stories break like branches in the cold

The fact that I'm awake right now is pretty ridiculous, considering the lack of sleep that came from this weekend. I don't want my body having a freak out after depriving it of it's favorite thing: hours and hours of shut eye. However, I feel like I can't sleep until I write something. Anything.

I watched Meerkat Manor this evening. One of the meerkats died from an infection. While he was cradling his little head in his palms, his partner stood diligently by his side. She knew what was coming. They made little crying noises, grieving what was inevitable. One of my roommates was doing her homework in the living room, unaware of the situation.

I made a trip to the hospital last night. Walking down the streets and making various phone calls under the fluorescent light was odd. Walking into the E.R., my emotions were all over the place, seeing the blood that covered my friend's collar, hair and neck. I rubbed some of it off and had crimson flecks all over my hand. Friendship is one of those intangible feelings...the lengths others go for their friends. As my friend and I walked to the hospital to retrieve our friend, we didn't think anything of it. I'm glad he's alright, but wow, this kid is really going to give us all an ulcer.

This trip to Austin is becoming a huge pain. I almost don't even want to go anymore, and I didn't want for it to get to that point. Money and bills and groceries are rough.

I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to Calexico without thinking about that incredibly early morning drive to Atlanta.

Time to sleep.

"Steps" by Frank O'Hara

I really love stumbling on good poetry. Honestly, could I be a bigger english major? There's something about poetry, good poetry at that, that really gets to me. It's like looking at a beautiful picture; it captures you, makes you feel something that wasn't there before, and opens your eyes. Here's one of my favorite poems that my friend, Anna, told me about.

Steps
FRANK O’HARA

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

Another television post. I've never really let on how into television I am, it's a side of my personality that I keep hidden from most people. Sure, you might know about Thursdays and that I purposely don't schedule myself to work because I refuse to miss an episode of The Office but I mean, everyone has their guilty pleasures.

I currently watch three shows obsessively:

1. Friday Night Lights
2. The Office
3. Doctor Who

The first two you might have heard about, seeing as how I can't stop talking about them. Doctor Who, however, is my true guilty pleasure.

A British sci-fi show that began in 1963 (I think), Doctor Who is the story of a time-traveling alien, The Doctor, and his different companions. There's been 10 different doctors and multiple companions from different eras and galaxies. Sound dorky enough? Well get this: it's on syndication on the Sci-Fi Chanel.

Sometimes I'm astounded that I watch it because I've never, ever been into Sci-Fi. It's not me, it's not my personality.

Then again, most Sci-Fi isn't written by Russel T. Davies, the writer of the British Queer as Folk. Davies is excellent, superb even, at writing stories; compelling stories with emotion and dialogue and when combined with the right actors, it's the perfect equation for success.

And maybe there's that appeal of escapism...the idea of traveling wherever, whenever and getting into all sorts of mischief. That sense of adventure that most people will never get to act on. Seeing beautiful, dangerous things with a fun, clever and brilliant person who can appreciate what's going on. The companionship of traveling is a theme that runs throughout the show, a feeling most people stuck in their monotonous 8-5 jobs might yearn for.

And maybe it's the escapism that gets me. Don't get me wrong, I'm loving this stage in life, but I can't wait to explore. I don't think I could stand to be in one place too long. There's too much to see, too much to do and too much to explore. In a way, I'm getting into the perfect career for that. If I want to, really truly want to, I can do something. Something exciting and grand and glorious, and the road there may be rough, but I'm sure looking back it'll be worth it.

Anyways, Doctor Who. David Tennant plays the 10th Doctor and he'll always be my doctor. You see, the doctor (being an alien) "regenerates" every now and then. The 10th incarnation of the doctor is witty and sarcastic and stubborn and a jovial fellow. Plus, David Tennant is one heck of an actor.

For more info on the show, check out it's IMDB page.

