Collapsing Reality or Just Being Happy its Still There?

To My Youngers,

There are things that happen in your life that make you think about, well, about life. Not in a big philosophical way necessarily, but more in a "Hum, I could very easily just... not be alive. At any moment" kind of a way.

Sunday evening the stage at Bluesfest collapsed.  Just fell down. Like a fort made of cushions and blankets, except with the sound track from a monster movie. It took less than ten seconds. *Poof* it was just a pile of metal and fabric and squashed lights and guitars. I've seen videos of stuff like that before, but I was standing on that stage this morning... In the photos, in the videos, there are cases I pushed around, there are people I worked with, my friends. Everything is familiar but warped, surreal. everyone is ok, and that makes all the difference, but there is still something, just... strange about it all (beyond the obvious strangeness of a giant stage collapsing seconds after the band runs off stage.) At least six or seven people I know could easily have died. Pretty much all at once. Its... weird.

I dunno, maybe I should be all reevaluating my life and stuff, but that's not really whats happening. I mean I had a 'Huh, I might actually die right now' experience camping a few years ago and it completely changed how I saw everything (even got rid of my insomnia!), but that was first hand. And in the middle of a bunch of stuff about my life that I really didn't like... But right now? I'm just having more of a 'I'm really really happy no one got hurt!" kind of a reaction. I guess I'm just pretty happy with my life right now.I guess thats a good thing.

Also good no one died.

Two. Two good things.

-E

The Accidental Loving of Something Well Known Somewhere Else

To My Youngers,

I'm not hipster (ok I do have a few pairs of neon nylons and a collection of fake raybans but really, who doesn't?) but I'm not the biggest fan of popular music. Sure I like Lady Gaga (again, who doesn't?), but most of the bands I absolutely love are either too small/local to be well known or were big decades ago (some decades before I was born...). I could go on for years and years about the fantastic amazingness of Elliot Brood, The Decemberists, Old Man Leudecke, CCR, Queen, or Zeus, but nine times out of ten the person I'm talking to has either never heard of them, or has the vague sense that their 'dad used to listen to that band when he was a teenager.' This doesn't bother me, in fact I kind of enjoy having these bands kind of to myself (though I much more enjoy introducing someone to one of them and having it become one of their favourite bands...!) but I even more enjoy having the experience of finding out that one of my bands is actually a favourite of millions of other people- just not the people I'm usually around!

I had two such experiences this week:

I am currently working on a show that has all Canadian music playing right up until it starts. Its not the same music every day, and I am quite the fan of Canadian music, so I tend to be able to sing along with most of the songs. The other day one came on that I loved right from the first or second bar. It took many 'yes reeeeeally's from my friend to convince me that, not only had he also no idea at all who it was, but that they were in fact singing in French. There are a few french/Quebecquois band I like (Couer de Pirate  not least amongst them!) but this band sounded like an anglophone indie band, one I not only liked, but liked enough that I was completely confused as to why I did not already own all of their music.

With some help from the fancy iphone app of another friend we were able to acertain that this band was in fact karkwa... who won the Polaris Prize last year. Who are one of the top indie bands in Quebec. Who played in Paris with the Arcade Fire and out-reviewed them... even though none of the three of us had ever heard them, there were thousands of people out there in the world who already adored them. I love it when that happens! When you happen upon a new band and find that they're only unknown where you are, that somewhere else they're huge, or at least well enough known and respected to win the biggest music prize in Canada... I got their album online. I am listening to it right now. For the fourth straight time in a row. So new favourite band, check.

The second such experience was having the chance to see John Fogerty perform live. I was talking to a co-worker just as he got started and she actually said 'yeah, I don't know who that is... I mean maybe I would recognize some of the songs if I heard them..." !?! for serious? ok, ok, I've spent most of my life trying to explain to people my age why CCR is so incredibly awesome, and how I wouldn't even be very sad to miss other music if they were the only band I could ever listen to for the rest of my life... but it still floors me when someone doesn't know that they wrote 'Proud Mary' (The first time I heard the Tina Turner version I literally cringed. I mean visibly. I shuddered. I've gotten used to it- kinda- over time, but I still hear Fogerty singing over Tina every time...) or Suzie Q. Who doesn't know Suzie Q? And Born on the Bayou? Apparently lots of people don't. But none of them were rockin' out at bluesfest yesterday.

