So I’ve been searching around and here’s what I found. This is going to be my little database for myself. Will clean it up later.
I’m always kind of surprised how comforting music is to me in silence. It’s like it fills a space, and yet it is invisible; I can’t see it, and I can’t feel it, but I know it’s there.
I love Sound of Music. I love it so much that even though the live version recently put out starring whatsherface Carrie Underwood was less than perfect, I still thoroughly enjoyed it. The music, it’s about the music. So what if the girl can’t act? I admit it was a bit of an eyesore to watch the beginning, but I feel like she improved as the scenes went on. Also, the Mother of the convent played her role excellently. She even made me cry. Yes, I cried in a infamously badly done production of Sound of Music with “deer in headlights” Carrie. Why? The story, the music, the setting. Much of it was far too relatable having passed through my own struggles (and perhaps, still passing through) with being on time and trying to not sing at inappropriate moments. If I had to type Maria, she would definitely be an ENFP, no questions asked. Also, in defense of the Sound of Music done in December by NBC, it’s better to not compare it to the 1965 movie but to the 1959 stage musical, as it was done live with no retakes. Holding all the criticism and that in mind, I wasn’t as disappointed as I thought I would have been when I finally watched the performance. So if you haven’t watched it and are planning to and would like to enjoy it, do yourself a favor and don’t expect Julie Andrews 1965. It’ll be much more entertaining that way.
I haven’t been so diligent to post on this WordPress as I would have expected. It may have to do with the fact that I have a phone that allows me to post short, grammatically unchecked, snippets on my other less formalized blog. Every once in awhile though, I stumble upon another person’s blog post that inspires me to write again. It is difficult though, what with an undercurrent of mediocrity pushing against me quietly, forcefully. There’s a little voice that nags, something about not being enough. It is a voice that has bulldozed my ambition and hope. I am afraid that I have lost something vibrant, somehow, somewhere, sometime, and that I cannot have whatever it is back. An intangible item, the voice says. Something I cannot pin down, something too abstract for measure. Do I listen to it? What are dreams of painting to one who wakes up to realize she has gradually become blind without any notice?
Caught up with an old high school friend today. Got a window into the working world of a Stanford techy grad. So the Cal-Stanford rivalry has played until its last breath. Just kidding. Anyway, we chatted about old friends, what we have been up to in the last, oh, four years, and music, of course, music. I commented on how music these days just seems to all sound the same. Was it just me? It wasn’t just me, he agreed. Now, that brings me to my point. Why does music seem so lacking in creativity now? Is the brilliant music just hiding out somewhere, away from the radio charts? Or am I just pickier than ever, harshly aware of the emptiness of the world? Is it that philosophical, or does the music these days just really, plainly, frankly, suck? I don’t like being a hater, but why is it, that a catchy, pretty song, has lyrics that go “I shoulda bought you flowers”. And that, my friend, is why your baby is dancin’ with another man. Obviously. Criticism aside, my friend mentioned that he had learned the piano part for that song as well as “Just Give Me a Reason” which also has a lovely piano part. I am thus re-inspired to hit the keyboard that I never play and learn some popular music. We’ll see.
Then I want to hook it up to GarageBand. And then I want to become famous by selling records. Maybe.
If anything, I realized, times are changing. Media is shifting gears it seems. The lines are blurring between work and play. And now your baby’s dancin’.
You’re gonna miss me by my walk oh…
Lately my housemate and I have been playing with my lead crystal cups that I don’t drink out of anymore by doing the cup game to the song done by Anna Kendrick from Pitch Perfect. It’s a catchy tune, and sticks in my head often. You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…
On another note, I’m not sure how good I feel on this increased dose. I’ve been fairly up and down, experiencing bouts of tiredness and depression especially during meals, as well as stomach anxiety. I’m wondering how it will go if I stick it out a bit longer. The body is a tricky and complex thing, and nobody really knows what is exactly going on in there.
It’s hard for me to write blog posts on new public blogs. The blog doesn’t have a character of its own yet nor a direction nor a soul. Sigh… Now what. I wonder what it feels like to have to write for a living, to have to produce content on a regular basis. I used to write down funny happenings during the day so I could use it as fuel to blog about later, but of course those topics were mainly of interest to me and my circle of friends. These days, when I open a text-box to write, I often come without words, but only with a gentle ache to write. The kind of ache you feel when you want to sleep but you’re fighting it, or you want to cry but you’re holding back the tears. If I pour out my soul, would it ever be possible for me to have nothing left to pour? I suppose I may begin to sound like a broken record, or maybe there is an almost endless depth that only my dear Lord would know and dare to traverse if I only let Him.
My eyes are feeling quite heavy so I think I may find myself in napping position soon.