As if it weren't bad enough having to wade through a disgusting sea of choppy haired, enormous sunglasses sporting, skinny jean posing, frumpy sweater-your-grandma-knitted-you-or-was-previously-owned-by-your-grandma, infantile ballerina flats wearing hipsters, the hipster pandemic hit far too close to home.
I recently procured some couture from Busted Tees (and later Threadless—they both had sales, I couldn't resist ... and no I was unable to purchase the t-shirt with the pictured design, much to my disappointment), which were printed on American Apparel shirts (a brand I have generally been pleased with since they monopolized the band t-shirt market). Much to my dismay, when said t-shirts arrived they were a good 3 or 4 inches longer than my older, pre-hipster apocalypse ones (I'd never patronized Threadless before, but I assume the same is true of their t-shirts). And it's not like there was even a "Normal, Non-Hipster Length" option. I have a short abdomen, okay? These long shirts look silly on me and are down right uncomfortable. Plus, whatever happened to choice? I thought that was something our pseudo-capitalist society valued, right up there with freedom, the pursuit of property and wealth and apple pie. Why should I have to suffer just because everyone else has adopted a style whose sole project is to make one look like you're been thoroughly roughed up by an ugly stick? Not to mention, the assumption on the part of t-shirt manufacturers that we are all a bunch of hipster drones and the resulting curtailing of our purchasing choices is down right un-American—we should at least be given the option to not look like everyone else.
Don't misread me, here. I'm not against change or difference—I don't expect the whole world to be the same, I enjoy variety, it's good for people watching. I'm not a proselytizer, wear whatever the fuck you please, it's your personal style or some shit. But when the crappy "fashion sense" of everyone else makes its way into my closet when all I want to do is purchase some awesome, laughter-inducing t-shirts, enough is enough. WHEN WILL THE CARNAGE END?!
That said, I look forward to the days of proportionally-sized t-shirts once all this hipster ridiculousness has gone to its grave and before it is resurrected to terrorize us again. And in the meantime, I suppose I'll just have to suck it up or learn how to sew.
04 September 2008
Hipsters Have Officially Ruined My Wardrobe
10 August 2008
Save Our Show!!!
If you're a fan of ABC Family's new show "The Middleman," like me, then you're probably aware that the possibility of a second season is up in the air. If you haven't watched "The Middleman," you are seriously missing out. The show is an astoundingly smart comedy about an unemployed artist, Wendy Watson, who is enlisted by the Middleman, a gadgeted, hyper-trained and uber handsome protector of the universe who works for a mysterious organization, to help fight off the extraterrestrial, the paranormal and all other matters of the unusual and dangerous (i.e. a gang of luchadores). The show is a wonderfully effective mixture of "Pushing Daisies," "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Men In Black" and it would be nothing short of a national tragedy if this show is canceled. What can be done???
Well, first things first. If you're a fan, keep watching and tell all your friends about it. I try to plug the show whenever possible. Secondly, if you aren't watching, then get cracking! Time is of the essence folks! The show airs on Mondays at 10 p.m. You can catch up on the episodes at "The Middleman" ABC Family website. Check out this awesome PSA/commercial.
For those interested in taking your support to the next level, send ABC Family a message here telling them how much you love the show. Additionally, a campaign has been started to send bags of M&Ms to ABC Family (MM for Middleman, and also WW for Wendy Watson!) along with a message of support. Show-saving chocolate can be sent to the following address:
Paul Lee
President, ABC Family
500 South Buena Vista St
Burbank, CA 91521
I'll certainly be sending in my M&Ms. Hopefully a shower of support can keep this great show on the air!
06 August 2008
Shameless Self Promotion
In other words, another blog: sofistafunkmusic.blogspot.com. It probably seems pretty odd for my first post in a long time to be about another blog, but stick with me here, all things in time, my friends.
I know what you're thinking, "But Sofia, another blog? You don't even update the one(s) you already have." (Scary how much I'm in your head, huh?) Certainly this is a charge that I cannot and will not deny. But I was feeling inspired, and inspiration is as good a motivator as anything, except perhaps monetary incentives or threat of death. My point is that when you feel inspired, it's generally good to run with it.
