September’s Song

It’s a picturesque autumn day outside; billowy clouds are drifting along the bright sunny sky and there’s just a hint of a breeze.  So nice, but all I can think about is going back to bed.

Thesis insomnia is already setting in and I haven’t even started to tackle the theories and methods revisions. Half the night was spent going through all the possible scenarios, recalibrating which pairs of theories and methods would be the most parsimonious.  No, I haven’t come up with an answer, only the conclusion that narrative theory no longer fits.  This is good, because I’m not interviewing anyone.  I won’t even start talking about my thoughts on French theorists – though, I’m still perplexed at the rockstar treatment that Sartre and Derrida get in certain circles….Michel Foucault, Pierre Bourdeau, Saussure, Barthes, Baudrillard…I’m ashamed to say that I can only think of two French female intellectuals: Simone Weil and Simone de Beauvoir.  Of the two, I admire Simone Weil much more as she was a person of integrity and spirit.

So, the day’s been a mental struggle all day.  I forgot my coffee in my sister’s car so I had to run across the street to Starbucks, but I told myself that I shouldn’t go just before 9 a.m. since that’s when all the professors I’m trying to avoid get their fix.  Sadly, what do I do?  Yes, I was standing there in line, still clearly half-asleep talking to my professors at about 8:55 a.m.  And I just got an email that said I volunteered for a day-trip in two weeks – I thought I hit the decline button.  Whatever, there’s too much guilt in backing out now.

*Heavy sigh* If you haven’t read PhD Comics, it’s a must read – it perfectly illustrates my entire existence at the moment.

Methods?  Well, there’s a correct way to do things, but um…mine seems to be latched more on to luck than logic.

And yes, my files of old research data and papers are a bit more haphazard looking but you get the gist.

As the work day of September wanes, I’m leaving by listening to one of my favorite artists – Ian McCulloch.  Oddly enough, I kind of find the “poor quality” of this video kind of charming.  It provides a rather romantically haunting effect – Heathcliff along the bleak moors.  Yes, I’ve never read the book, but I know the cliché just the same.

In Spite of Life’s Obstacles

I find myself perplexed.  I’m staring at the cover of “Born Rich” a documentary by Jamie Johnson about, well privileged children of the wealthy (the people who pay the rich).  I’d seen him on Oprah years ago promoting his film but wasn’t much inclined to go out and spend money to watch it.  I mean, he’s the heir to the Johnson & Johnson empire what’s my measly $10 going to mean compared to the large trust fund of his?

So, I’m caught in a situation where I don’t want to stereotype, judge or hate – but I feel compelled to do all the above as I am only human and the first step to recovery is admission of one’s problems, right?  I’ll probably watch it when I’m more in the mood to see how the other half lives.  Who knows, maybe I’ll be enlightened by it. 

The last time I gave a questionable documentary a chance, it ended up being my favorite films…which I will now introduce to those of you who haven’t seen it, and for those of you who already know my obsession, I’ve found more YouTube videos!  Oh, yes, I did.

As you already know, I can’t sing and this is a follow-up posting about how I also can’t dance.  This is why I am enamored by the talents of others, especially B-Boys and Girls – they rock too!  Planet B-Boy actually was shown at the documentary film festival here in town a few years ago, but I saw it online and it’s actually a very well done film.

The editing really helps drive the narrative – yes, there’s actually several good stories woven in the dancing footage (which are awesome).  I wonder how many 100 of hours of footage they had to go through to get a sense of a complete story.  The South Korean (Last for One) and Japanese (Ichigeki) group’s are the most poignant – they also happen to be the best groups.

I highly recommend this one if you want to be entertained by the raw, passionate, artistic talents of others and love a good visual narrative. Besides, it’s always encouraging and inspiring to see others live their dreams in spite of life’s obstacles.

FYI – Break dancing has come a long way from the days of parachute pants and Alfonso Ribeiro’s Breakin’ and Poppin’. Old School Cool – love it!

One for a Gloomy Sunday

Everyone in my family sings – everyone but me.  I must have missed that gene assignment as I’m almost completely tone-deaf.   Seriously, I know I have a habit to dramatize (writer here) but in this case, no amount of fiction I can dream up can truly express how horrid I am at singing; no self-depreciating humor just an honest admission to a personal weakness.

However, I love music and regard singers with great admiration because their talent is alien to me.  Dancing is another alien talent – that’ll be the topic of my next post Okay, so maybe anything with a sense of rhythm is a challenge for me, which is why I avoid certain poetic styles.

There are few songs that stay with you – songs whose haunting melody echo in daydreams with lyrics that burrow and settle into your psyche becoming a part of you.  Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart is one of the most darkly beautiful songs ever written – the lyrics, the emotions in his voice and the back story of Ian Curtis’s inner demons only deepen the song’s impact.

It’s one of those defining pieces that, over time, became overexposed and the depth of its meaning has been somewhat lost in its commercial success.  I’m probably being an old curmudgeon, but I haven’t found very many covers that have neared the beauty of the original.  Though I think it’s because most covers aren’t making it their own but merely imitating or cover it strictly as a homage rather than as an original interpretation.  I can’t complain too much since a new generation of music lovers are being exposed to a great song – maybe they’ll learn to appreciate and love the original too.

But, I have to say that this Anton Corbijn’s cover makes me weepy.  It does the song justice in expressing the pathos of an existential hopeless love, at least to me.  Thanks, Internets and YouTube!