Stories about families not being able to afford their mortgages make me cry.

teitur

My stolen-slash-borrowed ipod has been stuck on Teitur. It's kind of bad because when I wake up in the morning and turn it on, instead of standing up, I lie there listening to the lyrics. And the guitar. I don't love the lyrics, but the guitar is genius. Lots of plucking. Lots of lovely chord changes.

I wrote my brother to tell him to download the album, Poetry and Aeroplanes, but I couldn't quite describe its sound. The first song on the album sounds like Sting, but the second one is like Plain White T's "Delilah," and then the next few are like a paired-down Dave Matthews, and there's a Jack Johnson-ish one, and also a Radioheady one, and one or two like Aviv Geffen. I might place Teitur between Iron & Wine, Pearl Jam, and Sufjan. And slightly west of AWESOME.

Buy it.

dreamy

So you know I'm like a total internet stalker, right? Over the summer, when I was kind of obsessed with Craigslist personals, I visited this one guy's MySpace a million and one times because his song hypnotized me. Then I became positive that he was the one for me and asked him out over email. It didn't go well, but that's a different story.

The song was Breathe by Telepopmusik. I swear I've heard this song before in a commercial or something. Since the Craigslist incident, I've been kind of reluctant to revisit his page just to take a listen, because doesn't everyone have a statcounter that reveals who is checking them out? God forbid he would discover my stalkage and make his page private! So I thought about Telepopmusik A LOT, instead. And then I found them on youtube, of course.

In early January I purchased a bunch of CDs on amazon, because I do that. Me and my dad are the last people to buy actual PLASTIC CDs. As I compiled my purchases, I remembered this band. I bought Angel Milk, which doesn't include "Breathe," but is reportedly their best album. Also, doesn't it sound yummy? It sounds just like how you think angel milk would taste. It's been running in my living room stereo. It's cozy with the rain.

writing is no longer a quiet subject

If Ben Harper went to Appalachia for a year, he would come back as Sufjan Stevens.

The first time I heard Sufjan, I fell in love. He sings real close to the microphone. He harmonizes with himself. He plays guitar, banjo, mandolin, dulcimer, piano, and more. He recorded an entire album paying homage to the state of Michigan. Then another one for Illinois. He's like the kid who was a know-it-all dork in elementary school but discovered manners and girls and guitar in high school and now after college is a total catch.

It is the Michigan album that I brought to school and started playing every afternoon while prepping for the next day. I give myself about an hour before I go home. Having a soothing soundtrack as I grade and chart and hang and rearrange is pleasant. Plus, when the music ends, I get to leave!

On Friday, on the third day of this wretched rain, after five hours with no relief from child-care (or a bathroom break), I thought, To hell with this mandated curriculum and silent writing time and following my lesson plans! I am fucking stir crazy and I simply must do something that I enjoy! So I put on Michigan and we all sat down to write letters to our pen pals. Everyone was allowed to talk, but few did. The music made me feel human. The rain tapped at our windows. We kept the lights half-off. We wrote for a good forty minutes, which was twice the time I initially scheduled. Some students finished writing early and so they created colorful "envelopes" for their letters. Breana told me afterwards, "I didn't even notice the music was one!" That's how you can tell your soundtrack is good.

Writing is no longer a quiet subject.

sia

Some People Have Real Problems

I bought this album three weeks ago when it came out, and at first it sounded like a lot of whining, but now I literally cannot stop listening to it. It's gone through maybe sixteen, maybe twenty rotations in my car CD player. And I'm like, "YEAH!" when every single song starts. I keep thinking that I'm going to get sick of it and maybe I should change my music before that happens, but when I get to the end of the album I think to myself, ok, just one more time through, and then I'll change it. "Buttons," the hidden track, is addictive like coke. I think one afternoon I played it five times over before realizing there was another person in the car and maybe he wasn't crazy like me.

Sia is the sometimes lead singer of my all-time favorite band, Zero 7. She has a previous solo album that became all popular because of her single, "Breathe Me," which was in the Six Feet Under series finale. I've just discovered this second that she has two other albums, and maybe I should check them out. I cannot understand a single lyric she sings, and I'm totally ok with that.

I love the new Centrum ad where two girls are each playing a giant foam vitamin, one is calcium and the other is vitamin D, and they are talking about how much they love each other, and one starts crying so the other starts crying... hilarious.

Go to their website and click on "watch new commercials."

my life, last week

It's been what -- eight years? since I last wrote. I feel like I've gone through several lives since last week. There was picking up the boy from the airport, a decidedly girlfriendish thing to do (and I am not his girlfriend), and then christening the car, there was the first choir meeting of the new season in which I was picked to be part of a smaller, more talented choir, there was a meh blind date, a "hike" around Beverly Blvd because drizzle canceled the real hike, meeting Glenda's boyfriend FINALLY, and a whole bunch of No Child Left Behind bullshit.

I had a really good meal at IHOP and a watermelon martini at the Pressman fundraiser, where I also ran into the Temple Israel Rabbi who may or may not have been fired because of his porn habit. Or drugs. We really don't know. Thus followed a slew of text messages on how to properly ascertain his reason for leaving.

I had a great dirt session with Nicole, and then a great Facebook session with Glenda, in which I shamelessly hated on my ex while eating butternut squash. Then we watched Bring It On: In It To Win It. It's our new slogan. It applies to both blow jobs and life experiences. Do you like your new administrative position? No, I'm just in it to win it. Are you a serious runner? Yeah, I'm in it to win it. What are your thoughts on giving head? I'm in it to win it.

I finally, FINALLY got my wireless router to work, by disabling password encryption, so just about anyone in my building can use my internet, but I can use my computer in my bed! Or in the bathroom! I could be taking a shit right now! (Speaking of, my bottom system has also finally started to work again after the series of winter break viruses. (Viri?) It was touch and go for a while. I thought I might never poop again.)

This coming week, I have plans EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. I'm having dinner with Margie (happily refriended), BTSA (still sworn enemies), choir, Jeopardy episode in which someone I met on New Years competes, a house-warming party, and then choir again. I haven't been this busy since ever.

Stay tuned.