Cheesiest Story Ever. Really.

For a long time, I've been a fan of both Blur and Oasis, but have never quite able to make up my mind about with which band my loyalties lie. As an American middle-schooler at the height of the Brit-pop hype, I could sing along to "Champagne Super Nova" and "Song 2," but had little exposure to what was actually going on in the world of mid-1990's British pop music until much later when I studied it in college. While Blur's songs are a bit smarter and definitely have better music videos--I've never been more captivated by milk cartons in love--there's no questioning the greatness of songs like "Live Forever" and particularly "Wonderwall." But now, thanks to a story I read in the British tabloid the Daily Star via New York Magazine's Vulture Blog, I've found out that the two bands are no longer feuding and have bonded over a love of cheese. I totally understand how deep running a person's love of cheese can be and I'm thrilled that I no longer feel the need to choose sides, but this story will probably tickle me all day.

http://www.dailystar.co.uk/goss/view/28076/Rock-rivals-cheese-role/

I've Always Wanted to be a Drummer...

I’ve never been one for video games. While I’m pretty sure it was me who first played Sega Genesis at a friend’s house and consequently got my brother addicted, the attraction ended after I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I would never get past level 3 of Sonic the Hedgehog. It also bothered me that my little brother could surpass me with agility and ease, and so I wanted nothing to do with video games. For most of my childhood and up through high school, while I was constantly bombarded with the whizzes and doodle-ee-doo noises of the latest and greatest videogame system my brother had procured, I drowned the noises out with prime-time WB shows, the newest CD of whatever band I happened to be obsessed with that week, or my own tinkling on the piano.

And then I went to college, where I finally felt a reprieve from all this videogame madness. Although a number of the guys I knew owned Playstations or whatever, I was separated from it, and there were other things to talk about. I was finally free!

That is, until the end of senior year when I discovered Guitar Hero. After ending up very late one Saturday night at a friend of a friend’s apartment, my undiscovered potential was realized. I attributed my success at Guitar Hero to my ability to pretend to play a real guitar. I don’t remember what song I played or my score—it couldn’t have been that good—but every time I’ve seen my friend’s friend since, he congratulates me on my achievement and welcomes me back to his place to play at any time. Unfortunately, after this one time, I found very few opportunities for me to continue playing Guitar Hero.

Just after new years, I started a new job at a commercial post-production company. Post houses, in general, seem to have a reputation for being laid back—when I recently went for an interview at another post house, one of the editors was playing Wii baseball in the lounge area as I waited for the woman I was meeting to come get me for my interview. So I wasn’t really all that surprised when on my first Friday, I was trying to get a hold of one of the editors and he was nowhere to be found, only later to be discovered playing the latest incantation of Guitar Hero, Rock Band (which includes not only guitar, but also bass, drums, and vocals) in another editor’s room.

Being that it was only my third week working at this company, when on Thursday night everyone erupted into joyous celebration for the executive producer’s birthday, I felt obligated to stay and try to ingratiate myself into the group. Rock Band was once again present, the conference room turned into concert venue. Many had gathered around to watch those who were playing—it’s sort of hypnotizing, and totally fun to see people get really into their roles.

After a while, when it seemed some people were beginning to lose interest and I couldn’t resist the urge any longer, I decided to take up the drums. I think the other members of the “band” worried about me, since I couldn’t even figure out how to change the level settings to “easy”. And at first, I was pretty bad—I couldn’t figure out when to hit the drums—but eventually I got the hang of it and didn’t fail too badly. By the time I had finished my second lengthy heavy metal song, the other members of the band (who were total pros) were questioning whether I was telling the truth about never having played before, which I was.

I wasn’t really all that good—I barely passed—but I must have seemed like I knew what I was doing. And it was really fun! At the end of our set, everyone high fived me and congratulated me on a job well done and my apparent secret talent. It was nice, too, to start to feel like a part of the group.

The following day, between answering phones, ordering pizzas, and making sure the faucets in the bathroom hadn’t leaked onto the floor, I overheard some people discussing the Rock Band jams of the night before. Seeming perhaps a bit surprised, since I am still and always “the quiet one” I heard them discuss how I had really rocked it out on the drums. And while I don’t mind being “the quiet one,” I’m happy to be known as “the quiet one who can totally rock the drums on Rock Band.”

shouts and murmurs from the office (so glad i'm no longer temping)

Work was scarce and I was hard up for rent money, so I decided that perhaps my best option to solve this inequity would be to try to get some temp work. So I emailed my resume to the temp agency with the highest yahoo rating, a few days later received a phone call, and went in for the interview. They just opened a creative division, my bubbly blonde counselor informed me, that might even offer something to correspond with my film background, however the work would most likely still be office work. Fine with me.

