The baffled king composing Hallelujah

So goes an incredible song written by Leonard Cohen and successfully covered by many, many others, but none so well as Jeff Buckley. This is a song that I feel very close to for some reason that I can't quite explain. The lyrics are beautiful, but I'm sure that it's Buckley's voice that continues to draw me in. His vocals have the ability to keep me hooked through all 7 minutes of the song, even when I've lost the ability to sing along. The lyrics are just esoteric and intellectual enough to make me feel smart for catching, and are grounded in enough real life heartbreak and uncertainty to keep me invested. The meaning of their words has been debated by many - some say Cohen was writing a tale of love from the Bible, others say it's an allegory of alienation. I will never know. I don't even care to venture a guess. This song makes me glad that it was written. It makes me glad that so many have stumbled upon it, and that I could be one of them. At different points in my life, I have identified with different sections. But I've always listened to the whole thing. It will always stand out to me as one of those perfect songs. They rarely come by, so I'll hold on to this one. As well as "Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley, also a great song.

Brief sidenote - as a testament to the far-reaching love of this song, it's been featured in at least three end of episode, important-reflective-things-happening-now montages on very good TV shows, most notably "House" and "West Wing." The WW usage actually had me in tears, big, blubbery (OK I also had the flu) tears. I don't know why it's the underground touchstone of a few generations, but I think there's more going on in this song than we hear on the surface.

I heard there was a secret chord
That david played and it pleased the lord
But you don't really care for music, do you
Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah .... .

Baby i've been here before
I've seen this room and i've walked this floor
I used to live alone before i knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....

Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you
But remember when i moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah

Well, maybe there's a god above
But all i've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....

The genius of the McKim Yates

Picasso painted
our last fling. But this time I
want Georgia O’ Keefe.

~ Courtney McKim Yates

Far too cold to go to work today

Is this a legitimate excuse for skipping work? It's literally painful to go outside today. My hair is wet and will probably stay wet for the next few hours. If I were still in school, I'd probably skip class. There is no good reason to subject oneself to such pain.

I wish I could staple things to Katie Couric's face. "I am a waste of space and airtime." "Have you seen some of my turly horrendous haircuts?" "What - you don't enjoy my opinion on every story I present?" She is doing wonderful things for colon cancer, though.

Need to get dressed. Again, no desire to move. Would prefer to sit here forever, dropping the subjects out of all of my sentences.

In slightly happier news, I can now complete a whole sodoku puzzle by myself! I find that sodoku is a lot like life - if you stick with it and have someone subtly pointing out your mistakes, you'll eventually prevail.

I'll leave you with that.

Agoraphobia or simple anger?

If you have ever had the joy of going out in public with me, especially a public plagued by large crowds, I'm sure you will attest to the fact that I become a little skittish around all of the people. Skittish isn't exactly the word, actually. Uncontrollably rage filled, that's probably more accurate.

I don't know why, but I hate all of the people. I don't like crowds, especially because they all gather directly in front of me. And then they mossie along, enjoying the sights. We all have a mission in life, people, and you're slowing me down!! If I'm shopping, my mission is stop shopping as soon as possible. Please get out of my way. A sidewalk or hallway is not an appriopriate place to stop and hang out with your friends or your children or your skeevy boyfriend/girlfriend. The mall is a place with a purpose, not aimless gathering. You are hall tumors, a plague on all of society.

I know that I am not special. Just because I want to walk faster than everyone else doesn't mean that they should all bow down to my whims. But it does make good fiscal sense that the stores of the mall should work to keep the crowds moving along. Just like with the moving sidewalk at the airport which gets people point A to point B faster, holiday shoppers should be shuffled along these congested mall walkways. Much like the bullet train attendants of Japan's overcrowded commuter systems, malls could hire armies to keep the crowds moving. This would serve the stores' purposes by ensuring that the maximum amount of eager shoppers would pass by their windows. The malls wouldn't have to worry about creating more parking spaces because people wouldn't be wasting time taking up spaces. Everyone would be happier and probably spend more money, helping the economy. It's really a fantastic solution. I think I need to take this idea somewhere.

Excessive you say?

That's our Christmas tree. And that's Brendan for reference. Our Christmas tree is absolutely gigantic. The spirit of Christmas is alive and well within Apt. 2401 - and it's threatening to overtake anything that gets too close.

