It's New Years Eve. It's been a year. Yay.
To round out the roller coaster of a year that I've been having I came
to Disneyland with some friends. Specifically it's my cousins birthday
today and she really wanted to spend it at the Happiest Place on earth
with the hottest guy (@dsummer) and the funniest guy (@debono) she
knows. And @gowebbgo because that's how she rolls.
We all got wet on Splash Mountain and everyone is having a rip-roaring
time running amuck.
As fun as this is, I hope my next year keeps the roller coastering
inside the parks.
31 December 2008
14 December 2008
First snow of the year!
It snowed a lot last night.
I watched from the balcony as sheets of fluffy white rained down and
covered everything. The sense of cleansing and making new was very
strong for some completely emo reason.
Last night sat in the second row for Matt Nathanson and watched this
moving and passionate artist extract emotion in each song. He so
eloquently pulls the depth of the collective reality into the light of
music evoking a new level of transparency in self-reflection.
Later in the show, the haunting harmony of Ingrid Michaelson and the
lady with her ( Amy Moss ? ) just captivated me and eased me back to
normalcy.
After the show as I walked home through the snow I felt so invigorated
and refreshed. More so than in a long time.
But on the balcony watching the huge flakes floating down, a sense of
melancholy returned. A little nostalgia perhaps? I'm sure it had more
than a little to do with spending one of my first days out of contact
with some of the people I love.
In any case, I went to bed feeling very much like a sock that's been
through the washer and the dryer and sometime during the tumble cycle,
lost his partner. I'm still a perfectly good sock. Maybe you could use
me as a puppet?
The snow on the ground outside my window reminded me of how even in a
night of fitful dreams the world keeps going. In the morning, if
you're lucky, there will be a whole new playground on which to
frolick. That's part of why snow is so beautiful to me. It transforms
and makes things new.
I sit here now watching people arise and leave their homes to play in
the whiteness, I listen to my roommate snoring, about to leave and fly
to a warmer place, and I don't feel melancholy any more.
You see, that's the other good thing about snow. It's cold. It makes
you numb.
I watched from the balcony as sheets of fluffy white rained down and
covered everything. The sense of cleansing and making new was very
strong for some completely emo reason.
Last night sat in the second row for Matt Nathanson and watched this
moving and passionate artist extract emotion in each song. He so
eloquently pulls the depth of the collective reality into the light of
music evoking a new level of transparency in self-reflection.
Later in the show, the haunting harmony of Ingrid Michaelson and the
lady with her ( Amy Moss ? ) just captivated me and eased me back to
normalcy.
After the show as I walked home through the snow I felt so invigorated
and refreshed. More so than in a long time.
But on the balcony watching the huge flakes floating down, a sense of
melancholy returned. A little nostalgia perhaps? I'm sure it had more
than a little to do with spending one of my first days out of contact
with some of the people I love.
In any case, I went to bed feeling very much like a sock that's been
through the washer and the dryer and sometime during the tumble cycle,
lost his partner. I'm still a perfectly good sock. Maybe you could use
me as a puppet?
The snow on the ground outside my window reminded me of how even in a
night of fitful dreams the world keeps going. In the morning, if
you're lucky, there will be a whole new playground on which to
frolick. That's part of why snow is so beautiful to me. It transforms
and makes things new.
I sit here now watching people arise and leave their homes to play in
the whiteness, I listen to my roommate snoring, about to leave and fly
to a warmer place, and I don't feel melancholy any more.
You see, that's the other good thing about snow. It's cold. It makes
you numb.
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