can't stop listening! thx sam

Reality vs. the Ego // Rule #1

the urban garden walk.

This last weekend was intense!

Everything we here at ShadowCatcher had been working on kind of came to a climax with the raising of Ginny Ruffner's new Urban Flower Pot sculpture, planted on the downtown Seattle corner of 7th and Union.

We arrived there at 6 o'clock as the sun came up to look at the gray and deserted downtown corridor.

I didn't know what to expect. From the time that I began working at ShadowCatcher we had been following the progress of this massive structure and seen all the work in progress and bits and pieces that would soon become the final product. But no one, not even the fabricators that made the sculpture, knew what it would finally look like all together.

However, as the flower pot came to rest on its final pedestal and was bolted, its contrasting bright brown fighting against the ever gray corner... I could already sense that it was going to be pretty magnificent.

As the pieces trailed in, one after another, I only liked it more and more.

Sure, I love the more dark and shocking art pieces, but Ginny's flower pot was accessible and interesting. Just the bold colors against a city of pastel was a welcoming and endearing. Like a giant piece of Dr. Suess transplanted into the everyday.

Magnificent, however, is something that is subjective.
Hanging out in a world that is so obvious to me, I forget how others might perceive it.

I was taken aback by the attack statements that I later read on The Seattle Times' coverage of the event.





My first reaction was that these people were hilarious and kind of ignorant to make such sweeping negative statements, especially from my standpoint, as I had seen the sweat and hard work that each individual person had put into this.. not to mention the private dollars that got poured into the economy for this piece.

But.. then I thought about it again. Is this how these people actually live their life? Is that how they see art? I mean, art is not necessary to life, but without art..... life wouldn't be worth living.. in my opinion.

If everyone took this attitude...... I shutter to think. What would this world be like?

Are there people out there that are that soul-less?

I know that sounds harsh. But it just seemed to me that if you lived in life long enough you wouldn't be able to stand being so resistant, so shut off it what it has to offer for so long.

Awareness has become so big in my life.

When I was younger, I couldn't stand listening choral music or classical symphonic music. It was SO long... so drawn out. Get TO THE POINT already.

In my world of plug in and tune out, I was always itching to move on to the next thing.

But then a thought struck me.What did I have to do that was any better?
Would getting back to my computer to surf the internet really enrich my life anymore? Did I really experience life through the block of lights coming from my TV?
Why was I so anxious to be entertained every moment of the day?

I was at a particular choral concert at the time of this epiphany, and I remember very clearly retuning my mind, like adjusting a pair of TV rabbit ears.

I stopped internally fidgeting and let the white noise of my over stimulated mind simmer down to nothing.

Living in the moment... I forced myself to savor each note. And suddenly!! I started noticing things... subtle and amazing harmonies started to pop out at me.
Notes hung in the air and riveted me to my seat. I didn't think about what I could be doing...
I only thought about how glorious this moment was ... right...now.

Life in the past had been full of over-expectations.
I felt entitled to pure euphoria and bliss.. or at least the high that movies, games... TV gave me..
(Things that I didn't know about at the time probably would have fit into this category too: drinking, drugs... sex.)

But as soon as my awareness rose, it honed my ability to live in the moment. Notice all the amazing things I had been taking for granted that surrounded me ....Suddenly, every moment became glorious!!



I do like the Urban Flower Pot! Quite a bit. But when I look at it, my subjective taste melts away. Instead, my awareness hones in on all the details that surround it. All the glorious curiosities that make it up and all the people represented in the work. That is what makes it magnificent.

My over-expectant life, as well as my rule suffocated bubble, were hell, bound by what fate threw my way or by what "the rules" forced me to value. It left me with a feeling and sense of overwhelming unfairness that the world had burdened me with.

My new life has freed me to see that every moment is as amazing as what you can discover inside of it. Attuned awareness will yield value in every person, place and situation.
Added and subtle value that will make life seem full, steady and content and the true people in your life invaluable.
Which is much better and stronger than hazy, self-consumed euphoria.

