Creatively speaking

I have scads of friends who just ooze talent. Whether it's visually artistic, intriguingly audible, culinarily mouthwatering or soul-searchingly thoughtful, I can't think of one person who doesn't have something awesome going on. It's pretty sweet.

I currently have two friends who are hard at work on music projects. Chad, who recently solidified a band and has written some of the coolest songs I've ever heard, is going to be opening for a U2 cover band in the Boston area. He's been in other bands, played in festivals and coffee shops and even tapped through the Zelda theme for me once on his keyboard. He wrote one of my favorite songs of all time, Rain, which you can get on iTunes here. I don't know if I ever told him this, but I listen to that song when I'm bummed out (it's perfect) or when I'm happy (because it's actually sorta perfect for that too) and it's easily made half my playlists on iTunes. When I listen to it, I get the same kind of feeling as when I listen to Let's Dance To Joy Division by The Wombats. Where things are just messed up and you're screwed and there doesn't seem to be anything left to do. But it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter.

And it reminds me of one of my favorite memories from school: Running around and playing in the pouring rain. If you've never done that, you really need to put it on your list of things. (Check out Chad's blog.)

The other vocalist in the song, my friend Dylan, is currently in the process of producing his first album. He's been pretty good at keeping an online production journal which I also recommend checking out. His latest entry was pretty deep! This should also be on your list of things to get. I'm a pretty big fan of acoustic music, and Bicycle On The Ice is my acoustic Van Gogh in this album. (I'm going to be thrown off when I listen to it and don't hear the infamous "doorslam" IM sound that I've grown accustomed to on the demo version.) I know how much it means to this kid to actually be DOING this, and as with Chad, I couldn't be prouder of him for doing it.

I'm excited for them. And while I'm sad I'm not a part of their process, I wanted to give 'm a plug. In case you happened to stumble upon this blog, do yourself a favor and check them out. You won't be disappointed.

On a clear day...

I caught the end of a Scrubs episode before. It was from their second season, entitled My Philosophy. Part of the episode deals with a patient who is waiting for a heart transplant and her interaction with J.D. The patient, Elaine, has come to terms with the two possible outcomes, and she's not afraid of dying. What bothers her is the waiting.

J.D. asks her what she thinks death is like. She hopes it's like a big Broadway musical, with people dressed up and singing and going out with a flourish. J.D. on the other hand thinks it's more like a game of dodge ball, where you get nailed by the big guy, wake up in the hot nurse's office and "when she leans in to put that bandage on your nose, you get the feeling that something could actually happen if you just take the chance and bury your face in her knockers."

Towards the end of the episode, Elaine does die. As the doctor and nurses try to revive her, the scene fades to Elaine in Broadway-esque dress and she starts to sing "Waiting For My Real Life To Begin," (by Colin Hay) followed by the rest of the Scrubs cast. I actually know the song (and it almost made it onto my playlist!) but I don't remember hearing it in the context of this episode. It's poignantly sad and beautiful at the same time.

I love the lyrics. And how that one part utilized in the episode can relate to death not being the end, but the possibility of it being a new beginning. Maybe even a more important beginning?

"Don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin"

And as Elaine sings, "On a clear day, I can see... see a very long way," the scene fades back to the bed and we lose her.

Chills. Not for the loss perhaps, but for the pregnant possibility...

I wish I was right there, right now...

This is one of the coolest places I've ever been--on top of Pike's Peak in Colorado.

The view is breath-taking. The feeling is amazing.

And I would give almost anything to be on that spot right at this moment.

"Didn't you used to be someone who meant something to me?"

This is a little shout-out to someone special. Someone who in fact did mean a great deal to me.

I won't tell you who it is because it doesn't really matter. I doubt she'd ever stumble upon this blog, especially since I seem to have become such poison to her.

One thing I will never understand about relationships is how difficult they can be to maintain. You'd think a species that depends so much upon making connections and finding a sense of belonging would be a little bit better at not fucking things up and making them so complicated.

I loved you and counted on you. You were there when I needed you, and you cannot say that I was ever absent when you needed me. I was there for drunken tirades, for a shoulder to cry on, for support both vocal and silent. I defended you when you let me or when you weren't there to defend yourself. I would have done anything for you and lots of times I did.

You lied to me when I asked if we were okay. You lied to me when you told me nothing was wrong. You betrayed my confidence. I knew it for a long, long time, but I didn't accept it until recently. When someone else told me.

I guess I have to thank you for that slap in the face. Gotta keep on my toes, right?

I'm sort of sad that I'll never know which of my many flaws turned you away. Apparently your flaws are more bearable than mine. Good for you! (While that sounds condescending, I promise I don't mean it that way.)

There's an angry part of me I haven't learned to control yet who looks forward to the almost inevitable day our paths will cross. He looks forward to a smile and a quip along the lines of that quote. "Hey, didn't you used to be someone who meant something to me?"

