Tuesday, January 27, 2004

Irish music and other musings, not in that order

Why oh why do I watch movies that I know are bad? Cuz they're just so bad that they're good. Maverick is like that... I have very mixed feelings about Mel Gibson. On one hand, I think he's an ass. On the other hand, he's not all that bad. So am I just being sucked into the oozy arms of Hollywood culture? Or is it okay to let go of my pretension and just watch a movie for a while? I hope it's the latter.

Sleepy now. I've got a page to write for Rumi poetry again. Blech. I should finish reading the chapter on Hegel, too. So complex, tho. And so time-consuming. Well, I got myself into this. I'm the one who decided to take philosophy classes instead of something easy like art. So I guess I'll just have to go with it. After this semester I'll be halfway done with my minor and it will be a good feeling.

Erin and I made dinner tonight for us and her neighbors: creamed corn casserole. Good stuff, too. I much prefer that home-cooked taste to whatever I end up getting out of TV dinners and such. I should really try and find some good recipes, tho. She's always the one who has the ideas, I just go along with it.

You know, I named this blog mostly for the pretty background image. But now every time I see the title I start singing the damned song... Okay, it's actually a good song, but still, having it run through my head continuously while I type is grating on my nerves. I get songs stuck in my head a lot. Recently, it's been a lot of Irish songs. Old drinking songs and rebel songs and all that sort of thing. It's worse when I can't remember the entire song and end up with just a line or two on repeat in my brain. Earlier today, it was Wild Rover. "I've been a wild rover for many a year, and I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer..." All I remember after that is snippets of other verses and the refrain. Time for the headphones... Stephen Malkmus is good this time of year... stick it on random mode... oh, hey, Pink India. I love that song! "There once was an empire chase, known as a great great game...and one of it's rooks came from Stoke-on-Trent, and Mortimer was his name..." I've had this one stuck in my head for a week once in high school. Lovely.

Okay... that was rambling. Badly.

I bought six books at the Women's Center booksale today. As if I need more books. I've got shelves packed with them here and at home, and more laying in boxes on my floor at home. I do not have enough shelving. And yet, I will probably continue to buy books. It's like an addiction. And I have decided that I can allow myself exactly two addictions at one time. One is books. The other is caffiene. If only I liked coffee, that second one would be easier to fulfill. But no, I end up drinking copious amounts of soda. Maybe I should just switch to tea... Earl Grey... hot.... Wow, deja vu, back to my Star Trek-watching days. Middle school. The only good one was The Next Generation. For a while I thought Voyager was pretty cool, but I was very impressionable and I figured any show where a woman has a place of power was good. I was the feminist type. Still am, sorta, but not militant. I just want respect. Okay, AND a job that gives equal payment for equal work. Is that too much to ask? Well? Don't answer that.

I can't play the feminist role too heavily. After all, pretty much all my favorite musicians, authors, and actors are men. I think I just do it cuz I don't like girly things. No dresses, no (or very little) makeup, no pink anything, limited conversing about boys and clothes and hair and the like. I will admit to liking Alanis Morissette, if only cuz when you sing along to her songs, you get to yell. :) And sometimes it feels good to be pissed off and scream it to the walls. For the most part, guys (not all guys, just a few) were the source of all my anguish during my K-12 years (yes, from kindergarten on), so I guess I've got a grudge. Fuck it, I'm allowed.

Lately, I've found that I'm inundated with memories and stories from my past, all the way from my very first memory of hiking with my dad at Eagle Mountain when I was 5 to my freshman year of college, which I spent in New Mexico. I have this urge to write down all the memories I have as if I'm afraid I'll lose them. I have a good memory for events and stories. I was talking with my mom about my childhood over break and she was surprised at all the things I remembered and moreso at all the things that she forgot. But at the same time, I'm too damn young to write a memoir. It's not like I've done anything worthy of note. But once I'm 70 or 80, I'm sure that I will have forgotten so much of what I know now.

I'm out of stuff to say. I'll leave with the lyrics to a song I've been singing to myself for the past couple days, when I'm alone. It's called The Parting Glass:

Of all the money e'er I had,
I spent it in good company,
And all the harm that e'er I've done,
Alas was done to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall.
So fill to me the parting glass,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.

If I had money enough to spend
And leisure time to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town
Who sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips,
I own, she has my heart in thrall
So fill to me the parting glass,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.

Of all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and softly call,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.

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