Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Family Fun - Posting Challenge, Day 14
(Also be sure to follow along with Tina, Jean, Krista, and Tambo as they say much more sane and less esoteric things than me!)
So why am I sharing a picture with faces? Because it is totally and completely ludicrous.
I know, it doesn't look funny, but let me put it in perspective.
Why don't I know for sure to what generation various family members can chart themselves? Because, in order to keep up with this family you need a programmable flow chart.
I figure, at the rate we're going, one out of every ten people will be blood related to my family by the year 2130.
Also, this casual poolside picture? Guess what time of year it was taken.
The smart ones caught the one hint in the photo and have already guessed it.
Christmas.
So why am I sharing a picture with faces? Because it is totally and completely ludicrous.
I know, it doesn't look funny, but let me put it in perspective.
- There are 27 people in that photo.
- Of that 27, 18 are blood related, the rest are by marriage.
- All 18 are blood related as children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, or great-great-grandchildren to the women in red.
- 10 are children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren to the woman in blue right next to her.
- Only 2 are direct children of the woman in blue--3 are represented here if you include the grandchildren given to her by one of her children that has passed away.
- The woman in blue has 9 kids total.
Why don't I know for sure to what generation various family members can chart themselves? Because, in order to keep up with this family you need a programmable flow chart.
I figure, at the rate we're going, one out of every ten people will be blood related to my family by the year 2130.
Also, this casual poolside picture? Guess what time of year it was taken.
The smart ones caught the one hint in the photo and have already guessed it.
Christmas.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Poison Pen - Posting Challenge, Day 13
(Also be sure to follow along with Tina, Jean, Krista, and Tambo as they say much more sane and less esoteric things than me!)
Today is a letter to someone who's recently hurt me. Easy-peasy, since I happen to have been recently wounded, and wounded pretty terribly. There is nothing worse than finding out a friendship is false.
Dear Girl-I-Shall-Not-Name,
I'm past being angry, mostly. I'm past being hurt, mostly. Now I'm just feeling foolish, betrayed, and used. I kick myself daily for losing two extraordinary friends over someone like you. Sure, they were far from perfect, but gods know I'm not either. I could have simply, quietly asked them not to make fun of people I loved to my face and told them that wasn't cool. Instead I pushed, and pushed, and finally exploded.
And lost them.
And you, you gained them. You guys are bestest buds now. For over a year, one of them said the absolute worst things about you every chance he got, while the other very quietly stepped aside and let him do it, never even quietly asking him to pick a more appropriate crowd to vent his feelings to, or at least tone it down a notch; permission seemingly given and agreement made simply by never saying no. Neither ever spoke up for you in any way, not even to just keep things cordial when in mixed company. In fact, they had no use for you at all.
I spoke for you, time and again. I supported you from the first day I met you. I often spoke up for you when people mocked you, in spite of the trouble it caused me. I stepped forward when others stepped away. I bragged about the comics you created to new people who had never seen your work and pointed them towards your creations. I talked out problems with you when others were afraid to speak up. I was the one who finally told you why the bad blood existed between you and your tormentors (yes they were my friends, but let's face it, they were definitely your tormentors)--everyone knew, but I was the only one who had the crassness to step forward. I did it to try to and start the process of mending fences; after all, you can't correct what you don't know about.
And why did I do all this?
Because I believed in you. From the bottom of my toes to the tippy-top of my head, I truly, truly believed in you. I believed in your ever increasing maturity, in your ability to change and grow, in the sweet, wonderful girl I met; I totally believed in you. I believed in your inner strength, in your underlying sweetness, in your competence--untried but there--and in the light of your unique and wonderful personality. I believed you were creative, outwardly fragile but with a tough inner core, quirky, irreverent, and fun. You see the world differently than those around you, and I thought that was spectacular.
And if you sometimes whined, or got mad over stupid shit, or caused drama, or made mistakes...well, no one in our entire circle was blameless of any of those behaviors, especially not your tormentors. None of us stood without guilt, so I could not see why your judgment--a young woman with emotional problems who barely had any real world experience--should be so much harsher than the reaction those of us who were older, wiser, and should have known better.
So I stood up for you, time and time again. For a year solid, I stood for you when others were putting you down. I supported you, reached out to you when you were in crisis, and did everything I could to be your friend. And when matters escalated, I went to the wall for you, and lost two friends that were very dear to me, friends I loved, and who, even now, it hurts to be without.
And you know what?
I made the wrong choice.
Because the upshot was you making up with them--which was good--but dropping me like a hot rock the first time I did anything wrong. Or maybe the second time. Or the third. Or the fiftieth, for all I know, since you never told me anything was wrong. I just looked up one day to find you had dumped me on the comic site and on Facebook, no warning, no explanation, just boom, gone.
