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The LJ Idol Home Game: Empty Gestures
So, I have this friend, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bewize. Last year she introduced me to a competition called ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
therealljidol, and I was glad that she did. I enjoyed reading her posts each week and watching her take their prompts and make them her own. I thought about doing it this year, but it's just getting started up right now and I have an apartment to finish unpacking and Nano to prep for and vlogs to make and all sorts of excuses to not really put myself out there and be judged. But still, I like it. So she's convinced me (to convince myself really) to play along at home. I won't be judged, but I'll sometimes grab the prompts and run with them. I hope you think what comes out is interesting, or silly, or insightful.
And well, if you don't, that's okay too. It'll probably be a lot like what you already think of this journal.
* * *
Recycling Plastics
I've recently moved, and as much as I love unpacking, I've been dragging my feet. This move signifies something, even if I'm not quite sure what yet. Unpacking just makes that thing permanent, and I don't know how that makes me feel. But, since I'm not going to be the only person in this apartment I thought it only fair that I get all of my shit out of the middle of the living room floor. That's the reason I was sitting on the floor for two hours last night organizing my CDs and DVDs.
You know how when you haven't opened a box in a while you start to wonder why you have it in the first place? Maybe you moved it and it never got unpacked, or maybe you couldn't bring yourself to open it, and you're tempted to not even look. How important could it possibly be? But then you give in and crack the lid, and you're flooded with feeling. It could be warm nostalgia or cold comfort, but it's there, and it's alive now, and you can't DO anything with it.
Yeah, I'm trying to get over that. I have music in my CD pile that is toxic to the soul. Not all of it, but some of it certainly. I don't know the person who purchased or accepted it any more. Even though I'm a massive pack rat I managed to come away last night with a stack of 21 CDs I'm giving away. No mean feat, but not as important an action as I'd like it to be. I'm giving away someone else's life, you see.
Coolio: My Soul - © 1997 Tommy Boy Music
When I was a freshman in high school, my church's youth group had a talent show. I don't remember why. I think it was the only one we ever put on. I mean, we would do musicals on occasion (I played the King of Nineveh when I was in middle school!), but nothing like a free form talent show. I purchased the Coolio album in question for the soul purpose of my friends being able to lip sync and dance about to the song 'C U When U Get There feat. 40 thevz'. The whole operation was probably a hot mess, but we had fun. I mean, I think we had fun. I don't really remember. All I remember from that night is being embarrassed beyond belief.
There was a guy in my youth group who interested me. I say interested, because I didn't have a crush on him. I didn't want to date him. I just wish I'd had the courage to talk to him. He was a few years older than me, you see. And while I know he wasn't 'cool', that really didn't help my nerves. That night he and a friend performed a Bush song, him on guitar and his friend on bass. Watching that made my month. Maybe even my year. It was the first time I had seen a rock song performed live. (I wouldn't go to my first concert until the next year.) For it to be one that I really enjoyed, that was beyond exciting. I was over the brim with excitement, and adulation, and all sorts of things that 15 year old's think they understand and feel better than anyone else. So what did I do? I told his mom.
I think the words 'I love that song' came out my mouth fifty times in the three minute conversation, and I'm sure it got back to him, which is what gave me a massive case of embarrassment later that evening as I was preparing for bed. I'd never get to know him now, if he thought I was the weird kid with the crush on him.
And oh, was I to do so many more massively embarrassing things in my time.
Chris Brewer: Why Calvary? © 2000 Why Calvary? Ministries
Inscription: Kati, Thanks for coming. Chris Brewer
Embarrassing things. Like date my ex. He went to the church across the street from mine, and his youth minister fancied himself a musician. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't different than any of the other million Christian light alt artists at the time. But I liked the guy, and the ex played drums during the alternative service, so spent more time at that church than I should have.
I know I shouldn't have been there, because no one spoke to me. Every girl anywhere near my age laughed at me. They laughed at my clothing, sure. I've never been stylish. And they laughed at my shyness and my awkwardness. But mostly they laughed because at least two of them were sleeping with my ex behind my back. Even, on occasion, in the church. I know. I know how to pick 'em.
But some things there just aren't excuses for.
Limp Bizkit: Significant Other © 1999 Flip/Interscope Records
Like listening to Limp Bizkit. Ever. For any reason. Fred Durst is a douchebag of the highest caliber. Or was. I hear he produces kid shows now or something. At this time, however, he was busy being a rock star and setting off pyrotechnics in tiny clubs in Jacksonville. (Which I'm pretty sure my lungs are still scarred from.) Don't even get me started on the night I spent OUTSIDE of some club with the ex so we could score free tickets to see them on the Napster tour. Oh, the stories I have.