I didn't get to see too much of the show (though I got to hear all of it!) but the part I did spend out in the crowd was amazing. As a kid listening to CCR I never thought that I would actually get to see them (well one of them anyways) perform live. Like Queen or ABBA I just always kind of assumed that they were long dead and gone just like the rest of my growing-up bands (though having said that I did get to watch an hour long Paul McCartney sound check a few years back and had a similar 'this is soooo weird' feeling). So getting to, not only watch and listen to Fogerty perform, but be surrounded by truckloads of people who were just as into it, just as excited about it, just as 'Oh my god, Its John Fogerty!!!' as I was was pretty 'effin awesome.

Sometimes its nice to feel like you like bands that are just yours... but sometimes its nice to really feel like you're tapping into something that's already there, sharing the awesomeness of the music with an already existing community of like-minded and like-excited folk. This week I've been diggin' that second kind of sometimes.

-E

Whether the Weather Matters, Matters to us Canadians

To My Youngers,

I love working outdoors. The sunshine, the breeze, the tan through 40 SPF sunscreen... Today I got the day off- with pay- because it was raining. Which made me happy for obvious reasons, but also a little sad because I actually like having to be outside when its raining (in the summer anyways)...

I used to be a house painter. I would wake up each morning and stumble downstairs to watch the weather network, check on what it was gonna do that day, that morning that afternoon. My work day revolved around the weather, and perhaps oddly, I absolutely loved it. It made me feel connected to the real world, to the indisputable real world. The world of clouds and rain and sunshine and tornadoes. Hurricanes and freak hail storms. Thunderstorms (best of all)! even the super cold days and the super hot ones, a little part of me dies when I don't get to experience the full range on a regular basis... In that way I am very very Canadian- I love the weather. I like talking about it sure, but I especially like experiencing it. Getting soaked, frying, freezing, not feeling your toes, having sweat drip off your nose...

For a while I even entertained the thought of becoming a stormchaser, except for that the twice I've seen a tornado in person it kind of had a vertigo type effect, I couldn't look away or drive away or anything. I find it fascinating. Literally. How else could you explain my love of Twister? I mean Helen hunt is pretty awesome but, really... ;o)

-E

Its OK to Not Like Things

To My Youngers,

I recently (aka like an hour ago) stumbled upon a very short and very silly song that perfectly sums up something I struggled with for a loooong time. No, not anything so serious as depression or anorexia or something, I'm talking about not-liking-things.

Listen to 'Its OK to not like things!' Though I should warn you, its terribly addictive...

This may sound like a weird problem to have, but throughout my childhood I felt compelled to at least sorta like pretty much everything I came across. From music to movies to people. Doesn't sound so bad, but the problem is that when you like everything its hard to tell what you actually like... what you love, whats really important to you. And that's kinda, well, important!

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but at some point during high school I started to be ok with disliking things, and a whole new world opened up to me. No longer did I have to force myself to like chemistry class (all other sciences are so much better!) or be friends with the annoying guy from drama (just because other friends are friends with him... whatever, he was annoying!) or to enjoy the first half of Catcher in the Rye (I liked the second half, but man, first half Holden is an arsehole!!!)! I started to have opinions more often, I started to get into friendly arguments with people who disagreed with me, and best of all I developed a few arch nemesises (nemesi?)- and yes they do exist in real life and they are just as entertaining as in comics ;o)

Its not even just the disliking that makes things more fun/better/awesomer its loving disliking them- like  The Empire Strikes Back, green peppers, and Vin Diesel (to name a few)! It gives me the opportunity to argue with people without hurting anyone's feelings or making them actually upset! Arguing sans consequence. Mostly anyways. the trick is to stay away from hating things, and only let yourself go so far as to have a strong strong dislike. That way you don't let the evil in, only the fun!