Wow, I feel incredibly nerdy now. But it's all good. I'm about to get my indie-rock/scene kid on at the radio station. I'll win back a few of those cool points I just lost.

turns out i was a vampire myself in the devil town

After what was an exhausting and ridiculous weekend, I returned home with a few goals in mind:

1) spend some quality time with the family
2) find a new dress and dark pants
3) buy a new messenger bag

Luckily I accomplished all of them. Unfortunately during the process I was able to deplete my bank account, which is major lamecakes because it enforces the fact that I can't save up money no matter how hard I try. While I didn't need a new dress and pants, I was getting tired of what I was wearing. And yeah, I did need a new bag. I had outgrew my backpack two years ago. Finally, I found something that suited everything I needed.

While I was home I introduced my mom to Friday Night Lights. She is in love. Not only does it remind her of home, but she said that it's just so inspiring.

During one of the scenes a cover of Daniel Johnston's "Devil Town" plays. I don't think Bright Eyes is the band who covers the song, but it's all I could find. And it's beautiful. I've never been a huge Bright Eyes fan, but I've gotta hand it to Conner Oberst: this kid knows what he's doing.

Bright Eyes::Devil Town

If say, your speakers are broken, remind me to play the song for you when you come over to watch Friday Night Lights. Which better be soon. As in this week.

In other news, I've dropped my coarse load and I feel like a complete and utter slacker. For some reason I'm just not as motivated this semester, which is pathetic. I'm not burnt out, but I'm just not feeling it. I'm hoping sometime during this semester I'll recover that burning drive I had as a freshman. That drive to succeed, to do well and do things right.

I get to see Texas in less than two weeks. The more I think about it, the more I feel like that's where I'm supposed to be. Austin always feels like home and there's something about Texas...the grandness and greatness and overall sense of pride that you don't get anywhere else.

Another Friday Night Lights clip is necessary:

clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose

I was going to write about music. I had this really deep post about music and these songs I've been listening to and about all this nonsense that's been going on in my life.

Then my friend, Anna, told me that Friday Night Lights was on sale for $20.

If there's one show that's ever inspired me, it's this one. Not only as a photographer, but as a writer, a cinematographer and as a person.

I watch this show and I feel like I'm learning. From the lighting and camera angles to the actors and the screenplay. This show is the epitome of good television. It's shows like this that make me want to move out to Los Angeles and throw myself into the industry. I want to apart of something good. Something so good that it affects people, makes them want to watch television because they know something special is happening.

This isn't your ordinary show. It truly is a thing of beauty. I know some of you don't watch television, but I can promise you that if you were ever to invest any time into a television show, this is the one to be watching.



Seriously. SERIOUSLY. I know you watched that. And you're going to tell me what you thought of that.

Texas forever.

ask me anything you like, you could know everything

Back in business, baby baa-by. Instead of doing the 108 pages of reading I have on my table, I revamped the blog. The header is pretty boring right now, but hey, the design of font and color will have to do for now. Until I get an external hard-drive, I won't be bale to do anything too flashy in Photoshop. I have about 4,000 songs I need to take off of the computer before I run out of space, and once they're gone I can get some brushes and fonts and pictures on here.

I'm hoping in the future to add more music and cd reviews, more pictures, and less ramblings of my daily life. Maybe attract a few more readers, who knows?

I should probably get back to The Age of McCarthyism. Woo.

passing through unconcious states, when i awoke i was on the highway

I've really let this thing go. I feel like a person on a diet or exercise plan; you do really well for a period of time and then, bam, you let yourself go. Sneak a few french fries here, skip out on a run or two there...it's a slippery slope, my friends.

So why did I let this thing go? I had so much I wanted to say, so much to vent and angst and wax nostalgic about that it was almost an overload. I major in words, yet I can never find the right ones to express myself. I can write for hours about analytical bullshit, but when it comes to telling stories and expressing my feelings, it's like every word in my vocabulary goes sparse.

I'm currently sampling some sweet Turkish, Greek and middle eastern hip hop, and I'm not going to lie; this is incredible. I've got a great line up for my show tonight; the last one from 3-6am. Starting this Thursday I'll be on the airwaves from noon-2pm. How sweet it is! I'm going to miss the freedom of the safe harbor hours, though, when I didn't have to worry who was listening, I could just drop whatever I wanted on the radio.

