Melodrama Blah Blah

Sometimes I'm just really emotional.

Right now is one of those times. I saw an Olympics/VISA commercial and started tearing up. I saw twin brothers audition for SYTYCD and started crying and laughing at the same time. I desperately needed someone to hug so I grabbed Herbert from off my bed and curled up with him on the corner of the couch. I saw a delicious-looking piece of pizza in the fridge, decided I wasn't hungry even though the only other thing I've eaten today is another piece of pizza, and decided that was so depressing that I fantasized about anorexia. I sat there and shed more tears as I fabricated depressing scenarios about myself. I sighed in anguish at the wretched state of my life. Then I sighed even louder at the wretched state of the world. Emo? PMS? SAD? Whatever.

I wonder if that pizza's still in the fridge.

Typographic Love

I don't really consider myself a "material girl." In fact, over the last couple of years I've made a slight journey into minimalism in several aspects of my life. It saves money and I've found, for the most part, it is more aesthetically pleasing.

However, every once in a while I find myself really wanting something that is, admittedly, completely unnecessary. The most recent eye candy for me has been: a typewriter.

I was just lying in bed one night and the thought came to me that a typewriter and I could have a really beautiful relationship together. I can't say for certain what it is that really appeals to me about it. Maybe it's the thought of the gorgeous glass keys going chink chink chink as I type. Or the little hammers smacking against the ribbon to print a beautifully rustic and unique letter onto the white canvas of the hand-fed paper. Or that my raw thoughts will be presented defiantly and courageously in hard-copy form with no option of deleting.
Or maybe it's because whenever I imagine what my favorite writers look like when they write, I don't imagine them sitting in front of a PC opening up a Word Document. Sometimes I imagine them chewing thoughtfully on the nib of their fountain pen (another slightly coveted item,) but mostly I imagine them plunking passionately away at a rickety old typewriter. (OK, I know I'm not supposed to believe everything I see in the movies -- think Moulin Rouge and Stranger Than Fiction-- but it is still very appealing to me.) Oh, the romance of it all.

My goal is to design my other blog, Scabby Lists, to look like it's been written on a typewriter. So far, due to my poor html skills, I'm failing miserably. But that's the direction I'm headed in case you were wondering (because of course you were.)

On sort of a side note, I am completely in love with everything at Sewn by Blythe, particularly the darling plushie typewriter pictured below. How beautiful it would be to snuggle up with one of those at night. Forget Teddy.

Three Posts in One

For three days in a row, I attended the biggest event in Columbus of the day. (I have written and re-written that opening sentence and can't get it to sound grammatically correct. You all know what I mean though. I hope.)

Where do I even begin? I guess chronologically, with Thursday.

Thursday:

My dad had tickets secured for the sold-out Yo-Yo Ma concert for a long time -- front row seats in the historic Ohio Theater (on the very edge of the left side, but front row nonetheless.) I've always been a fan of Yo-Yo Ma, ever since my elementary school music teacher Mrs. Stoll introduced him to me with a CD in which he collaborated with Bobby McFerrin to do Flight of the Bumblebee. I also love the work he's done for movies such as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Memoirs of a Geisha and... well, probably every movie ever made featuring Asian actors. Anyway, enough rambling.

I love classical music and am always up for an orchestra performance, but I was not expecting to be so blown away. Ma's cello-playing is absolutely flawless. His big strokes sound like spreading honey and his runs sound like trickling water. With our limited view from the corner of the theater, I could see that written music is completely unnecessary for him: he just looks up at the ceiling and feels it, as strands of horsehair break off of his bow one by one and wave passionately in the air.

I was also not expecting to be so inspired by the maestro, Junichi Hirokami, a 5-foot tall Japanese man whose little body could not contain all his energy. We were seated ideally to see his profile view throughout the concert and I have never seen a man exude more love for what he was doing. I definitely saw air between his feet and the podium more than a couple of times. With the duo of Ma and Hirokami, there was never a dull moment.

Lastly, I was not aware of the dire financial situation of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, and that this concert may in fact have been the last for them. Understandably, lots of people are upset about this. (You can read more about it here. It's a poorly written article but you'll get the gist of the hornet's nest.) We joined the masses in standing ovation-ing and encoring the heck out of every song. It was awesome. I've never seen so much support for an orchestra before. Long live CSO!

Friday:

Although we'd been in possession of the tickets for only a fraction of the time we'd had the ones for Yo-Yo Ma, my sister and I had been every day in delirious anticipation for the Flight of the Conchords, which, as you can read in my previous blog post, was a result of Divine intervention. Our shirts turned out exactly the way I'd envisioned them, which is more proof of the inspired nature of the event. I'm not an artist by any means and have never done caricatures before but I was able to whip up the pictures in no time Friday morning.

Bret and Jemaine were as adorable as can be sitting up there on the stage with their guitars and other assorted electronic instrumentalia. They charmed us with all of our favorite songs and included three new ones which I look forward to seeing on their show next season. They specialize in parodies and comedic banter, but I'm here to tell you that they are way talented as musicians as well. At the beginning of the show, their harmonies were right on and they had some awesome guitar licks not featured on their TV series. Granted, they started slipping near the end but they were noteably exhausted; seriously, they'd been playing for 2 hours straight with no intermission. And Bret did an impromptu mad dash through the crowd on the main floor, even in his (probably) worn out state, to the delight of the audience. We were only about 5 rows away from him... I could almost smell his delectable sweat. So we didn't get to go up on stage like in my dream. But I still feel like I have a more intimate relationship with those boys now. Or men. Yes, technically, they are.