See for yourself how much fun it can be and not-like something today!

-E

Those weird in-between years

To my elders,

I am at an age where people are trying to figure out what to do with their lives. Undergrad (or their early 20s for the non-university types) is over, those weird in-between years are ending, and now we're at an age where people are actually starting to do things with their lives.

People who knew what they wanted to do have finished their schooling and have started working. People who wanted to go to grad school are going. And the number of weddings I have to go to in the next year and a half... let's just say I need to buy a couple more nice dresses. 'Cuz I can't wear the same one to every wedding. I even know a couple people who have kids. Scary.

Then there are The Wanderers. The people who have no idea and can't stand the idea of settling, of doing something just to do something. They are the ones who are perpetually wishing and searching and hoping for inspiration. They are looking, or maybe just waiting, for serendipity to happen upon them. Don't get me wrong, it is a very romantic and lovely notion, and it does happen to some people, some times. Heck, in part it happened to me. But it happened to me when I wasn't actually looking for it. And in the traditional K way of doing things, it was kind of an arbitrary whim that ended up sticking. My best decisions usually work that way. But the point of serendipity is that it is an accident. By its very definition, you can't look for it.

These people are sometimes frustrating, but (almost) always sympathetic. You want them to find something that fits them. That makes them happy. That fulfills them and ends their strife. But in some ways, I think it is kind of similar to the "I'm going to do (fill in something important here), but I don't have time while I'm in school. I'll do it when I graduate." Which very quickly turns into "I'm going to do (fill in something important here), but I don't have time while I'm building up my career/ before I make any real money/ old enough. I'll do it later on." There are things that turn into habits and one thing doesn't lead to another, and it become part of who you are. Not that people can't and do break their habits, but reasons become excuses pretty fast, and then even if something did come along, a perfect job, a perfect career path, a perfect apartment or house or hobby or bf/gf, you still wouldn't go for it because of something. And the something is (almost) always a mediocre reason. And I hate to admit it, but this is the age. The mid 20s are the "start to get your shit together" years.

So I say, just do it. Just go for it. And you know what? It is anything. It is a new haircut. A drastic move. Applying for a programme or job you think is awesome and ridiculous. Starting something. Learning something. Doing something. Because otherwise, life really will just kinda pass you by. It doesn't care if you're onboard or hangin' out. Because life is not anthropomorphized. It doesn't have feelings. Or a brain. Or a corporeal body.

-K

p.s. There is a Library Voices song that they played when I saw them a few weeks back that had a chorus that went something along the lines of "All of my friends are buying diamonds for their girls and bringing people into this world and I'm just playing songs." And Not that I want them to, you know, stop playing songs, as we've established that this would actually and literally make me cry, but the sentiment is pretty relatable at this age. I will update the proper lyrics and the context of the song when the album actually comes out.

Storytelling as ... Everything

To My Youngers,

I was catching up on some vlogbrothers videos yesterday (as I am wont to do) and was struck by a particularly loverly sentiment (as I am also wont to do) expressed by John Green about the purpose of studying/discussing literature: "Its not so much about uncovering secret mysteries for the sake of uncovering secret mysteries, its about using story as a way into thinking about our actual lives and how we're actually living them."

So first off I love the enthusiasm with which Mr Green (ha ;o) states that the true purpose of hearing stories is to learn from them, to apply the lessons within to our own lives and to benefit from the experiences of others, even if those others are fictional. Its seems a rather obvious idea, but also unfortunately one which is often lost on the hoards of students forced to analyze everything from Dickens to James Joyce. I have had so many students beg me to tell them 'What the author means...' as if that will somehow magically provide them with the answers to life, the universe, and everything. Its not about what the author means but about how you relate to the story, the novel, the work. What does Napoleon's take-over of the farm remind you of? Haven't you ever felt like one of the invisible unwashed masses like David Copperfield? What about Holden Caufield- I mean haven't you ever seen a giant 'fuck' spray-painted on the side of a school and just wanted to go berserk? Apply, apply, APPLY these things to the real world! What is the point of storytelling if not to form connections, to bridge the gaps of human existence, to make webs where once there were voids? To make magic out of molehills.

