domes, spaceships, and rock’n'roll

This past Thursday, I realized a long-time dream of mine: I saw U2 in concert! In Toronto, on a beautiful late summer evening, Bono, The Edge, Larry and Adam rocked my world. I kept saying to my friends and family that it might be the one and only time I’d get to see them, and I sincerely hope that’s not true. The show was everything I expected it to be, and more. The band jived with one another (of course they usually do, I’m sure, after playing together so long; every band can have bad nights, though), and the audience was great!

Warning: U2-geek references and foolishness to follow. You have been warned.

the “I hate that I have to feel tortured to write” post

Yes, you heard right, kids — I am sitting in the office in my parents’ house contemplating the reasons why I write more when I am home as opposed to when I am in a city with so much more fodder for interesting stories and poems and songs. I curse my lack of focus when I’m in the city while, at the same time, cursing the fact that I still feel unable to move home due to the hum-drum existence I feel I would live, here.

Curses, I say! Bloody Hell, and all that jazz!

Well, with that little bit of annoyance out of the way, now I can get to what I came here to do, today: write a monster-sized blog entry! Writing monster-sized blog entries isn’t something I’ve been very good at, lately (and here I am at home, my words dying to get out — go figure).

One thing I have been particularly good at lately, however, is walking. I’ve been walking and walking and walking some more. Due to some rather poignant and large life changes, some frustrations, some anger, some sadness and goodbyes, I have been in need of release, and time to think. While walking, I listen to my iPod on shuffle, and I’ve found myself listening to some songs in particular, over and over again. I’ve put together a playlist that I call “Songs for a Life in Transition”; the list is made of songs that I always keep close to me, songs that have particularly apt lyrics, and songs that have been making me cry or smile.

Some of these are love songs to people in my life, and some are love songs to life. Either way, there’s lots of love.

30,000 feet up and nowhere to hide

So, I like kids, and can generally deal with them in any circumstance, but I actually sympathize with this woman — sitting next to an obnoxious child on an airplane is never fun.

Making Friends by Amy Ozols

taxing on the brain

The fortunate thing about having little to do on a Wednesday afternoon is that it allows one to take a nap as well as watch some mindless television. Then there’s the time one can spend perusing the internet. Perusing the internet is great: it’s informative, and funny, and though-provoking; right now, it’s that last quality that’s got me screwing up my face, pondering the merits of an email tax.

Yes, that’s right, I just wrote email tax.

And you just read it.

And I’m not quite sure what to think about it.

when help becomes hurt, or dependence incorporated

It’s been quite some time since I gave African aid and the issues surrounding it much thought; perhaps too long, really. I used to be all too happy to debate the benefits and downfalls of giving financial aid to the world’s poorest countries, and I was, at one time, completely dedicated to spreading the word amongst my friends and relatives. This, of course, was before I realized that most people didn’t care about it nearly as much as I did.

The reason that I became aware of these issues in the first place was Bono. I’ve been a U2 fan for most of my life, and so when Bono started speaking up about aid to Africa in a serious way, and helped found DATA (Debt Aid Trade for Africa) back in the early years of this decade, I was all over it. I did a high school project on DATA, and aid stats, and (apparently) intimidated the Hell out of my classmates with my knowledge and passion. If asked about it today, I will still become fairly impassioned, but I am not up on the current stats, nor do I have enough money to truly give to the cause. Still, I am aware of a lot of the persistent issues surrounding aid, and I have Bono to thank for that. I would rather be in the know than not.

Given my history of interest in aid to African countries (specifically — I realize that there are many countries receiving/requiring aid), I couldn’t help but read The Anti-Bono when I came across it on the New York Times website, this afternoon. The interview is short, but concise, and I’d really like to get my hands on Dambisa Moyo’s book “Dead Aid”, in order to really sink my teeth into what she’s got to say. As much as I was for aid and debt cancellation in Africa (and other countries) when I was younger, she makes some simple and pertinent points. And she seems to know what she’s talking about, given the education she’s got.

life-changing coffee

Life-changing coffee cup?

I regularly drink Starbucks coffee. It’s true. I used to wonder about the politics involved with coffee, but I have quit that. I have bigger fish to fry, and coffee is not my hot-button issue.

Meanwhile, I do wonder about the things that Starbucks chooses to put on their coffee cups. You know, those “The Way I See It” blurbs that remind me a whole lot of those TV spots they used to (do they still?) run on one of the big American TV networks called “The More You Know”. I know it’s not the same thing, but the positions these two “spots” occupy in peoples’ lives are similar: we now interrupt your regularly scheduled programing/routine to inform you of the following factoid/inspirational quip.

I did pay attention to those TV spots, and I do pay attention to the little blurbs on my cup. In fact, I had a Venti Vanilla Latte last week that actually affected me:

The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating – in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

The Way I See It #76 by Anne Morris

Now, I realize that I am/was affected by this little inspirational quip because it spoke to an issue I was already having, but I suppose that’s the genius of Starbucks’ marketing strategy — Starbucks may (or may not) have helped change my outlook on my life, and therefore will (consciously, or unconsciously) become dear to me, making me even more fond of their coffee, even if it isn’t as good as the stuff I make at home on my own. It occurs to me that coffee branding is also lifestyle branding, and Starbucks apparently knows that — really well.

I pondered on the seemingly foolish thought that a coffee cup would have helped change my life, and initially, I was angered by it. I was angered by the fact that such egregious capitalist life-branding helped to surface an issue in my life that I should have been able to recognize on my own (being an intelligent, self-aware, young woman). Then I thought, “Well, if a coffee cup helped to affect change in my life, why should I care that it was a coffee cup that did it? It got the ball rolling on positive change, and that’s something to be thankful for.”

Maybe that’s a bit happy of me. Maybe I’m not poisoned enough by it, and I should be. I am not, nor have I ever been, one to rail against capitalism or life-branding. I am a pretty laid back sort, that way. And ya know what? Anger at a coffee cup just isn’t worth the effort, but perhaps the changes that it implied I should make, are.

Hurrah for the life-changing coffee cup?

I just got lost

I might be totally behind in having discovered this (I’m pretty sure I am, actually), but I couldn’t help but post it. Coldplay and Jay-Z have made my night with this re-jigging of Lost! The percussion on the track had me hooked on the first listen, but the live version makes me want to marry the drummer. No joke.

I should remember never to underestimate the healing power of a truly solid beat.

the Hurt Locker

I have never — and I really mean, never — been so anxious to see a war movie as I am to see this one.

The Hurt Locker

on hate

I find it remarkable that there are still people in the world who would see expressions of love extinguished before they even have the chance to ignite.

I find it bothersome that there are still people in the world who would see the fulfillment of happiness and joy angrily and forcibly stamped upon and beaten, with the futile goal of seeing it die, simply because they don’t understand it.

I find it disheartening to think that there are still people in the world whose closed-minded arrogance and pride stands in the way of a happier, more diverse, cooperative existence.

…and then I remember — Oh right, we’re human.

the shape of my heart

I stumbled on this song the other night while wasting time. I love Sting. I have for a very long time. This song (particularly this version) just does me in on so many levels. It should come with a warning that reads:

Caution: this song will take you to another place and make you terribly weak in the knees. Please do not do anything (other than make love) while listening.