AliThinks

So Much Things To Say

The trouble with getting out of the habit of blogging is that things happen and you don't record them right away. And then three days later, that thing doesn't seem so important, or you feel like it's old news or something.

And then when the weather is fantastic — as it has been for the past four days — you'd rather do anything than sit in front of the computer (sorry, social networking!).

Put the two together and you have me. OH HAI, I was going to become a regular blogger again, wasn't I? I'm not giving up yet. My motor's just kind of like a diesel engine on a cold day. How's THAT for a crappy metaphor?

I've Let Myself Get Behind

When I last blogged, I was still all high from the English Beat concert (and no, I don't mean that kind of high).

This past Thursday night, I said to Allan, "I feel fortunate to live here." We were driving back to Lexington from Berea, where we'd just seen Habib Koité and Bamada perform. Allan replied "It's amazing how much great music we've heard in the past week." And he was right. It was a banner week for Lexingtonians Who Love Music. Here's a recap of what we saw:

Friday, April 17: Ellee Ven and Big Fresh at Give Into The Groove.

Saturday, April 18: Robert Schneider, Chico Fellini, Ben Sollee, The Sundresses, and Attempt (a Trevor Tremaine creation, and I can't find a specific link for Attempt), all at CD Central for Record Store Day.

Sunday, April 19: The (English) Beat at The Dame.

Thursday, April 23: Habib Koité (link in French) and Bamada at Berea College, Berea, Kentucky.

I've got photos of all the events, but most of them are just hanging out on my hard drive. I did make a Flickr set for Record Store Day. Here's a photo I've posted of Habib Koité.

Allan was right: we've seen an amazing amount of music in the past week.

Music is a balm to my soul; it soothes this savage breast (apologies to William Congreve).

I feel fortunate to live here.

Edit: April 26 also marks the day in 2003 when I decided to stop lurking at the internet radio station I'd been listening to for four months, so I created an account and started commenting. Hoo boy, the website was waaaay different back then. But the important thing is the music. And that's six+ years of aural goodness in my life, and let's not forget that balm thing. Or that soothing thing. 

Texting With My Brother

Last night The Rudies opened for The (English) Beat, and during their set I sent a text message to the older of my older brothers, the one whose utter coolness, along with early MTV, helped mold my musical tastes.

Me: We are about to see the english beat. Wish you were here..

Nate: Can u save it for later?

Me: Lol. Don't think so. I just can't stop it.

Nate: Roger. It ranks right up there. Specially when im wakeling up.

Me: Every saturday when you're window shopping? By the way, have you met jeannette? 

OK, so maybe he and I found it funny, and you don't or won't. But if you are a fan of the Beat, I hope you'll get a chuckle out of it.

On Perfectionism

If you looked at my Flickr stream, you'd never guess I've taken over 1000 photos in April alone. I've posted exactly 36 37 to Flickr. This weekend I've taken 350 photos. A lot of them are crap, sure. But that's a lot of photos to look through and decide what's worth processing and posting online. (Fortunately, my new camera takes both hi-res JPEG and RAW photos — the D50 took low-res JPEG + RAW — so sometimes I can use the JPEG straight out of the box.) Still, it can be overwhelming when you've taken hundreds of photos in a short amount of time, and I have two strikes against me to begin with.

First, I have a major inferiority complex about my photography. Sometimes it's hard to be married to the guy who took this photo, or this one. Sometimes we actually take the same photo without even realizing it, and I'm pretty sure his photo is better than mine (whether it is or not). Yeah, I need to get over this. I know.

Second, I'm a perfectionist, and not just in the realm of photography. Perfectionism leads to procrastination which leads to paralysis, at least in my case. If it won't be perfect, there's no point in doing it, whatever "it" is.

This has kept me from a number of creative endeavors; writing and photography come to mind. It is my hope that admitting my fear of not producing something perfect will help me get over it.

So in that spirit, here is a photo I took yesterday, with no post-processing done on it. This is Ben Sollee:

He participated in Record Store Day at our local shop, CD Central, and was just one of several very talented artists there. I will post more of my photos to the Flickr set, but not just now. I need to get ready to go see The (English) Beat at The Dame.

I'm taking my camera.

Night Sounds

I wake in pain, like there's a skewer lodged in my sinus passage. I can't return to sleep. The cats eye me as I settle on the couch, and Jonesy-kitty ventures over to say hello. It's not even four, and the birds are already singing. I know this because the windows are open, and the wan breeze feels good on my bare legs.

There are emails to be answered, but I let them sit some more, because I'd rather just sit. I listen to the birds. The click of Jonesy's claws on the wood floor. The refrigerator noises. The train whistle.

I wonder if sleep will come.

Happy Birthday, Ma Belle

Today's my daughter's 14th birthday. She's on her way home from a class trip to Barcelona right now, so I won't get to sing to her until tomorrow.

I Generally Keep My Promises

Last Friday, I blogged about the renaissance of AliThinks. I said the post was a placemarker, and that I hadn't drunk any coffee and didn't have time to expound. I also said I'd explain later.

It's later, and I intend to explain.

We were on our way to Pittsburgh for Easter, and that's why I didn't have time to write a proper entry. A few things happened over the weekend: Allan and I stumbled upon a Tea Party by accident. (We'd planned to go to the Strip District, but a last-minute comment from a college classmate on my Facebook status had me thinking we might be able to lunch with him on the North Side/Shore.)