That is part of this sentiment I find, frankly, absolutely fantastic- the idea that a reason to read stories is to discover secret mysteries, to understand the magic of existence! Now of course our esteemed Mr Green  says that discovering said mysteries is not the point of reading books- but wait, no! He says discovering them for the sake of it is not the purpose...  Now that's the magical part. Its not secret mysteries as set out by the author (because "What authors mean doesn't really matter") but instead the secret mysteries revealed to you through your interpretation of the author's words. Definitely more important and, I think I am pretty safe in saying, also much more awesome. The way that something said by Yossarian can make you re-imagine the universe, that something done by Charles-Wallace can make you re-evaluate your perspective, that the world-view of Tyler Durden or Rob Fleming can make you stop, look, and listen...

One of my favourite Nick Hornby moments happens in Song Book when he is discussing his discovery of hidden meaning in About A Boy after hearing the Badly Drawn Boy song about the dead duck day (could that be more cryptic for anyone who is not a Nick Hornby fan? I think not. Read his books, enjoy, then come back and re-visit this post...)  Now I think K has mentioned this before so bare with me, but the idea that someone else's reading of your words can teach you something about yourself that you never knew- totally the very point of story-telling! The push and pull of learning, the 'student becomes the teacher; is mirrored by 'the teacher becomes the student...'  As a teacher I can tell you that my students teach me things every day- I know that sounds corny and trite, but its my favourite thing about teaching and what will keep me enthralled by it for years to come. You can never know everything, you can never even come close, and having a roomful of other experiences informing, changing, and building your perspective(s) is one of the most amazing things in life. Its not just the readers, the viewers, the audience, who experience this discovery, but the authors/creators themselves... it works with books, with artworks, with songs... Hornby says of the experience "I wrote a book that wasn't about my kid, then someone writes a beautiful song based on an episode in my book that turns out to mean something much more  personal to me than my book ever did." It is not only the power of music, the insightfulness of song writing, but the experience of having an author's words mean something to you that the author not only never intended, but which has the power to change how you see things...

Now I could go on here about the insane relevantness of song lyrics and connectedness of melody, about art and seeing things in the in-between, about books changing how I see the world, but I think I'll save that for another time. For now I'll just say that it is never what the creator means that is important, but the connectedness with which you interpret their words/images/ideas and the way in which you relate to them, which allows a book/song/painting/piece of art to achieve its full potential.

That, and that I love John Green...

Aaaaaaand scene.

-E

Postal Strikes and Existential Crisis(es)

To My Youngers,

So the post office went on strike last Friday. Not the old-fashioned sandwich-board, oil-drum-fire, scabber-filled, country-stalling general strikes of old, but instead a rolling strike meant to (hopefully) inconvenience us enough to (hopefully) make a point. I’m still trying to decide if it will be (has been?) effective at either.

My favourite response to this ‘whole ordeal’ (if we can even call it an ordeal at all…) was a friend’s facebook status: “Oh no! A Canada Post strike!? That will totally affect my daily life. Just like when the typewriter factory went on strike and all the monocle franchises shut down.”  I think it pretty perfectly sums up the first reaction of your average Canadian (right down to the self-effacing take on so called ‘important things’). I found the post pretty durn funny, but I don’t really know how I feel about the strike itself... A few people responded with good reasons why they were upset about it (not receiving pay cheques, trouble invoicing or mailing out merch) but on the whole everyone seemed to agree- Not only was this rolling strike not really going to affect most of us, it is just downright humerous.