So cheers to Ginny Ruffner and her Urban Flower Pot for reminding me of all these moments. To humble me in the light of so much potential goodness out there. The adventure of all the artists and work I will soon discover and all the potentially amazing people and places that I am waiting to meet.

here are just a few of my recent moments captured:

underworld

lake

reflections}}

AMEN!

freeeeeeee!

crazy dog

new york style

juke box boy

nap time

marilyn monroe

end of work day


the rapture

family

033333 caught it

stormy

albino bean

blue strip

depressing.

not sure if I can do better than this.. ----------->

all my favorite bands are from brooklyn.

Pela is one of John Richards' favorite bands.
That is why I gave them a chance.. tuned in.

John Richards' morning show on KEXP is my favorite music program on the radio and KEXP has been responsible for most of my favorite band discoveries.

Their broadcast of live performances of people like 'The Cave Singers' and 'Yeasayer' were the first time I had ever been exposed to such bands.

/////////////////////////

My first experience with Yeasayer . heard live on KEXP 2007

Click here to listen to my first experience of THE CAVE SINGERS on KEXP 2007

/////////////////////////

Pela is the band that would have resulted if U2 and The Clash had had babies back in the 80's. a little dreamy. but man! is the lead singer's voice fantastic.

But before you scoff and call me an overly obvious and lame hipster chick, hear me out. My musical origins are humble and very genuine.

The first thing that I ever knew about music, I am not ashamed to say, was 'The Dixie Chicks'

There is a black hole in my musical experiences that began with my mother's obsession with country music.

My mother had never listened to country music since the time I first knew her.

At least as far as I had known..

Her musical diet, in my early childhood consisted of Dire Straits and James Taylor. But suddenly we were treated to the country radio station every morning and afternoon, driving to and from school...Maybe it was because country music was mostly safe content for young children to listen to, but I think a big contributing factor is that she was reliving her country music days that occurred during her residency in South Dakota.. where her boss had always had the country music on loud.

When your musical options and knowledge are limited to country, country and country, your source of individualism and customization has to fit into that spectrum somewhere. Its all you know.

In my case I decide that The Dixie Chicks were definitely my favorite.
Natalie Maines was such a rockstar.

I quickly had all the lyrics to both their freshman and sophomore albums memorized and had my own Fly karaoke cd which I also sang to … solo.
Keith Whitley, Shania Twain and Garth Brooks were also staples and still are pretty good examples of what country should be.

I wouldn't say can I stand country now, but its not really country anymore.
Its pop with a twang.


The next thing I turned to, to express my individualistic musical taste was late night radio shows.

I used to stay up late illegally, to my mother's chagrin.. reading library books, and then at a certain point I would lull myself to sleep by listening to late night shows. I had small clock radio won as a prize for selling a certain amount of magazine subscriptions for the yearly school fundraiser. It was super cool, with speakers that would flip up and lock into position, making the radio seem like a mini stereo boombox.

oh Delilah!

My most common late night show was on WARM 106.9 and was called Lovesongs with Delilah. People would call in and request songs for their loved ones. The stories were so heart warming and Delilah's voice so gentle and calming. She always had something beautifully poetic and I'm assuming, in hindsight, corny to say to them.. But I was so hooked! I couldn't stop listening! The only problem with Delilah was that she played "Drift Away" by Uncle Cracker WAY to often. As soon as she started to play the seemingly obligatory version of the song, that was my cue to fade down my radio's volume and drift away myself.

If I was adventurous, I would listen to the radio count down on KISS 106.1. At 9 o'clock they would play, in order of most requested to least, the top pop songs of the day and then the top song would battle a completely new song… sometimes by an unknown group. If the new song won, by call-in votes.. it would battle the next night's new song.

There was one song in particular that I was in love with. I heard it the first night of the count down and was inthralled! I was so excited when it won the vote because I knew it would be on the next night and I would get to hear it again… I waited with a paper and pencil to copy down the lyrics. The group, and the internet for that matter, was so new that I couldn't find the soul capturing words anywhere.! That night I tried with all my might to quickly get all the words… but they went by SO fast! I scrambled. Would the song win again, so that I could hear it just one more time?

