Screaming baby sounds in the background.
I’m babysitting tonight, and the little girl has a cold and is therefore quite fussy. I’ve plopped her in front of the TV with some Baby Einstein DVD thing playing on a loop, and I’m just counting the minutes until it’s time for her to get her evening bottle and go to sleep.
In the meantime, a meme. I hate the word meme.
A. Attached or single? I’m kind of somewhere in between, to be honest. The boy slipped up the other day and almost called himself the boy I’m dating, but still remains adamant that that’s not what we’re doing.
B. Best friend? My mama.
C. Cake or pie? I’d choose a brownie over either, but I guess cake. If it’s cheesecake.
D. Day of choice? I’ve always really liked Fridays. There’s something about them that causes excitement in me.
E. Essential item? Deodorant. And my cell phone.
F. Favorite color? I really like bright green. I tend to wear a lot of black, but am attracted to brightly colored objects. Like hot pink.
G. Gummy bears or worms? Worms, I guess. I actually really like those gummy-cherries.
H. Hometown? A northern suburb of St. Paul. It’s totally upper-middle-class, white, and privileged. I live in South Minneapolis now, and that’s what I consider home.
I. Favorite indulgence? Cheap, uncomfortable high-heeled shoes.
J. January or July? Ugh. January, I guess, cause I’d rather be cold than hot.
K. Kids? Okay, this is a subject on which I could write a novel-length explanation, but for brevity’s sake, no. I do a lot of nannying and babysitting, and I’m a student teacher, but I don’t know that I want my own kids. I’ll jump off that bridge if and when I come to it.
L. Life isn’t complete without? Laughing until it hurts, used books, really great sex, ice cream.
M. Marriage date? I’m determined to get married on Halloween. It will be in October, at the very least.
N. Number of brothers and sisters? I have one sister, who resides in Washington state. She’s in town for the RNC, and we’re currently housing about 6 anarchists in our basement.
O. Oranges or apples? Apples. Hands down, every time.
P. Phobias? Wasps, deep water, plane crashes.
Q. Quotes? Anything by Dorothy Parker.
R. Reasons to smile? The boy calling for no reason. Dancing around in my pajamas at any hour of the day. The Office starts its new season soon. I passed my teacher-license tests. I’m generally happy and in a good place.
S. Season of choice? Fall. I love everything about it. My closet is full of cardigans, I love the crunching of leaves under my feet, and Halloween is my favorite day of the year.
T. Tag 5 people. Pass.
U. Unknown fact about me? I think that Tori Spelling is completely underrated as an actress and comedienne.
V. Vegetable? Broccoli.
W. Worst habit? I pick my nose.
X. X-ray or ultrasound? What an odd question. Neither, if I have the choice.
Y. Your favorite food? I like grilled cheese sandwiches with tomatoes. I also love rootbeer floats.
Z. Zodiac sign? Taurus. I think that means I’m stubborn or something.
Obligatory music post
I don’t write much about music because I don’t feel that I’m qualified. I really love music, but I don’t have the knowledge and skills that would allow me to write about it in a lucid and intelligent way. However, these are several thoughts I’ve had recently that I want to share.
The Knife’s song “Heartbeats” is covered by Jose Gonzalez. Both are pretty awesome versions in their own rights, but Gonzalez’s cover is so hauntingly beautiful that I can’t stop listening to it. It also makes me incredibly sad and kind of nostalgic for something that I can’t quite put my finger on, but since I’m looking for any distractions from thinking about my impending student teaching, I’m okay with being sad and nostalgic.
The Hold Steady’s new album, Stay Positive, is pretty strong. Although Boys and Girls in America will probably remain my favorite, this one is fast becoming a close second. Of course, …Almost Killed Me is attached so tightly to my heartstrings that it’s hard to say, really. I’m aware of the fact that my love for all things Craig Finn might color my assessment of this band, but really, I love them so much.
“I’d have Craig Finn’s babies,” I said to a boy I met a few weeks ago. “That’s really saying something, because I don’t want to have anyone’s babies.”
“I’d have a sex change and then have Craig Finn’s babies,” he replied to me. I thought this was hilarious at the time. In defense of my character (and sense of humor), I’d had several drinks.
A good friend of mine once told me that he considered Beulah to be a band whose entire oeuvre was worth listening to. “I’ve never found one of their songs to not be worth listening to at least 100 times,” he said to me as we drove around St. Paul, Miles Kurosky opining about love in an abstract way on the CD player. He then told me that he felt that Beulah’s songs mirrored how he felt about love and relationships. I spent the next few days obsessively going through their lyrics, trying to gain insight into a very strange boy’s mind.
My friend’s extreme love for Beulah is analogous to how I feel about Missy Higgins. There is not a single song of hers that isn’t worth listening to. She’s amazing. I love her. If I were a song writer, I would write songs like hers. That’s pretentious. I don’t care.
These days, I’m also listening to a lot of Jaymay, Dance Band, Bree Sharp, and Mori Einsidler (who just happens to be my cousin, but is proving to be quite the musician).
Commence tearing my musical tastes apart.
Words
“It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere, it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio, how we rolled the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple to slice into pieces.”
–Richard Siken, “Scheherazade”
There are hundreds of things for me to say, but I can’t seem to find words for any of them. I’m trying to find the words inside of me, trying to figure out how to make my hands work, to press a pen to paper or press my fingers on the necessary keys, but it’s a process.
For now, I’ll have to be content with the fact that I can feel the words and thoughts and half-finished sentences welling up inside me. Eventually I’ll fill to the bursting point and the words will come spilling out of me.
Give me time.
