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Posts for the date of Thursday, January 02, 2003
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 11:26 AM |
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Audio Biography, Installment 1
Today is the first installment of my semi-regular feature entitled “Audio Biography” or, my semi-alphabetical telling of my life through CDs. I hope you like. If you don’t, email someone I don’t know. Just don’t email me because, odds are, I won’t respond.
John Adams: John's Book Of Alleged Dances/Gnarly Buttons
I bought this disc in April of 1999. I was in Boston at a convention, far from my soon to be family and totally friendless. It was still half a year until my wedding. I was there for the better part of the week and, sadly, over my birthday, which no one noticed. The day I arrived in Boston, news reports were coming down the wire about a school shooting in Colorado. Little did we know.
The disc was purchased after a brief walk down Newberry Street. I stopped in a small bar on the walk and had a beer with one of my authors. Then I spent an hour or so in a record shop that Ryan had brought me to four years earlier. I was surprised I remembered how to get there. Unfortunately, as cool as the shop was, I didn’t find anything. So, I spent the next two hours at Tower Records on Mass Ave, combing the aisles of the classical section.
John Adams was recommended by none other than Ryan himself. It seemed fitting to buy it while in Boston. My main reason for the purchase was “John’s Book of Alleged Dances” with the Kronos Quartet. It’s a nice piece that uses interesting sounds and a prepared piano (a la John Cage). While “Gnarly Buttons” is enjoyable, I much prefer a string quartet.
The next several hours were spent with my portable CD in my lap, staring out over the skyline of Boston. For the rest of my life whenever I hear “Judah to the Ocean” I’ll think of Boston.
Admiral Twin: Mock Heroic
Admiral Twin is a small band out of Oklahoma. Their greatest claim to fame was that they once opened for Hanson.
I bought this disc with birthday money in 2001. I was still working at StreamSearch, though very few other people were. I’d pop this disc in the tray and listen to it for hours on end. For some reason, this disc struck a chord with me. Maybe it was the isolation of being one of five people left at a dying company, especially after I had so much fun with the people they had laid off. Or maybe it was because my wife was pregnant and we had no idea what we were going to do about a job. (Ended up making a huge, huge, huge mistake on that end.)
It’s a solid album that I honestly don’t listen to much anymore. It reminds me of something . . . else.
Air: Moon Safari
I’m still slightly traumatized by this one. Oh, it’s a stellar album that I listen to frequently. I don’t blame the French pixies that made the disc. No, I blame Todd. He badgered me for the better part of two years about this disc. “How can you not own Moon Safari? You should own Moon Safari. Have you bought Moon Safari yet?”
I hadn’t because, quite honestly, I had a mental block when it came French Pop music. Why? I don’t know.
D-Day finally came this year, when it was my 29th birthday. My wife brilliantly orchestrated a plan where I would be distracted (by Todd, taking me to see the family feel-good comedy “Frailty”) while she assembled a group of our friends at a local pub. The movie was good, and I was surprised to see everyone sitting there. Both Todd and my wife had a goofy look of pleasure of having gotten one over on me.
As fate would have it, I was given two copies of the new Stew CD. So, on the way home, Todd, another friend, and I stopped at Borders to make an exchange. I picked up Moon Safari. Todd looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. Two major coups in one day.
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 10:27 AM |
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Welcome to the New Year! Once again the Earth has successfully managed to orbit around the sun without blowing up. Though, admittedly, many people have tried. Really, really hard.
But, somehow, humanity always finds a way to avoid oblivion. Rather than rollover and allow ourselves to be blindsided by destruction, we always face it and wait patiently for other people to resolve the issues. Good for them, I say. For without the lazy people and the responsible ones, we’d all go down the tubes. We all have a place in the system. Find yours and do what you need to.
On New Year’s Eve we watched the obligatory New Year’s Rockin’ Eve (which no longer rocks, but rather jiggles). Every year I’m astounded by the amount of people who turn out in Times Square to watch a lighted ball fall down. They stand in the cold, sometimes rain, with no food, no drink and no real purpose. I’ve never been able to understand why. Until just a few moments ago.