But regardless of Limp Bizkit being nearly all around shitty music (and I apologize if I offended anyone there) I still played 'Break Stuff' at top volume in my angsty post-ex / pre-Boy days. It was a good thing to yell. It made me feel righteous in my anger and possible of inflicting all that edge and pain back on someone. It was false courage, because it only lasted for that three minutes, but sometimes it only takes a little to get someone through.
Confession: I still have 'No Sex' on my computer. Don't tell anyone.
Staind: 14 Shades of Grey © 2003 Flip Records & Elektra Entertainment Group
Certainly don't tell them that I have NEVER listened to this album. I mean, it's bad enough that the guy loaned it to me and I never gave it back to him. (I offered to. It's not my fault he lived on the other side of the world. By UCF.) But to have had it for so long and never once slipped it into a CD player? Oi. It probably just slipped my mind.
That was part of what I fondly refer to as 'The Lost Year'. Not because I don't remember it, but because it's the closest I'll ever come to knowing what it feels like to be a Lost Boy. It was the year I spent socially drinking and smoking up and helping my roommate give door to door sex toy parties and hanging out with car guys at street races. You'd never think it to look at me now, but I used to be a right and bona fide interesting person. That was actually a good time. There are few other times in my life where I've laughed so hard or felt so wanted. (Now is also a good time, lest I come off as maudlin.) Which is funny, because I'm sure if I slipped this CD into a player right now and listened to it, I would remember things differently. Music has the power to do that. And the sure hesitant and downward spiral quality of what I know of Staind's music would fade the vibrant hues my brain has laid over those memories.
Which is why these have to go.
Memory is fickle. I don't really remember much of anything from before the age of ten anyway. What if that starts to catch up with me. What if at 30 I don't remember anything before the age of 15? And who's memories are those anyway? Not mine, certainly. Not the me those times brought me to be.
So, to me this shedding means nothing. Not really. It's a ritual I'll give meaning to, like I give meaning to so many other things that aren't mine.
. . .
Thank you for humouring me there. I think I might enjoy doing these things. It's a different tack to the way I usually blog. And apropos of absolutely nothing, I watched the first episode of Generation Kill tonight, andsecondstar will be happy to know that I enjoyed it immensely. I kind of can't wait to watch the rest. And read the books. God. More books. *looks around at all the other things I haven't read*
bewize. Last year she introduced me to a competition called therealljidol, and I was glad that she did. I enjoyed reading her posts each week and watching her take their prompts and make them her own. I thought about doing it this year, but it's just getting started up right now and I have an apartment to finish unpacking and Nano to prep for and vlogs to make and all sorts of excuses to not really put myself out there and be judged. But still, I like it. So she's convinced me (to convince myself really) to play along at home. I won't be judged, but I'll sometimes grab the prompts and run with them. I hope you think what comes out is interesting, or silly, or insightful. And well, if you don't, that's okay too. It'll probably be a lot like what you already think of this journal.
Recycling Plastics
I've recently moved, and as much as I love unpacking, I've been dragging my feet. This move signifies something, even if I'm not quite sure what yet. Unpacking just makes that thing permanent, and I don't know how that makes me feel. But, since I'm not going to be the only person in this apartment I thought it only fair that I get all of my shit out of the middle of the living room floor. That's the reason I was sitting on the floor for two hours last night organizing my CDs and DVDs.
You know how when you haven't opened a box in a while you start to wonder why you have it in the first place? Maybe you moved it and it never got unpacked, or maybe you couldn't bring yourself to open it, and you're tempted to not even look. How important could it possibly be? But then you give in and crack the lid, and you're flooded with feeling. It could be warm nostalgia or cold comfort, but it's there, and it's alive now, and you can't DO anything with it.
Yeah, I'm trying to get over that. I have music in my CD pile that is toxic to the soul. Not all of it, but some of it certainly. I don't know the person who purchased or accepted it any more. Even though I'm a massive pack rat I managed to come away last night with a stack of 21 CDs I'm giving away. No mean feat, but not as important an action as I'd like it to be. I'm giving away someone else's life, you see.
Coolio: My Soul - © 1997 Tommy Boy Music
When I was a freshman in high school, my church's youth group had a talent show. I don't remember why. I think it was the only one we ever put on. I mean, we would do musicals on occasion (I played the King of Nineveh when I was in middle school!), but nothing like a free form talent show. I purchased the Coolio album in question for the soul purpose of my friends being able to lip sync and dance about to the song 'C U When U Get There feat. 40 thevz'. The whole operation was probably a hot mess, but we had fun. I mean, I think we had fun. I don't really remember. All I remember from that night is being embarrassed beyond belief.
