just swell

I’ve started mostly paying for music again, and it’s wonderful, because now I don’t listen to crap, and I support indie music aside from just when I go to shows, AND I get to find out that the Swell Season released a new deluxe album, and I just downloaded it a few hours ago.

I’m not sure that most people would like them, given that a lot of what makes them awesome is the movie “Once,” so if you haven’t seen it, you may be confused. Also, though their concerts are cool, they play with the Frames, so even in a place as small as the Rialto, say, it’s still a loud cacophony of noise compared to their studio recordings, in which you can actually hear the musical part of the music. However, while they’re not my favorite people in the entire world, I really like them a lot and respect their way of doing the whole music thing. The Swell Season is really a band for musicians, I think, especially for musicians who love the Irish musical tradition. Which is awesome.

The first problem with understanding the Swell Season is that there is no real way to categorize them. Not that “genre” is ever really helpful, but where do they go? Indie music, yes, but are they folky? Bluegrassy? Irish? Something else? Their albums are collections of songs, but the songs don’t always have much to do with each other. You have Glen Hansard writing himself songs to sing, and they’re interesting lyrically, because if you just read the lyrics, they look like bad poems, but somehow they work. Then sometimes he likes to get loud with his Frames buddies. And then, out of the blue, everything will stop, and here comes Marketa Irglova with the most depressing, heartwrenchingly sad, sad song that makes you want to die, but it’s so pretty and so universally personal that you can’t help but think she’s amazing. And then, if you listen really closely to the other songs, you hear her harmonies behind Glen, and you wish that they would have evened out the levels a bit.

What I love about them is that they make music that tells you how much they love making music. It’s not really trying to be this perfectly produced gem with songs that music supervisors are clamoring for. They are not going to end up on “Grey’s Anatomy”–at least, probably not. But, just like I’m at my happiest when I am belting any song while driving in my car, you can tell that they just love what they’re doing. And they each have this unique background that they’re coming from, and they just sound like people experimenting and having fun and sharing–”We do this in Ireland.” “Oh, really? In the Czech Republic, we do this”–and just being musical. The Swell Season is like music in progress.

Definitely this album is easier to like if you’re not really music-y or if you’re not me than their previous one, which was a bit too hard to discern what the harmonies and melodies were. I’m liking it so far. Yay music! It makes me want to get writing again. G-d, I miss writing so much.

do you ever feel like

dear hannah,

where did you go? and who is in your place?

sincerely,

hannah

i’m bringing sexy back

I just wrote four pages in my journal and I started with “I really don’t like my body.”

It’s not bad, for sure, but there are some things wrong with it. Namely, a) my thighs are always a tad bit too jiggly and thundery for my taste, b) all of a sudden my stomach is where I harvest extra fat, and it’s pudging out in a very unattractive way, c) my breasts won’t stop growing, and d) blah blah cellulite and all that stuff that everybody hates. I certainly wouldn’t trade my body with a vast lot of other people’s, but there’s always room for improvement, and who would I be to the female race if I didn’t stress about my problem areas?

But then I was thinking about something that is both reassuring and terrifying, at least when applied to me personally. I don’t know about everyone, but with most people I know, none of whom have perfect bodies or perfect personalities, but who have high enough marks in both areas, it is not a real problem to have a sex life even when you don’t look like a celebrity. Clearly famous people are not the only ones who get laid. I suppose I don’t have much of a problem in that area; I can certainly find people to sleep with me, if not to date me, so where I need to work on my personality, I evidently don’t need to work on my body. Even though I do. According to me.

So I guess what I’m finding out is that, at least in my experience, it doesn’t take a perfect body to get what you want. Is it that guys are just horny and don’t care? Is it that I’m too easy? Or is it that guys don’t notice imperfections, even if they are actually quite noticeable? I’m assuming it’s a combination of all of these things. But, given that I am probably not the only girl who has hooked up with people when she has wanted to, I’m confused as to why we flip out so much about not looking perfect. And why magazines can’t find a way to say this in a real way, rather than saying something like, “You’re perfect just the way you are!” or “He likes you for who you are.”

That said, sex is not enough for anyone. Not even for me. Most of the time. But I don’t like the attitudes about it. Maybe I’m just a socialist, but I think that even if the farmer is willing to give you some free milk, if you like the taste of it, you should damn well buy the cow off of him. Because we all need to make a living.

another dull post

you are what you love
and not what loves you back

Yay Jenny Lewis.

Yay being bored at work, procrastinating my homework, and watching “Coupling.” It’s amazing how much I can multitask at just so I can avoid my proposal for my ethnomusicology project.

All of a sudden college involves actual work and lots of different research projects. In the next month, I have to develop my own neuroscience paper, do this ethnomusicology project, prepare a pre-1820 text for modern readers, write a couple concert reviews, and do regular homework. I guess I should be excited, since I’m always complaining about not having any challenges at school. Hooray, lots of work along with my actual job and my actual internship. Oh, life.