I myself bemoaned having to use a fax machine to send some government-type forms (like being forced to watch a movie on Betamax), but in all honestly, I was a little sad that I wasn’t more upset at the temporary (if spottily temporary) inability to send actual physical things through the mail. I can be a bit of a neo-luddite at times- I own three typewriters, a super-8 projector, a tape deck, and a collapsible overhead machine. I love old things. I love old technologies. I love winding film, and watching for cigarette burns, and setting type by hand. But I also love being able to talk to my cousin on skype even though he lives halfway across the world. I love being able to take my entire music collection with me anywhere I go. I love viewing vlogbrothers videos and being inspired by my modern metropolis. I love being able to watch Dr Who the day its aired on BBC and not having to wait weeks and weeks to borrow a tape of it recorded off of a friend’s Space channel… I’m sitting on a cliff on an island in the middle of a lake, writing this on my laptop and posting it online- Can I really simultaneously do that and mourn the loss of the importance of the postal service?

Is it possible for us to still value a method of communication (in the original sense of the word, everything from roads to photographs, to mail, to texting) if it ceases to be the most useful method? Is there an actual place in the world for things that no longer have a use? The obvious answer, logically speaking is ‘no,’ but that just doesn’t seem to be right. What about Art, and Film, and Music, and Literature? What about Bicycles? What about Chocolate? What about… everything that makes life interesting? But how do we tell what’s what- what’s worth keeping and what just isn’t?

I think that the rolling postal strike has made a point, but I’m not sure that it was the point they were trying to make. Maybe we are at a place where physical mail just isn’t really needed anymore.  Maybe my former thoughts on importance and usefulness are antiquated and no longer reflect my view of the world. But the idea of not having a National Mail Service makes me pretty sad, just like the idea of closing down all the typewriter factories and monocle shops. But what if their time has simply come, and all the being-sad-about-it in the world isn’t going to stop anything.

Then again, vinyl hasn’t sold this well in over thirty years…

-E

Carrying Yourself Inside Out

To My Youngers,

I am excitable. I'm an excitable person. Maybe not excitable like what that word actually means, but excitable in that I get excited about things. And when I get excited I get, well, quite excited. I use a lot of exclamation marks! I talk more loudly! My voice goes up in pitch (like a seventeen year old boy)!

It took me a while to see it, but for a few years there I was stifling that excitement. It leaked out for sure (how could it not?) but mostly when talking to students about their art (the times I get so excited I couldn't contain it if my life depended on it. Well, maybe only if my life depended on it...). In most other ways it just seemed to get buried beneath a bunch of worries and stress and grown-up stupidness. Then I made some changes. And with those changes came a resurgence of the excitement. Music and Movies and TV started to regain their magical powers, books became engrossing again. The sun shined a little brighter, the cloudy days seemed more purposeful. I rediscovered a laugh I had forgotten I had.

And why hide that? It doesn't mean I don't take things seriously, it doesn't mean that I see the world as a permanently happy place (once again being able to appreciate melancholia without getting sad might be my favourite thing about being excitable again!), it just means I'm not apologizing for being me. And thats a pretty good place to be.

After all, your insides are who you are, why do anything other than wear them proudly?

-E

Eli's Coming

To My Youngers,

I'm not superstitious. Not really actually superstitious,  though I do toss spilled salt over my shoulder, knock on wood, and leave the theatre when I accidentally say Macbeth.... whats the harm? Its fun taking part in traditions, and tried and true superstitions are fun. They are part of a larger mythology, a collective mythology that brings people together. Like loving Doctor Who or singing the Fresh Prince theme-song in a foreign land, some things just make you feel like a part of the universe, they stick with you that way.

However there's a different kind of superstition that I do find incredibly intriguing: the superstition of coincidence.

Now I don't take this too seriously- I don't plan my life around whether or not a light turns green or if I hear a certain song on the radio, but I do enjoy having my own little set of coincidences (at least partially self manufactured, I'm sure) that work together to make the world seem like an ever so slightly more magical place.  Nothing has this effect more than re-discovering a long-forgotten personal mythology and suddenly seeing it everywhere. My latest is Eli.