Anyway, here's the story—no more dilly dallying, promise. I've been volunteering at KALX 90.7 FM, the campus radio station at Berkeley since my sophomore year. I've committed to DJing more regularly (like once to twice a month regularly) and thought it would be neat to have a blog to not only catalogue my experiences because I find it inherently interesting, but also a place to foster my imaginary future fan base. Deluded, I know. But one's got to have dreams. Plus blogs, to a varying degrees, are all about shameless self promotion. So this works on several levels.
So check out "Bringing the Sofistafunk." I hope to be updating that one pretty regularly and hopefully that inspiration will trickle down to the other blogs by way of the invisible hand of blog land. Hey, I already got one blog post on here out of it, so I'd say that isn't so bad.
03 June 2008
Dance, Dance Globalization
As part of the legwork for a preview of the 30th Annual Ethnic Dance Festival in San Francisco I'm writing for the Daily Californian, I decided to do some YouTube watching (OK, it began as research, which swiftly regressed into procrastinating, but whatever, it still gave me some insight for my article). Side note: In case you ever find yourself nursing a sudden urge to watch pretty much every performance of the Merrie Monarch Festival hula dance competition from the last few years, YouTube is the place to be.
Anyway, watching a few (alright, a lot) of clips of hula, flamenco and traditional filipino dance made me realize how although the dances seem oceans apart, just like the countries that they hail from, they really aren't all that different. The hip movements characteristic of hula are just a styling away from the maya movement (skip to the end of this video, unless you want to learn to do a maya) used in belly dance and the attention that's paid to coordinating projection (where your face and eyes are directed) and hand and foot movements are strikingly similar to bharatanatyam (traditional indian dance). Also keep in mind that the gestures in both bharatanatyam (called mudras) hula mean something and are used to tell stories. Filipino dance bears resemblance to flamenco (of course this has a lot to do with colonization, but I'm trying to write a positive post here).
Another, tenuously related thought about dance that I had today: American dance (and what's regarded as prototypical American culture) is pretty boring—unless any form of swing counts as "American" dance, but surely that was gifted to this country by immigrants, like almost everything else. Pretty much every other culture is so much more lively and colorful. Also, I find it interesting that dancing isn't something that's considered integral to American culture in the way that hula is for Hawaiian culture and I wonder why that is. Of course, this is only true in the broadest sense; of course there are localized communities where dance is very important. Take DC Swing for instance, the official dance of our nation's capital (I gleaned this information from "So You Think You Can Dance"—yes, I watch it and I'm not ashamed to say so), which is a fascinating fusion between hip-hop and lindy hop, the ancestor of all swing dance. Apart from some colorful enclaves, it seems like "Americana" is pretty bland and ... well ... cultureless. I mean, really, what does "American culture" even signify?
But getting back to the festival, if you think about it, regardless of where you come from, we all share similar bodies and there are only so many ways that a body can move. The dance festival may be a celebration of ethnic diversity, but at a more fundamental level, it's also a celebration of our shared humanity. Hey that's kind of good, I should use that in my article.
Other thoughts about dance:
Is it okay for people to learn dances outside of their ethnic traditions? Being a Filipino-American who belly dances (or tries to at the very least), I've pondered this never really wanting to know how I truly felt about it. Is it an expansion of my ethnic horizons or just ethnic co-optation?
I interviewed Rudi Soriano, artistic director for filipino dance company Likha, for my article and walked into a studio full of filipinos practicing traditional dance. I have to admit, I felt pretty inadequately filipino.
I danced tinikling once when I was a kid with another filipino boy, Angelo, that I went to the same school and church as. It's a dance where you jump in between bamboo sticks being beaten together. It was kind of an embarrassing experience, not because I fell or got my foot crushed between the bamboo sticks, but mostly because I remember feeling really inept at it and out of my element. I maybe filipino, but I was raised white, white white—we learned to square AND line dance at my junior high.
01 June 2008
I'm Not Dead ... Yet
All evidence to the contrary, I am still alive. Just barely. I managed to get through senior year and the thesis despite being riddled by senioritis and a general readiness to never have to read or write a paper about Marx or Freud ever again.
That's right. Sofia—the eternal procrastinator, the queen of putting things off, the "I work best under pressure girl"— actually managed 2 bachelor degrees in just 3.5 years. I sure fooled someone, or many someones. I suppose I shouldn't celebrate just yet, since I haven't actually received my degree in the mail yet and it is entirely possible that a letter telling me what an idiot I am will arrive instead. Fingers crossed (for the degree, not the idiot letter).