There are big plans for this tree - lights, popcorn, and come January 5th, a trip off our fourth floor balcony cause there is no way that sucker is going back down the elevator.

Dear Mom,

I love you very much. Please do not read the post below.

Love,
Lizzie

"Good for you"

- What Tad Hamilton, Hollywood movie star, says to innocent little Rosalie after she rejects his advances and tells him that she should be getting home rather than stay with him at his place prior to wedding, second date, or even second base.

I hate this. I hate it when boys act all superior and knowing after a girl makes the smart move and doesn't hook up with them. To stay with him would be against her better judgement, so she says "I/you should leave." AND HE TAKES CREDIT FOR THE GOOD DECISION/PRETENDS TO VALIDATE HER GOOD DECISION/MAKES BELIEVE THAT HE KNEW SEPARATION WOULD BE THE SMART AND IDEAL OPTION. He didn't!!! Oh, no, he got shut down. He was rejected. But with his "Good for you, xxxx" he becomes the all-knowing dominate male, still issuing validation and approval on a woman who JUST REJECTED HIM.

I'm sorry, I have experience with this. How dare you undercut the power that I showed by making the mature, adult choice by telling me that it's ok??? I don't need your approval, I already got it when you invited yourself into my pants. Your only job now is to be hurt. To be hurt and realize that I am better than you.

Were you trying to take advantage of me with the initial advances, is that why you were so impressed when I rebuffed them? Did you think that I was some weak-willed, easily controlled little girl who you could have your way with? Surprised that it wasn't as easy as you thought?

WELL DON'T MAKE YOURSELF FEEL ANY BETTER BY CLAIMING MY VICTORY. I TURNED YOU DOWN, I SHOWED SOME COURAGE, I MADE THE SMART DECISION, IT WAS ME NOT YOU. YOUR ONLY ROLE IN THIS LITTLE SCENE WAS TO BE THE REJECTED ONE.

DON'T THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO STEAL MY THUNDER!!!!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I've been a bad, bad blogger. I am still alive. I am still here. Nothing really new to report.

I got all my hair chopped off in the cutest way. Go to the myspace page to see - http://www.myspace.com/5153145, alas I don't think I have the picture on my computer.

That's really about it. I'm up to my eyes in work I don't really want to do, so I'm gonna get to that. Good bye all, I promise more later if you will still have me.

Side note: This entry's headline reminds me of the abusive relationship game that Courtney and I used to play. Perhaps we are a little to irreverant for our own good....

I am a terrible employee

Not only did I bail on attending our super fancy event in New York this evening, I am sitting at my desk blogging right now. I have done about 18 minutes of actual work all day. The rest of the time, I was aimlessly surfing the interweb. I wonder if this infernal computer has Spider Solitaire. Oh, it does, that might be the 4-5 pm hour of today.

I am currently listening to a streaming recording of Mike Doughty in DC from September. Good show. God bless those people who record shows and put them on the internet for the rest of us. I think this little file might have saved my life. I was seriously contemplating jumping out of the window (we're only on the second floor, I would have just hurt my knee more) if I didn't find something to break up the monotony of the day.

For those of you wondering - October sucks. It's a month of rain, and drearyness, and distracting contemplation. October is one of those months that makes you wonder about yourself. The weather is so halfheartedly crappy. There aren't snowstorms or heat waves to distract you, just a semi-permanent rain and a just cold enough to make you uncomfortable temperature. It's enough to make you think heavy thoughts. If I lived somewhere else, would I be happier? Am I just muddling through, or am I actively seeking the next phase of life? Am I a happy person? Am I ok if I'm not a happy person? The weather doesn't give you any excuse to not question yourself; it's just as ambivilent and unsure as you are. Boo to the rain and leaves on the ground. How are we supposed to remain upbeat if nature can't?

This song's called "Thank You Lord For Sending Me The F Train" or spring, whatever.

This brings to an interesting point that I've been ruminating on lately. So I saw Mike Doughty twice this weekend with my Mike Doughty and general cool music tutor, Katie Musar. After releasing his album on a bonafide label and pulling together a band to tour with, Mike Doughty has left the singer-songwriter universe. He is an act now, profiled in magazines and everything. And the show has changed. He no longer plays Only Answer, a tragedy in my opinion. Nothing seems spontaneous anymore, it's all been worked out with the other band members ahead of time. There is a new jam band element, which may be really cool for some people, but I think I prefered the banter and made up word bridges of the solo Mike Doughty. I am more lyrical than musical, and I think the music has taken over the show. Which is probably good. Anyway, amidst all the changes, he still says everytime, "This song is called "Thank You Lord For Sending Me The F Train"." Strange that that is the thing that stays.