And, fool that I was, I honestly didn't believe it. When Facebook and the comics both went silent, I thought maybe you were going through something rough and just not posting. When I saw people in chat talking to you but no longer saw the reply, I assumed it was just scrolling too fast for me to see it. It really never occurred to me that you would ever do such a thing, and when cold realization finally dawned, it was one of the greatest shocks I've ever suffered.
You were a person that, if you needed a place, I'd have opened my home to, despite never having met you in the flesh. That was how much I trusted that the girl I got to know was real and genuine and just plain amazing. That was how much I trusted we'd made a real connection, something more than simple internet buds. That was how much I trusted you.
You're telling me now that you were looking for the right way to let me know why you tossed me away without warning, but the thing is, your actions don't back that up. It was a good two weeks or more before I figured out what was going on, and you never even dropped me a note in that time.You said you didn't want to hurt me, but I can't fathom how someone of your obvious intelligence could have figured that doing things the way you did would have somehow hurt me less.
When I called you on it, asked you calmly and rationally what happened, it was two days before I even warranted an answer. Even then the answer only came after you ignored my inquiry and I went off. And I still feel more like you replied because you were afraid I'd cause some sort of trouble than because you actually wanted to speak to me, and that you continued to argue with me because you felt pressured to do so.
This was something you backed up yourself when you ended your first note to me with; "Maybe I should have told you all of this BEFORE, but the fact that I felt this way wasn't going to change (emphasis mine)." It's the first time you mention anything is wrong, and the very first thing you tell me is that the friendship I foolishly thought we were building meant so little to you that you'd made up your mind it was over before even talking with me.
And the ironic thing? You'd spent well over a year--almost two, in fact--hurt that you were never told why the people who hated you so badly felt the way they did, and upset you were given, not a second or even a third chance, but more like a fifth or sixth one. But when it came time to deal with me, you dropped me without telling me what was wrong and gave no second chances.
You did to me what was done to you, and thought nothing of it.
But the worst, the absolute worst part of it? You proved them right. Your then-tormentors-now-friends? You proved everything that was said about you 100% spot on. I was warned, warned you treated people like this. I was warned that you didn't like people disagreeing with you, which was apparently my sin, to not agree with you on more than one occasion. I was warned you sliced people out of your life like this with no explanation and no second chances. I heard horror story after horror story.
But, foolish me, I make it a point not to listen to gossip. To understand that people--young people especially--can and do change. To think that because you were treating me with respect, that meant you'd give that same respect to everyone, and do so continuously. To think that you had taken the rift between you and those who had dumped and then mocked you as a life lesson.
I was so, so wrong. No lessons were learned. It's possible you only liked me not only because I was nice to you, but because, on that site, I was the popular kid, and more than nice people, you crave popular people. Once my star fell and you hitched your rising one to someone with twice my popularity--someone who, coincidentally, no longer liked me--you sure dumped me hard and fast. After all, you really didn't need me anymore, did you? You have what you want, so why bother ironing out the rough spots in our relationship? You don't need to work that hard, not with all your new friends basking in the glow of your new found stardom, quick to give you all the ego stroking you'll ever need.
Even worse, I lied to my friends, if only out of ignorance. I told them you'd changed, mellowed, weren't the same girl you had been. I guaranteed it. And when they'd had time to get over the hurt we'd slung at each other, they went to you with an open hand of friendship, driven partially by my words.
And you're going to hurt them.
Sooner or later they will disagree with you one too many times. They might accidentally hurt your feelings or piss you off; it happens sooner or later in every relationship. It's an inevitability. And when it finally does, you will do to them what you did to me; what you have done at least twice in the past that I know of, and more often that I have been told about through gossip.
You haven't changed at all.
The day will come that you will hurt my friends. Sure, they have no use for me anymore, and why should they? Pretty harsh things were said all around. But I still love them enough that it hurts every time I know they are online and we don't speak, every time I see comments left elsewhere and smiles given to others, and I know that door is closed to me forever. I'm not sure it will ever stop hurting.
And the clock is counting down until the day I have to watch from afar when the drama explodes all over again, when they curse my name for ever convincing them to trust you. And they'll be right to do so. It will be no less than I deserve.
I stood up for you, for the sweet, shy, sensitive girl I thought I knew. I went to the wall for you, risked everything and lost it, over you. I supported you, believed in you, and stood by you almost from the day I met you. And this is all it's worth, this...summary dismissal.