I also survived the circus that was having my family here for graduation. As much as I love them, they only get crazier and crazier the older they get. So now I find myself freshly graduated and with no steady job and all the time to do the things I haven't been doing (or only did to procrastinate) for the last 3.5 years.
Where to begin?
First things first, I figured I'd start by getting back to the blog(s) (which I have to say made for some really good procrastination fodder while studying for finals—old posts proved that I am the most fascinating person in the world ... to myself). I'm hoping to manage daily posts, but no promises.
Second things second, to aide me with doing all the things I'd like to do this summer, I joined 43 Things and started a life list. I know that sounds like some weird, new-agey bullshit, but its basically an online community where people post lists of their goals and people can give each other kudos (or "cheers" in 43 Things-speak) and advice. I mostly did it for myself and don't expect too much attention from other people. It also allowed me to combine my love of list making with my efforts to not suck at life.
I think this is the third time I've restarted the blog after a hiatus, so hopefully third time is indeed a charm.
01 December 2007
An Unlikely Death Knell
In light of my previous post, it seems timely to remark on the that Amazon's new electronic book reading device, the Kindle.
Call me Luddite, but I have to say that I am not a fan of the e-book readers (this opposition is not based on any prior experience, it's more about the principle of the thing). I certainly understand the appeal of instant access and portability (I have to admit, the Kindle's free wifi access which includes the use of Wikipedia is rather alluring), but for me, nothing beats the tactility of a book. The screen may bear a remarkable resemblance to actual pages and the left side is thicker to mimic the feel of holding a book with pages folded back, but the Kindle ain't never gonna be a book. And as I said, books are sexy.
There's something to be said about the tangibleness of a book, especially in a world where so much of life is uploaded and done on a screen. Books are like baseball games, they're much better in person, up close and personal.
Or perhaps I'm just an incorrigible materialist since I really like having all those sundry books on my shelves. Not to mention the Kindle looks as though it has all the aesthetic appeal of a fax machine. Can you imagine what a drab world it would be if everyone was walking around with these little guys?
And what of the $399 price tag? I'd rather buy the new iPod touch. A book, especially used, isn't going to set you back more than $10 or so. Plus, you can drop it or let it get squashed in your bag without worrying that it might break. And do I really need one more newfangled electronic device to carry around with me?
If you are the e-book reader type, good luck if you're angling to get your hands on one of these suckers before the holidays, last I checked they're temporarily sold out.
As for me, Amazon isn't kindling my fire with the Kindle. I'd take a book over the sleek little device any day.
19 November 2007
R.I.P. Books?
I read in today's SF Chron that National Endowment for the Arts released it's new report on the state of reading in the U.S. entitled "To Read or Not to Read: A Question of National Consequence." (Click here to download a PDF version of the full report.) Among it's findings is evidence that Americans are reading less.
The article made me think back to my own book-filled childhood. I was a bookworm in a big way; my parents used to have to goad me into going out to play with the kids in my neighborhood because all I wanted to do was read. Reading Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham" with my dad is the earliest memory I have of my lifelong love affair with books. My dad has always had an insatiable hunger for knowledge, which I think was the result of a the combination of his off the charts smarts and the general lack of satisfaction that he got from his incidental profession as a registered nurse. He has always been a motivated by big ideas and I think books were one of the few ways he could explore them. Undoubtedly, it was from my dad that I inherited my bibliophily. His study has an entire wall with floor to ceiling shelves full of books that seemed to huge when I was a kid. It was a treasure trove to me, all those stories just sitting there waiting to be read.
Judging from the SF Chron's article, it seems the the NEA points to the saturation of our lives by electronic distractions. Perhaps this is true for many kids who are more apt to play video games than grab a book, but I imagine that for most people, especially kids my age, it's simply a matter of not having time to read. I have enough reading for my classes to fill every moment of spare time and, admittedly, reading for leisure when I'm behind on course readings feels like a waste of time. And when I do have spare time, the last thing I want to do is shove my nose into another book. This is a sad, sad realization. Have I forgotten the joy of reading?!
I long for the times when I couldn't get to bed without being taken away on some literary journey for a few hours. I miss the feeling of settling into your own imagination and the simultaneous experience of transcending your own existence. I miss having my breath taken away by the beauty of exquisitely crafted sentences and the revelations of new ideas. I miss the excitement of cracking open a book for the first time, knowing that an entire world is about to unfold before you, and the satisfaction of turning the last page of a novel. I miss the musty smell of old books and the crisp scent of new ones (though I have a hard time justifying buying new these days). I miss the weight of a book in my hands and the comfort of having one to pull out while you're waiting for someone or something. I miss words and pages. I miss books.