This winter I’ll be going to New York and Israel, though, so that should be a nice break. I should probably start learning some Hebrew and pay a little more attention to what’s going on in Israel at the moment, because I’m definitely an uninformed Jew when it comes to that. :-p

so.

I think I feel happy. I’m also terrified of school, because it’s actually kicking my ass like I never knew my ass could be kicked, and I don’t know what to do about that, because school has never been that for me. I should be happy for the challenge, but flailing through neuroscience isn’t really a challenge the way a hard piece of literature is.

But aside from that, I think I like where my life is headed for now. I feel a lot better about what’s on my plate, and about people who are becoming more important in my life. It’s like I’m calming down.

Creed ‘09-’10

I believe that not then, not later, but now
is when my life is beginning. I believe
that this year feels like it will suck,
so that is probably what will make it amazing.
I believe that I am not who I thought I was;
I believe that I have never been more terrified of anything
than I am of myself right now. I believe
my happiness depends on what I do to achieve it,
so I should stop sitting around, waiting for it to happen.
I believe that this is where I belong, even if sometimes
it’s a painful place to be. I believe that I am more positive
than negative, even if outwardly I seem the opposite.
I believe in magic again, and in religion, and in mermaids.
I believe in how strong I am, and in withstanding things. I believe
we can all always try harder. I believe the world will clear itself up
by the time I’m ready to conquer it; I believe I am equipped
to handle that. I believe in my friends and in how new ones
can always surprise me. I believe my friends humble me.
I believe in leaving some things behind, and I believe
I am getting better at that. I believe in my mind—I think.
I believe that holding grudges isn’t always a bad thing;
I believe that some people don’t deserve me, and that
others don’t need me, and that others I’ve pushed away.
I believe that I’ve gotten more than I deserved, but I also believe
that I don’t always get what I should.
I believe I am a bit of a harlot, and that bothers me.
I believe that I’m impatient, and I believe I’m going to have to keep waiting.
I believe that I understand language emotionally, and not cognitively; I believe that
often I get too much credit. I believe in
my bookshelves. I believe in my Facebook. I believe in
swimming pools, and I feel as if I am standing
on a diving board, bouncing, nearly ready
to take off.

Meg Kearney’s “Creed”

what i’m realizing

If a guy treats you badly after you’ve had sex with him, it’s not because you had sex too quickly. If a guy is going to treat you badly, he is going to treat you badly. It still sucks, but sex is not the reason.

it’s been too long without some angst

i want love to love me back
i want two way conversations
i want love to love me back
one that can handle any situation
i want love to love me back

I adore Mandy Moore. And I just feel like echoing that sentiment today. Leaving choir today, some off-hand comment led to me saying, “Boys don’t like me,” which is generally true, to which Catherine replied, “Oh, they do,” to which I replied, “No, they use me and abuse me,” which is largely true as well, so Catherine said, “But they like you for that,” and then I said, “I’m just a toy for boys.”

A wholly uninteresting story, I know.

I don’t quite adore school this semester, though that’s mostly because I’ve gotten used to not having to do work, and this semester is going to be nothing but reading, researching, or going to work. Once again, I have three jobs. I’m crazy, and I can’t quite figure out why, except that I seem to hate free time. I don’t know where I’ll find time to write or read books, but I’m trying. I also want to finish some songs and make recordings, at least Garage Band-y ones, so that I can feel good about that. It should get easier since I’ll be taking piano lessons again (!).

Now, if the weather could just cool off and if I could stop having morning asthma attacks while I bike…

(New playlist up!)

more judaism and the last of summer reading

Shabbat we had the option to do absolutely nothing, or we could participate in a variety of workshops, lectures, talks, activities, etc. In the morning I went to the “morning musical service,” which was just a regular reform service that included lots of Shabbat songs, many of which I did not remember/know at all, and even more that I learned with completely different tunes. That would be weird, except that I’m pretty sure that everybody else Jewish in the world knows the tune that I don’t. I’m thinking the guy who was our songleader when I was little just liked coming up with new stuff.

For the next block, I went to “Whole Torah in Just One Hour,” with one of NYU’s rabbis. He seems pretty chill, and he greeted everyone by going, “Shabbes,” the way the stoner turtle in “Finding Nemo” might say it. In 75 minutes, this guy managed to do all of the following: quote the Iliad in Greek; reference King’s “I have a dream” speech; talk about 100 Years of Solitude; give an anthropological history of the ancient Sumerians; describe the epic of Gilgamesh; and actually talk about the Torah. The whole trick was, of course, that you can’t do the whole Torah in an hour, but we did get to chapter 13 of Genesis, which he said was further than they got last year. So that was fun.