Know this; I will never ever stand for you again. To anyone. I will not show off your work. I will not introduce people to you. I will not set anyone else up for this kind of hurt, or for this sort of betrayal given in return for loyalty.
I know you are not a bad girl, or even a truly malicious one, but you are incredibly broken. And you are shallow, shallow about your relationships, and shallow about yourself. And until you pull your shit together, you will receive not one more iota of support from me.
Frankly, you haven't earned it, and you don't deserve it.
If I could go back and erase the entire confrontation, take back everything I said to my friends, I would. But I can't. All I can do is learn from this, and I have learned well. You have lost my trust, and you may never gain it back.
But then, I'm guessing that doesn't mean much to you anyway.
Someday it will. Someday you'll find someone you'll really want to keep, and you will do to them what you did to me, what you've done to so many others. Why? Because you refuse to learn from your mistakes or your life. And someday that someone will say the exact same things to you that I am now.
And you will deserve every word.
Maybe then you'll finally stop shitting on people and get your damned priorities straight.
Goodbye,
Me.
Today is a letter to someone who's recently hurt me. Easy-peasy, since I happen to have been recently wounded, and wounded pretty terribly. There is nothing worse than finding out a friendship is false.
Dear Girl-I-Shall-Not-Name,
I'm past being angry, mostly. I'm past being hurt, mostly. Now I'm just feeling foolish, betrayed, and used. I kick myself daily for losing two extraordinary friends over someone like you. Sure, they were far from perfect, but gods know I'm not either. I could have simply, quietly asked them not to make fun of people I loved to my face and told them that wasn't cool. Instead I pushed, and pushed, and finally exploded.
And lost them.
And you, you gained them. You guys are bestest buds now. For over a year, one of them said the absolute worst things about you every chance he got, while the other very quietly stepped aside and let him do it, never even quietly asking him to pick a more appropriate crowd to vent his feelings to, or at least tone it down a notch; permission seemingly given and agreement made simply by never saying no. Neither ever spoke up for you in any way, not even to just keep things cordial when in mixed company. In fact, they had no use for you at all.
I spoke for you, time and again. I supported you from the first day I met you. I often spoke up for you when people mocked you, in spite of the trouble it caused me. I stepped forward when others stepped away. I bragged about the comics you created to new people who had never seen your work and pointed them towards your creations. I talked out problems with you when others were afraid to speak up. I was the one who finally told you why the bad blood existed between you and your tormentors (yes they were my friends, but let's face it, they were definitely your tormentors)--everyone knew, but I was the only one who had the crassness to step forward. I did it to try to and start the process of mending fences; after all, you can't correct what you don't know about.
And why did I do all this?
Because I believed in you. From the bottom of my toes to the tippy-top of my head, I truly, truly believed in you. I believed in your ever increasing maturity, in your ability to change and grow, in the sweet, wonderful girl I met; I totally believed in you. I believed in your inner strength, in your underlying sweetness, in your competence--untried but there--and in the light of your unique and wonderful personality. I believed you were creative, outwardly fragile but with a tough inner core, quirky, irreverent, and fun. You see the world differently than those around you, and I thought that was spectacular.
And if you sometimes whined, or got mad over stupid shit, or caused drama, or made mistakes...well, no one in our entire circle was blameless of any of those behaviors, especially not your tormentors. None of us stood without guilt, so I could not see why your judgment--a young woman with emotional problems who barely had any real world experience--should be so much harsher than the reaction those of us who were older, wiser, and should have known better.
So I stood up for you, time and time again. For a year solid, I stood for you when others were putting you down. I supported you, reached out to you when you were in crisis, and did everything I could to be your friend. And when matters escalated, I went to the wall for you, and lost two friends that were very dear to me, friends I loved, and who, even now, it hurts to be without.
And you know what?
I made the wrong choice.
Because the upshot was you making up with them--which was good--but dropping me like a hot rock the first time I did anything wrong. Or maybe the second time. Or the third. Or the fiftieth, for all I know, since you never told me anything was wrong. I just looked up one day to find you had dumped me on the comic site and on Facebook, no warning, no explanation, just boom, gone.
And, fool that I was, I honestly didn't believe it. When Facebook and the comics both went silent, I thought maybe you were going through something rough and just not posting. When I saw people in chat talking to you but no longer saw the reply, I assumed it was just scrolling too fast for me to see it. It really never occurred to me that you would ever do such a thing, and when cold realization finally dawned, it was one of the greatest shocks I've ever suffered.
You were a person that, if you needed a place, I'd have opened my home to, despite never having met you in the flesh. That was how much I trusted that the girl I got to know was real and genuine and just plain amazing. That was how much I trusted we'd made a real connection, something more than simple internet buds. That was how much I trusted you.