Maybe I could start reading instead of procrastinating. Well, it would still be procrastinating, but it would undoubtedly be a lot more satisfying than perusing Facebook.
16 November 2007
Procrastination is a Serious Disability
Isn't there a drug somewhere that can cure it? Seriously.
I've never procrastinated so much in my life and the funny thing is I've also never had so much to do in my life. This makes me wonder how I ever manage to get anything done. Wait, do I get things done? I think I do, but one can never be sure.
My suspicion is that the reason my procrastination is flaring is because it's a particularly virulent strand: the senioritis strand. It must be a relapse from senior year of high school. Although this seems like a more pernicious version since I can at least remember being stressed out about not getting things done in high school, yet now I've been overtaken by a certain inability to muster a feeling of impending doom. I've developed a pretty good habit of shrugging off the fact that I've lost all capacity to be a productive human being, which is either good because it's keeping me sane or bad because it's quelling the motivational fire.
Just to give you a scope of how bad this procrastination disease is, I even procrastinate from procrastinating, as you can tell from my infrequent blog posts, and right now I'm procrastinating from sleeping. WHO PROCRASTINATES FROM SLEEPING?!
Someone needs to start a rehabilitation program for procrastinators to help them get their lives together, re-instill values of time management and restore them as functional members of society. That's actually a great idea, maybe I'll get around to it someday.
20 October 2007
Thwarting Crime the Ninja Way
Amid all the depressing stories in the paper about the war in Iraq—or conflict rather—and people being murdered in Golden Gate Park, I came across this little gem of a story about a Japanese designer who is designing clothes to help people escape street crime.
Inspired by the ancient techniques of Japan's ninjas, designer Aya Tsukioka created a skirt that unfolds into a fake vending machine that the wearer can hide inside to elude criminals.
If it were to take off, I imagine a product like this would fall victim to its own success. If everyone had one, then crooks would probably get wise and start looking for the trembling vending machine if their victim magically disappears.
However, at $800 a pop (Tsukioka hand sews and hand prints her skirts), it's unlikely that people are going to be scrambling for this unusual crime prevention tool. But cheers to quirky Japanese ingenuity, keeping criminals on their toes ninja style since the 15th century.
You can go here for more pictures (the writing is all in Japanese) of "urban camo" and a slideshow of Tsukioka's vending machine skirt in action.
16 October 2007
Attack of the Bridezilla
A New York City bride sued her florists because they used the wrong color of hydrangeas. Cost of the flowers: $27,435.14. Amount of requested restitution: $400,000.
So yet another reason to add to the list of reasons why I'm reconsidering the whole dream wedding thing. Among the other nuptial related traditions I've eschewed:
- Changing my last name - I happen to like the way my name sounds. Not to mention the hegemony of supplanting part of your identity with someone else's.
- The big rock - Two words: blood diamonds.
Given that I've decided to bypass these marriage staples, it's beginning to make sense to bypass the whole carnival. Read More......
07 October 2007
Abandon All Hope, You Who Enter Here
As an unrepentant blasphemer, heretic, reformed and unconfirmed Catholic, unabashed enjoyer of schadenfreude, and general misanthrope, I've been asserting that I'm going straight to hell for years.
While the existence of hell—or heaven for that matter—is questionable in my own mind, I can now at least ponder my potential future eternal residence in the depths of hell thanks to the Dante's Inferno Test!
Ah, the fifth level of hell, home, sweet home! Nothing like paying for a vindictive and hateful life by spending the rest of eternity writhing furious and naked in the River Styx, tearing at my equally wrathful and gloomy neighbors, and gurgling my lamentations fruitlessly into the river's black mud. Hey, at least I don't have to wear clothes.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fifth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Moderate |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | High |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | High |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Moderate |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Moderate |
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
Find out where you've been banished to. Maybe we can gnaw on each other some time in the Styx. Read More......
06 October 2007
HOLY JESUS NO DOUBT IS BACK IN THE STUDIO
Just as I stop checking the No Doubt website for signs of life from the band, they start to post new content about their return to the studio. In a moment that brought my superfan status into serious question, a colleague at the office mentioned that they were working on a new album and all I could do was look at her dumbfounded. I hadn't checked the website in months. Gwen, Tony, Tom and Adrian (with supporting musicians Gabriel and Stephen) back in the studio?! It's too good to be true!