My favorite song "I Hear the Bells" is playing right now, but I'm afraid to skip back at the end of it - the precious gift of the streaming show could be lost if I disrupt it, just like when the boys on Friends got free porn. You don't mess with the gift, man.

Does anyone remember my old blog? Or what I wrote about? I wish that it hadn't gotten deleted, I like to look over that stuff years later.

OK, work.

Grey's Anatomy is the best show ever

And this post is going to be rather fragmented as I am currently engrossed in said show, therefore only able to write during breaks. I have my priorities, people.

Oh my goodness, such a good show. It raises the important questions, like can the loves of our lives be terrible people and yet still be the loves of our lives? I don't know. The love of your life is supposed to be good for you. They aren't supposed to be evil, adulturous bitches or bastards. They are supposed to make you feel happy and wonderful and like being a better person. They are supposed to bring out the best in you, and someone who habitually hurts you only brings out pain. But there are plenty of people who say they are head over heels in love with people who hurt them time again. I think that's when you have to ask yourself why. Why do you keep sticking around? That isn't love. It's against the very definition. But persuasive, nonetheless.

Why is Izzie going out with Dr. McJerkFace? Couldn't the writers please take 10 minutes out of their day and write two good story lines for Izzie and George, possibly placing them in a bed together, just to see how things develop.

In other medically related news, my left knee has rebelled against marathon training. I cannot walk. I am immobilized with pain. On a scale of one to ten, I want a new knee. The preliminary diagnosis is runner's knee or ilibibital patelialetical something or other. Long and short of it, my high arches, strong quads and weak thighs have pulled the knee cap to the outside, cause lots and lots of pain. And here's the thing about the pain - IT NEVER GOES AWAY. I got it sitting, standing, walking, sleeping. My knee has gone all kinds of grindy and now it talks to me in a strange mumbly hobbit language. Anyway, we shall see how training progresses from here on out. In the meantime, I'm walking like the young Forrest Gump.

Oh that George! He just lost Meredith's mother.

Ok, this has now failed to keep my interest. Back to Grey's Anatomy full time.

Just wanted to you all to see my work desktop photo

I want one, really really badly. I think it's an interesting comment on my propensity for affection that scars.

Ode to my Mom

There once was a lady named Pussy Cat,
Her friends say she's all that.
With kitties a plenty,
She's bright as a new penny,
To her we tip our hat.

-OR-

There once was a woman named Sue,
Two lovely daughters she brought through.
Finding each one a brat,
Now she's sticking to cats,
Who leave her gifts of poo.

Won't you help to sing these songs of freedom?

To the people reading this blog - I don't know your personal politics. You're probably one of my friends, so I have a good feeling, but I am trying to be far from presumptuous.

I am reasonably certain that you don't like war though, especially needless wars fought almos entirely for naught and at the cost of tens of thousands of lives around the world. Only scary people wars like that.

If you find yourself in this bad war-hating, peace-loving, humanity-embracing category of good folk, I suggest that you come out to the GIGANTIC RALLY TO END THE WAR IN IRAQ in DC tomorrow afternoon and evening. Highlights to include - the largest protest and march during the entire conflict, a bunch of great speakers including Cindy Sheehan, great bands during the accompanying concert, and JOAN BAEZ. Come on, Joan Baez, it's our chance to be hippies! If you want to be part of a movement much greater than yourself that actually shows this administration and the world that we will not be silent any longer, COME OUT TO THE RALLY!!

For more information, go to
www.unitedforpeace.com
www.operationceasefire.com

Sappy music for all!!

It was been a hectic couple of days. The fall Board meeting season has come to a close, thank God. In case you didn't know, I am responsible for my company's Board of Trustees meetings. These are day-long meetings in which the richest, testiest, and smartest people I have ever met get in a room together and look to me for guidance. They don't know what's going on, I am supposed. I make sure there's a room and an agenda and food and a reason for them all to take a day out of their busy lives and pay attention to Rare. It's a whole freaking lot of pressure, proceeded by a big, fancy schmoozy dinner. The kind of dinner that I hate a try to avoid. Instead I had to go to and run it all.