You're telling me now that you were looking for the right way to let me know why you tossed me away without warning, but the thing is, your actions don't back that up. It was a good two weeks or more before I figured out what was going on, and you never even dropped me a note in that time.You said you didn't want to hurt me, but I can't fathom how someone of your obvious intelligence could have figured that doing things the way you did would have somehow hurt me less.
When I called you on it, asked you calmly and rationally what happened, it was two days before I even warranted an answer. Even then the answer only came after you ignored my inquiry and I went off. And I still feel more like you replied because you were afraid I'd cause some sort of trouble than because you actually wanted to speak to me, and that you continued to argue with me because you felt pressured to do so.
This was something you backed up yourself when you ended your first note to me with; "Maybe I should have told you all of this BEFORE, but the fact that I felt this way wasn't going to change (emphasis mine)." It's the first time you mention anything is wrong, and the very first thing you tell me is that the friendship I foolishly thought we were building meant so little to you that you'd made up your mind it was over before even talking with me.
And the ironic thing? You'd spent well over a year--almost two, in fact--hurt that you were never told why the people who hated you so badly felt the way they did, and upset you were given, not a second or even a third chance, but more like a fifth or sixth one. But when it came time to deal with me, you dropped me without telling me what was wrong and gave no second chances.
You did to me what was done to you, and thought nothing of it.
But the worst, the absolute worst part of it? You proved them right. Your then-tormentors-now-friends? You proved everything that was said about you 100% spot on. I was warned, warned you treated people like this. I was warned that you didn't like people disagreeing with you, which was apparently my sin, to not agree with you on more than one occasion. I was warned you sliced people out of your life like this with no explanation and no second chances. I heard horror story after horror story.
But, foolish me, I make it a point not to listen to gossip. To understand that people--young people especially--can and do change. To think that because you were treating me with respect, that meant you'd give that same respect to everyone, and do so continuously. To think that you had taken the rift between you and those who had dumped and then mocked you as a life lesson.
I was so, so wrong. No lessons were learned. It's possible you only liked me not only because I was nice to you, but because, on that site, I was the popular kid, and more than nice people, you crave popular people. Once my star fell and you hitched your rising one to someone with twice my popularity--someone who, coincidentally, no longer liked me--you sure dumped me hard and fast. After all, you really didn't need me anymore, did you? You have what you want, so why bother ironing out the rough spots in our relationship? You don't need to work that hard, not with all your new friends basking in the glow of your new found stardom, quick to give you all the ego stroking you'll ever need.
Even worse, I lied to my friends, if only out of ignorance. I told them you'd changed, mellowed, weren't the same girl you had been. I guaranteed it. And when they'd had time to get over the hurt we'd slung at each other, they went to you with an open hand of friendship, driven partially by my words.
And you're going to hurt them.
Sooner or later they will disagree with you one too many times. They might accidentally hurt your feelings or piss you off; it happens sooner or later in every relationship. It's an inevitability. And when it finally does, you will do to them what you did to me; what you have done at least twice in the past that I know of, and more often that I have been told about through gossip.
You haven't changed at all.
The day will come that you will hurt my friends. Sure, they have no use for me anymore, and why should they? Pretty harsh things were said all around. But I still love them enough that it hurts every time I know they are online and we don't speak, every time I see comments left elsewhere and smiles given to others, and I know that door is closed to me forever. I'm not sure it will ever stop hurting.
And the clock is counting down until the day I have to watch from afar when the drama explodes all over again, when they curse my name for ever convincing them to trust you. And they'll be right to do so. It will be no less than I deserve.
I stood up for you, for the sweet, shy, sensitive girl I thought I knew. I went to the wall for you, risked everything and lost it, over you. I supported you, believed in you, and stood by you almost from the day I met you. And this is all it's worth, this...summary dismissal.
Know this; I will never ever stand for you again. To anyone. I will not show off your work. I will not introduce people to you. I will not set anyone else up for this kind of hurt, or for this sort of betrayal given in return for loyalty.
I know you are not a bad girl, or even a truly malicious one, but you are incredibly broken. And you are shallow, shallow about your relationships, and shallow about yourself. And until you pull your shit together, you will receive not one more iota of support from me.
Frankly, you haven't earned it, and you don't deserve it.
If I could go back and erase the entire confrontation, take back everything I said to my friends, I would. But I can't. All I can do is learn from this, and I have learned well. You have lost my trust, and you may never gain it back.
But then, I'm guessing that doesn't mean much to you anyway.