BUT IT ISN'T!
It's true, it's true! My favorite Orange County rocker-outters are indeed back in the studio as evidenced by three, three!!!, video podcasts, posts from Adrian and Tony and photographs from the studio. The podcasts document a surprise performance with Gwen on her solo tour and the rehearsals leading up to it. The reception from the No Doubt-starved crowd was really unbelievable. In his post Adrian says, "The audience was crazy. They were louder than I can remember for a regular No Doubt Show," which suggests to me that most of the people in that crowd were probably thinking the same thing I was thinking when I saw Gwen on her tour, which is, "Hey, somewhat mediocre Gwen Stefani solo material is better than nothing. We're keeping hope alive." (Don't get me wrong, I love Gwen, I just accept her solo stuff for what it is, which is ... just not as good as No Doubt.)
But seriously, the prospect of getting to see No Doubt live in the near future is almost too much to bear. Which makes me thankful to have two live No Doubt DVDs to tide me over until that blessed day.
Turn of the Seasons
Top 5 Recent Occurrences that Tell me Fall is Descending (in no particular order):
- Having to start either wearing pajama pants (instead of shorts) or use my comforter again.
- I'm having my first cup of tea at home since last spring (pomegranate! yummers!)
- My dew covered car beeps at me angrily when I start it in the mornings to tell me it's cold.
- Cold feet.
- It's October!
Top 5 Coolest Things about Fall (From Least Cool of the Coolest to the Coolest):
- That fresh fall morning feeling.
- Cold enough to drink hot tea without breaking into a sweat.
- Season premieres (30 Rock, Reaper, The Office, Pushing Daisies)
- Pumpkin scones at Starbucks
- Halloween!!!
11 July 2007
I was accosted last night...
Okay, perhaps not accosted so much I was engaged in friendly conversation with a stranger that verged on being accosted. Had it been any other night, had I not still been slightly buzzed and had I not been disappointed by the tedium of the All-Stars game (which I am now told, after the fact, is typical for such exhibitionist affairs), I probably would have felt quite threatened and perhaps violated.
But for once, I decided to put my fears and prejudices aside about strangers at bus stops. Plus this fellow sure knew how to lay down his game. When a conversation beings with:
1) Hello there, you are beautiful (said in not the least way creepy).
2) Why don't you have a boyfriend coming to pick you up?
You can't help but smile a little bit inward and outward and entertain the idea of conversing with a stranger at a bus stop.
And that's what happened.
Those who know me may be slightly shocked. I never talk to strangers at bus stops unless they're old women, and even then, I'm able to find suspicion in all old women. And I certainly don't talk to young rascalian looking fellows on a Tuesday night at 9:30. But I did and it wasn't awful. I asked him if he was going to the city, he told me he wasn't, but was going to Richmond to pick up his 5 year old nephew. I asked him what was on his colorful shirt, he told me it was his cousin who was killed 12 months ago and whose nephew he was headed out to pick up. He told me I was beautiful and I said thank you, then shook my hand, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and went his merry way.
It was a rather odd turn of events, which certainly had the potential to go in the worst direction possible as my worst case scenario thinking is going on in my head. I also attribute this little experience to my complete inability to master the urban scowl with any level of competence. But nothing bad happened and a nice man told me I was beautiful. So hear hear to that.
21 June 2007
Where is the got damn love???
So ... I went to the release party (photos forthcoming) for the Blue Scholars' latest album, Bayani, at Easy Street Records last week. Our (our being my boyfriend, brother and myself) slightly late arrival was made up for by strategic positioning at the front of the line for post-performance signing. A line, I might add, that was disappointingly short given all of the people who walked out of Easy Street after the the Scholars gave them mad love for a good hour.
Where is the love, people?! These two talented musicians just rocked your socks off and the only thing you can do is walk out without even copping the album?! That is NOT how we roll in Seattle. They give you love, you give them love back. $10 is a small price to pay to support independent record labels, starving artists, Seattle hip-hop, hip-hop in general, etc. Plus you got a poster and a sticker to go with it!!!! To say nothing of getting a chance to meet Geologic and Sabzi.
You fucking people.