Yes! It won again and I the next night I continued the new ritual.

Then, one night, it came up against a new MEGA song. Nelly's new single "Hot in Herre".

I listened to see if it was enough to beat my beloved song.. and......

It had to be the dumbest piece of crap I had EVER heard..! and I wasn't that musically experienced.

So, of course, the dastardly thing won that night's votes.. and my song slipped into the abyss.

"Caught in the Middle" by A1 is probably the least remembered one hit wonder, but somewhere in my filing cabinet I have all the lyrics, painstakingly transcribed by hand.

you be the judge:

After that, I rebelled against pop radio. If the dumbest song in the world according to Sahale was number one on the charts.. then there HAD to be better music out there somewhere that I could find another way.

I went through my Dad's record collection, looking for something old… something that had faced the test of time and still remained standing. At least that was my theory. If its old, but still remembered, it must have been vetted by generations of fans.

I distinctly remember finding the "creepy crazy lamb" record that I later would learn was Pearl Jam… I set it aside… too freaky.

hm. Billy Idol… Neil Young..

and then I saw it.

It wasn't the first time for I had seen it once before.

Looking through the pages of the booklet, depicting long haired hippie dudes looking suspicious.

I had marveled at the psychedelic art on the each face of the 3 disc set.

Then my dad had caught me and snatched them away saying in a nervously joking way, "You shouldn't be looking at those!"

Well now I was looking at them for the second time and this time I had to find out what was on them.

hm. 'Led Zeppelin', I pondered.

I wonder if he is any good. I thought Led Zeppelin was a person.

The next week, I remember sharing Led Zeppelin with a girl on the bus, on the way to a school ski trip.
She thought they were pretty cool too.
After that I was sold on the idea of music once and forever.

However, my frustration with pop radio took me on an off road course of musical danger.

It had caused me to dismiss and have a distain for ALL modern music. Which was a big mistake.

It was only after my lovely and kind housemate, Emily Jewell, gave me a metaphorical and musical slap across the face that I wisen-ed up.

But...... she listen to such weird stuff.

It was really, really painful at first.

Let me tell you Animal Collective and Midlake, after years of blues based rock n' roll, is hard on the ears. But it definitely opened my eyes and widened my horizons.

I remember that one day in particular she was on a Beach House kick.

She kept playing this one song.. Gila... over and over and over.. ...and suddenly it clicked.

There was just something about it.

I had to sneak back to her computer later and find it because I HAD to hear it again .. and I didn't want her to know she had finally converted me.

That song... and Oh, Mandy by The Spinto Band finally broke me into the super indie music world.

But what impressed me most about my house mate is she was a non-discrimnatory music listener. She would listen to everything and anything she liked.

I not only inherited the appreciation for the super indie but also music like Brand New, Third Eye Blind, Deftones and Outkast.

Today, the best of the best doesn't always play on the radio so keep your eyes open and your spirits up. If you haven't found your band, don't give up.

And definitely don't worry if it is hip or not. Just like what ya wanna like.

For a place to start:
I have 5 pages of playlists here
You can listen to KEXP here
You can see what my old housemate is currently listening to here
and you can surf the web blogs here
and don't forget to listen to my songs of the week here and here

watchers

Writing every day.

I had something awesome thought out but then tonight happened.

Today was kinda rough, but not the roughest day I've ever had.

"I'm becoming an adult" my boss told me.

Its the first time I've felt like I've been growing up. I've always felt the same age inside my body, even when my body itself was groaning.. but now for the first time I feel stretched.. like too little butter over too much waffle and I have to grow where I'm not getting enough coverage.

I kinda which there was an escape hatch from the middle of the week straight to the end so that I can at least pause and process. But life is life, you have to obey its rules.

Today though was all made up for by one little thing..




