt to bed on the promise to try and write tomorrow. If I don’t start writing soon, I almost have no reason to keep this. Night kids, stay cool!
I’m tired, let’s see just how short and boring I can make this. Christmas sucked, because well, Christmas just really sucks. New Years rocked, because I was off my rocker and had a freakin’ blast. New years resolutions are as follows:
1. Drink more (yes, it’s possible)
2. Party more with the people who really matter (definitely possible)
3. Be happier, installment number 1 of this is coming very soon, it’s a surprise!
4. Take more photos. One every day to be exact, I’ve already started, but haven’t had time to load them onto flickr yet.
Alright, I’m dead to the world as of 20 minutes ago and I am writing this in my sleep. Goodnight.
My trip, although only 3 days long, started around a week and a half ago. I spoke to some friends from Sydney who all claimed I should give them a visit and accommodation arrangements were made. Work and social commitments popped up on several of them and the trip was to be cancelled.
Mitch: Hey Aimee, dunno if I’ll be coming to Sydney now, I have nowhere to stay.
Aimee: get every1 together and come stay at my place and we can have a party
Mitch: It’s Derby Day weekend, no one will want to come, but the idea is nice!
Aimee: well you just come down and we can hang out and get drunk
And thus, the idea was born. Within 6 hours I had booked my flights to Sydney and back and I was ready to roll. The suddenly it dawns on me: does Aimee really want me down there? Sure we’re friends and all, but we don’t know each other that well!
Friday morning at 4:45 my alarm goes off and I get the fright of my life. Somehow in the night I had placed my water bottle on top of my phone and the vibration sends the bottle toppling down and sends water all over my face. Shit my pants. I stumbled down, shower and shave and make sure I have packed everything I’ll need – I didn’t.
I sit in the airport in writers-mode and try to take everything in. I have no pad like I normally take and certainly didn’t burden myself with my dying laptop, so I try my best to remember things as clearly as possible. I note the nervous guy in the front row who is quite obviously flying for the first time sitting next to the slacker businessman who has probably been in the air several times this week alone. He shuffles his feet and continually talks to his girlfriend in whispers as Slacker grunts a laugh at him and gets shot a stare for being so callus.
I remove my phone from my pocket and go through my to-do list to make sure I did everything. I forgot my phone charger, that is going to hurt me. First flight call goes up warning me that my plane will be ready to leave soon and I pack away my phone, PSP and my jumper.
Making my way to the gate I see families kissing fathers goodbye, boyfriends calling girlfriends one last time before they leave and children crying because they will miss loved ones. I am noticeably unmoved at 6:30 and realise, without any feeling, that I am standing alone simply waiting to get onto my flight.
I sit in my seat and suddenly wish I had a palm pilot or small notebook to make notes about the flirt. Slacker snorts loudly as he squeezes into his seat and the nervous git from the airport is positioned directly next to me, cowering into his girlfriend. “Stewardess, are you certain I can’t listen to my iPod,” I ask hoping to drown out his constant whimpering. She confirms it’ll be 20 minutes before I can begin listening to The Get Up Kids once again and I laugh and turn instead to making fun of him.
“First time,” I ask and gesture towards the Coward.
“Yeah, you fly much,” Coward’s girlfriend replies as I suddenly realise how gorgeous she is.
“Enough not to turn to jelly, your boyfriend is the very definition of ‘Heroic’ isn’t he?”
“It’s my brother, not my boyfriend, he’s just being a pussy and hugging me a little too much.”
Suddenly he turns from Wimpy Boyfriend to Wimpy Bedwetting Brother and I giggle.
“I’m single and ready for Sydney,” she adds with a wink.
Oh yeah, Mitch, you still got it!
I smile at her and cooly say, “me too, what do you have planned for the weekend?”
She blabs for a few minutes about some neurotic baby shower she is going to and tells me about all of her friends while the stewardess gives a lesson on how to use flotation devices. Given that we’ll be flying over land, I decide that floating isn’t a huge priority and ignore her, but also ignore the cute sister. Suddenly she goes from cute and seemingly-interested, to mind-numbingly boring and I tune out.
“Sounds like a hectic weekend, you should have fun!”
She looks at me the same way my mother looks at me when I’ve ignored her and made it rather apparent with an out of left field comment. Soon enough the conversation is over, we’re in the air and I am listening to my iPod and eating my “light breakfast” which would be more aptly described as 100% preservative that is a guaranteed ticket to diarrhea.
I take my headphones off and Cute Sister begins again. “So what about you, what do you have planned?” I give her a large story about a few ideas I have had, none of which are actually close to what happened in the end, and end it with another wise crack about her brother. He is too scared to say anything and we both laugh.
Seatbelts are back on and before you know it we’re landing. “I’m so glad we made it, there were a few times there I thought we were doomed!” Cute Sister laughs while the ever-chivalrous brother looks like he is sitting in his own urine. I laugh at my own joke and we all get off the plane.
Business first, I take care of what needs to be taken care of. Before you know it my day is half over and I am having lunch with >Kevin. I decide that all you can eat is a phrase that sounds so much better when you are actually hungry. It’s good to catch up with Kevin and we chat about a lot of stuff that we always chat about; life.