We went to The Warhol with my BF from HS, Denise, and her husband David. Then the four of us went for food and drink at Fatheads on the South Side (say it with me: Sahside) of Pittsburgh.

Afterwards, D&D took their leave and A&A went to the early show at Club Cafe, which featured Brent Malin and Almost Astronauts. We'd planned to go to Club Cafe no matter what, because we love that place, and funnily enough, there was a familiar name on the program. I met Brent Malin at my alma mater in 2003. He'd been teaching in the Communication Arts department there, but was leaving to take a job in California. And I remembered him well, because I was a Com Arts major, and thought it was a shame that he was leaving. He seemed like a cool guy at the time, and that was confirmed when we spoke to him before and after his show.

Almost Astronauts put on a great show too.

We were back in our hotel room before 10 pm. Woo-hoo! The next afternoon, we went to my dad and stepmother's house for a family gathering. And that was good. I have potentially incriminating video of my nieces and nephews.

The day was overshadowed by something I'd read after we got to the hotel on Saturday night, however. Shana's plea weighed on me, and I found out late Sunday night via her blog comments and Twitter that her son Thalon had passed. The news was all the heavier because my mother died on April 12 as well. In 1993, it wasn't Easter Sunday (but Easter Monday is close enough). This agnostic lass sometimes finds the Easter symbolism too much to bear. But now I'm bringing my own stuff into it, and that was not my intention.

So while I have photos to show and more things to tell, I'm going to refrain right now. Shana posted a link to her son's obituary on her blog today. She wrote it, and it's both beautiful and heartbreaking. Tomorrow Thalon will be laid to rest. I'll be thinking of Shana and her family, and Thalon some more.

On Tea Parties

I'd heard about the Tea Party thing, because there was one in Lexington a couple of weeks ago, and the Tea Partiers were upset that our local paper didn't cover their event. I thought that the Herald-Leader probably didn't have enough reporters, seeing as how they'd just laid off a bunch of staff.

This past Saturday, Allan and I were walking around Pittsburgh's North Side Shore Side Shore, when we happened upon a Tea Party. Alan Keyes was the keynote speaker, and while we didn't stick around to hear his speech, we did get to see him dump tea (or some facsimile thereof) into the Allegheny River.

I took a few photos, which you can see here. We did hear some words from the man who organized this particular Tea Party. I didn't catch his name, but he did say that Congress passed the stimulus bill without even reading it. The crowd cheered, and I said "What about the PATRIOT Act?" No one heard me except Allan and maybe the woman with the Sarah Palin button on her hat; we were on the Roberto Clemente bridge, and the speakers were on Allegheny Landing.

And then the man said, "There are laws, laws we have to obey. Can you imagine that I had to get a permit to exercise my First Amendment rights?" The crowd cheered, and I said "Maybe because it's a question of public safety, and no one is infringing on your First Amendment rights?" He went on to say that the government was above the law. I'd say it is, because no one challenged George W. Bush's decimation of our Constitution.

I can't say I didn't understand some of the sentiments I witnessed on Saturday. I did. But most of the signs the folks were holding had me saying "Really?" à la Kyle (or Stan — I can't remember which one said it, in which episode, but it was a high-pitched, head-tilted question) from South Park.

I also can't say I'm happy about the whole stimulus thing, but I'd like to know what the opposition has in mind, and I want them to spell out how it will be better than what the Obama administration has done so far.

Sadness and Joy

There's a lot of blogging to be done; I have lots to say, but first I must take a moment to mention my blog friend Shana, who lost her baby boy over the weekend. This news came to me last night just after I found out my friend Saundrah had (finally!) had her baby girl way over in Denmark.

In my joy, there is sadness.

Five Years

Here's the thing: I started this blog five years ago today, at a time when my life was completely different, and I thought I was heading in a specific direction.

Well. Things change, things fall apart. And things get rebuilt.

On this blogiversary, then, I've decided that I'm going to rebuild AliThinks. It's either that or shut it down, and I don't want to do that.

This post is just a little place- and time marker. I'm largely uncaffeinated, but I have to bust this out now for reasons I'll explain later.

Happy weekend. And Happy Easter. Or Pesach.

Look At Those Shoes!

Look At Those Shoes!, originally uploaded by Alison.

Photo taken at the 40th Annual Beaux Arts Ball here in Lexington.

A Slight Departure From The New Norm

Longtime readers know that this blog ain't what it used to be. I don't write much about what I'm feeling or what I'm doing. And yeah, I'm trying to figure out how to remedy that. In a couple of days, I will have been blogging for five years. That's almost ancient in blog years.

There's a reason I no longer blog without abandon. And I really don't want to say what that reason is. To get all meta on you, the reason I no longer blog the way I used to is the reason I can't tell you the reason I no longer blog the way I used to.

Is your head spinning yet?

I miss blogging. I want to write about Facebook. I want to write about Twitter. (Although, both things have contributed to my lack of content here.) I want to write about our friend Katie's amazing novel (it's destined to be Great American Literature, people). And I want to write about the meal I just ate, and the party I attended, and that thing I saw, and that other thing. Oh, and that thing, too.

So I'm left wondering how to reclaim my blog. I miss AliThinks.

Even More Microblogging

J'avance doucement et je rase
les murs de la boîte de jazz*.

*apologies to Michel Jonasz, who wrote and sang those words.