The only thing sadder than droves of people leaving was fellow MassLine artist Gabriel Teodros, who guested on the Scholars' set, slangin' his shit outside the store looking like a sad little huckster in his over sized "The Northwest" sweatshirt. Of course, he was getting no love either. If I hadn't picked up his album at the MassLine show in San Francisco, I would have happily grabbed one then.
On a happier note, Bayani is great overall, well worth $10 and rewarding upon subsequent listenings. The production is tight and Geologic's rhymes are as sharp as ever. "50 Thousand Deep" is definitely my favorite track on the album and I was glad that they played a snippet of it at the release performance (they advised that patrons purchase the album to hear the rest of the song).
Look out for them to hit the road again. The Scholars and the rest of the MassLine crew put on a fantastic live show. I actually remember hating the Scholars' first album because I listened to it after seeing them for the first time live at Sasquatch. The recordings just don't do the songs justice and Geologic's onstage ferocity seems to get lost in the soundboard and mixers, but nevertheless, their recorded material is still well worth having. Check out their crazy ridiculous remix of "Inkwell" using the instrumental for Modest Mouse's "Float On." Oh and show them some love by copping the album, alright?
11 June 2007
An Eye for an Eye
During one of my infrequent perusals of the news, I stumbled across this article about the apparent deterrent effect of capital punishment.
The research seems to be indicating that executions do in fact have a tangible effect on deterring people from killing each other. However, the depth that this article goes into the studies themselves is pretty minimal, so I'm not about to use it to weigh a debate that I haven't quite sorted out in my own mind. At the very least, the research seems to operate on a "rational actor" type of analysis in which people will act well ... rationally. Anyone with half a brain knows that people are hardly rational and killing someone (and not killing someone) are often not rational at all. Obviously, no one would commit murder if they thought they were going to get caught.
Regardless, I would venture that it's highly unlikely that hastening and increasing executions is going to to put an end to homicides and violent crimes. I learned from my Sociology 5 methods course about a thing called a spurious relationship. Not to overstate the obvious, but it seems that there may be myriad other factors that could contribute to fluctuations in homicide rates. An interesting theory in Steven Levitt's "Freakonomics"—a great book that I highly recommend, especially if you are of the Malcolm Gladwell "Blink" and "Tipping Point" persuasion (even though the frequency with which they give each other kudos comes off as a little incestuous)—is that crime rates declined dramatically in the 'mid to late '80s and early '90s because of Roe v. Wade, which allowed women who inhabit a particular position in social space in which any children born to them have a higher likelihood of becoming criminal offenders to have abortions, thus decreasing the crime rate by decreasing the number of potential criminals. An interesting theory, one that I'm not entirely sure I buy. But I suppose my point in bringing it up is that it can't be as simple as more executions mean less murders. Nothing in life is ever that simple.
Return of the MOJO?
I generally try to avoid speaking too soon on things, but it looks as though the M's may have found their long lost MOJO with a triumphant sweep of the Padres. Woooo, Go M's! (On a side note, I texted my former roommate, who is a Padres fan, when the M's came from behind to take the second game in the series. She texted me back the following day after the sweep with, "I was at the game. I trust you had some smart ass remark lol." I couldn't help but read into some underlying hostility which she attempted to diffuse with a forced "lol." Hey. It's not my fault the M's won.)
I'm not going to attempt to make any kind of sports commentary because I don't know shit about baseball. I just know that I love watching it and that I love the Mariners. I also know that if we don't have a good season, then we might lose Ichiro to—I hate to even say it—the Padres **gasp**. Okay that is a worst case scenario, but Ichiro's a free agent after this season so we damn well better do something to keep him around. Like keep winning.
I've proclaimed on more than on occasion that if it Ichiro goes to the Padres after this season, I will actually stop watching baseball. Not that that's any real threat, but you know, it's really the only thing I could do in protest. But I guess now that I think about it, it'd probably more of a punishment for me. REGARDLESS, I think it would just be too heartbreaking to see Ichiro in anything other than the very handsome Mariner's uniforms, and it would kill me to see him play for the Pads. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my rally cap on (okay I don't have a rally cap, but I trust you can appreciate the sentiment).
In other baseball-related news. Sean and I bought tickets for the first game in the series against the Red Sox ... and they're getting sent to his billing address in Montana. Let's hope USPS and one of the SigEp's comes through and gets us our tickets, because I'll be damned if I go back to California without getting to see an M's game.