I travel across the city and get my bag before I wander through the city. I need the necessities with me at all times; music, money and music. My iPod is doing the usual “sure we promise 12 hours, but be grateful if you get 3” battery life and I regret, not for the first time, buying an iPod rather than an iriver.
I get to the city around 4 or 5 and wander for a while. I feel very insignificant amongst the hustle of the city and I feel more alone than I have in a very long time. I walk past homeless people, past churches and all night medical centers, past pubs and clubs and all the while I completely acknowledge that no one is even noticing me. I hear a bunch of New Zealanders drinking at a bar and one of them beckons to me, “eh bro, come ‘ave a beer eh?” I join them and we have a few laughs. I rip on their accent, they rip on my accent, I joke about how Aussies are better, then the 6 Maori gentlemen make it apparent that they could kill me if they wanted to. Departure immanent, I take a pee and tell them I have to keep moving. Time spent fearing for my life: 6 seconds, then a quick dash out the door.
I message James and soon enough we meet up for a few more beers. We discuss the nightclubs in Sydney, what we’ve all been up to and I let him play my PSP. In most cases I enjoy having things to keep me entertained, but most people laugh when they find that I take an iPod and similar devices with me everywhere I go. James is a game and completely understands, we soon depart and go back to his place to enjoy some PS2 on the bigscreen. Time spent geeking out: 2 joyous hours!
After a few games of GT4 James has to meet some friends and I make my way back to the city. I wander along George St for a little while and go past one of many bars I attend frequently in Sydney, The Three Wise Monkeys. I order a beer and barely turn around before I strike up a conversation with some backpackers. It’s an English couple of about 25 on their first trip to Australia, I give them some advice on where to stay and they supply me with a few laughs. I note that the girl is surprisingly hot, the guy suprisingly ugly. I furthermore note that he is shouting the three of us, plus a few other backpackers. Verdict: Loaded, possibly well hung. Time spent trying to change the word “pint” to “schooner”: 10 painful minutes.
I get a call from Aimee and we decide that we’ve had a big day and meet back at her house. We spend hours, literally, talking and keeping each other awake. It was so much fun chatting to her and getting to know her better. Turns out we both had the same fears about the weekend, but they are pretty quickly put in the past and we’re getting on like a house on fire. Time spent laughing so hard that my cheeks were sore: 15 bedwetting minutes.
To be continued…
Well, my morning routine has somewhat changed of late, mainly do to some newfound (yet unexplained) motivation. In fact, my new schedule borderlines on being a “normal persons” schedule and is becoming rapidly different to my old “student” schedule which I kept going long after I was a student.
Where my old schedule consisted of taking hours to wake up, bitching and griping about lack of sleep, dragging my sorry butt to the shower and falling asleep under the water, falling asleep on my bed until I have only 2 minutes to be at work, my new schedule is far more productive.
This morning I woke around 6:45am and booted up my computer. I quickly replied to a few emails, sent out some of my own and set Sage to update. I walked downstairs and made some toaster-waffles and coffee and checked the mail while the kettle boiled.
It’s 7am and I’ve had breakfast and actually done stuff… For the fourth day in a row… Picture how scared I am!
Next I eat my waffles and drink my coffee while I read through my Sage downloads and listen to Adam Curry. I grab some links out of a few aggregators and update my blog (see right hand side under “Asides” header for details) and event get out my leatherbound notebook and write down some ideas for upcoming entries, including “holy crap, it’s 7:30 and you are almost ready for work!”
I think the not-so-subtle moral to this feebly written story is that for 4 days in a row, I have actually goten up and done things with my morning. And I am doing stuff now, like updating my journal and phoning some friends I haven’t spoken to in a while. Of course, we’re not talking things that are actually meaningful, but why don’t you just get off my back about emptying the trash?! Don’t count on it lasting forever, but for the time being, I am motivated baby, yeah!
I went to my hair dresser today and did the normal routine. We joked around for a while about how I am always making her open late because I work long hours, we joked about how I was finally sober when she was seeing me and I sat in the chair ready for my usual haircut.
Now, I normally say, “clippers up the side, a bit of length on the top, but not too much so I can spike it a little.”
Today I said, “okay Lisa, give me what you got! My hair is yours, do what you will!”
Now, the look in her eye should have told me to be careful. Or maybe it was the way she used the clippers and scissors. One way or anything, I ended up with possibly the worlds craziest haircut and I honestly love it! She zigged, she zagged and she carved out a masterpiece.
According to Melpo, I am a GQ playa. For those who are lame (like me) and have no idea what this means, check this shit out…
UrbanDictionary.com defins GQ as; “Used to describe a guy who is dressed nicely, very sleek, or very sexy to the ladies. The term comes form the men’s fashion magazine named GQ. Example: Damn nigga, you all GQued up 2nite, huh?”
…that’s right peoples, how fine am I?! TOO FINE! Hahahaha.
I’m yet again looking for a new phone due to unfortunate, but funny, circumstances. If you have a mobile phone comment on this entry with what kind of phone it is, what you like about it and what you dislike about it? If I am going to buy another mobile, it had better be a good one!