I'm proud to say, it all went swimmingly. All of the worrying and fretting was for naught. The dinner was at Nora, an organic four star restaurant in DC, and it was delicious. The meeting was productive and went off without a hitch. The presentations all worked, the roof didn't cave in, nothing went wrong. Fantastic. Then I came home and slept, because I figured I had been working for about 48 hours straight and deserved a nap.

The weekend was filled with Courtney, Katharine, my new favorite show and product of humanity House, some good Bollywood, and the Maryland Wine Festival. It was so much fun to play college again. We hung out, got chinese food, and spoke in the language that only college girlfriends understand. That was my college experience - generally just being with my friends, talking for hours. I think this is different from the common college reminisence. I don't wistfully remember keg parties or that trust beer pong. I have mostly fond memories of the debauchery, but I have incredible memories of the friendship. The circumstances are different now. It takes a little longer for us to get together, a little more work, but the heart of it is still the same. That's nice.

Tonight is Lizzie and Brendan's modified Thanksgiving dinner and it's time to make the stuffing - so off I go.

Sappy songs to you all!

The Head of FEMA should really have some experience

They always say that internships will get you far in life. Looks like it worked out pretty well for Michael Brown, our bumbling head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Turns out the extensive "disaster management" experience he claimed while serving as Assistant City Manager prior to his post at FEMA was actually less on-the-ground and more administrative than he and the President that hired him had originally let on. Turns out that he was actually the Assistant TO the City Manager, giving old Brownie (President Bush's term of endearment for the poor guy so over his head he resembles Jefferson Parrish) a position slightly lower than MINE.

"The Washington Post reported on Friday that five of eight top FEMA officials had come to their jobs with virtually no experience in handling disasters. The agency's top three leaders, including Brown, had ties to Bush's 2000 presidential campaign or the White House advance operation.

Former Edmond city manager Bill Dashner recalled for Time that Brown had worked for him as an administrative assistant while attending Central State University.

"Mike used to handle a lot of details. Every now and again I'd ask him to write me a speech. He was very loyal. He was always on time. He always had on a suit and a starched white shirt," Dashner told Time."

There are very few words to describe the damage and loss that Bush's arrogance and cavalier attitude towards leadership have caused this nation - "tragic" just doesn't seem enough.

In response to the First Lady's recent comments that criticisms of racism aimed at her husband's administration were "disgusting," I'd suggest Mrs. Bush take a look at the bodies floating in the streets, the despair on the faces of a nation whose government couldn't shorten its vacation to take care of the largest natural disaster in its history, and the smirk on her husband's face as he goes to bed every night knowing that he got away with it all. That's truly disgusting. Your politics kill people, lady, it's time you faced up to that.

For full stories -
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=578&u=/nm/20050909/pl_nm/brown_dc_1
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/09/08/katrina.laurabush/index.html

Hungry Like the Wolf

It's 8:30 and I'm not at work yet - in fact, I'm sitting on my bed in a towel, revelling in the non-workness of it all. It's fantastic. I have to head into the city to visit the World Wildlife Fund this morning for Board meeting prep. Perhaps they will give me something with their panda logo on it. That'd be sweet! Unfortunately, Lisa, the assistant I'm meeting, and I don't get along all that well because I think she's bad at her job and she doesn't like to respond to emails for months at a time. When this kid is telling you you're bad at your assistant job, it's dire straights.

Actually, that's not true, as I'm told over and over again, I'm really good at my job. Which will make leaving it in two years all the more enjoyable. It's wonderful to be totally and utterly missed when you leave a place.

That's about all for this morning. I think I am going to start a new blog that will just cover the impending marathon training, jeez that starts this Saturday. Yikes. Please give me money and your knees!! I'll update later with the address.

Really need to get dressed, Lisa deserves better than a towel. Oooh! Martha on Today!