The last month has been pretty horrible. Maybe that's why I haven't posted. And maybe horrible is too strong of a word. It wasn't disastrous or terrible, but it wasn't great. Summer is officially coming to an end, and the last month was almost the literal incarnation of that thought. I knew it's coming to an end, I didn't need four weeks of torture to tell me this. Looking back, everything that went down made me a stronger person. In the end, I was able to realize who my true friends are, and cut some unnecessary ties. Drama is ridiculous and I never want my life consumed with it. I've got more important things to focus on.

I leave for Texas with two of my really good friends in less than a month. I love Texas. Here is a picture of the festival from last year:

Wish you were coming with.

i could recall a time when evenings were bright and thick with love

I should be asleep right now. I have to be somewhere at 10 and have a full day of work in front of me. My internship ends this weekend, and while I loved working at the Herald-Leader, I'm really glad to have my weekends back.

I was so looking forward to getting back to Lexington, thinking my friends would have welcomed me home with open arms. So far, a majority of them haven't even made the effort to ask me how my trip was, call or see me. Thanks guys, missed you too.

There's one thing I've come to discover, though. There's always that one friend you can count on. I went with this friend to quite possibly one of the most electrifying, energetic and explosive concerts I've been to in awhile. Brad and I were able to spend the entire evening together, and seriously, it's just what I needed. We shared summer stories and anecdotes and listened to good music the entire way to the TV on the Radio show in Cincinnati and back.

I move out of what I've come to call "home" this Summer on Sunday. I'm excited about my new abode, but I'll miss this house and my eccentric roommates. But with the new move-in downstairs, it feels right for me leaving. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like the new neighbors...I don't want to get into the nitty gritty, but it's almost an allusion to a situation that I went through a couple of months ago. In the figurative sense, this person metaphorically moved in while I metaphorically moved out. Time for it to happen again.

I went shopping at midnight. I love grocery shopping late at night. I stocked up on bread, peanut butter and jelly, granola cereal and juice. I'm ready to go for the new week!

Summer's slowly coming to an end. I plan on using every spare moment basking in what little is left of it.

look each other in the eye and say, "hello".

I've been away from home for a little over a week. When I was younger, getting away from home was a treat. My first experience of venturing out on my own was when I was eight years old and my parents sent me, along with my friends, to sleepaway camp. I was one of the few children who didn't cry, yearning to go home. Instead, I cried when I had to go home. For the longest time, I hated being home, especially in the summer.

This is the first summer where, once on vacation, I realized how much I loved home. I love my family, and I definitely feel like this vacation was needed, however despite the sprawling beaches, the beautiful surf and sun and the shopping, I just wanted to be home.

In Lexington I've created a family that's made college my home away from home. In these last few months I've formed such strong relationships with people, bonds that I hope will never be broken. To be away from the people that have seen me at my best and worst, who I talk to, share my anecdotes with, hugs and frowns...I was homesick. I still am homesick.

I've spent three hours in Las Vegas, waiting on a delayed flight. I've had those three hours to ruminate on how much the people and the city of Lexington mean to me. Sure, I might be sporting a USC hoodie...and sure, I may never really love UK, but I've made the best of the situation. I move into an apartment this Sunday with my three best girlfriends, and I can't wait. I'm seeing TV on the Radio with Brad on Thursday, and spending tomorrow evening with Ross. It's only been a little over a week, but I'm missing that kid like crazy.

The airport is full with people anxious to get home. As much as I hate flying, I can't wait to get on that plane that will take me home.

buy me a shiny new machine that runs on lies and gasoline

i feel like i can write pretty candidly about my life and going ons here. i know of only one steady reader and know that what i say on here is what i would already tell him. i feel like this blog was my way of communicating what was going on in my life while he was on his adventure. i'm going to keep this going, though, and hopefully i'll get something out of it. i've been meaning to improve my writing, and seriously, is there any better opportunity to do this than a blog? that's a rhetorical question.

one of the things i've come to realize after being away at college, moving out and missing summers with high school friends is that people change. or maybe, people mature.

my high school life was horrible. i didn't have an established group of friends, jumped from person to person, and never really knew who i was. apparently, a lot of people saw me as this confidant person who knew where she was going, was true to herself. i've been told that people actually looked up to me in high school; wanted to be more like me. they had a pretty shitty way of showing it though.

