Washed Away

March 22, 2011

3/22/11

I wanted to let you know that I’m starting to miss writing on this blog. The reason why I would abandon it so often was because I kept trying to fabricate a clean slate for myself by making new blogs, hoping to sound like the person I want to be. I wanted my posts to be creative and interesting. I didn’t want to dawdle on the unimportant details of my bad days because no one really enjoys reading that, right? I mean, when I first started writing on this blog I thought I knew myself and what my goals in life were and how I would get there. Now can definitely feel the long transition stage, covering me in a haze of unhappy adolescence.

A lot has happened since I last wrote on this blog. I’ve moved, tried to analyze and understand different sorts of people, missed my friends, cried, gone to concerts, meet Aaron Gillespie for a third time, and made countless mixtapes. I feel that don’t have much drive as of lately; I hate the feeling of obligation and so I just sleep on everything. I feel withdrawn, you know? It’s stupid, I feel stupid most of the time. Though, what I’ve come to realize is that even if you move somewhere new you can’t automatically flip the switch and become someone else, you bring that person with you. In some ways the place may make you, but for the most part you make yourself, and it’s hard to be the ideal image of yourself without putting real effort into it. It might be safe to say I’ve developed an inferiority complex, that is, if you could laugh about. But I don’t know who I am anymore. I want to be one thing and change my mind the next day. For some reason I can’t seem to shake the idea that you can’t be a combination of two things, and you have to stick to the rules someone you don’t know made up. I’ll realize this but fall back into that mindset of wanting to impress fake strangers. I don’t know what I want to get out of writing this maybe just knowing that someone could understand.

I haven’t written anything this meaningful to myself in nearly a month. I’m listening to “Washed Away” from Aaron Gillespie’s new solo album, Anthem Song and this song makes you appreciate everything, like I can feel an energy greater than myself, you know? It’s so refreshing to think back on that little show of his last December at the Main Street Cafe. No matter what he says about “just being a dude,” hearing him speak about his beliefs makes a difference to a lot of people, including me. So I’ll enjoy this spring break and say cheers to writing the first something that meant anything since my last hiatus.

(Listen to the glory that is Aaron Gillespie’s voice.)


Dear Whoever

September 25, 2010

Dear whoever,

I decided it would be best to type out a long, open letter to whoever finds it interesting enough to read. I wanted to let you all know that I am officially moving. It’s a bittersweet experience but most people go through it, whether theirs’ lean more towards the bitter or the sweet side of things. I think that my experience is fairly balanced. – I know I’ll feel at ease once I’m away from all this stimulation, I know it will be safer there. While at the same time I am finding that I will truly miss a couple of my friends. It’s funny the way some clichés turn out to be true. There are still so many people here that I wanted to get to know (like the boy down my block who is always clutching his iTouch and riding his bike around the neighborhood)! I’m almost afraid there won’t be enough going on to have adventures like we did tonight.

Tonight was my friend’s birthday. Since her block is quiet and generally safe to roam around we went outside in the front yard around 9:30pm to play four square. Instead we ended up running through the streets and through driveways, sloshing the potato chips in the yellow bowl we had been carrying around, and almost getting into trouble with the neighbors. There was some nostalgia in that. I remember when she was tuning 10 or 11 we went out at night and shook baby powder onto the boys in her street. We ran through and from the dust in the street. I missed that. – But when I think about the lurker-esque guys that Emma had directed us not to look at walking the opposite direction of us girls, I was scared. I was more frightened than I should have been because all nine of us had our cell phones, but what with all the stereotypes of what could happen to a girl it gave me an edge.

I came home in all my new bracelets, the Native American poncho that had been passed down from my great-grandmother, with feathers tied in my hair I felt strange. I came downstairs to find the office almost completely cleaned out, boxes pilling it felt less like home. So I made a playlist titled “just chiillll;” the spelling is silly but I typed it to sound like a sigh.

You should give it a listen here.


Something of an Update

September 17, 2010

Where do I begin, really? I’ll start here—

Lately I’ve been making playlists like crazy. I’m currently making a playlist called Cold Feet that features Oceana and Emarosa.

My school year started at the very end of August and my parents and I were initially expecting disaster with the district closing so many schools and combining my middle school with the high school campus. Well, honestly I think it’s been going well considering. I absolutely love my vice principal. All four of the principals respond to any sign of a problem at the snap of a finger, generally without any ranting lectures. There are cute boys to look at from grades above me, and I like my teachers better this year.