There was a guy in my youth group who interested me. I say interested, because I didn't have a crush on him. I didn't want to date him. I just wish I'd had the courage to talk to him. He was a few years older than me, you see. And while I know he wasn't 'cool', that really didn't help my nerves. That night he and a friend performed a Bush song, him on guitar and his friend on bass. Watching that made my month. Maybe even my year. It was the first time I had seen a rock song performed live. (I wouldn't go to my first concert until the next year.) For it to be one that I really enjoyed, that was beyond exciting. I was over the brim with excitement, and adulation, and all sorts of things that 15 year old's think they understand and feel better than anyone else. So what did I do? I told his mom.
I think the words 'I love that song' came out my mouth fifty times in the three minute conversation, and I'm sure it got back to him, which is what gave me a massive case of embarrassment later that evening as I was preparing for bed. I'd never get to know him now, if he thought I was the weird kid with the crush on him.
And oh, was I to do so many more massively embarrassing things in my time.
Chris Brewer: Why Calvary? © 2000 Why Calvary? Ministries
Inscription: Kati, Thanks for coming. Chris Brewer
Embarrassing things. Like date my ex. He went to the church across the street from mine, and his youth minister fancied himself a musician. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't different than any of the other million Christian light alt artists at the time. But I liked the guy, and the ex played drums during the alternative service, so spent more time at that church than I should have.
I know I shouldn't have been there, because no one spoke to me. Every girl anywhere near my age laughed at me. They laughed at my clothing, sure. I've never been stylish. And they laughed at my shyness and my awkwardness. But mostly they laughed because at least two of them were sleeping with my ex behind my back. Even, on occasion, in the church. I know. I know how to pick 'em.
But some things there just aren't excuses for.
Limp Bizkit: Significant Other © 1999 Flip/Interscope Records
Like listening to Limp Bizkit. Ever. For any reason. Fred Durst is a douchebag of the highest caliber. Or was. I hear he produces kid shows now or something. At this time, however, he was busy being a rock star and setting off pyrotechnics in tiny clubs in Jacksonville. (Which I'm pretty sure my lungs are still scarred from.) Don't even get me started on the night I spent OUTSIDE of some club with the ex so we could score free tickets to see them on the Napster tour. Oh, the stories I have.
But regardless of Limp Bizkit being nearly all around shitty music (and I apologize if I offended anyone there) I still played 'Break Stuff' at top volume in my angsty post-ex / pre-Boy days. It was a good thing to yell. It made me feel righteous in my anger and possible of inflicting all that edge and pain back on someone. It was false courage, because it only lasted for that three minutes, but sometimes it only takes a little to get someone through.
Confession: I still have 'No Sex' on my computer. Don't tell anyone.
Staind: 14 Shades of Grey © 2003 Flip Records & Elektra Entertainment Group
Certainly don't tell them that I have NEVER listened to this album. I mean, it's bad enough that the guy loaned it to me and I never gave it back to him. (I offered to. It's not my fault he lived on the other side of the world. By UCF.) But to have had it for so long and never once slipped it into a CD player? Oi. It probably just slipped my mind.
That was part of what I fondly refer to as 'The Lost Year'. Not because I don't remember it, but because it's the closest I'll ever come to knowing what it feels like to be a Lost Boy. It was the year I spent socially drinking and smoking up and helping my roommate give door to door sex toy parties and hanging out with car guys at street races. You'd never think it to look at me now, but I used to be a right and bona fide interesting person. That was actually a good time. There are few other times in my life where I've laughed so hard or felt so wanted. (Now is also a good time, lest I come off as maudlin.) Which is funny, because I'm sure if I slipped this CD into a player right now and listened to it, I would remember things differently. Music has the power to do that. And the sure hesitant and downward spiral quality of what I know of Staind's music would fade the vibrant hues my brain has laid over those memories.
Which is why these have to go.
Memory is fickle. I don't really remember much of anything from before the age of ten anyway. What if that starts to catch up with me. What if at 30 I don't remember anything before the age of 15? And who's memories are those anyway? Not mine, certainly. Not the me those times brought me to be.
So, to me this shedding means nothing. Not really. It's a ritual I'll give meaning to, like I give meaning to so many other things that aren't mine.
Thank you for humouring me there. I think I might enjoy doing these things. It's a different tack to the way I usually blog. And apropos of absolutely nothing, I watched the first episode of Generation Kill tonight, and
secondstar will be happy to know that I enjoyed it immensely. I kind of can't wait to watch the rest. And read the books. God. More books. *looks around at all the other things I haven't read*