i was that girl who wasn't invited to things, who heard about parties and gatherings after the fact. popular enough to know those people, but still not cool enough to see them on the weekends.

then something changed. i discovered music, and i truly believe that if it wasn't for "the district sleeps alone tonight" by the postal service, i'd be a different person right now. with music, i knew who i was. i didn't need others to make me happy, because in music i found myself. sappy, i know.

since then, i've always felt confidant. i didn't let the petty happenings and drama of high school get to me. i arrived at UK a different person, set on making new friends. not even a month into the school year, i felt accepted by a group of incredible, diverse people and had people from high school wanting to hang out with me. suddenly, i was cool. i haven't felt insecure in a long time, i said goodbye to my former scrawny, mousy self a long time ago.

tonight, i felt transported back to sophomore year. before indie music, before friends.

i kid you not, i was a joke tonight. i was the brunt of inside jokes, side laughs and shifty eyes. i couldn't believe what was going on around me. someone who i had confided so much in, who i thought was my friend, had seemingly turned on me, broke my confidence and bitch slapped me in the face with it. ouch.

i had to literally sit through an hour and a half of torture. i had to watch her charm him, watch him teased and doted on by the other girls, and realize that i was being ignored.

all i wanted was to spend one evening with him. it started out so well.

anyways, i can't wait to get to california. there's nothing i want to see more than the beaches of newport, the boardwalk, and those beautiful california sunsets.

summer here, kids

On the way back from a wedding, Sean asked me what my favorite event or most exciting assignment has been this summer. I honestly didn't know what to tell him. I haven't been or seen anything incredibly exciting, and I can't place my finger on any one assignment that left me feeling awe-inspired or glad that I was there.

I'm not going to lie, though. I've seen a lot of interesting places, met a lot of diverse and unique people and have driven nearly 1000 miles. But overall, with the concentration of this summer (or at least, coming into it) being photojournalism, it feels as thought I haven't really made any advances forward. I've remained pretty consistent, getting the same pictures, just in different situations. Maybe I'm wasting the opportunities that are out there (ie: I've only been on one assignment with my "buddy", David Stephenson) or maybe I'm not that great a photographer. Either way, going over my pictures, despite the multiple centerpieces I've had, I still don't feel like I've taken any one great picture.

But to prove that I haven't been loafing around all the much, here's a few pictures from this summer thus far...









Also, to prove that I actually take pictures of other things and have friends, here's a photo from last Saturday:

I associate people with things. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius reminds me of my best guy friend from high school, John. John was my closest friend, despite the fact that we never saw each other. We spoke for hours at a time on the computer and on the phone. Mostly on the computer. We made half-hearted attempts to hang out. I never knew how smart he was until he told me his senior year schedule. I knew he was ambitious, but I didn't know he was a genius. We bitched and complained about how much we hated high school, about how much we wanted to get out of Louisville and head to bigger places. He was debating schools like Harvard, Yale and Dartmouth. I desperately wanted to attend Northwestern. In the end he enrolled at U of L since they're practically paying him to go there, and I ended up at UK. We don't talk as much anymore, but when I was going through my books today, I thought of him.

When I listen to the Weakerthans, I think of the two people I'm pretty sure I love the most. Teresa was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend at Assumption. She was always there, always smiling, and always up to having a good time. She let me stay at her house when I was too scared to drive home, let me hang out on her kitchen floor, and went on adventures with me. She was smart, funny, religious, kind, but never too serious. I adored her family and had a crush on her brother. She introduced me to the Weakerthans, the only band I can listen to on repeat and not get sick of. I don't see much of her anymore since she goes to Notre Dame, but when I do see her, it's as though nothing has changed. We pick up where we left off, a constant conversation that's put on pause as she endures the bitter cold of South Bend, Indiana and I stay here, in Kentucky.

Then there's Brad. The one person I always feel comfortable talking to. The person I'm missing the most right now. Despite everything that happened last year, I consider him one of my closest friends. I burned him a Weakerthans cd, knowing that he'd love it. It took him awhile to actually listen to it, but to have him tell me that he loved it? Moments like that--introducing people to music and having them discover a new favorite band--make my heart swell. I love that music does that to me.