The bus rides home are usually the best part of the day not only because I get to return home but because I can come home with the strangest stories. For example one day Hunter yelled, “God, I hate my life!” Then as Peter was getting off at his stop he yelled back, “Not as much as I hate your life!” There a boy named Sam who rides and tends to bring his cute friends along. Sorry I’m going a bit overboard with the eye candy, it’s just that last year there were absolutely none. It was like a barren field.

Today was especially good. Classes were good and I managed to finish most of my homework in class. During art when our teacher called us to gather around her desk so she could demonstrate the next part of the lesson someone from behind me taped my shoulder. I figured it was Trey, trying to annoy me so I ignored it. After the demonstration I sat back down at my table and a cute boy, let’s call him Dylan, complimented my drawing. He’s Mexican, thin, and has a wavy Mohawk-esque haircut and a labret piercing. He’s so cute, -this is cliché- but he’s actually well, bad. And to top it all off when we were leaving class he bumped into me on purpose.

Meanwhile during all my school adventures my parents were still looking for a solution to the school district problems. They knew private school wasn’t a permanent solution. So we looked at a house somewhat in the country yet it’s near a highway so it’s a ten minute drive into another part of the city. It has four bedrooms, an in-ground pool, and a giant kitchen. The schools are fantastic. The curriculum is said to be exceptional. The high school is literally set up as a campus with two different buildings. It sounds really cozy. It’s been an extremely fast process but tomorrow we are getting the keys to the place. I’m nervous. Even though I’ve begun to like my school I am ready for a change, a clean slate with new friends and new people.


Autumn

September 4, 2010

Autumn

I feel it. The air is chill but the sun is still warm against my skin, rough and comforting. I know the grass will soon crunch under my feet as well, thick with freezing dew in the mornings. The sky will be dark again but the leaves and the moon will illuminate everything. I don’t remember September ever being this beautiful. I remember September as dreary and passive.

The Summer Solstice at Mark’s cozy little country home -the one with all the nooks and crannies filled with The Beatles collectors’ items and CDs- was the best part of summer. Max and Eva invited us and we hugged and I realized how much being with them affected their mood. My mom’s optimism was rubbing off, and I know she was damn well trying. It worked. I was chased around the tall grassy yard by little kids and got to roast vegan marsh mellows over the fire. The food was good, it was different. I met a little boy named August who called himself Gus and sat on my mother’s lap and told us how beautiful the sky was. A couple bearded guys sang folk songs back and forth to each other adding, not taking away from the sound. The night became sticky but the sky almost seemed streaked purple. That is what summer should always be like.

The Autumnal Equinox is coming up and Mark is hosting another celebration on my mother’s birthday. I have a good feeling it will be beautiful; the women with long gray hair wearing baggy t-shirts, the guys with beards, and the little country kids that were perfectly content living practically in the middle of nowhere.

Goodbye summer. You were good to me. It was hot but like Hannah said, I loved the time to myself to write and read and listen to my favorite music at night. It felt theatrical though it was too humid to open my window and hear the cars rush down my street. The concerts were good; I hung out with my cousins, and earned a little spending money. Now school is back in session and in the beginning I was terrified but in one short week I’ve grown to like it. I’ve seen a few cute boys this year, I’ve got –excuse me- attractive vice principals, and the thought of gaining knowledge and reading literature, not books sounds so rich, just the thought of turning pages and scribbling notes. I’m finally getting situated and my parents want us to move out of the city. I hope this autumn isn’t so cruel because I think we’ve paid off most of our karma.


HOLY mountain show

June 9, 2010

I could kiss the sounds. As if time could meld into the body of the music. It rests so undecided in the different realms of time. We may not remember our thoughts in or from those moments, they were so clear yet hung so loosely as if I could pull them from a tree like leaves. Or erase them into the sound, finally understanding the sound of separation; understanding a piece of a bigger picture that remained invisible to all that were fragile and close minded. The music simply acted as a guide and a vent for all the unknown feelings we were experiencing. For all that could not be spoken. It is true, silence is dry and sound is wet.

Last night I saw HOLY Mountain again for the fourth time (and counting) at the Main Street Cafe. In short it was spectacular.

The Main Street Café is set up to look like a miniature house party. Couches and chairs are placed around the stage (some of these were held together by duct tape). A nice rug is covering almost the entire floor. The stage is small and as far as stages go, cozy. You could probably sit right in front of the speakers if you wanted. There was such a positive mellow atmosphere in that room with a bunch of little indie kids.

