I recently realized that I’m quite susceptible to visual stimuli. For example, when I watched The Neighbourhood’s video for “Afraid” yesterday it made me want a cigarette. (I’m not positive, but I think the last time I had a cigarette was 2009 and most of the time I’m completely okay with that.) Then tonight I saw a Toyota Tundra commercial and it made me want pizza of all things. (It would never make me want a truck; I am not a truck person.)
I don’t really know what to make of this realization, but I thought it was strange. And then I thought I would share it 🙂
At some point in my life I internalized the message that I should be self-sufficient and that I shouldn’t ask for help. I can’t tell you when it happened, but I can assure you that it did. I hate asking for help. Like, *really* hate it.
But the thing is, there are people in my life who want to help me and want to see me succeed. I just forget that (a lot).
For instance, an offhand comment I made on the phone last night caused my brother to send me a bunch of job search resources. He even told me about jobs I didn’t know existed. (I’d share, but I haven’t really looked at the stuff yet because it’s the weekend, dammit.) It had never occurred to me that my brother, who works in pharmaceutical marketing, would have any leads for information science jobs. (And even if I’d known, I don’t know that I would have asked him for help. He’s my younger brother and I’m supposed to be the smart one. I realize that’s a bunch of bullshit, but whatever. Ain’t sibling rivalry grand?)
It’s good to be reminded that I’m not alone. I can’t promise that I’ll act on this realization since my brain is a morass of super fun issues, but just having the realization is a start.
I watched the first two episodes of Downton Abbey last night (thank you, Netflix). While watching the first episode I was surprised to discover that one of the servants is gay. The surprise wasn’t that the character was gay because I’ve seen enough of season three to know that already. No, the surprise was that my parents kept watching the show after the first episode.
I’m not trying to make my parents look bad, and maybe I’m underestimating them, but I have to believe they thought the secret gay servant detracted from the show. After all, my father asked me why there had to be a gay character on every new TV show after watching a commercial for one of the two new gay-focused (for lack of a better word) sitcoms of this TV season. I didn’t have an answer because his words made me both sad and kinda angry, so I couldn’t think. My parents don’t believe in marriage equality (or at least they didn’t several years ago). Not that they don’t believe that homosexual couples deserve all the same rights and privileges as heterosexual couples (they’re not that evil), but “why do they have to call it a marriage?” (Yet another example of a time when words made me so sad and angry that I got tongue-tied.) My mom watches Ellen DeGeneres’ talk show regularly, but always gets uncomfortable when Ellen refers to Portia as her wife (even though, y’know, she is her wife).
The more I thought about how strange it was that my parents kept watching Downton Abbey after the gay servant reveal in the pilot, the more I thought about how strange it is that I’m related to my parents (and my brother). I’m very socially and politically progressive, they’re all pretty conservative. I really wonder how that happened. Was it a case of nature winning out over nurture? (A lot of my mom’s family is progressive, so maybe.) It’s just so strange.
I love my family, really. But we are really quite different. And it’s an interesting thing to think about.
Hi, my name is Kristin. I love 90s alt rock. And…and…oh, it’s so shameful…Ican’tidentifyStoneTemplePilotssongsbyname. There, I said it. I can’t identify Stone Temple Pilots songs by name. It feels good to get that off my chest.
Actually, that’s not true. I can identify a lot of Stone Temple Pilots songs by name. It’s just their biggest songs (“Plush,” “Interstate Love Song,” and “Big Empty”) that are a problem. And it’s not that I can’t tell the songs apart; I know the words to each song. I just can’t match the proper name to the song.
I was reminded of this while listening to SiriusXM in my car today. I switched to Lithium because Radiohead was playing on Alt Nation and “Plush” was on. I immediately started singing along, but guessed that it was “Big Empty” before changing the display on my radio to show the title. And if you’re at all familiar with those STP songs you’re probably asking yourself how I could possibly make that mistake and you’re not wrong to do so. I don’t really know how to explain it; I just didn’t learn the names of those songs when I was a tween and now it seems that I never will. (I dunno, maybe I could learn it if I tried.) The annoying thing is that I like STP and dislike Radiohead, yet I knew that the Radiohead song that chased me from Alt Nation was “Jigsaw Falling Into Place” without having to look.