Someday it will. Someday you'll find someone you'll really want to keep, and you will do to them what you did to me, what you've done to so many others. Why? Because you refuse to learn from your mistakes or your life. And someday that someone will say the exact same things to you that I am now.
And you will deserve every word.
Maybe then you'll finally stop shitting on people and get your damned priorities straight.
Goodbye,
Me.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Blogging – Posting Challenge, Day 12
(Also be sure to follow along with Tina, Jean, Krista, and Tambo as they say much more sane and less esoteric things than me!)
I can't recall my first exposure to blogging. It was back when the net was new; back when LiveJournal was just starting out and hadn't been sold to companies who decided liberally sprinkling the pages with ads was somehow a good idea. I had wanted to keep a diary for a long time, but frankly, I suck at diaries. I'm one of those people that purchases them, keeps a day or two, then relegates them to the back of the bookshelf so I don't have to feel guilty every time I run across the empty pages. I thought maybe having people looking in on my work would help my determination to keep up with it, so I made my first journal.
Like all journals of young people, there was much emotion and angst, to the point I don't know how I ever got followers. But I managed with well over 100, which was a pretty respectable following in the early days of the net. It helped my memory, my emotional equilibrium, and my life in general. But at some point I befriended one too many of my flakier followers. I screamed one too many times where a boyfriend or girlfriend could see it. And the drama bomb exploded once too often in my lap.
So I abandoned it.
About the point I felt I could take it back up again, LJ had added advertisements, and it just didn't feel like the same place anymore. I already paid for my account, I did my part to support LJ for years, and saw no reason why I should be punished when times were lean. Especially when I knew (as everyone there did) that they weren't exactly hurting for money. I'd be there right now, but what's the point? I thought I'd give a different blog site a try instead.
I've since thought of taking it up again, as practice to getting back into daily writing. So far the "daily" part is an uphill battle, but at least the "writing" is happening. I am woefully behind, but I haven't given up.
I can't recall my first exposure to blogging. It was back when the net was new; back when LiveJournal was just starting out and hadn't been sold to companies who decided liberally sprinkling the pages with ads was somehow a good idea. I had wanted to keep a diary for a long time, but frankly, I suck at diaries. I'm one of those people that purchases them, keeps a day or two, then relegates them to the back of the bookshelf so I don't have to feel guilty every time I run across the empty pages. I thought maybe having people looking in on my work would help my determination to keep up with it, so I made my first journal.
Like all journals of young people, there was much emotion and angst, to the point I don't know how I ever got followers. But I managed with well over 100, which was a pretty respectable following in the early days of the net. It helped my memory, my emotional equilibrium, and my life in general. But at some point I befriended one too many of my flakier followers. I screamed one too many times where a boyfriend or girlfriend could see it. And the drama bomb exploded once too often in my lap.
So I abandoned it.
About the point I felt I could take it back up again, LJ had added advertisements, and it just didn't feel like the same place anymore. I already paid for my account, I did my part to support LJ for years, and saw no reason why I should be punished when times were lean. Especially when I knew (as everyone there did) that they weren't exactly hurting for money. I'd be there right now, but what's the point? I thought I'd give a different blog site a try instead.
I've since thought of taking it up again, as practice to getting back into daily writing. So far the "daily" part is an uphill battle, but at least the "writing" is happening. I am woefully behind, but I haven't given up.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Pic With Friend – Posting Challenge, Day 11
(Also be sure to follow along with Tina, Jean, Krista, and Tambo as they say much more sane and less esoteric things than me!)
These posts really assume I'm an interesting person, don't they?
Today is another picture of me with my friends, because, you know, I have permission to splash their faces all over the net. Not.
All right, here's one of my subversive pictures with a small and very prosaic story attached.
It was a new year party/birthday party of a friend, and we all got together, got a little smashed, and enjoyed such party essentials as "is the bathroom ever free," "long talks about nothing at all," "drinking games," "ease the munchies," and Rock Band. These days, no party is complete without Rock Band.
I don't really play guitar, and I find the game guitar fun, but not really my thing. I loved the drums--for about five seconds. The drum set was somehow not coordinated with the game right; you'd hit the drum, then about two seconds later the game would register the hit. The lag in anything else would be barely noticeable, but in Rock Band precision timing is critical. It frustrated so many people that the entire drum set eventually got stowed.
This left guitar, bass guitar, and microphone. A lifelong attendance of choral classes had me gravitating towards, you guessed it, the microphone.
I spent a lot of the night singing, actually, with varying results. The 100% up there, however, was the apparent amazement of those around me when I belted out a perfect score on a song I'd never even heard before. Keep in mind, it was on Easy, and Easy is really, really forgiving. I tried higher levels with songs I did know and bombed badly.
