consistently arbitrary since 2001

the anticipation's got me glued
I have a confession.

I am addicted to The O.C.

I'm not entirely sure how this happened, because I certainly took every opportunity to mock this show before. All I know is that I stumbled out of bed last Saturday morning, and somewhere between munching my cereal and sipping my tea, I found the O.C. marathon on FX. And suddenly, before the sweet, sweet caffeine could activate my brain, I was hooked.

And now I feel kind of dirty.

I mean, let's face it: No matter how those involved with the show dodge the inevitable 90210 comparisons, The O.C. is just the 2003 incarnation, only with, if possible, even richer people, far less offensive clothing, and a way hotter lead actor. And you know, I ducked the whole 90210 phenomenon until junior year of college, after the show was over, and its mid-afternoon syndicated time slot on FX (FX is to blame for all my bad viewing habits) was perfect for a mindless dose of melodrama between class and work.

Clearly, my problem now is that I just have too much free time on my hands. Or maybe they worked in subliminal messages that make it impossible to change the channel. But whatever the reason, The O.C. has caught me, and now there's no escape. Will Marissa and Ryan really get together and stay together? Will Summer snub Seth? What's in store at the snootiest private school ever to exist? I MUST KNOW.

This show does have one great virtue: music. Whoever's putting together the soundtrack loves music. Mostly good music. Off-the-wall music. Even Death Cab for Cutie made it on, and that's probably the only mainstream exposure Death Cab's ever gotten. And we all know how I feel about Death Cab.

What the hell. A girl's got to have some vices.

Death Cab for Cutie, "Expo '86"

Thursday, October 16

what a beautiful piece of heartache
Today the U.S. Postal Service left a lovely little parcel on my doorstep: the new Death Cab album. And early, even!

This is album is the kind that I'm dying to pay for. It's the epitome of why not a day goes by that I don't listen to music. The sort of album that commandeers your attention from the first note. Maybe you try to do other things, like read, or do dishes, or brush your teeth, but you keep drifting back to the stereo, because all you want to do is flop down in front of it and listen without disturbance or distraction. You wait tensely for every chord as though it's the climax of the song. The words, the fragile melodies -- they're so beautiful it's agonizing. Even the mere phrase "come on" has never been more elegantly uttered than it is on this album.

If this music doesn't make you ache, then you don't have a soul.

Song: Over the Rhine, "Latter Days"

Saturday, October 11

waste a day so i can think clearly
Seven good things about today:
1. Getting up at the crack of 11.
2. New books and other reading material.
3. Potato soup.
4. A pay raise.
5. The new Death Cab for Cutie album winging its way to my mailbox.
6. A mostly clean kitchen.
7. Contentment.

Song: Death Cab for Cutie, "Sleep Spent"

Wednesday, October 8

it's like going to bed at a quarter to three
All right, I guess these are similes, but I scorn accuracy. I'm only a journalist, after all. Anyway, a list of bad metaphors for that aimless, angst-ridden twentysomething life we all seem to be leading these days.

It's like:

Fumbling around in the dark for the light switch
Walking into a room and then forgetting what you came in to do
Dating someone you love but don't want to marry
Hunting all over the mall for just the right handbag/dress/pair of pants/pair of shoes/bra/insert any object for which you've fruitlessly hunted the mall here
Trying to come up with the thesis statement for the term paper that's worth 98 percent of your grade.

Contributions, my fellow lost souls?

PS: Congratulations, California. You've just elected yourself the most asinine state in America.

Song: Sleater-Kinney, "A Quarter to Three"

Tuesday, October 7

you've got to get out of the frame
Was reading my book when I came across the following, which is a nice corollary to that whole "life in transition" thing:

"What I like most about Delia's newly discovered sexual proclivity is the implication that nothing about our lives is set in stone. Today I'm a working girl in New York and you're an intrepid do-gooder. Tomorrow you could be eating pate and wearing black tights and I'll have run away with a lion tamer. Thank God for the unknown future."
-- Hilary Liftin, "Dear Exile"

Amen, sister.

It also seemed an appropriate quote for launching blog v. 3.0. So here it is. I got tired of the page being black. Especially now that fall has arrived with a vengeance and, for the moment, brought largely gloom with it.

I bought a new shirt yesterday, which is good because I'm in dire need of some new clothes. Today I finally washed my mountainous pile of laundry. I'm not sure how it got to its Everest-like proportions, but it's certainly the biggest load of wash I've done since I left school. I miss the house in Eugene with its convenient and free washer and dryer.

The new Death Cab for Cutie album has finally come out, which excites me. Unfortunately, I live in a cultural wasteland where the closest worthwhile bookstore or record store is an hour away, so if I want it, I'll have to take a trip south.

My life is so hard.

Song: James, "Space"

Saturday, October 4

no lodestar in sight
Every so often, I get restless with my life.

This never used to happen. Sure, I'd be eager for something exciting that I knew was coming, or anxious for something trying to end. When I got near the end of college, I just wanted it to be over. All the homework and stress and commitments and responsibilities. I've said before, and I'll say again, that I don't miss those things. I don't think I ever will.

But I miss my life being full. Full of people and variety and events, full of changes of pace and scenery. Even in my most anxious, irritable, angry, frustrated moments, I was comfortable and satisfied with all the bits and pieces that made up my world.

Now, my life is mostly just full of me. Even when I'm busy, it's usually with all those mundane tasks we all have to perform to, you know, stay alive. Such as grocery shopping and cleaning the toilet and taking out the trash and talking ourselves out of making ramen for dinner when there are healthier options available. My schedule changes, but the days are mostly the same. In fact, now that I'm no longer chained to the calendar, I'm the last person you want to ask what day it is because I almost never know. I wake up alone; I go to sleep alone.

This isn't to say I think my life is empty or futile or that I'm unhappy. I adore having oodles of time to read and wander aimlessly around Target. It's just that every so often, I feel like I'm living a life of transition. I can't settle down because I'm not going to settle down here; I'm just staying for a while to get ready for what's next. It's like daydreaming in class. Most of the time I'm there, taking notes, focused on the lecture. Some days, though, my rear end's in that chair and my pen's in my hand, but the rest of me isn't in the room. I've got my eyes on the horizon somewhere, on something better. Something fuller. Then there's a noise, or I get myself together, and I come back to the present. And my butt's still in the chair, and the pen's still in my hand, but I just wish the clock would turn and set me free.

I'm big on metaphors lately.

But that's what it's like. And right now, I'm in that restless, post-daydream state, where I want to be done waiting and on to the next big thing. I want out. I want more.

But I'm afraid, too. I'm scared that the next big thing will be just like this. That I'll still be busy with taking out the trash and cleaning the toilet instead of with people. With adventure, if I can be trite. That I'll end up an old lady with 50 cats. That I'll spend my whole life looking for something I'll never find, or trying to go back to what was.

I know those fears are unrealistic. And I also know that the world isn't going to arrange itself for my contentment, and I'm responsible for deciding how I want to live and doing it that way.

I just wish I knew how.

Song: Sarah Harmer, "Lodestar"