Guess what is the number one, that's right, I said NUMBER ONE, Google ( not MSN, tee hee) result when you search for tres edgy.....
Go ahead, guess:
Your favourite!
I just want to thank my mom and dad, my sister, my fourth grade teacher Mr. Tomlinson.......
woot! Woot! Google says I am tres EDGY!!!!!
So, yeah, I did it. I downloaded the whole new Killers album, Sam's Town at work. But whatever. I am still so going to buy it when it comes out next Tuesday. And plus, you can listen to the whoel album anywasy at www.mtv.com/theleak. I love it. Like seriously. I love it like how I loved Snow Patrol's Final Straw two years ago; I love it like I loved Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head; I love it like I loved Lauryn Hill's the Miseductaion of Lauryn Hill. Yeah. It's true. I love it that much. It is that good.
Hot Fuss was a great album. It was infectious and new. Catchy. But it was a bit more timid. Lyrically, it was a lot of "I saw a guy who looked like a girl who looked like a ... yadda yadda yadda. " If the last CD, was Brandon Flowers whispering about things he saw on the playground; Sam's Town is Flowers announcing his musings from the mountaintop. Maybe they are not as cute anymore; and maybe they are kind of biting on the whole Baz Luhrmann aesthetic from 1996's Romeo and Juliet; but they still rock and are totally bringing thoughtfulness and irony back to music.
My Favorite song on the album is definetly My List. It is so pretty. There is this Gregorian choir lady singing in the background and it sounds so pretty. My favorite line is: "When your heart's not able/ and your prayers cannot save you/ Let me show you/Let me show you/ how much I care."
I know. I know. That line isn't so profound. But it is simple and sweet and it sounds really pretty when you atcually hear it. When I write it down, I'm like okay, Preety is like a crazy Philliopino teenager writing out song lyrics on her blog. ( Seriously is it just me or is blogger a hotbed for lonely romantic Philiopino teens that gush about Jesse McCartney and Panic at the Disco all day long??)
Whatever. I feel the need to digress into like a 13-year-old Phillopino girl some more and mention my other favorite sappy lyrics because I was listening to the sad songs playlist on the mp3 player on my way to work.
Bright eyes - Lover I don't have to Love Favorite lyric:
Okay. I realize that was like a whole verse. But it is a rare occasion that I can remember something properly and i want to take full advantage of it. But I will admit that I double-checke the lyrics online just in case I was going to publish something that was so random that didn't make any sense.
Like remember when Billie Jean came out and he was like " The kid is not my son?" Well, I always thought it was "the chair is on my bum." Seriously for years. I would debate the authenticity of that lyric tooth and nail. I thought he was being ironic. As if he would be so obvious to directly answer his detractors in a form so plain as a song. Seriously.
Anyways, back to the Killers. My Favourite song is My List. But I also love this bonus track that is called "Where the White Boys Dance." I feel that is an ode to my imaginary hood, Misshapes. And Bling ( Confessions of a King) is a really, really pretty and sad song as well.
I have a feeling that this CD is going propel the Killers into like U2, Coldplay, Green Day status. And I saw them first! Well, maybe not the first person ever. But I saw them in 2003 when they were opening for Sam Roberts in Victoria. So I feel like we are really connected. On account of they have been to my hometown and stuff.
go crazy?
I used to be one of them, you know. I was the life of the party. The go-to story-teller. Everyone gathered around, laughing, intently hanging on to my every word. Reliving life’s most amusing moments in a colourful anecdote that people remembered for years to come. People were always saying Tell Janice that story about the time you met Snow! Let’s hear the one about when you got stranded at the Chinese cemetery on Halloween Night! Tell that one about how you got hit with ricocheted bird poop at the Hippie Market again! That was my thing; my niche. I am an English Major for gosh sakes! I DO consider myself an Authoress. I am looking for a profession that allows me to tell stories for a living. But for the life of me, I can’t remember how.