In the afternoon, I went to “Let’s Talk About Sex,” because, frankly, what else sounds interesting when that’s on the bill? And it really was, because we talked about myths about Jews and sex, like how no, nobody has sex through a sheet, and actually, it’s commanded that you be completely naked (no socks) when you have sex. We also looked at Genesis, cartoons, short stories, halacha, and quotes from Maimonides to discuss men and women’s roles in relationships and where sex fits in. I wish it had gone on longer, because that could be a really interesting class. It was a little bit too large of a group for a really good discussion.

I’d say more, but it’s already been so long and I’m on to new and different things. I finished three more books before school started on Monday, and I’m still plodding through that García Márquez (on a side note, why does everybody in the English-speaking world refuse to see how easy it is to pronounce his name correctly rather than emphasizing the “quez” part?). Those books were:

1. The Journals of Sylvia Plath by, of course, Sylvia Plath. This is another exhausting book that takes quite a long time to read, but being in the company of genius is always awesome, like in the real sense of that word, so it was wonderful to read. The most frustrating thing, aside from knowing I will never be that amazing, was knowing that Ted Hughes destroyed her final journals. I so wanted to read them. I wonder if he did.

2. Prophecy of the Sisters by Michelle Zink. I don’t want to say much, because I read this to review for teenreads.com, and the review of that is going to be up soonish. But it was in the vain of Libba Bray’s Gemma Doyle trilogy, and while it wasn’t perfectly written, it was a pretty awesome plot, and it was definitely a fun read.

3. The Worst Years of Your Life, edited by Mark Jude Poirier. I was happy to see this collection, because I love teen angst, I try to love YA, at least when it’s good, and it was so neat that this was an accepted collection of “literary” stories that still dealt with that stuff that usually gets labeled “crap” or “Gossip Girl” (which, incidentally, was not crap when it began–only when it continued). Unfortunately, a lot of the stories just seemed so “literary” and weird that I couldn’t really get into them, but the ones that were good were really evocative and interesting. I also appreciated that they mixed contemporary and new authors with older ones.

So that makes 19 books this summer. That’s not what I hoped. And it seemed like so many. It takes longer to read books now than when I was younger. Part of that is that I read harder, better books. I hope. But is it also my short attention span since the Internet came to be? Still, I’ll plod along and keep reading. All I’ll be doing for school this semester is reading anyway.

Stuff about school and life later. Off to do endless homework and work.

shabbat shalom

I spent this past week in Clayton, Georgia, doing training for my Hillel internship this year, and just being more Jewish than I have been for quite awhile. I still can’t really say I’ve ever been to the South, because soul food and kosher food are not really the same thing, and Jew camp in a mountain isn’t really Atlanta. But, regardless of my geographic location, I had a great time.

I grew up Jewish, but the religion wasn’t really the main part of it, and I decided on my own to quit being religious when I was about 13. Since then, I’ve found I really want to go back to it, but it’s been hard, because you feel very uncomfortable when you’re a college student but you were never bat mitzvah’ed and you don’t read any Hebrew. Hillel’s siddurim do not have romanized transliteration of Hebrew, so I am completely lost when I go to services, and that is why I bought a teach-yourself-Hebrew book. I have yet to open it, but it’s a start.

Since we were really there for training, we spent a lot of time clustered up with another campus, Rutgers in my case (and our cluster was cluster F, so we had a lot of fun with that), and did bonding things and leadership things and peer networking things, since that’s the basis of our internship. However, we also did a fair amount of Jewish learning, and since I was there over the weekend, we had Shabbat stuff to do that was wonderful.

Before this summer, it had probably been about seven years since I had attended a Friday night service. While I was in Uruguay, we went to services, but as I wrote, I didn’t always enjoy them, though just the feeling of being around people chanting in Hebrew was very comforting. This Friday, though, was the best feeling I had felt in a long time. It made this summer finally feel like summer (magical), and it made me feel as if going to services more often (and taking a b’nai mitzvah class if I can find any free time and more participants) would really help me keep my sanity. I loved it.

Though this is a very ancient tradition, the custom of wearing white on Shabbat has kind of died, I think. But it is apparently a camp-y thing to do, so almost everyone was wearing all or mostly white as we had three processionals to the outside arena where we met, sang, danced horas, and learned other nigunim (songs without words, but sung with many voices including things like “lai lai lai” or “bim bim bom”). Then there were many options for services, and while I could have gone to a traditional one, I chose to stay for the one that other students had put together, which was not very religious, but included singing, active resting by learning about yoga, discussion, reading, etc. I forgot how wonderful it is to go to a service, and I re-familiarized myself with songs, terms such as “d’var torah” (a chosen reading from the Torah that is used to start a discussion about a value, current event, book, or whatever), and just the customs that I grew up participating in (though in a very lax, reform way). I felt really uncomfortable a lot of the time, like on Saturday morning, because I had never been to a morning Shabbat service, and I still don’t know all of the mourner’s kaddish or every song to sing, but even in my moments of discomfort, I’ve scarcely felt so peaceful in recent memory.

I love being Jewish. I can’t wait to become more so this year.

Next time, a blog about other ways to be Jewish, and other things I learned.