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numenaGoing through the fic you've bookmarked in the past few years, only to discover that (what seems like) half of it is located on journals that have been deleted and purged, is rather depressing.
When I drink too much I have this awful habit of haranguing people on the relative values of Morrissey, The Clash, and Depeche Mode. The sad fact is that I know precisely when this particular rant was born: during my third year of college some halfwitted boy, upon learning that I liked The Clash, assumed this meant that I loved Depeche Mode (which-- no, no, no. "Personal Jesus" my friends, and that is it), and failing that it clearly meant I loved Morrissey and/or The Smiths...I really do not understand the mind of the Morrissey fanatic (which isn't to say that I don't like The Smiths - I do, I just don't think Morrissey is, you know, the Beginning and the End). I'll spare you the intervening forty minutes, but the entire thing ends with me saying that just because they're sort of (but not really) from the same era, doesn't mean that they sound at all alike, or that their fans all end up in the middle of a damn venn diagram. If I get *really* caught up, I'll end it by yelling POST HOC ERGO PROPTER HOC, NO, NO, NO. Badly pronounced Latin and incomplete sentences - the true way to tell that I've gone off my head.
I'm having some issues with my 'd' key - clearly a life lesson on why I shouldn't eat pizza over my laptop.
Threadless makes ipod skins apparently. Obviously I fell victim to an entirely new way to waste money! Behold:
One of my favorite things to do, on a blustery cold Sunday evening, is sit on the couch for hours creating playlists. Choosing each song, carefully experimenting with the order; modifying, adjusting, calibrating.. oh I can spend hours. My absolute favorite part is the very end: choosing the name of the playlist. Today I've spent two hours developing a playlist I've just now decided to call "Destroying the Dreams of the Faux Romantics", a line I'm pretty sure I stole from someone else. Is it sad that my favorite thing isn't actually listening to the new playlist? I'm listening to every song while I'm creating it and somehow I derive so much more joy from making minute adjustments than from actually listening to the songs in the order I spent so long agonizing over.
What's *really* sad is that as we no longer make mix tapes (or cds) I don't have an excuse to exchange playlists with other people. It used to be such a wonderful thing, exchanging mix cds with a friend - the nervousness in handing over something that you've spent hours on: "will they like it? will they understanding the overarching theme? will they get what I'm trying to say?" And getting one in return was just as good - I'd never have loved Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" the way I do if someone hadn't handed me a mix cd in which it followed "Hallelujah" and preceded "Perfect Day". Honestly, I'd never have survived adolescence without my stereo & collection of cds friends had made.
I still make mix cds and mail them to my dad.
When I drink too much I have this awful habit of haranguing people on the relative values of Morrissey, The Clash, and Depeche Mode. The sad fact is that I know precisely when this particular rant was born: during my third year of college some halfwitted boy, upon learning that I liked The Clash, assumed this meant that I loved Depeche Mode (which-- no, no, no. "Personal Jesus" my friends, and that is it), and failing that it clearly meant I loved Morrissey and/or The Smiths...I really do not understand the mind of the Morrissey fanatic (which isn't to say that I don't like The Smiths - I do, I just don't think Morrissey is, you know, the Beginning and the End). I'll spare you the intervening forty minutes, but the entire thing ends with me saying that just because they're sort of (but not really) from the same era, doesn't mean that they sound at all alike, or that their fans all end up in the middle of a damn venn diagram. If I get *really* caught up, I'll end it by yelling POST HOC ERGO PROPTER HOC, NO, NO, NO. Badly pronounced Latin and incomplete sentences - the true way to tell that I've gone off my head.
I'm having some issues with my 'd' key - clearly a life lesson on why I shouldn't eat pizza over my laptop.
Threadless makes ipod skins apparently. Obviously I fell victim to an entirely new way to waste money! Behold:
What's *really* sad is that as we no longer make mix tapes (or cds) I don't have an excuse to exchange playlists with other people. It used to be such a wonderful thing, exchanging mix cds with a friend - the nervousness in handing over something that you've spent hours on: "will they like it? will they understanding the overarching theme? will they get what I'm trying to say?" And getting one in return was just as good - I'd never have loved Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" the way I do if someone hadn't handed me a mix cd in which it followed "Hallelujah" and preceded "Perfect Day". Honestly, I'd never have survived adolescence without my stereo & collection of cds friends had made.
I still make mix cds and mail them to my dad.