But it made the message board anyway. Other well wishes and smart-ass remarks were erased so my accomplishment could be posted, and it stayed there the rest of the night.
I still say it was only because it was on Easy.
How is this a pic of me with friends? Well, every message there is from a party-goer. One was written by my roomie, one by her sister, and the rest from people I know. Except the well hung bird. I have no idea who drew that (or if it was originally intended to have a ding dong), but you must admit, it's an amusing little doodle. The bird seems genuinely surprised by his dong.
These posts really assume I'm an interesting person, don't they?
Today is another picture of me with my friends, because, you know, I have permission to splash their faces all over the net. Not.
All right, here's one of my subversive pictures with a small and very prosaic story attached.
It was a new year party/birthday party of a friend, and we all got together, got a little smashed, and enjoyed such party essentials as "is the bathroom ever free," "long talks about nothing at all," "drinking games," "ease the munchies," and Rock Band. These days, no party is complete without Rock Band.
I don't really play guitar, and I find the game guitar fun, but not really my thing. I loved the drums--for about five seconds. The drum set was somehow not coordinated with the game right; you'd hit the drum, then about two seconds later the game would register the hit. The lag in anything else would be barely noticeable, but in Rock Band precision timing is critical. It frustrated so many people that the entire drum set eventually got stowed.
This left guitar, bass guitar, and microphone. A lifelong attendance of choral classes had me gravitating towards, you guessed it, the microphone.
I spent a lot of the night singing, actually, with varying results. The 100% up there, however, was the apparent amazement of those around me when I belted out a perfect score on a song I'd never even heard before. Keep in mind, it was on Easy, and Easy is really, really forgiving. I tried higher levels with songs I did know and bombed badly.
But it made the message board anyway. Other well wishes and smart-ass remarks were erased so my accomplishment could be posted, and it stayed there the rest of the night.
I still say it was only because it was on Easy.
How is this a pic of me with friends? Well, every message there is from a party-goer. One was written by my roomie, one by her sister, and the rest from people I know. Except the well hung bird. I have no idea who drew that (or if it was originally intended to have a ding dong), but you must admit, it's an amusing little doodle. The bird seems genuinely surprised by his dong.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Beloved Music - Posting Challenge, Day 10
(Also be sure to follow along with Tina, Jean, Krista, and Tambo as they say much more sane and less esoteric things than me!)
Also note: If SOPA and PIPA pass, I could go to jail for this post, for daring to embed my favorite songs into a post and giving these musicians free advertising. This post could also be used to shut down Wordpress and YouTube...permanently. Please write your congress-critter and protest these bills--or any future bills like them, being passed.
Today's challenge? Songs I listen to when I'm happy, sad, bored, hyper, and mad. Translation? An excuse to link spam! SQUEE!!!
The problem is, this is going to be difficult, since I have no one particular song for any of these emotions. Not to mention, these are very rigidly defined. For instance, the song I would listen to if I were mad at some jerk for cutting me off and making me miss my exit would be different than the song I listened to if I were fuming over an ex. And for either of those situations, I have probably fifty songs in my arsenal.
I am a music-o-holic, always have been. Even as a child, the radio was on in our house (back when radio was still good) more often than the tv. I took to cassette tapes like a duck to water, and I probably owned a million of them. My musical tastes in rock run from practically the birth of rock all the way up to the present day, and I love songs that you've probably never heard of. I also dip into industrial, jazz, blues, folk, symphonic metal, experimental, pagan, comedy, some older country, a very little rap, and gods only know what else. And if you have explored every one of those links, congratulations, you are as music crazy as I am. And probably up as late.
Choosing just one per mood is not easy; it's tantamount to simply pulling a title out of my ass and calling it Gospel. It irks me. But on the flip side, if I went off on a music-y tangent, we'd be here all year.
What to do...what to do....
Edit: Eh, screw this. I was laying down a pretty good post, when the system screwed up enough of the formatting that I had a choice to laboriously redo it, or go back and just do the original question.
Hellooooo, original question! Let's get this done in five minutes, shall we? I'll probably still be giving it my own take, it's just a different take from the one I was using before.
EDIT 2: I tried, I really tried, to make the page pretty and move the text away from the videos. But every time I did, the video coding vanished. I have no idea what's going on with it, but it just seems a better idea to leave the magical motherflipper alone and not to to provoke another vanishing act. So, sorry about the crappy formatting.