09 June 2007
Shit's Fucked Up
Wanna know how I know shit's fucked up? Because I went to a memorial service for my brother's good friend who died when he was struck by a hit-and-run driver. If you think that's tragic, the details—which I won't go into—are much more tragic. A young life full of potential lost. I'll leave it at that.
Another reason that I know shit's fucked up was because the pastor who presided over this memorial service felt it was appropriate to use this opportunity to remind us of how Jesus died for our sins. Great is this family's loss, but their pain and suffering pales in comparison to God's, who gave up his only son for the sake of a bunch of heathen humans who are really all sinners at heart. Just remember that no matter how much you're suffering, Jesus suffered more (and of course by virtue of the Holy Trinity, God and the holy spirit as well, or some shit like that).
My aim is not to be sacrilegious—okay as a reformed Catholic, maybe a little bit. My point is that this young man's death is not about Jesus, God, the resurrection or any other bit of religious myth. His death is about losing a person beloved by many and about both sharing in that loss and celebrating in his short, but well-lived life. We gathered there to mourn and remember him, not to be lectured about our supposed debt to Jesus.
Needless to say, this experience didn't do much to renew my long-gone faith in organized religion, especially given that it arrived on the heels of an interesting (though somewhat inflammatory) documentary on the epidemic of child molestation among Catholic priests.
Oh the Depravity ... the Depravity!!!
Everyone who is sick of Paris Hilton's jail debacle masquerading as "news," say aye.
Aye.
The relentless coverage of Hilton's movements in and out of jail by even generally respectable news sources as BBC and NPR is either a testatment to the ills of our country's news media or the sheer stupidity of the American public. Or perhaps its an indication of both. I certainly wouldn't rule that out—a self-reinforcing cycle that makes everyone poorer.
My consumption of the day's news, which included coverage of GW's meeting with Pope Benedict after the G8 Conference, was rudely interrupted by more video footage of Paris being stuffed into a police car. To add insult to injury, CNN called in an "expert" to analyze why young girls look up to Paris Hilton (do young girls really look up to a woman so ridiculed by every realm of mass media?) and what harm her misbehavior might have on their young psyches.
Are you fucking kidding me?
If Paris Hilton is your young daughter's role model, then you are a really, really shitty parent and probably have no one to blame but yourself.
So after a good 15 minutes of pondering Paris Hilton's influence over young minds—seriously I wouldn't be surprised if there are news reports on Hilton's (or other celebrity's for celebrity sake) affect on the American economy or national security—the news returned to ... well ... news.
So here are some of the actual news stories you may have missed while watching Hilton sob on her way back to the clinker:
Bush Meets Pope Benedict XVI For the First Time
Bomber Kills at least 12 Iraqi Soldiers
Shuttle Atlantis Appears to have Flawless Liftoff
NASA Leader Regrets Global Warming Comments
TB Patient Says Officials Are Trying to Blame Him to Cover Mistakes
17 May 2007
scott stapp isn't dead?
I discovered this unpublished entry on by dashboard today. I'm a little sad I never posted it, so I'm posting it now:
unfortunately, no. and even worse, it looks like he's churned out a solo album. oh the horror....the horror. as if it wasn't bad enough that creed ever existed in the first place, now one of the worst frontmen in the history of worst frontmen has his own cd??? it's almost as bad as hilary duff having her own greatest hits album (yeah i think i almost died of disgust when i got wind of that one). sure, i guiltily enjoyed a creed song every once in a while on the radio. but i knew damn well that it was crap. that's the point of pop music, catering to the majority's shitty taste in music. it's perfectly acceptable to enjoy pop, i've been known to rock out to the occasional kelly clarkson song. but just because it's catchy doesn't mean it's not crap.
so much of today's music is deplorable. which is why i've stopped listening to commerical radio altogether. i couldn't handle losing braincells from the sheer stupidity of it all. i can only imagine when popular music was equated with the beatles, marvin gaye, roy orbison, all the oldies but goodies. that shit rocked and still rocks the pants off of the countless mindless crooners that fill the airwaves with infinite permutations of formulaic hit songs.
but back to scott stapp. thanks to my aversion for commercial radio, i won't ever be hearing mr. stapp's undoubtedly pathetic excuse for music. but that doesn't stop me from feeling sad and disappointed that millions of people will and probably enjoy it. ~shrug~ to each their own, i guess.
I also wanted to note that my cellphone came with a Scott Stapp song on it, and I promptly deleted it without hesitation. Way to suck T-Mobile.
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