Jill Sprecher is something my boss also mentions regularly. She directed but two films, but I have to say, she does kinda remind me of me… in a I-don't-know-anything-about-her sorta way. My boss said she needed time before starting her work to process and formula who she was creatively. I think this is definitely true of me. I have been smoldering for quite awhile.. and plus he film Clockwatchers was somewhat of a masterpiece. As least to the eyes of a bubble girl from rural Adventist Washington. What really got me is how stark the production design was. I think the genius of the film was how it built me up from the blank basement of its look and then layered more complex subtext, characters and plot line. Pretty bold to rely on no gimmicks. I wish I could be half of her. Yet….. have you ever heard of Clockwatchers? honest. I mean, probably a generous amount of people do, but before this… no one I knew. There are so many good films that no one sees or has heard of. Stress beyond stress for me is that thought, that if you make a film that becomes the best film you've never heard of… where does that leave you? Can you keep making films?


Back to today. I decide to go on a loooooooooooooong run after work.

I had almost past this video rental shop. Its probably one of the last that is independently owned. My only but almost daily interaction with it is simply running by.

But today something caught my eye..

I stopped.. back tracked. And looked again.

Yes! that familiar stark look. And then Parker Posey started down the hall of a large group of filing cabinets towards me. Clockwatchers. the Clockwatchers!!



It was enough to get a smile. I forgot about the trouble of the day.

If the best film you've never heard of was playing in an out of the way video rental store in Seattle, I knew this couldn't be coincidence. That was enough to get a smile. It was enough to destroy my worry about my future..

new beirut!

Beirut - East Harlem by Revolver USA

Beirut - Goshen by ListenBeforeYouBuy

skagit!

Recently, I have been taking all kinds of pictures with my Iphone camera. Things that normally ordinary where becoming extraordinary, when I took the time to notice.

So, as a part of writing everyday... I'm hoping it will not only be writing but photojournalism. Sounds so fancy! Stories and pictures.

And in a capacity where I am not catering to a client..

super lazy photojournalism.

straight outta the can. no touch ups!

my life as a gansta

I think I was just injected into society this way.

My best friend betrayed me in kindergarten. I guess she needed a new best friend. I was left with her "old, old best friend". I remember hanging with my new and forced "best friend", Caroline, on the giant snail shaped monkey bars on the Westhill Elementary playground and thinking, she is so annoying.

I went to her birthday party that year and she threaten all of us, saying we needed to eat her birthday snacks when she wanted us to, the way she wanted us to .. or we couldn't ride her birthday ponies.

I don't think I rode the ponies.

I also went to my old and truly best friend, Veronica's, birthday party the same year, but her new best friend, Jennifer, got her the coolest present: A My Little Pony, named Jennifer, so that Veronica could have a little piece of her where ever she went.

I was definitely out then. I don't even remember what I got her but it definitely wasn't that cool.

I couldn't wait to move on.

But then in 3rd and 4th grade a group of my "friends" decided I wasn't cool enough to be hung out with, despite the fact that I had started a musical revolution by introducing them all to "The Phantom of the Opera", (which I had seen that year), led our "Little House on the Prairie" game play revolution with authentic prairie costumes and led the investigation into the strange gang signs painted on our wooden playground that must be clues to a long lost cold case murder.

Okay. Well, maybe, unknown to myself, I was weird.

And to boot I hated everyone's favorites: kick ball and dodgeball.

In any case, once again I was an outcast.

It wasn't that I couldn't make friends.

I had a group of friends that I made at my small high school. There was only 20 people in the clique-y class, however, so when you become an outcast, you really are out.

I had a friend, Carina, and we seemed to click. I enjoyed her company, lets just say that. But her mother, was deaf, erratic and truly couldn't take care of her. She spent a lot of time living under the roof and with the family of our other mutual "friend", Erica Easly.

Erica used her.

She got Carina to do whatever she wanted, and used the open doors of her house as leverage.

One day, I stood up for Carina.

What a mistake.