Human beings, no matter where they live, what they believe or what they do, all have one basic desire: Community. Throughout our entire lives we seek to find a community of like-minded people who do like-minded things for like-minded reasons.
We, as a species, desire being together for any reason. We join churches, support groups, Mommy’s Day Out Groups, fan clubs, softball teams, the local ball game; you name it, for brief moments of camaraderie. Even our most basic diversions, movies, concerts, dance clubs, have a communal aspect.
And this is becoming more and more important as time marches on. Family units are becoming more fractured with every year. Where we once had a large, extended family to draw support from, many families are now small and isolated. Many children grow up without the multi-generational exposure that most of us were so lucky to receive.
Gone are the days of gathering around and listening to Grandpa’s war stories, and the accompanying misty eyes as Grandpa reflected over his youth and what was lost and gained. Gone are the days when we visit a Great Aunt, who hauls out her music box collection, each with a story surrounding it. And gone are the days when you’d receive a wonderful letter from your Great Uncle, who could write the most beautiful three pages about a squirrel running up a tree that you’ve ever read.
Neighborhoods, more often than not, have been replaced by home grids, where you rarely speak with your neighbors. Rare is the instance where you can count on your next-door neighbor to watch your kids after school.
So we seek community where we can find it. At the movie theater, at the local pool. Even the grocery store.
That is why people flock to New Year’s Eve. It’s a communal celebration of nothing more than being alive. There’s no underlying meaning. There’s no theology, no political meaning. People simply share that space because they are alive, and happy about it. They are happy to share the space with other revelers with the same mission: To scream for a ten-second interval.
Life’s pleasures are often simple. And you don’t get simpler than that. New Year’s is still a holiday I just don’t get. But I understand the draw.
Take your pleasures where you find them. And my New Year’s wish to you is that you find your community. And I mine.
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Posts for the date of Tuesday, December 31, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 1:32 PM |
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One of the most important rules of writing deals with the ever-elusive, and oft-irritating exclamation point. From the first time I wrote my first sentence (which was, “Please stop Henry Winkler!”), teachers have told me that I should use the exclamation point sparingly. After all, how often am I so excited that I! Must! Yell! About! It!?
Not often. Recently, on someone else’s blog (who it was, I cannot remember, sorry whoever it was), I read that we’re all allowed three exclamation points in our life. To me, this is a good rule. After you use more than three you should be thrown in prison for three years and forced to listen to Barry Manilow.
(Right now someone is probably going through this blog counting the exclamation points. To that person I say, “Stop. They have medication for your disorder.”)
Why am I discussing this? Because a site that I once enjoyed has gone completely out of control. That site is Ain't It Cool News, run by the hirsute, self-obsessed Harry Knolwes. This site was once a great read with wonderful news and information about movies and television. Now, it’s a self-pleasuring of a man who is part of the pseudo-media.
My thoughts about Knowles and his writing style and self-adulation aside, the site still has some interesting tidbits. But only rarely. Were I to choose a movie news site I would have to vote for Dark Horizons . Garth Franklin gives me the news I need in a succinct and interesting manner. And, quite often, he does so with a flair that only an intelligent, movie-obsessed geek can bring to the table. Garth doesn’t do his site to make money or garner a fan base. Rather, he does so because if he didn’t, he’d be looking for this information himself.
So, why am I ragging on Harry and what does it have to do with exclamation points? Because Harry’s site currently contains no less than fifty-six exclamation points on various headlines. Fifty-six. Come on Harry. Let’s get serious here, can you not write a headline that doesn’t contain an exclamation point?
For that matter, why not write a headline that contains some sort of information? Maybe even writing craft? Read what you’ve written and write the headline based on the content, not the other way around.
Words, Harry, are able to convey emotion and have weight based purely on their combination. For example, you currently state “Ian McKellen will not be playing Dumbledore!!” Okay, first of all, use capitalization properly. But that’s beside the point.
Your headline actually contains information, but it does not require two exclamation points. In fact, it does not even need one. You could have said, “Rumor Denied: McKellen Will Not Play Dubmledore” or “McKellen Denies Accepting Role of Dumbledore.”