I'm listening to the Weakerthans right now. I want to tell them both that, while I know they might roll their eyes at this, I'm so glad that they exist.

I think I might be getting sick. I've tried my damnedest to stay healthy, and I'm not going to lie, I've done one hell of a job. I can't even remember the last time I was sick.

I keep getting these shooting, sharp pains in my right inner-ear and the same sharp, shooting pain in my head. It's been going on for a couple of days and I'm thinking that if it still bothers me tomorrow I should go to the doctor.

If there's one thing I hate more than...actually, there's nothing I hate more than the doctor. Maybe the dentist, to my friend's dismay. But the doctor takes the cake.

I'm thinking it might be sinuses, but I'm not sure. Either way, I'm kind of in pain.

So it's been a few days since the last time this blog has seen some fresh words and music. The week's been pretty slow, and I've been busy working and taking pictures. I took one of my favorite pictures on Saturday, and while it didn't run in the paper, I was happy with the overall experience of attending the Kentucky Refugee Picnic. It's amazing, the stories these people told. Many of the refugees fled from the war in the Congo, while others were from Sierra Leone, Togo, Central Africa Republic and Liberia. As I sat with the reporter, hearing stories about a man being held captive in a hole for a month, or a family's struggle to leave Tanzania, I realized that it's moments like this that emphasize why I'm going into journalism. Or at least, why I'm studying it. Even if I don't become a photojournalist, I know that I want to document. I want to tell stories. I want to change people for the better through pictures, words and film.

That was heavy.

The coffee shop job isn't too bad, but the 7-12am kills me. I'm too tired after I get back to do anything, and I can't see anyone that night because I have to wake up so early. No more complaining though, because it's money and if I need anything right now, it's some green green cash.

Have you ever met a person and you two seemed to fit together perfectly? From the most broad of interests, such a movies, to the most minute details of life, such as a love for Blue Bell Ice Cream or the fascination of movie trailers? Because I've met someone, someone I'm finally excited about seeing, who gives me that feeling of pure joy when I see him or talk to him or just share dessert with him. And I'm so new at this, so naive as to how I go about this awkward dance of invites and chatting and shared smiles and brief, tingling touches. But this is what he reminds me of: the missing piece of the puzzle, the person who understands this passion for film that no one else I know can comprehend. The person who enjoys coming over to help cook and doesn't mind doing the dishes, who takes life as it comes, is motivated, smart and gives me that feeling I haven't felt about someone in a long time.

And what I've come to realize, what my friend pointed out from his experience, is that what's happening seems to be incredibly organic. It didn't start out as a physical attraction, a drunken hook-up or anything that can cause a relationship to be doomed from the beginning. This may not even be a possible relationship, but what I've come to find is that what's happening is completely the way an attraction to someone, the beginning of something should happen.

Slowly, naturally. It went from hardly knowing him to happenstance chats to a full out two hour talk over lunch and discovering how much there was in common. It was in these moments, these hard times I was having with another person, that I saw his smile. And maybe that's what has won me over.

The entire house is rooting for this kid, and secretly deep down I hope that I don't ruin this.

I was going to post music, but I've come to find that I'm more tired than I anticipated. This day has worn me out, and at the end of it, I feel exhausted and confused. I left my roommates at the moment I received a text to hang out. And while in the end, this night it turned out to be decent, I can't help but feel like I caved in.

I just finished working my third week at the coffee cart in the hospital. So far, so good. It isn't the best job, but the hours are extremely flexible and I make decent tips. I've managed to hurt my self a lot, though, such as various burns on my fingers, some wicked bruises and sore muscles from the damn espresso machine. However, a conversation with a man walking by describes my experience so far at the cart.

I'm sitting in my chair, reading Maggie Cassidy and watching for customers. It's been slow for about an hour, with me selling mainly regular coffees. Enter older gentleman, in mid to late 50s, bent over, walking, with his hand supporting his lower back. Man looks over at me and smiles.

"How're you today?" he asks me.

"I'm alright," I respond, trying to cover the sleepiness in my voice with a smile. "How're you today?"

"Terrible," he responds. Man hobbles away to outpatient surgery.