Eli's Coming. Yes from the Three Dog Night song, but for me from Sports Night. Its one of those phrases that seeped into my brain and was something I said long after I remembered where it had come from.

Dan Rydell: Eli is something bad, a darkness.
Casey McCall: "Eli's coming. Hide your heart, girl." Eli is a inveterate womanizer. I think you're getting the song wrong.
Dan Rydell: I know I'm getting the song wrong. But, when I first heard it, that's what I thought it meant. Things stick with you that way.

The wind is blowing in from from the west, Eli's Coming. The birds are sitting on the wire, Eli's Coming. Your pets are acting weird, Eli's Coming. General strangeness with a side-order of odd, Eli's Coming. Its thunderstorms and stroppy moods, stubbing your toe and thinking fuzzy. Its tornadoes at the drive-in. Its nine different kinds of weather in a day. Its Eli.

Eli may have started out as a darkness, but over the years its become for me more about the feeling of impending Big Change. An epic shift in mood or weather or perspective or or or just... life.

On the last-day-of-my-twenties Eli was everywhere. In the wind, in the snow (in April!), in the radio, in the sneezing cats, even in friends being cavity searched at the border (I think that one was the weirdest). Eli. Marking the day as one preceding change. A day to remember.

So I went with it, I absorbed all the weirdness and enjoyed every second of it. I talked a lot and listened a lot and laughed a lot and drew and drank and decided to get a tattoo. One I had been planning for a long time (a story for another post), but one I had been putting off for equally as long for a million incredibly common and suddenly not-good-enough reasons. K has a few tattoos, and I talked to her and decided I would go visit her and get it done by her friend. Now I was already really sure about this tattoo, but of course I was a little anxious about the placement and the exactly what it was too look like and, I'll admit it, the pain... then K says "Oh it'll be fine, she's really really good. And by her I mean my tattoo artist friend. Eli."

Yep, Eli. Eli the tattoo Artist. Eli the tattoo Artist who is going to do the tattoo that I decided to get on the last-day-of-my-twenties, my Eli day. Even if that doesn't mean is was meant to be, its still pretty frickin' weird, and that enough for me!

So every time big change is on the horizon, every time there's a day full of coincidence, every time there's a storm, or a feeling, or a shift in the wind, despite what anyone tries to tell me, I know its Eli.

Sometimes things stick with you that way.

-E

Capturing Time - Modern Art and the Interconnectedness of Everything

To My Youngers,

Though I've lived here for almost five months, I had yet to make it to the Art Gallery before last week. Wandering around the Modern Art wing all of those old familiar feelings came rushing back- joy, excitement, glee, wonder, and -possibly most importantly- connectedness.

I know that a lot of  people don't like Modern Art, they don't feel like they 'get' it, or like its just a waste of time. They look for reasons, they look for facts, they look at how much money was spent, or how much it doesn't look like a photograph. They say to me (or to whomever will listen) "What the hell is it supposed to be!?!? I mean I could paint that!" not even aware that their difficulty with 'understanding' Modern Art is in the questions they are asking. It is not that what but the why that is important. Why did the artist choose to create what s/he did? Why did they choose to show it to us like this? Why does it matter to them (or to me)?

As we walked past painting after painting, sculpture after sculpture, I found myself telling stories about the artists, desperately trying to explain (expose? unearth? explore?) what they were trying to convey- not an absolute thing, but an idea, an intangible feeling or thought, difficult to picture in words or capture in traditional ways.

Further into the maze of rooms we happened upon a lonely Giacometti sculpture sitting amongst a slew of Impressionist paintings. Seemingly sad and morose, it stood out against the cheerful canvases, awash in glowing colours and lively brush strokes.

Giacometti is my absolute all-time favorite sculptor. His pieces make me feel like I'm seeing a part of the world that is usually invisible. Its what I'm trying to do when I draw things- anything- trying to capture a moment, trying to capture the invisibility of time, of existence. Not in a big metaphysical way, not like I'm trying to be groundbreaking or incredibly innovative- just for me. So that I have something to remember, some proof that there was something intangible, some way to hold on to the whistling.

