My blogging inspiration is overwhelmed.
There are so many things I want to talk about, but the words keep on jumbling themselves up in my head and so rudely pushing each other out of the way that I can't stop and think for a second about what I want to write.
Ah! It's coming back to me. Somewhat.
First of all, the video posted by Scriptor Senex yesterday reminded me of a video I found on another blog some time ago. It may have been tangobaby's, but I can't seem to find it anywhere, either there or on YouTube. It was a beautiful video of people across the world singing the same song together. The first person sang, the second person played an instrument while listening to the recording of the first person, the third person added drums while listening to the recording of the first two, and so on until a fantastic symphony had been assembled across the planet. I may be pessimistic sometimes about the fate of humankind, but this was a beautiful moment of peace and togetherness. Music is a universal language.
Second in an ever-lengthening list is a mixed tape (or CD, rather) Crazy Redhead Mathematically-Inclined Friend made for me (and all of us in our little group) as a Valentine's gift. She has excellent taste (there are maybe two songs I don't really like). I now have a collection of love songs from a wide range of places, times, and styles. Among them, The Origin of Love from the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a surprisingly beautiful and moving song about, well, the origin of love, based on Plato's Symposium.
On a less serious note, but still on the same topic, you may be familiar with Rickrolling. The version my friend thoughtfully and lovingly provided is somewhat different--and to a certain degree with this particular politician, adorable (click through that slide show without being overcome by the cuteness of it all, I dare you).
More lovey-doveyness, I suppose (and it's not even tomorrow yet): I went to the post office this morning to mail a Valentine's gift and letter to The Boy (dating an engineer has perks, any type of building material [duct tape, ahem, or plywood, or sheet metal, except those don't mail as easily], is always a good idea). Anyway, point of the story is, the post office didn't open until 9 (my Friday classes start at ten), so I wandered around the Capitol for an hour, watching congressmen park their cars and walk to work and discuss various atrocities they intend to force upon public schools. I sat down on the grass next to an old (for here) Swedish-style church reconverted into a library. It was closed, to my great dismay, but the outside was still quite pretty and peaceful in the early morning coolness.
Last, and very sadly not least:
This afternoon, I traveled home with Bookish Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglasses.
When I arrived, Sis broke the news: one of my good friend's little brother passed away yesterday. City Back Home is a small town, where everyone knows everyone, or at least knows someone who knows someone else. There are a few tragic events in the community every year, but this is the first time someone I know well is affected in such a way.
I can't know, and I hope I won't ever know what his family is feeling right now.
Standard condolences and formulae of politeness cannot replace what is gone.
I have no words to offer but these: rest in peace, little brother I knew from afar. Your life wasn't easy, but I hope you are happier wherever you are now.
There are so many things I want to talk about, but the words keep on jumbling themselves up in my head and so rudely pushing each other out of the way that I can't stop and think for a second about what I want to write.
Ah! It's coming back to me. Somewhat.
First of all, the video posted by Scriptor Senex yesterday reminded me of a video I found on another blog some time ago. It may have been tangobaby's, but I can't seem to find it anywhere, either there or on YouTube. It was a beautiful video of people across the world singing the same song together. The first person sang, the second person played an instrument while listening to the recording of the first person, the third person added drums while listening to the recording of the first two, and so on until a fantastic symphony had been assembled across the planet. I may be pessimistic sometimes about the fate of humankind, but this was a beautiful moment of peace and togetherness. Music is a universal language.
Second in an ever-lengthening list is a mixed tape (or CD, rather) Crazy Redhead Mathematically-Inclined Friend made for me (and all of us in our little group) as a Valentine's gift. She has excellent taste (there are maybe two songs I don't really like). I now have a collection of love songs from a wide range of places, times, and styles. Among them, The Origin of Love from the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a surprisingly beautiful and moving song about, well, the origin of love, based on Plato's Symposium.
On a less serious note, but still on the same topic, you may be familiar with Rickrolling. The version my friend thoughtfully and lovingly provided is somewhat different--and to a certain degree with this particular politician, adorable (click through that slide show without being overcome by the cuteness of it all, I dare you).
More lovey-doveyness, I suppose (and it's not even tomorrow yet): I went to the post office this morning to mail a Valentine's gift and letter to The Boy (dating an engineer has perks, any type of building material [duct tape, ahem, or plywood, or sheet metal, except those don't mail as easily], is always a good idea). Anyway, point of the story is, the post office didn't open until 9 (my Friday classes start at ten), so I wandered around the Capitol for an hour, watching congressmen park their cars and walk to work and discuss various atrocities they intend to force upon public schools. I sat down on the grass next to an old (for here) Swedish-style church reconverted into a library. It was closed, to my great dismay, but the outside was still quite pretty and peaceful in the early morning coolness.
Last, and very sadly not least:This afternoon, I traveled home with Bookish Friend and Friend With Many Pairs of Sunglasses.
When I arrived, Sis broke the news: one of my good friend's little brother passed away yesterday. City Back Home is a small town, where everyone knows everyone, or at least knows someone who knows someone else. There are a few tragic events in the community every year, but this is the first time someone I know well is affected in such a way.
I can't know, and I hope I won't ever know what his family is feeling right now.
Standard condolences and formulae of politeness cannot replace what is gone.
I have no words to offer but these: rest in peace, little brother I knew from afar. Your life wasn't easy, but I hope you are happier wherever you are now.
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