My smile is wiped off my face and I let out a small, "oh" under my breath, not knowing the proper response.

Yeah, I kid you not. That happened. The place is depressing and makes me dread getting old. I want to look forward to old age. I don't want to end up in a hospital, in pain, young faces pitying me as I'm wheeled away to my doom.

Blah.

I'm loving Maggie Cassidy by Jack Kerouac. I've decided if I have a little girl, she's going to be named Margaret Cassidy.

I need to take more pictures.

all this time lingers undefined

Despite the fact that I'm not happy with the pictures I've been taking, I've somehow managed to be in the newspaper a lot. Today, I had a picture on the front page. Seriously.

I'm the type of person who tends to worry about things and over analyze situations to death. I worry about whether or not we'll all still be friends by the time Austin City Limits rolls around and we have to drive 16 hours to see what might be the best and greatest concerts of our young lives.

I worry about when you turn 21, and if we'll ever spend time together like we do now. The age discrepancy will be painfully obvious when you're 21 and all your friends are 21 and I'm still 19 and will always be a year and a half younger than you. Will you still come over for a beer and a movie on a Friday night? And on your birthday, I won't be able to share any moments with you because you'll be with her, in Louisville. It's this thought alone that brings me down and makes my stomach clench out of nervousness.

This is a horrible comparison, but it's like Joey and Dawson. They weren't meant to be, but despite Dawson's lust for the beautiful, mysterious next door neighbor, Jen, Joey still pinned for Dawson. But all Dawson ever saw Joey as was a friend, the girl he's always known as his friend.

Of course, in the end Dawson ends up wanting Joey, but we all know Joey and Pacey were MEANT TO BE. So I guess what I'm saying is that I know it's futile, and that these intense feelings will go away eventually...but being the friend who is tossed aside and ignored for the beautiful girl sucks. It's selfish to want to keep you for myself. But that doesn't take away that dread of your 21st birthday.

Seriously though, that's the thought that's been eating away at me. I'm so dramatic sometimes, it makes me want to gag.

My mother spent the entire day at the hospital with my dying great-grandfather, which she didn't even have to do because he's on my dad's side and we hardly know him. My mom is amazing. And I felt horrible when she was telling me about this and I was shopping for clothes at J. Crew.

I'm listening to the Weakerthans right now. A lot of the songs on here remind me of you.

When I look at the pictures I've taken in the past few weeks, I really begin to wonder if I'm cut out for this. I feel like instead of improving, I'm progressively getting worse and worse. My pictures lack variety, they lack emotion. And I know what they need, I know what I need to improve on, yet nothing is happening. I'm afraid maybe I'm losing my focus, which is pathetic, since I've only been doing this for two years.

I'm frustrated, and today's assignment just nailed it on the head that I'm not only letting the newspaper down, but I'm letting myself down too.

I feel overworked and stressed. I needed a paying job to be able to stay in Lexington for the summer, and now I'm feeling the stress from my other job. It makes me not look forward to the two days I work at the paper, because that's two more days that I have to work.

And I'm upset that I'm not enjoying this. That I'm not learning and spending time with my photo coach because of this stupid job. I'm not getting out of this what I should be, and I think the paper knows that. I'm waiting for the email or phone call that asks me to come in, that we "need to have a talk."

I'm shooting something tomorrow morning, and I'm determined to look at it differently. To do better, to deliver and to have that special something that's been missing in my photos for the past few months.

ETA:
I have some pretty incredible friends. I need to write a thank you note to a family in Middlesboro. And, I tacked a message to to your cork board. You won't get it until July, but the message should ring true then as it does now.

Last night I ventured to Louisville with some of my Lexington "family" to see The National with Talkdemonic and Shapes 'n Sizes. While I was only able to take pictures of Talkdemonic, the entire show was stunning. I wish I could have captured it on camera, but for the first time in...ever, I was denied access to take pictures. I'm so used to being press that when I'm actually just a person with a really expensive camera, I'm sort of taken aback. I guess it was a nice reality check. I was there for my own personal enjoyment, not press. Despite this, I think that I was able to get in some decent pictures from Talkdemonic. I've never used my 30D at a show before, so actually metering and trying to get the light just right was difficult. My pictures came out weird, but I like them.