 

Giacometti Sketchbook Cover Drawing -EJamieson2011

I once wrote an essay on Giacometti for a university Art History class. I don't really know how good the finished product was, but I do know that the writing of it was a life changing experience for me- Discovering that there were others who felt the same way as I did when they looked at Giacometti's work, people who felt like they were seeing into the ether, they were seeing the space, seeing it. One author, Peter Selz, put it so succinctly and beautifully that, for me, his words are now inseparable from the art. He described Giacometti's sculptures as "barely able to withstand the onslaught of the void," a tangible representation of how we live in the physical world. As if all the space had been squeezed out of us and all that was left was still holding together, beautiful, and magical and just a little bit sad.

I know that a lot of  people don't like Modern Art, they don't feel like they 'get' it, or like its just a waste of time. It used to make me sad. It used to make me angry. Now I just hope that there are other ways in which they see the things that can't be seen, and stay stuck together against the onslaught of the void.

-E

Silly Doctor, Joy is for Kids

To My Youngers,

I've been thinking a lot lately about silliness and joy.

Don't get me wrong,  there are a great many things in this world to be serious about, but there is also a great deal of room for simple pleasures- laughter and smiling and general mirth (whistling in the dark...). Its in the little things: choosing neon leg warmers over beige ones; getting the giggles over a misquote (What you talkin' about Wallace?); naming your houseplants.... Most importantly, though, its in not being afraid to love the things that make you happy. 

I love Doctor Who.

I love the low-tech special effects, I love the optimism, I love the innovation, I love the silliness.

I love how excited the Doctor gets about life. About the little things in life. About the little things. Excited about things!

I love how loving Doctor Who can bring people together. I am not exaggerating here, I have made three (count 'em three) new friends in the last month almost completely based on a shared love of Doctor Who. Now I'm sure that you can find a bajillion sites on the internet where Doctor Who fans meet and discuss various things, but I'm just talking about in real, everyday, plain and simple life.  Not in any sort of Doctor Who situation (what would that even be?) just, y'know, doin' stuff, around... in normal life. And they're all awesome people, awesome in lots of non-specifically-Doctor-Who ways. Which got me thinking- if I don't like these people solely for their love of the show, why do I like people who like Doctor Who. If its like Nick Hornby suggests- that its not what we like, or what we're like, but how we like what we like, then maybe....

Maybe because they are proud of who they are, or because they understand the value of good storytelling... because they can fill in blanks with their ever-fertile imaginations, or because they appreciate the intricacies of time travel. Because they understand that, as Craig Kilbourne says, ‘Its all about the triumph of intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism .’ Maybe because they are capable of regularly suspending disbelief or because they enjoy witty dialogue, or maybe... maybe, most of all because they enjoy enjoying these things!

I guess I just love them for the same reasons I love the Doctor- because they understand that life is magical and silly and and amazing, and that you can still care about things without having to be serious all the time. 

Of course there are many other things I love, things I'm sure I will write about at some point in the future, but today, right now, its all about silly, its all about lovin' with all of your heart, its all about the Doctor.

-E

An Argument for Whisting (or 'A Wrinkle in Whistles')

To My Youngers,

You'll be happy to hear that I am currently [finally] reading A Wrinkle in Time. And though I do like many sci-fi books and many British (or in this case British-style) children's books, the reason I am [finally] reading this one is solely based on the fact that both of you love it so. I'm not quite finished yet, but it didn't take me long to [finally] realize why you've each read it so many times and treasured it so much!

In big and obvious ways the novel is about the constant struggle between light and dark, the importance of family, and complex notions of time travel (which I easily understand thanks to many years of watching Quantum Leap), but it is also quietly about very small and normal things...

