Little Picks

In my venture to continue procrastinating my genetics studies for as long as possible, I thought it would be fun to look a little more in-depth at my little playlist on here. A few reasons for this: I've picked the songs to go with the theme/mood of the blog, which doesn't always match up, but they're all good nonetheless; It's quite probable that anyone who reads this gets annoyed when music they don't know/don't like/are not in the mood for/that conflicts with their music starts playing and they stop it immediately (or just navigate away...:P); I'll most likely change it after I write this. Without further ado, Little Picks, in order of addition to the list:

1. Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey"

ever so classic, light but deep, beautiful, intense personal meaning

2. Death Cab's "The Sound Of Settling"
really fits, happy-with-what-you-have, great rhythm, one of the band's best


3. Elvis Costello's "Allison"
adorably sincere, moving melody, grungyish sound, tugs at you


4. Jason Mraz's "Bella Luna"
bossa nova style, flawless singing, sexy


5. Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound Of Silence"
ridiculously emotive, gorgeous harmonies, life's soundtrack


6. Grizzly Bear's "Two Weeks"
nod to the beach boys, classic voice, passive and mellow


7. The Yeah Yeah Yeah's "Maps"
absolutely changed my life and is also the only song by this band I like


8. Chairlift's "Bruises"
perfect amount of bouncy, lyrical innuendos, too cute


9. The Everly Brothers' "All I Have To Do Is Dream"
it's...well... dreamy. and soupy. licking ice cream cones in a 50's diner


And indeed, I did shamelessly steal these photos from the web without citing sources, but I wouldn't steal from artists. Okay, I'd at least link to the artist, but these have been reproduced a trillion times so that info's hidden under mountains of sites.

http://www.youaintnopicasso.com/2009/06/17/chairlift-bonnaroo-61109/

The Apple

On occasion, a great idea drops down from the clouds (yes, there are usually clouds involved when these things happen) and into my head, like a little stroke of genius, like a eureka and all that jazz. And on such occasions, I never have the little-idea-book-to-carry-around that was another old epiphany I had just for this purpose. But that's probably because of what I was about to say, which is that these amazing ideas rarely come to fruition. And that is partly because I forget them... viciously cyclical much? Where's that idea book? You'd think I would've learned my lesson by now. But when I do remember them, I still have a hard time starting them. I spend a lot of time "gearing up" but seem to spin my wheels in this phase.

Here is my newest idea, fresh off the press: I will post some here, so I will both (1) not forget, and (2) look dumb when they haven't come to pass (cause you know I'd post about it) which will hopefully kick my butt into changing that state of affairs.

Great Ideas I've Had:

1. Create an animal training internship for myself by design and commitment to acquiring skill, and convince one of my connex to let me do it. Like Dillon. Or some dog-training school. Yesss.....

2. Do a research project in the Biosphere II ocean. If I have the means, there is really no excuse for a missed opportunity there.

3. Begin being an Earth Advocate (I just made that up) in the form of hate-mailing companies that use excessive and/or non-recyclable plastics, especially in food packaging. I'm reeeally passionate about plastic (don't know why that in particular, but we all get our cookies somehow). Maybe I should also send love-letters to companies doing a good job.

4. Go to Vancouver. Live there.

That's all I can think of right now. Blogging is such a great way to feel productive without actually doing anything. But finding pearls where there seem to be none is important too. Goals are definitely pearls, little morsels of ambition. I took that photo up there about a year ago roughly, just a little bit of art that doesn't mark my current progress at all. Now back to crying over my lost trip photos.

Morning Adventure

I wake up, and after a night of the club and subsequent homemade vodka-cranberrys, I'm surprised I feel as well as I do. My bed buddy is nowhere to be found.

Let me set the stage. I'm at a friend's sister's house (sister is in Phoenix seeing Lady Gaga), because I hadn't seen this friend in long enough that she still wanted me to come out despite getting off at 12:00pm, and would buy my penniless ass drinks and a cab for the evening. Cab back to her house, that is, with 2 male friends of hers. All 3 were well inebriated when I got there, with one buying round upon round of kamikazes. Interesting evening but everyone here knows Maloney's sucks both as a bar and a dance club. So those two pass out on the couch while my friend and I do some (most likely deathly) gymnastics, and we eventually go to sleep at 4am in the sister's room.

These sisters and their friends should all be models. They're gorgeous, blonde, tall, stylish and ridiculously more... magazine-y?... than I am. It isn't that I don't like to look good, but I usually don't justify spending time or money on it. Their house is a wonderland of girl.

Fast-forward again, to the part where my friend (who rises at the crack of dawn no matter what) has vanished leaving not a trace. I get up and use the restroom. Very messy, which means no one notices a little rifling through their makeup bags... uh oh. I give my face a full wash and a carrot infusion followed by toner and moisturizer. But I can't stop there though, I put on some concealer and follow it with each step of Bare Minerals powders, a little eye makeup, and the 4 different glosses I'd put on the night before were still shining!

To change my clothes I had to go into the other bathroom - let me note there is Bath & Body Works stuff all over the place, which I absolutely looove, but I'd liberally helped myself the night before again, so I still reeked of it - and under the cabinet I found Biosilk. Uh-oh. This crap is amazing. Gotta get me some. Hair-a-shinin' (and smelling like heaven), I step out into the living room. I'm pretty dehydrated, so I begin my self-nursing with water and an orange I find. I must find something to do, I'm getting so bored. My phone is dead, but I notice a Blackberry on the table - sweet! There must be a charger around here.

My search yielded no charger, but there was a USB cord with the right other end, so I set out for a computer. Again, luck! A little laptop plugged into the bookshelf! "Bookshelf" is better, the books on it consisted of a little black book, Twilight, a Luanne Rice novel (I'll have to explain my *shakeshead* at that later) and God knows what other few abominations to literature they own. Unfortunately, my plan didn't work out cause the "charger" didn't have enough voltage output. So I'm on the floor looking at other things on this shelf. What is this device in a pink leather case? Lights on the end? Buttons? Is this a pager? I pull it out of the case and read: Pink Cheetah, 1,000,000 v. Uh-oh, almost tased myself. It's only 8am. Maybe I should just read that fucking Twilight book.