During the fourth band’s sound check Elisha strode over to me. I was sitting on a small love seat near the stage staring at my hands when I saw someone else’s hand. Elisha handed me another one of their demo CDs and said, “Here, this is for you.” I turned to look at him kneeling next to me on the couch. “Oh hey, hi,” I smiled. I felt gauche, but this time I wasn’t hypnotized from his scent so much as to stumble over my own words. He nodded his head and said, “It’s really good to see you here.” It looked uncomfortable kneeling on the floor so I asked if he wanted a seat on the couch. I swore I could have heard him almost say, “Oh no thanks hon,” like I was his kid sister or something. A guy walked over to us and gave us a handout. “This is for you guys,” the guy said. He shook both of our hands, asked our names, and introduced himself as Jessie. He had sandy blonde hair parted to the left with a swoop. He had a firm handshake and a nice smile. He was very cute. After that Elisha and I made small talk before he had to get ready for their set.  I asked if he’d ever played the venue before. Elisha told me he didn’t like performing at the Main Street Café because they were too unorganized and he needed for venues to be organized. I introduced him to my mom and found out he liked drawing and quiet time to think to himself. It was so simple and perfect.

Every time I see HOLY Mountain it is something different. I notice an improvement in the way they go about performing their music. The simple notes may change varying on what mood they are in. Sometimes they change the timing on the songs. Every note they play sounds better live; enriched and amplified in sound. I try and let the eminent sounds of the guitars and crooning voices sink into me. They opened with “Slam Dunk Giant” (my second favorite HM song) complete with a cardboard cut-out of Michael Jordan on stage. Carlos’s hair swung wildly in front of his face when he would slam into the fast guitar bridge.

Before HOLY Mountain played their third to last song they told everyone it was called “In Time.” Then unexpectedly Elisha leaned over the mic and said, “This one goes out Phoenix because she’s been to a lot of our shows and I like seeing her out there.” I smiled and blushed Bella red. It was funny because I could feel the audience look over like, who is Phoenix? After that Carlos added a few more names and said, “You guys can just shout your names.” Everyone cheered, but it didn’t degrade what Elisha had said. Not one bit.


Stay rad in the future time

May 14, 2010

5/14/10

Right now I’m listening to HOLY Mountain’s “Make/Wait” and I cannot describe a better feeling. Every time I listen to that song it makes feel as if I could go on forever. I wouldn’t have to think, I would just be. To be another note in a piece of music; though I may be wrong, today feels like one of those days where everything is looking up. For a second I thought about the Paramore song “Looking Up” but it would be a lie to say that things are that good for me. I am really grateful yet still I take the spices on my food for granted.

Today just as our bus driver was nearing my stop Plant decided to tell me a “secret.” Carlia and I crouched down when Plant said, “Okay, you can’t tell anyone.” Then Ross, a highschooler who lives three houses down from me (and happens to look like Bryson from My Life As Liz) pops his head in between our faces like he’s in on the secret. Man, it was so great. I just looked at him and laughed. For someone who looks like Bryson he should be more likeable as cute as he is. (I also found a Liz Lee look-alike at my school!) – And now I’m listening to HOLY Mountain because I’m celebrating them playing at the Main Street Café. Bradley Hathaway has played there a few times as well as Aaron Gillespie and a couple guys from Mewithoutyou.

We got yearbooks today. I signed a kid’s as Britney Spears and Anna’s as Hayley Williams (which looked sort of convincing.) I’ve decided that kids are too stuck on what is “weird” and being embarrassed. Try stepping on a girl’s foot (while she was wearing ballet flats!) and then being told by your friend that she doesn’t want to sit with you so for you to go somewhere else. Yes, that happened to me! I just think kids should get over someone else being silly and having fun. I mean, loosen up a bit! Sometimes I feel shunned at school because I am so hopelessly strange compared to the other kids, but I try to ignore it.

I’m just shedding out of my old skin. I want good new things in my life now that some of the bad is gone.

http://www.myspace.com/holymountainmusic (They have new songs up, but note that the recordings do not sound nearly as good as they do live.)

And this:


We are so fragile and strange.

April 26, 2010

I really dig Kings of Leon. Listening to “Cold Desert” is like burning a candle throughout the house. It gives me a feeling of relief, not that there is much for me to be relieved of. I’m not really sure myself. As Fay and my mom were talking about it, we’ve been in Limbo for an awfully long time. From the sounds of it, our Limbos are both very different places. Mine has been very much like the song “Sleeping Sickness” by City and Colour. Like the sea I am constantly changing from calm to ill. Madness fills me heart and soul as if the great divide could swallow me whole. And like matches we quickly spark and go out. I believe there is a little piece of Alaska Young in all of us, and it just depends how much we act on it. Human beings are so fragile and strange.  It’s that strange mixture of apathy, remorse, and those quick but sharp pangs of happiness that sting us. We all smile but it takes those 13.7 seconds for the smile to fade.

There isn’t much else to say.