Last night, lying in bed, snuggled under my covers and reading by candlelight (for which there was no 'real' reason other than making me feel old fashioned) one particular line jumped out at me:

Charles Wallace, she was quite sure, was not trying to be rude or funny; it was his way of whistling in the dark.

Now I may have only noticed the reference to whisteling because of our choice for the title of this blog, but I think that the theme of the whistleing reference is also strikingly similar. In both this line and our epomymus High Fidelity quote whistling is put forth as a way to hold onto the wonderment of life. Charles Wallace whistles in the face of overwhelming darkness, a way to sweetly but firmly stand up to impending doom. In a much less melodramatic, though equally important way, Rob puts forth "something left to whistle" as a symbol of something we leave behind, something intangible yet important.

I have always loved whistling, particularly for the feeling it gives (sad, angry, or melancholia whistling is virtually impossible)! We whistle when we're happy, we whistle when we're nervous, we whistle to cheer ourselves up, we whistle to cheer up others. By its very nature whistling reminds us of the intangible, it's magic born of of the sound that air makes.

Whistling transforms songs, making them seem innocent and magical. Whistling outside of songs reminds us that life is innocence and magic.
And who doesn't need reminding of that?

-E

To continue with this emerging theme of whistleing I thought I would share some Whisteling Wonderment in the form of a youtube video playlist - though I can't take credit for assmebling the list (unfortunately I don't remember who did) or for finding it (Thanks Estela!!!) it's still pretty friggin' magical...

We are Stars and you are stars.

To my elders,

I have been known to tell upset and mid-existential crises-d friends to do stupid and silly and inconsequential things that make them happy, every day. Like watching cheesy sitcoms or vlogs or whatever. But I don't actually believe that is true. I mean, I do, its a great way to put a smile on your face. But I also became keenly aware over the past 2-3 years that having fun or having "a laugh" as the Brits say, is not the same thing as being happy. And that often, being happy has very little to do with having fun. Having fun distracts you from boredom. Having fun relieves stress. Having fun is enjoyable. But it has very little substance. And can be a little vapid. Being happy is much more connected to being satisfied.

The bigger question then, is how to become satisfied, or stay satisfied, or something like that. Well, for me, that requires a lot of hard work and a lot of things that suck, because as much as I complain about them (and trust me, I like complaining), I complain because I care. I am that mom who nags out of love. Not that I'm a mom. But anyway. If it didn't matter, it wouldn't be worth more than a rant and a rolling of the eyes. But things that matter, that really matter, are completely worth it anyway. But you have to know what's important to you. But maybe that's just my inner workaholic talking.

The idea that some thing just matter is something that stuck with me because of Stars. The band. Not the ones in the sky. The song was Barricade. The year: 2007. The album: In Our Bedroom After the War. The song is sad and a little haunting (lyrically, not musically, though a bit at the end there) and a little... violent. Which I do not advocate. But its beautiful and meaningful and I had never paid much attention to the word "matter" before then.

Lyrics below.

-K

Barricade by Stars

Trapped on the terraces, I looked at you and knew
You were the only thing that mattered
There was no one for me but you
In Harmony Street we beat a man
Just for standing there
I held my breath as I watched you swing
Then run your fingers through your hair

Oh, how could anyone not love the terrible things you do?
Oh, how could anyone not want to try and help you?

In Bermondsey in Burberry, you held me at the barricade, the pigs arrived with tear gas
And I wept at the mistakes we made
We stalked the streets like animals
And danced as windows shattered
For our island, for the thrill of it, for everything that mattered

Oh, how could anyone not want to rip it all apart?
Oh, how could anyone not love your cold, black heart?

I found you on a Saturday, and that was where I lost you
You had finally walk away because of what it cost you, years later when I saw your face
In line to catch the morning train, you looked like you'd been softened
Like you never really loved the pain

Oh, how could anyone not finally diminish?
The thrill of blood comes instantly
There's only darkness at the finish

Meet me at the barricade, I'll be at the barricade
Meet me at the barricade, the love died, but the hate can't fade
I'll be at the barricade, the love died, but the hate won't fade...