When my mom came to pick me up from school she found a note on the school step, where Erica had been sitting. It read, "Sahale is a wanker." That was the end of that.

I remember when I was on the cusp of dating this boy named Tim, I went out with some friends to a restaurant that he was playing for open mic. I knew that there was something going on between us, because he always wanted me around, but I couldn't really believe that after such a short time, he could really know who I was and what he was getting himself into. I remember sitting at a booth, reading the Chattanooga newspaper, with the sounds of the first performers wafting through the room. It was stuffy in there. Every table was full. Smiling people chatting, buzzing with energy. I remember him smiling at me.. I was wearing hawiian-y print short dress over a pair of rolled up jeans. It was a hot July day and was wearing chacos outdoor sandals to complete the look.

This was me. Kind of quirky, cute. Long hair rolled into a messy bun. Normal amount of makeup. Anything else would have melted right off of me.

It was then that these two girls, they couldn't have been too much older than me, maybe 24-27, came into the restaurant and sat at the bar.

I stared at them. They had long legs. Perfectly shapely, that ended in Rihanna style high heeled ankle boots. Their tan arms, legs.. cleavage that poked from their low neck dresses were visages of smiler body parts I had seen in red carpet photos. Their hair, although not blonde, was a beautiful shade of chestnut…. messy bedroom curls. Utterly sexy. Smoky eyes, perfect complexion. Immediately I felt like a frump. It was like the whole magic of the world around me was cardboard. It collapsed and fell away. Two glaring spot lights squeaked into position over my head. I burned in my seat, though all eyes were still fixated on the performer sitting on the small open mic stage stage. For a couple of years I had tried. I spent an hour or two in front of the mirror, in my academy dorm room, primping… putting on too much makeup.. curling my hair.. but you know what? The girls at academy who got the guys were utterly normal, generally plain. But they were confident, funny… intimidating. People like me, who tried too hard, were just insecure and lost their personality.

I liked more, this new self. I felt lit from within. I knew I was different because I truly was different, more confident.

But there was something about a beautiful girl that I heart-breakingly longed to be. That these girls threw into sharp focus.

When Tim finished his set, he smoothly slinked over to them -- leaned against the bar and in close to whisper in their ears, chatting them up.. flirting. Their downturned, frowning mouths suddenly reversed, now that they were getting attention. He had picked them out of the room just like I had. He wanted to be seen with girls like this. I didn't have to wonder what he meant by his actions.

So, I left.

The air was cooler now that the sun had disappeared. Crisp southern nights, right before the summer's end and beginning fall, are gloriously beautiful. I did this a lot. When I was feeling small or anxious or claustrophobic, I would just leave. I know that it probably made those around me confused, mad. But I usually needed the space. My withdrawl obviously caught his attention, because in a matter of moments, Tim was at my side. He asked me where I was going. I looked out against the water of the Tennessee River and saw the famous Chattanooga walking bridge, lighting up in the night.

 

"I was going to walk the bridge."

He looked at me tentatively. Knowingly. I continued my brisk walk, faced forward and away from him.

"You know that girls like that are a dime-a-dozen. You're different."

My heart froze, I hadn't realized that I was that miserably transparent. I wish I could just disappear.

No one really says those kind of things, except in movies.

I was flattered in the moment. I wanted to believe it, but deep in my heart I knew it was total bull shit.

I stayed for one reason.

When I was with Tim, I stopped over analyzing myself and breathed a sigh of strained relief because I finally felt understood. It wasn't the affection or that attention that I fed off of. It was the idea that at least he understood me and I didn't have to combat the whole world. After so many school days of rejection, I felt like, yeah! the weirdnesses that made up who I was, was also what made me prettier than those suave, suave girls…. because that understanding between us was the rarer beauty for two people to attain.

Unfortunately, the way our relationship went and the way he treated me, I learned that the hard way that it was only an illusion.

I'm not really complaining, because.. I suppose that most everyone feels this way.

I'm just hoping that if you are one of them, that this makes you feel a little better.... and understood haha : )