I’m not sure why, how or when. But I’ve lost my mojo. It’s vanished quicker than a line of coke at the casa de Lohan. My stories have gone from producing howling hysterics to plodding, blubbering and the occasional awkwardly-long “Huh?” Remember that time I had that S & M twin? No? Well, yeah I had this twin and she was always wearing leather and people always mistook me for her. Great story huh? You know what this reminds me of? You know what this is totally like? Remember that episode of Family Guy where the baby was like being mean of something and then something totally random happened? Uh… yeah…..
I don’t know how to get it back. Mojo, Mojo where art thou, Mojo? Blame it on drugs. Blame it on my self-imposed isolation. But the real culprit is harder to shake than any of those vices. The real culprit behind by social stigmatism, my verbal retardation, I believe is my job.
S4L has done this to me. S4L has punctured my socializing and replaced my storytelling with the re-hashing of celebrity blogger news and images of New York indie kids being edgy. Here’s the thing about S4L. I don’t speak. Ever. I mean I say, “hey” “how’s it going?” “Good,” and “I’m going for lunch” a few times a day; but beyond that, it’s just me, my computer, my music and my Internet.
Slowly the repetition of keyboard strokes; the humming of my monitor and the buzzing of the florescent lights have captured my soul. The humdrum-osity of my office environment has captured my soul and that part of my brain that made me interesting; that made me an interesting and vivid storyteller. They stole that part of me so that I would be forever chained to this dungeon. Mute and dumb to the array of possibilities the world is offering me.
Well no more! I have been a social midget too long. It’s time to grow tall! Take back my personality! Take back my conversation skills! Take back my life!
I've always thought of myself as a doer. You know one of those people that rises against THE MAN and stand up for what she believes in. I march in the marches; I sign the petitions; I sing the protest anthems loud and proud. But does that make who you are? Not really. Who you are is not what group you join; what rally you happen to stumble into; what petition you agree to sign. Who you are is really based on how you react in daily situations.
This last week, I have noticed random acts of kindness and chilvary and also have been guilty of standing by and watching as someone in need floundered in dispair.
Last Saturday, I was standing at a bus stop when an old man with an elderly person stroller totally fell face first on the pavement. This was a busy bus stop where many buses come to load and unload their passengers; so everyone saw. I was watching him get up slowly, thinking shoudl I go over there... When this guy, probably about 20 years old ran up; lost his place in the bus queue; and helped him. It was one of the quickest responsest I have ever seen to a stranger in distress situation. And the kid was very thorough. He walked the old man over to a bench; picked up all his things and even gave him some water from his water bottle. I don't know why but that image has stayed in my head for the last week.
Then the other day; I was walking home from the grocery store and a woman was riding her bike and her tire got caught on the edge of the sidewalk. She fell over her bike but was not hurt. But she made a loud noice and me and everyone else walking kind of just stopped and looked at her. But no one did anything. I didn't even ask if she was okay. Now in teh interest of fairness; I was carrying like 5 grocery bags very awkwardly as usual; and I had my head phones on and my purse was falling off my shoulder and she was a little on the sketchy side. And also, there was this other bike rider that was a guy and older than me; so if anyone should have checked on her it shoudl have been him. But still it has lingered with me.
Then there is the thing with my boss. Now it's not like he is harbouring fugitives or you know killing endangered species or anything. But he is rude and condescending and treats his employees like lab monkeys. For a whiel it seemed like I had escape his scrutiny with my one year of senority and all; but alas that too has passed. I am yet another communist trying to mooch off his hard earned profits; a little leech trying to suck out all his blood. He acts like I am always trying to get out of doing work; skimping on the job or slacking off in some as yet undiscovered way. Now i can hear you guys in my head snickering! Fine. I knwo I am not working at 100% capacity at all times; but I am the best worker he has ever had and he is so unappreciative.
But what can I say? What can I do? Should I confront him and let him know that almost every employee he's ever had has hated him? Or will I just stand by and watch as more and more employees figuratively fall over their bikes and not even ask if they are okay?
Sometimes I think it's my shyness that's stopping me from saving the World.
