For My Father

Under Control

Frank Sinatra once posed a thoughtful if not obvious question--why don't people sing, like they talk? (Cue in "I've Got a Crush On You"). While admittedly not an avid listener of his, I do love The Strokes and this song...one of my favorites.


I don't want to change your mind,
I don't want to waste your time.
I just want to know you're alright.
I've got to know you're alright;
You are young, darling
For now, but not for long
Under control.

A Story

They all loved her--fans, people of all elks, her peers, photographers. Even the light that flashed from their cameras seemed to love her judging by the way that it chose to display her beauty. But no one loved her more than the only man who got to follow her around--to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, Chicago--wherever adoring fans waited. The man, whose official title was her personal translator to international countries, never grew tired of saying "Thank you for having me, you are very generous" for his employer and made sure his accent was perfect each time. He almost never spoke words that came from his own head however, or is heart for that matter. His words were chosen by those who spoke to her and of course the lovely words she chose to reply with. Left to his own devices, he could not pick any phrase from the many languages he was trained in at the University to convey how he felt. And by the time he finally discovered the perfect combination of words to match his admiration, he was heart broken for they had been spoken by the gallant and dapper gentleman sitting across from her--to him. The gentleman ended it with "I only hope that my affections not be lost between our two languages." Humbly, he translated it for her.

I just watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind since it came highly recommended by rottentomatoes.com and was listed under many "top romantic comedies" list. Something about the plot really bothered me though. Why would you want to erase your memory of someone especially someone you once cared about? To that I'd either say "Come on, man. Life goes on." but more likely that for every person you hit it off with and subsequently mess up with, it becomes something that you learn about yourself. And if you met someone and never learned a thing about yourself from them, then truth is you probably never cared about them in the first place. To erase someone from your mind...to try and forget someone...that's not only retrogression, it's kind of cowardly isn't it?

I love how...this is my blog. This place in cyberspace is like a grey sweatshirt. You know how you throw on a grey hoodie--not a red or blue one--and you put the hood up, it's like you're in your own little space. It's not a fashion statement, it's a means for mulling things over, disabling your sensibilities to the outside world, and elevating your sense of self-awareness. It's warm, cozy and private. It's said that when Bob Marley was in the studio, no one was allowed to talk to him if the hood was up. Pretty serious. That's how I feel when I write here. Lately though, I don't know. I hate how...this is my blog, but I still can't write everything I feel. And I have all these drafts written down on sticky notes, but they'll never make it here. Thank goodness I have something to concentrate on next week instead, even if it is...matlab.

The Strokes

.

"Hard to Explain"
.
I say the right thing
But act the wrong way
I like it right here
But I cannot stay
I'm watching TV
Forget what I'm told
Well, I am too young
And they are too old
Oh, man cant you see
I'm nervous, so please
Pretend to be nice
So I can be mean
I missed the last bus
I'll take the next train
I'll try, but you see
It's hard to explain

There is nothing like walking on the quad on a beautiful day. Just watching the campus turn into a wonderful array of colorful dresses, Frisbees, footballs, and just happy people is nothing short of bliss. It's especially refreshing that you see all these half naked people tanning and taking in some sort of ethereal energy from the sun (and being so carefree!) right before the week of finals as if studying for those could ever be a higher priority than making yourself a lovely bronze. It's on days like these that we remember that we are still kids and that this is still just college. The real world will never be as good as this.