music feels

I borrowed A Travis CD from a friend. I had not heard the songs since the album came out in 2001. As the distorted bell gave way to a sweet banjo riff, a rush of memories and feelings flooded over me: the smell of cigarettes while riding in the backseat of a car through the labyrinth of North Chattanooga; the slim, sinuous road aside Lookout that should be a one way in the States but in Mexico would pass for a decent two lane; a foggy mountain and forcing my sister to listen to my newly acquired music during early morning drives to school. I still listen to music everyday, gladly so. It is just that music does not usually erect such forgotten, vivid memories.

I know music - depending on what you listen to - can easily cause you to become upbeat or feel wonderfully terrible, but my emotional reaction is usually tepid. That is not to say I have not enjoyed music as of late (for the past couple months have seen me getting lost in Grizzly Bear in a wonderful way); this particular album, however, broke some musical memory floodgate. Now I find myself overly sensitive to music e.g. listening to Beirut while working, I realized tears were forming in my eyes.

It is not that this Travis album is fantastic. Actually, it reminds me of Chuck Klosterman's quote: "[Coldplay] sound like a mediocre photocopy of Travis (who sound like a mediocre photocopy of Radiohead)." It is my personal association with the music, which like other songs or artists can carry meaning, that strikes an internal heart chord. In another seven years, I wonder what music will blow me off my feet, make me think of my banana desk, croquet and the mountains of Mexico.

Como como?

Ahh language and laziness. If only the two did not go hand-in-hand. Sure, I go through days, even weeks or months, completely devoted to learning bombastic words in English and/or basic Spanish vocabulary. But it fizzles. Instead of slow and steady learning I attempt to make up for my lack thereof by burning myself out with short spurts. Well, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.

The other associated and, in my opinion, more difficult problem is pronunciation. I have on a many occasion confidently asked questions to the gente of Texcoco and La Puri and received blank stares. In one particularly embarrassing situation, a cashier asked me write down my question rather than continue what had been a five minute struggle. I do not have a southern accent to mask my mediocre Spanish, and I have fooled myself more than once into thinking that I have halfway decent pronunciation skills. This quickly passes as my morning bus driver can hardly understand my stop request, not even a Spanish word but an acronym.

Flickering lights

The electricity ceasing almost gave me an excuse to forgo yet another chance to write. The truth, however, is that I am not feeling particularly inspired. This is because I am tired. Very tired. The kind of tired where you find yourself walking into a stranger's shoulder without acknowledging, let alone apologizing, to the innocent bystanders. The people of Texcoco are lucky I was not armed with a bicycle: not once, not thrice, but five times tech students have jumped out to avoid certain death by tired girl on bike named Shela (though I attribute this to my careless cycling in conjunction with the undeniable nature of the overly intelligent - Tech students are gifted but are quite awkward in conversation (notably with the opposite sex), sports and even walking (I blame Tech students' undeniable penchant, even of the least geeky students, to fiddle with expensive, newly released how-the-hell-did-you-get-THAT gadgets). I never came that close to any of them and one in particular theatrically dived off the path and into a ball when I was humorously far away).



But no sane biker will hit a pedestrian because of physics: each action has an equal and opposite reaction, meaning bike-human collision results in an accompanying fall of the cyclist and contact with the morning pavement. Therefore, Newton's third law of motion (which Tech students learn in either physics or chemistry) offers a guarantee that I will hit the breaks before you.

I am too tired to sleep. I wanted to curl up in bed around five but remembered my obligation to write a campy skit and made good on my word. For this, I had to wake up and hit a certain threshold. You know, when it is just as well you keep going in the surreal state that is sleep deprivation rather than collapse. My current one is strange as it is caused by physical exhaustion compounded by unexplained, sporadic insomnia. Still, there is no doubt in my mind that when my head hits the pillow I will sleep like a new born puppy.