Rather than giving us a succinct headline, it’s buried in eighteen layers of tripe fit for a fourteen-year-old girl’s love note. Stop it. Damn it, stop it now.
I love movies too. But I can’t read your site anymore. It’s more like reading your diary. Or worse, what you consider your memoirs. Just stop. Now. Save us all the trouble.
Or let me put it in terms you can understand. Stop!! No More Exclamation Points!! They’re Annoying!!
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
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Posts for the date of Monday, December 30, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 4:55 PM |
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Can I tell you how damn tired I am? I’m exhausted. Really damn tired. I’ve been working like mad to get everything done and it feels like nothing ever does get done. Sigh. I should be almost done. Right? Right? Someone please tell me I’m almost done.
My time needs have been compounded by the holidays and the fact that I have a kid home with me all day long. I’m pulling double duty during the day and working through the night. And damn it if I’m not too damn honest about my billable hours. I’ve been told that I’m overly generous. But, I’m working for people I consider friends, so I bill what I feel is appropriate.
So, Christmas was good. Matilda seems to have loved all of her gifts. Especially Tony Hawk 4. She’s a skate hound. Gertrude really dug the idea of Christmas. She’d open a gift and exclaim, “Wow! Wow!” It didn’t matter what it was, she just was amazed by the fact something was hidden behind those colorful pieces of paper.
Her favorite gift, I think, is the series of Wiggles tapes she was given. She stared at the boxes lovingly, as if the photos of The Wiggles were actually family portraits. When she saw them, she wiggled appropriately. And, of course, we’ve watched them all repeatedly.
My lovely wife loved the gift I gave her, which was a replica of the Evenstar pendant Arwen gives Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings. She’s worn it constantly since she opened it. I suppose that’s a good sign. However, she truly believes that she’s now and elf and refuses to trade her immortality for a time-expired mortal life with me.
Sigh.
My gifts? Well, I got a real Pendleton shirt. Like the Beach Boys used to wear. I think I may be the only person on Earth who thinks it’s cool. But it is. I also got a groovy Guinness t-shirt, bongos (so I can be like Richard Feynman) and a bumper sticker that says “Feynman Lives!”. Can’t wait to put that one up.
Add to that a bunch of DVDs, CDs, gift certificates and it all adds up to one hell of a haul. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I’ll try to repeat it.
Finally, to round out the season, I picked up something for myself that should make my working life easier. The Sidekick is a combination phone and personal organizer. I’ll be able to get my calls and pick up my email on the same device. How is this good? I’ll be able to get my email anywhere. I won’t be tied to this damn computer anymore. Plus, it has a full keyboard so I’ll be able to respond.
You have no idea how freeing it’ll be to be able to sit outside and answer my email without worry. Or in front of the TV. Or at someone else’s house. I’ll be able to do portions of my job while hanging out with my family SOME WHERE OTHER THAN MY OFFICE. Do you have any idea what that means?
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It’s funny, but the more I work, the more I get stressed, the more I look at my kids in wonder. I get overwhelmed with love.
We spend so much time worrying about what people will think, how this deadline is looming, how much money we’re making and so much more, but sometimes we just forget what’s really important.
I have no idea what’s important to you. But what’s important to me are these two little girls for whom my life exists. Sure, the seven-year-old and I are constantly squabbling over silly things these days and the baby seems to prefer her mother over me, but still . . . this is why I’m here.
Everyone is told that they have a purpose in life. As you grow, you assume that yours will be lofty. You’ll cure cancer. You’ll invent something that will make life easier. You’ll write the Great American Novel.
My purpose in life is to make these two girls smile. Because when they smile nothing else matters. Not my stupid deadlines, not the burning acid in my stomach. Nothing.
Because when they smile I look at that little electric face and say to myself, “I did that. I created a pure emotion in someone else. And damn it, I’m proud.”
If my life is to be measured by giggles and smirks, then so be it. Because when I look back on my life I’ll be able to say I truly accomplished something. I made two (hopefully happy) human beings.
And that beats the hell out of the Great American Novel.
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