I bumped up my ISO to 3200. I don't think I've ever done that before.

Overall, it was a great show. The National pretty much blew me away. I don't know a lot of their music, but I knew that it would be a good show. What was great was that the crowd was absolutely smitten with the band, and you could tell that the band members were having a great time playing.

It was defiintely worth the drive to Louisville and the quiet car ride back home. As much as I hated waking up after five hours of sleep, last night was worth it.

So I guess I should retract that last post. I didn't think I had any readers, but I guess one is worth keeping this thing going.

There's not a whole lot that's been going on with me. I work six days a week, and it's tiring and sometimes I'm not up to seeing people; I cloister myself up in my room and watch reruns of Friends or pop in some good old Felicity.

Haven't had too many adventures. I'm the type of person who hangs out with the same people every night, and with this work schedule, staying in and watching Pete & Pete with my roommate and one of my closest pals is pure bliss.

I've been missing my California buds like crazy. So much so that I don't even think one of the knows the extent of how much I miss him. It's just odd, going from seeing the same people every day for almost a year to not talking for days at a time.

The radio show's been going well. I don't have that many listeners and hey, it's cool. I'm on from three to six am, so I don't know what I was expecting. Some weeks I have tons of callers, most of them are looking for people to talk to. And I guess we're both in the same situation. By the time 4:30am rolls around, I'm desperate for some form of communication. Because what it comes down to is me talking to this imaginary void, trying to engage whoever is listening. It's gratifying to have someone call in and say they really enjoyed a track or they like what I'm playing. But to go a whole night without a phone call? It's crazy.

Plus, I hit that hour where no one is on Facebook. Have you ever seen "No Friends Online" on your "Currently Online"? Because it happens. Usually around 5 a.m.

So, here comes the music:

Sonny Jim::Can't Stop Moving
I can't get enough of this. It makes me want to get on my feet and dance.
M.I.A.::Hit That
This just oozes hip-hop. MIA does things to me that no other female hip-hop artist could.
The Frames::Falling Slowly
This is from a new release, "Once". It looks like a great movie, and the epic chorus with the combination of gradual building of string instrumental gets me every time.
Phat Kat::Cold Steel F/Elzhi
This might just ooze even more hip-hop than MIA. The beats are incredible and the rhymes are just downright impressive. If I could play this on the radio, I would.
Seabear::I Sing I Swim
God, I listened to Seabear 21 times last week and 19 times this week. Seabear is mellow in the way that you need. It's the right amount of smooth, lush indie music and folk. Iceland at it's best.
Nada Surf::Your Legs Grow
I can't believe I just discovered this song. I'd been listening to Nada Surf for awhile but my friend bought me "Your Weight is a Gift" last week and since then, I can't stop listening. You'll love this if you love songs that build up and leave you feeling cleansed.

That's a lot of music. I've been getting into some different genres, expanding my musical horizons. I've said this before, but what's great about working for WRFL is that I'm forced to look into new music and seek things out. I get online and see what's up on the different music blogs. You Aint No Picasso keeps me up to date on my sugar-coated, lush indie-pop/rock. Other sites like So Much Silence and Gorilla v.s. Bear help me out with my underground hip-hop and mahsups. And Music For Robots keeps me on top of the house/electronica scene.

Anyways, that's basically it from my what, week hiatus?

I dunno. There's tons of other things going. Things I'm trying to figure out and sort. I'm interested in seeing where the next few weeks take me. I've been weirded out, confused, and felt head-over-heels all in the past week and a half. What's crazy about summer is that everything feels so much bigger. I said this about college, but living on your own and completely making your own decisions and spending nights out with friends, just drinking and watching television. It's different. And when I go home, I feel out of place. Like this almost adult that doesn't fit in with the family. I'm not a kid, but I'm not a grown-up.

Shew.

Just listen to the music. If you do anything and skim this post, at the least, give the music a chance.

I wonder if anything more will come out of this besides bitching about my life?

I would talk about my internship and how I met these incredible nuns that could change your life, but I'll save that for next time. There's too many words as it is right now .

Well, this was fun.

Short lived, but fun.

The End.