Truth is, I'll probably never say that to your face. You let me down and hurt me. But I guess I still love you. And for whatever reason, if you ever thought you needed me for anything in the future, I can't imagine why I wouldn't be there for you.

For what it's worth I'm sorry it ended the way it did. I hope if you think of me, it's about what you loved and not about what you hated.

That's what I'm trying to do.

Doing my part to combat school violence.

Enter middle school-aged boy and slightly older sister. The chap would like to check out some books and hands me a card barely held together by some scotch tape. He kind of sheepishly smiles and explains how he lost it, and a friend found it but proceeded to bend it as he shoved it in his pocket.

I chuckle at the little fellow, tell him to be more careful, and proceed to check out his material. That is when I start to overhear the conversation he's having with his sister.

"He told me to hit him back, but he wasn't there," he said.
"You should have hit him. What are you going to do?" she asked.
I missed most of the next part of it but it sounded like an uncle told him to hit this kid that apparently started with him first.

Enter yours truly.

"So, you know you really shouldn't be hitting people, right?" I ask the kid.
"Yeah..." he replies.
"I don't want to tell you to disobey your elders or anything, but you should never resort to physical violence. You should be the bigger person."
"I know," he tells me.

Now, your boy mikaroni doesn't know what to do. Because it really isn't any of his business. Plus, the last thing he needs is some crazy, jacked-out dude coming after him because he tried to talk his family out of getting into a fight.

So what do I do?

I offer a deal. Albeit a small one, and one that I sadly expect my little friend to break.

"I'll make you a deal," I tell him. "You promise me you won't hit that kid, and I'll give you a new library card for free." (After all, who doesn't want a free library card?)

He asks if I'm serious, and I assure him that I am. I even take the new card out and show it to him.

He finally agrees with an "OK."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Big sister finally chimes in with a "He asked you to promise, you have to say you promise." He actually does.

Haha, rock on kids. Maybe I didn't really make a difference, but I at least made him think. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Of course, the kid and his entire family owe wicked fines and I got into a bit of trouble later. But it was worth it. :)

They really do arrest you.

This lady came into the building today to settle some unpaid fines. Actually, she had a book she hadn't paid for. From 1999 or so.

Now, on the surface, this isn't really such a big deal. In the great scope of life, one piddly little book doesn't really mean a whole lot. However, if you really think about it, library books are city property. They belong to everyone. So when a person checks out a library book and never brings it back. he sort of steals from the city. If someone decides to spill her frappuccino with whipped cream and drizzled caramel topping on a library book, she has defaced city property.

If you or someone you know decides to steal something that is already free (or are just too damn lazy to return a book, even after a year or 10), we send you a letter or an email to ask you to bring it back. If you don't listen, a couple weeks later we call you and say, "Hey, it happens, you have some overdue stuff. Just drop it off." When you ignore us again, we send another letter pretty much telling you that your stuff is assumed to be lost and you have to pay for it. Then, if you are so bold as to ignore THAT, we send you a certified letter and take you to court. You stole.

Now, lots of times, people magically find these lost items. Or they find their way into the library and pay. Thing is, once a court date is set, you sort of have to go to court. You can't just ignore that. It's frowned upon. And not only do you waste the judge's time (and the library's time and the city's time), but they also put a bench warrant out for you. That means when you get pulled over for speeding, they can arrest you. For a library book.

Enter patron. Let's call her Jane. Several years ago, Jane checked out a book. An atlas of flowers or some such. Long story short, Jane never brought said book back. She ignored our attempts to remedy the situation, ignored the certified letter and court date. When Jane was pulled over for speeding, the officer saw the bench warrant. Jane was arrested. She had to spend the night in jail because she couldn't post bail.

So today Jane decides to come into the library and tell us it was quite an inconvenience to be arrested. To her credit, she didn't really scream or yell. She did however deny being sent correspondence regarding the lost item. Jane also requested we take into account the bail she posted and lower her debt. (We don't do that either.)

Moral of the story: Libraries really are there to help you. They are amazing resources, whether you are reading for fun, doing research, renting movies and music, checking email away from home, looking for a job... They are free. Does one honestly need to abuse that privilege? Are people like Jane too lazy to just bring a book back? Or I get it. Maybe Jane was very busy. For 10 years.

Why so serious?

I think The Dark Knight is one of the best movies I've seen in a while. I had the pleasure of seeing it again last night in iMax with a couple friends who hadn't experienced it like that.

Totally amazing. Plus I was like a little kid going into the theater. I think that amused them. But it's important to portray the little kid vibe sometimes. Who wants to be some stuffy old person anyway?

The first time the Joker growls those words "Why so serious?" gives me chills still.

Next movie to look forward to: Watchmen. Also coming out in IMAX. Very good indeed.