Tropical Depression Katrina is a giant tease

I've been waiting for rain for the past two days, rain that was promised to me in countless weather forecasts. It would appear that we in the DC metro area will not be seeing any of the torrential rains the VA newscaster looked so excited to get a piece of. It's very sad that a hurricane that brought so much death and destruction to the Gulf states brought such a glint to the eyes of the weather and newscasting professionals of America. I admit that I didn't watch any of the coverage, and indeed didn't even know that the hurricane was all that bad until Matt Lauer wouldn't stop talking about it yesterday. As such, all of the pictures and footage are completely out of context for me - it's as if the Earth just got angry at a few states and decided to unleash its wrath in the blink of an eye, and while that might be exactly how it feels to all the survivors of the storm, the rest of the world has the overdocumented progression to review and exploit for some months to come.

Regardless, I don't think it's going to be raining here anytime soon, so my car will stay dirty, and I'll have to go out and water the plants anyway.

I have some big, wonderful plans for the Labor Day weekend - working until

Yikes, the fucking power just went off and made me almost pee my pants! And now the cable is out. Damn. Sorry for the bad language, I was frightened.

Back to Labor Day - working until 4. Driving in some presumably bad traffic back home. Going to the State Fair with my mom and Courtney. Going to New York with Courtney to (in possibly the correct order) (cable back on) Katie Musar, James and Surrah Lipchock, Avenue Q, Mark I., Rachel, Upright Citizens Brigade, Katie Musar again. Needless to say, I am beyond excited.

Why did stupid Zoe Bartlett ever date that dumb Jean-Paul guy - he has a pretentious accent, eventually drugs her and gets her kidnapped, and is definitely NOT Charlie Young! I never liked that Zoe.

Still not raining. I wish that I was Amy Garndiner. This entry should really be titled My Love Affair with the West Wing.

The President just explained Max Weber to Abby, and Will Bailey explained John Rawl's veil of ignorance to some communications gals - I love that the West Wing teaches us things. These were things I already knew, but I have a fancy overpriced liberal arts education underneath my belt.

Now, I'm not trying to get philsophical here

But I'm tired of the cycles of life. I'm tired of feeling as if everything is cyclical, returning us to the same point in history over and over again. I'm tired of the unshakable weights around our necks, and I'm tired of the magnetic pull of the moving sidewalk of life.

The names, faces, places, and vices can all change, but it's still all the same underneath. It doesn't matter what you're hung up on, because it always means the same thing. Some might find this reassuring, at least if you're going to get hurt, you know the color of the truck that's gonna run you over. Is it wrong to hope for more? Is it wrong to think that maybe the truck will swerve one of these times, granting that final reprieve? From all that I have seen in my short, short life, that hope is merely a dellusion.

Ironically, it's an Eve6 song giving me solace tonight. Stupid Laguna Beach making me think so late at night. Stupid roommates not housesitting with me. Stupid interweb not being all over the world allowing Courtney to be online and talk me down (or up) from my pit of philosophical despair. Mostly stupid Laguna Beach.

in this time of introspection
on the eve of my election
i say to my reflection
god, please spare me more rejection
'cause my peers, they criticize me
and my ex-wives all despise me
try to put it all behind me
but my redneck past is nipping at my heels
(not Eve6, but so much better.

My Mac can kick your PC's ass and look good doing it.

Sorry, kids, not much more to say than that. I officially own the world's best computer, and being the pseudo-geeky kid that I am, this rocks my world.

I've had a wonderful time rediscovering the world of Finders and open apple keys. I've met the new neighbors, Safari and Widgets. I can honestly say that I dreading returning to my Dell Dimension Desktop at work tomorrow. Even with the bubbly XP design scheme, it's just not slick.

These are things that float my boat, I guess. Wishing you Macintosh technicolor dreams, goodnight.

Now I'm not a racist...

but what's up with the Mexican men on the street? What about my sharing a roadway with you makes you think it's cool to do the tongue clicky noise? Have you ever gotten a good response from the tongue clicky noise? What about Cortez's raping and pillaging of your land centuries ago has led you down this path of unwelcome and unsolicited approval?

Reason these questions don't make me a racist - this behavior really is isolated to the Latino culture. I've never seen a Japanese dude make the clicky noise, nor a Dutch man, nor even an Ethiopian. It's just those South of the Border guys. Somewhere during the creation of delicious fish tacos and guacamole, Latino guys learned it's perfectly ok to devalue women they don't know, in fact, it's complimentary. What do their mother's say?

Hold on, Italian guys were really bad too. I blame the Mediterranean and all of the areas under its influence. Just further evidence of the evils of imperialism.