I've worked in offices before, so really, I should know what to expect. And yet for some reason, I kept imagining myself being placed in the office from "The Office" and found myself quite enamored with this idea. I, of course, with my light brown curly hair, would be "Pam" and would become insta-friends with the guy who works across the way, "Jim." This thought was most definitely the highlight. Across from "Jim" there would be this totally weird, and yet strangely endearing guy, "Dwight," and we would bond over the jokes "Jim" played on him. "Ryan," a former temp, recently hired (in my mind this plays out before season 4), would chat about why, when we're perfectly capable human beings, we found ourselves resorting to temp work.

And with "Michael Scott" as my boss, while there wouldn't be copious mounds of real work to do, perhaps I would get to utilize my creativity to organize a meeting about leadership skills (what makes "Michael Scott" a great boss), equality in the workforce (why it's good that "Stanley" "Kevin" and "Angela" aren't all the same person), or an invoice sorting barbeque with the ping pong table as a centerpiece. Although this would be a job I would take trudgingly and solely for the purpose of having some sort of income, it would be enjoyable, with its colorful and humorously awkward room-full of characters to amuse me throughout my assignment.

So you can imagine my surprise when I walk into the financial section of the advertising department at a large fashion design company and I'm escorted to a room in the back where I'm expected to stay at my computer all day and taught how to process billing reports, whatever that means. While I was a bit disappointed, this, an office where people actually do work and you have to wind your way through a maze of private cubicles to get anywhere, is what I should have expected. It's probably a good thing that I did not end up with a boss like Michael Scott, though I would have liked to have a "Jim," as opposed to an office comprised almost entirely of women. The people, though not overtly friendly or hilariously awkward, seem nice enough when I actually have an opportunity to talk to someone, and the work, though tedious and uncomprehensible, is a more profitable way to spend my time than sitting on my couch.

on resolutions, or it's gonna be a happy new year!

Honest New Years Resolution #1:

To look up more, rather than down (and still manage not to trip too much).


I never really believed in New Year's resolutions. Come January 1st, I would hear people throwing out the same resolutions—most often to go to the gym on a regular basis, to drink less or more—and while a few people may actually go through with these, I hardly recall any particularly meaningful or memorable ones. And also, if there is something you really want to do in your life, why wait until January 1st to start? Perhaps it was this thought that always stifled me from coming up with something I wanted to accomplish in the new year—I’ve never been great at coming up with ideas on command. Each year as New Years rolled closer, I would often feel awkward when people would ask about my resolutions, and would make something up, usually uninteresting, usually copying someone else's answer, just because it was better than saying nothing at all.

And then last year, it may have been spending New Years with my contemplative and questioning friend Sophie or the fact that I worked a boring job and had numerous hours to ponder over my life, I came up with an answer for the inevitable question, "So what is your New Year's resolution?" I realized it had been bothering me that, although there were recycling bins adjacent to the trash cans outside my apartment, I made no real effort to recycle. Empty water bottles and large stacks of paper usually ended up in the proper bin, but most of the everyday waste that could otherwise be recycled did not. So I bought a new trashcan and my roommate and I began to use the old one as our recycling bin, weeding out the paper, plastic or glass from our other disposables. Though we still have a lot of trash, we usually have just as much recycling, so I feel a little less wasteful, and thus a little better. And hopefully it has benefited not just my ego and my need to feel like I was doing something advantageous for the world, but actually bettered the world in a tiny way. It was a small thing, but it was something.

As I was attempting to make plans for this New Year's Eve, the question has once again popped up in my mind, "What will I tell people when they ask about my New Year's resolution?" I came up with a number of answers, so I felt prepared. But then on New Years Eve, when someone asked me to come up with a silly sounding answer, I was a bit stumped, since mine were all fairly serious. This brought to mind a story about climbing Masada that a rabbi had told when I was in Israel recently. Starting out at the bottom, looking up at the seemingly endless ramp, he said he felt discouraged by such an imposing undertaking. But he started up anyway, and while he was hiking, he noticed that just about everyone was looking down at his or her feet. He realized he had been doing the same, looking down for fear of seeing the how much of the trail was still ahead of him. He decided, rather, to look sideways at the view around him and was astounded by what he saw—the beauty of the new morning light on the mountains. More so than the hike ahead, I found myself looking down for fear of falling on my face, but perhaps he is right. Even if it means pausing for a moment, it might be worthwhile to look up from my feet once in a while and appreciate what’s around me.

And so, even more than keeping up with a blog, walking to work more, or curbing my shopping habit, I hope that I am able to keep this idea with me throughout the year.