Happy:
I don't have a song on tap for being happy, per se. I tend to skim my iPod to find a song that enhances my mood, or just fits it. As for becoming happy from listening, again, it really depends. I have listened to some sad or eerie crap to make myself happy. It's not so much content as the tunes that turn me on.
So I think I'll take this to comedy music instead--which, by the way, I rarely listen to in order to become happy. I actually just listen to it whenever.
So, without further ado, one of my favorite comedic singers that no one knows exists:
And one that everyone knows:
But, I think the better definition of Happy in this case is determination, or...
Confidence:
Because happiness isn't that hard to achieve, but the times I feel really down are times when I feel I'm against a wall with no way out. And, hey, we have music for that!
There is nothing better than this song when I'm feeling down. It just celebrates the individual in such a great way. The message is so positive; "No one can do the job like I can, for this job I'm the best man, and while this may be true, you are the one and only you!"
(And I'd never seen the video for this before--holy crap, he's young!)
Then there are those times I feel I'm losing myself. When that happens, a little reminder of things I believe in are in order. And for that, I tend to turn to Manowar. Many of their songs give me the motivation and confidence I need, but one in particular embodies everything I try to strive towards. I often fail, but I keep trying:
The song is also awesome in German.
Trigger Warning: The links I have here are pretty safe, but this is heavy metal, folks. If you explore the band further, expect a few (thankfully very few, and mostly early in their career--I find that crap tiresome) references to Hell and Satan, and a lot of references to violence including some to rape. Yes, I still love their body of music, though in some cases it's a guilty pleasure. I'm even okay with "Pleasure Slave," since I did once know a woman like that (including being quite happy about her state), and so it probably has different connotations to me than other folks.
The band is very Ancient Norse/viking warrior in their lyrics, but both they and the fans seem to know the difference between fantasy and reality--I have never been safer than as practically the only woman at the testosterone-fest that was a Manowar concert. While I am as feminist and rape aware as the next soul (and gods know I have the background to be easily squicked) I'm okay with this band because of the overall message. If you aren't, fine, but no lectures please. To each their own.
Moving on....
Sad:
*sigh* Refer to Happy for how this works. I have far too many songs I listen to, some for extra wallowing and some to pull me out of it. But I do have a couple songs that make me feel all wistful and longing, so I'll share those.
For the next one, I am embedding the same song twice. Why? Because I am unable to choose between the two versions. They are both incredibly beautiful. Enjoy.
Bored:
Ummm...people have songs specifically for boredom? Truly? I thought all music cured that state of being.
Screw it, have some Leonard Cohen instead. This man is an unsung genius, and what he can do with words makes a word lover like me just curl at the toes. I am picking only three, but he has so many more good songs, hours of blissful listening. Check him out.
Hyper:
Hyper? Pretty much anything I danged well feel like. Refer to Happy to get the general idea. Now, songs to get my engines going? That I have.
One of my favorites for draggy days is this one:
Nothing like it to get engines revved on "wish I weren't breathing, just let me go back to bed" mornings.
I also tend to favor this one, and one listen will tell you why; it's breathless, happy, anticipatory, and just catches me up and makes me want to celebrate.
Mad:
Mad is so easy. I actually have a boatload of songs for anger, but a perennial favorite is one that everyone should be familiar with. The song is an anger cliche for a reason...
Seriously, is anyone really surprised?
I highly suspect I have done enough damage here, and that anyone with a slow connection or an older computer wants to string me up by my toenails right about now, so I think I will curb my enthusiasm. And if you managed to follow every video and link, no matter how long it took, you, my friends, are as big a music-o-holic as I am. I hope I introduced you to something new and incredibly cool.
Also note: If SOPA and PIPA pass, I could go to jail for this post, for daring to embed my favorite songs into a post and giving these musicians free advertising. This post could also be used to shut down Wordpress and YouTube...permanently. Please write your congress-critter and protest these bills--or any future bills like them, being passed.
Today's challenge? Songs I listen to when I'm happy, sad, bored, hyper, and mad. Translation? An excuse to link spam! SQUEE!!!
The problem is, this is going to be difficult, since I have no one particular song for any of these emotions. Not to mention, these are very rigidly defined. For instance, the song I would listen to if I were mad at some jerk for cutting me off and making me miss my exit would be different than the song I listened to if I were fuming over an ex. And for either of those situations, I have probably fifty songs in my arsenal.
I am a music-o-holic, always have been. Even as a child, the radio was on in our house (back when radio was still good) more often than the tv. I took to cassette tapes like a duck to water, and I probably owned a million of them. My musical tastes in rock run from practically the birth of rock all the way up to the present day, and I love songs that you've probably never heard of. I also dip into industrial, jazz, blues, folk, symphonic metal, experimental, pagan, comedy, some older country, a very little rap, and gods only know what else. And if you have explored every one of those links, congratulations, you are as music crazy as I am. And probably up as late.