Saturday:

On a more sobering note (although the other two events are already plenty sobering), I got home from the Conchords concert late Friday night only to wake up at 6am for a more charitable cause. Race for the Cure is an annual event in downtown Columbus but this was the first year I actually considered running it, for some reason. Again, I was not expecting to be so awed. About 40,000 people showed up this year and at $25 a person, that's a heck of a lot of money raised. I'd never run a 5k before and had not done any running for years, so I knew I was going to be pathetic running it cold turkey like that. But how can I say "no" to a cause like breast cancer research? It was packed tight with people as far as the eye can see, and even when the race began, at first we could only inch along. I decided to run with my dad (who has been working out) and was only able to keep up with him for the first mile or so. However, I probably wouldn't have been able to run even a mile straight if it hadn't been for the crowds of people and live bands lining the streets, cheering us on. Talk about encouragement! And not to mention I could see the backs of all the people running in front of me, where they had pinned on the names of loved ones and victims of breast cancer. As a sea of flapping pink paper bounced in front of me with names like "mom" and "grandma" and "my teacher," I couldn't help but get a little teary-eyed as I ran and fought a little harder to keep running. The last stretch of road was lined with Harley Davidson bikers, revving their engines and giving high fives. As I snailed across the finish lines with all the other tightly-packed people, the air was rich with endorphins and good feelings all around. It was incredible to see so many people of all different backgrounds united in a cause like this. Waking up at 6am for it? Definitely worth it.

Overall, you could say that I am significantly prouder of Columbus right now.

Conchordian

My sister and I have been excited about our trip to Ohio for a long time. Our main purpose, to see our baby niece Clara, was enough to keep us giddy for a while. We were also excited about a Yo-Yo Ma concert that got thrown into the schedule. And just being out of Provo is always a treat. Just when I didn't think the week could get better, I found out that the Flight of the Conchords are going to be in Columbus, the exact same weekend as us. This is not just a cherry on top. This is a gift from God.

With our tickets secured and visions of nerdy New Zealanders dancing in my head, I slipped into a strange but wonderful dream last night (sorry about all the dream posts lately.) In it, Yukiko and I were at the concert, exactly where we will be on Friday, in section F. We were wearing our matching FOTC shirts (which we have yet to make) and standing on our chairs, waving our arms, and screaming, "pick me!" (Actually, Yukiko might have been sitting down and it was just me going crazy.) I swear I'm not one of those pathetic girl fans that you see crying and hyperventilating, but in my dream I was SO sure that Bret and Jemaine would see me, if I only exerted enough effort. And they did! (I've only been to one other concert before in my life, and I got to go up on stage. So that's all I know.) So I got to go up and hug them and they asked me some questions, which I answered very cleverly (I can't remember for the life of me what they were about now) and pretty much I was in heaven. Needless to say, if I get invited up on stage on Friday, I am prepared.

And then I made out with Jemaine.

SuperMom

Here's to my mom:

How can I describe her? She's one of a kind.

- She can whip up a hot cooked meal for a family of seven, even when I just looked in the fridge an hour earlier and didn't see anything in there.
- Once, when asked what her talents are, she answered vigorously, "I like to kill bugs!"
- She can manage thirteen 3-4 year olds simultaneously without raising her voice.
- She loves to "live it up" and travel around the world when she can.
- She has a spirit of adventure. One of her dreams is to swing through the city of New York in the arms of Spiderman.


Pretty cool, huh? Happy Mother's Day, Mommy.

No Hatin'

It was a quiet weekday afternoon and I was in the kitchen enjoying a dinner of tempura and white rice when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" I yelled, which was our customary greeting to houseguests. The only people who ever really came by were the management people, to collect our rent and such.

So I was pretty surprised when a large, strange man wearing a hoodie printed all over with money graphics walked in and sat himself down opposite me at the kitchen table. He sort of had a crazy look in his eye and I wasn't sure if I should try to make light conversation or stab him with my chopsticks and run for cover. As it was, I was at a loss for words and all I could do was wonder how long he was going to sit there and if my rice was going to go cold.

"I recorded a CD," he grunted, and threw a disc across the table at me, which was bedecked in the same money print as his hoodie, "give it a listen." I wasn't sure what to do. Not only was I skeptical of his musical talent, I had no desire to insert a strange CD into my laptop (which happened to be sitting at the table.)

"Sorry, I'm not going to buy your CD, I don't have money," I told him.

"You're tight on cash, huh?" he asked with a steady stare (I answered in the affirmative), "cash is pretty tight over here, too."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, good luck!" I told him with what I hoped was a tone of finality. He sat there and stared at me for a long time and I tried to appear interested in my tempura pieces which I moved around the plate with my chopsticks. Finally he reached across the table, retrieved his CD, grunted a "thanks for your time," and walked out.

My roommate Tallia and her fiance Jon came running out of the other room in fits of laughter. I knew they had been eavesdropping. "Thanks for the help, guys," I told them, "that was the most awkward thing ever."

"Don't worry, I was listening the whole time, I would have helped you out if anything happened," Jon assured me. They then proceeded to inform me that the guy's name was B-money, and he was something of a legend in Provo, interrupting all sorts of house parties and asking people to listen to his rap. Jon even did me the service of showing me B-money's music video on YouTube. Some of you may be interested in the familiar Provo locales:



I try to be a non-judgmental person generally and give people the benefit of the doubt. As I reflected on the situation later, I wondered if I had been fair, according to my personal standards. I don't think I was rude in any way, and certainly would have sent the wrong signals if I'd done anything to suggest I might be eager to have him stay. Was I unfair in not even listening to his music to give it a chance? (Well, it really isn't good anyway. At all.) Having been caught completely off my guard, I plead innocent of anything I might have done to offend. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm not a hater.