See, that’s the thing. I like being able to identify songs by artist and title without help of any sort. It’s a skill I’ve had since I was a little kid; I’m proud of it. (Also, I’m pretty sure half of my memory is devoted to that task :)) So to have a block with those specific Stone Temple Pilots songs is really darn annoying. (Stupid Lent, keeping me from swearing.) And I am kind of ashamed of it, in a weird way.
I think I’ve got more proof that baseball is my favorite sport.
I watched nearly every minute of postseason baseball this past season even though almost every series ended opposite the way I’d rooted for. Never mind the fact that I really shouldn’t have watched any of the league division series since I had a giant paper (COMPS) to research and write. And then, once baseball was well and truly over (stupid freaking Giants!), I followed trade rumors and all the hot stove action much closer than I had in years past. And did I ever celebrate when my parents told me we had spring training tickets 🙂
In the past I also threw myself into watching the football playoffs. And not just the game(s) the Eagles played, either. I watched every second of every game from the wildcard round to the Super Bowl. Now, this weekend happened to be the wildcard round of the football playoffs. Did I watch any football? Nope. In fact, I didn’t even know there was football until this afternoon, when I checked Twitter and most of my timeline was talking about the Colts-Ravens game.
I don’t think this was a product of the Eagles sucked this year malaise, either. I watched many playoff football games the Eagles weren’t in over the past 10 years. And if I didn’t watch games I was at least cognizant that they were being played. No, I think this just proves that I’m more into baseball than football.
I’m not saying that I’m over football. I’m not going to start calling it “handegg” and refusing to watch it. I’m just noting an interesting change that has occurred in my brain. (And I’m endlessly fascinated by changes in my brain.)
Total Request Live (or TRL, as it was eventually named) started my freshman year of college. I didn’t love a lot of the pop stuff that got the most play on TRL, but I watched it pretty religiously for years. Especially when it first started. (The fact that I had a massive crush on Carson Daly definitely played a role in that.)
If you remember the early days of TRL, you know that it was dominated by ‘N Sync, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears. And for some reason I was convinced that most of the guys in those boy bands were years older than me or, in the cases of Justin Timberlake and Nick Carter, years younger than me. I also thought Britney was years younger than me. But here’s the thing, today is Britney’s 31st birthday, Justin is nearly 32, and Nick is actually older than I am.
The weirdest thing, though, isn’t that TRL convinced me that they were all really young when I was in college, but that I remained convinced of that for over a decade. I learned Britney’s age when I saw some tweet this morning about her birthday, but I didn’t believe it at first. It was inconceivable that Britney Spears was only a year and a half younger than me. But, alas, it is true.
The best part of this whole thing is that I will most likely forget what I learned today. When I find out that Justin Timberlake is 32 at the end of January I will probably be shocked. Isn’t my brain fun?
Apropos of nothing, I would be remiss if I didn’t pass along these two YouTube videos I just watched. Kevin Devine tweeted the link to this video of Jesse Lacey joining the Goddamn Band for “Cotton Crush” last night. *swoon*
This video of Andrew McMahon playing “Konstantine” at one of the last ever Jack’s Mannequin shows was literally the only video in the “suggested videos” column the first time I watched the above video. It is scary how well Google and YouTube know me.
I came up with yet another reason why I shouldn’t have kids this afternoon. Not that I needed one, but whatever. And I don’t really know where the hell it even came from, and it’s kinda weird, but stay with me.
I shouldn’t have kids because they would be deprived of a whole bunch of classic children’s movies.
Mainly because there’s a ton of those movies that I refuse to watch. I mean refuse to watch. You couldn’t pay me to watch these movies. Off the top of my head, the list includes Bambi, Dumbo, E.T., Rudy (maybe not a kid’s movie, but still), and Toy Story 3. And then there are the movies that I will watch if you put a gun to my head but I really don’t like, like The Wizard of Oz.
How could you deprive a kid of those movies, right? But I would do it. I would refuse to have any of those movies in the house and I would strongly urge my family to keep them away from my kid. I mean, God forbid my kid saw E.T. and loved it. Then where would I be? That movie is torture for me; I can’t watch it. Cannot do it.
So you see, it’s best for everyone if I just don’t have kids.
(These are the things that bounce around my head in the middle of the afternoon. To say that I have issues doesn’t even begin to cover it :))