Choosing just one per mood is not easy; it's tantamount to simply pulling a title out of my ass and calling it Gospel. It irks me. But on the flip side, if I went off on a music-y tangent, we'd be here all year.
What to do...what to do....
Edit: Eh, screw this. I was laying down a pretty good post, when the system screwed up enough of the formatting that I had a choice to laboriously redo it, or go back and just do the original question.
Hellooooo, original question! Let's get this done in five minutes, shall we? I'll probably still be giving it my own take, it's just a different take from the one I was using before.
EDIT 2: I tried, I really tried, to make the page pretty and move the text away from the videos. But every time I did, the video coding vanished. I have no idea what's going on with it, but it just seems a better idea to leave the magical motherflipper alone and not to to provoke another vanishing act. So, sorry about the crappy formatting.
Happy:
I don't have a song on tap for being happy, per se. I tend to skim my iPod to find a song that enhances my mood, or just fits it. As for becoming happy from listening, again, it really depends. I have listened to some sad or eerie crap to make myself happy. It's not so much content as the tunes that turn me on.
So I think I'll take this to comedy music instead--which, by the way, I rarely listen to in order to become happy. I actually just listen to it whenever.
So, without further ado, one of my favorite comedic singers that no one knows exists:
And one that everyone knows:
But, I think the better definition of Happy in this case is determination, or...
Confidence:
Because happiness isn't that hard to achieve, but the times I feel really down are times when I feel I'm against a wall with no way out. And, hey, we have music for that!
There is nothing better than this song when I'm feeling down. It just celebrates the individual in such a great way. The message is so positive; "No one can do the job like I can, for this job I'm the best man, and while this may be true, you are the one and only you!"
(And I'd never seen the video for this before--holy crap, he's young!)
Then there are those times I feel I'm losing myself. When that happens, a little reminder of things I believe in are in order. And for that, I tend to turn to Manowar. Many of their songs give me the motivation and confidence I need, but one in particular embodies everything I try to strive towards. I often fail, but I keep trying:
The song is also awesome in German.
Trigger Warning: The links I have here are pretty safe, but this is heavy metal, folks. If you explore the band further, expect a few (thankfully very few, and mostly early in their career--I find that crap tiresome) references to Hell and Satan, and a lot of references to violence including some to rape. Yes, I still love their body of music, though in some cases it's a guilty pleasure. I'm even okay with "Pleasure Slave," since I did once know a woman like that (including being quite happy about her state), and so it probably has different connotations to me than other folks.
The band is very Ancient Norse/viking warrior in their lyrics, but both they and the fans seem to know the difference between fantasy and reality--I have never been safer than as practically the only woman at the testosterone-fest that was a Manowar concert. While I am as feminist and rape aware as the next soul (and gods know I have the background to be easily squicked) I'm okay with this band because of the overall message. If you aren't, fine, but no lectures please. To each their own.
Moving on....
Sad:
*sigh* Refer to Happy for how this works. I have far too many songs I listen to, some for extra wallowing and some to pull me out of it. But I do have a couple songs that make me feel all wistful and longing, so I'll share those.
For the next one, I am embedding the same song twice. Why? Because I am unable to choose between the two versions. They are both incredibly beautiful. Enjoy.
Bored:
Ummm...people have songs specifically for boredom? Truly? I thought all music cured that state of being.
Screw it, have some Leonard Cohen instead. This man is an unsung genius, and what he can do with words makes a word lover like me just curl at the toes. I am picking only three, but he has so many more good songs, hours of blissful listening. Check him out.
Hyper:
Hyper? Pretty much anything I danged well feel like. Refer to Happy to get the general idea. Now, songs to get my engines going? That I have.
One of my favorites for draggy days is this one:
Nothing like it to get engines revved on "wish I weren't breathing, just let me go back to bed" mornings.
I also tend to favor this one, and one listen will tell you why; it's breathless, happy, anticipatory, and just catches me up and makes me want to celebrate.
Mad:
Mad is so easy. I actually have a boatload of songs for anger, but a perennial favorite is one that everyone should be familiar with. The song is an anger cliche for a reason...
Seriously, is anyone really surprised?
I highly suspect I have done enough damage here, and that anyone with a slow connection or an older computer wants to string me up by my toenails right about now, so I think I will curb my enthusiasm. And if you managed to follow every video and link, no matter how long it took, you, my friends, are as big a music-o-holic as I am. I hope I introduced you to something new and incredibly cool.
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