To break away from the nostalgia that has dominated Top Five Tuesdays so far, I’m doing a list that is current with my whims and moods as of right this very moment: Top Five Songs I’m in Love with Right Now. I’ve largely avoided talking about music on this site lest I give off the impression that I fancy myself to be one of the Cool Music People. Which…I’m just not. My taste in music is schizophrenic at best and and quite possibly atrocious at worst and it would just be too much effort to try and tailor or refine it to the point where I could fit in with any particular sect of the Cool Music People. Besides, I think I’ve been banned for life from the Cool Music People clubs because I went to a Britney Spears concert and it wasn’t as the chaperon of a 12-year-old. And, not only did I pay to go, I liked it. OK? And, if you must know, I also briefly kinda liked that Paris Hilton song “Stars go Blind.” It was catchy and it sounded like Blondie, so what can you do?
The thing is, I just like what I like and I don’t question it, you know? And sometimes I’ll listen to, like, maybe four albums for a year and not change things up because that’s just what I like and nothing else seems to do. Those are the kind of albums that, even once I’m over them, I can always revisit when I’m in a particular mood. Other times I have torrid affairs with songs and will replay the song feverishly for a week until I’m sick of it forever. So, given my strange listening habits, I thought it would be fun to occasionally take a snapshot of what I’m listening to.
As always, I’d love to know what you’re listening to too, so let me know in the comments. And, remember, I just admitted in front of God and the entire Internet that I listened to Paris Hilton, so we’re all friends here. If you’re secretly listening to Hannah Montana, then we here at Blue Yon Belly are way less likely to judge than to run out and download so that we can join you in your sick obsession. Deal?
So here we are today:
Feist, “Secret Heart”: My love affair with Feist continues unchecked. I’ve been listening to her latest album since before we left on the bike trip, had one of her songs in my head practically every day we rode, and she was the first thing I put on when we came back to the land of iPods. For the last month, though, it’s been “Secret Heart.” Especially the live version. The album version has a sweetness that I also like, but this live version is mad sexy. First it made me girl crush on Feist and now I just want to be Feist. I want to have long, thick bangs, and to be willowy and play a giant guitar and to seduce Parisian audiences with my raw talent and je ne sais quoi.
Ron Sexsmith, “Secret Heart”: Yes, the same song! Ron Sexsmith, forever the musician’s musician, wrote “Secret Heart” and I discovered his version while watching Feist’s live version on YouTube. Ron Sexsmith’s version is like…an aching lullaby. It has grown on me and, actually, I’m not sure which version I love more. [Note: This one doesn't embed.] Ron Sexsmith, “Secret Heart.”
Ben Harper and Jack Johnson, “Please, Please Me”: I don’t know how I managed to miss out on discovering this song until now, seeing as how I’m a fan of both Ben Harper and Jack Johnson. This song makes me think of the summer I lived in Tofino, when I spent many an evening sitting around a bonfire on the beach, looking up at the stars while my friends played their guitars. At the moment I’m nursing a huge crush on Jack Johnson and Kieran’s going to get humorously ruffled over that, so I’ll take a moment to point out that in this video Kieran and Jack Johnson kinda look alike, with the same hair and similar profile, right down to the flip-flops and raglan shirt.
Carla Bruni, “L’amour”: I haven’t listened to Carla Bruni in a while, but I’ve included this song because I caught myself singing it today while standing on the corner and waiting for the light to change. I also caught someone staring at me. Whoops! You mean it’s kinda weird to tunelessly mutter French songs to yourself on a busy street? Who knew! Anyway, I came home and put Carla Bruni on and…sigh. I still love her. “C’est un blues…”
Yael Naim, “Far, Far”: I think my time with Yael Naim has been on its way out for a little while, but this song still resonates with me. It’s pretty and sweet and I love the notion of a “beautiful mess inside.” And, as an aside, since I’m asking things of the Universe these days…Dear Universe: if in my next life I could be a French gamine with exquisite bone structure and a beautiful singing voice, that would be GREAT. Anyway, I couldn’t find a decent version of the song on YouTube, as this live version is oddly muffled. There is a video that has a clear version of the song from the album set to video footage of the American flag (sans stars!), but, uh, that seems weird to me so I’ll have to make do with the muffled live version.
My final assessment is that I seem to be going through some kind of phase where I’m drawn to melancholy guitar songs. Funny, because I’m in fairly good spirits.
One of my main goals in life is to live to be 100. I’m not even kidding. My great-grandpa lived to be 102 (that’s right—a HUNDRED AND TWO) and he had a fine old time and it’s struck me as a good idea ever since. I mean, he started to forget certain things and walked with a cane and, in the last three or four years, starting having trouble with the stairs so he began sleeping in the guest bedroom downstairs, but seriously? At 100? I mean, COME ON. He was also learning to speak Japanese—in addition to the other seven languages he already spoke—and fixed cuckoo clocks in his spare time and could still remember the price of wheat in 1939 and one time he made a clock out of a potato because he’d heard that that’s something that can be done and wanted to see for himself. And, oh my God, I miss him. But, anyway, if that’s what living to a hundred looks like, then sign me up.
For one thing, I really want to know how things turn out. Things. Everything. I’m dying to know what we’ll be wearing in 2076. And what will we be eating? Will food have been entirely phased out at that point, replaced by chemical powders that don’t even pretend to be food anymore (”Nutritious Monsanto powder—available at your friendly neighbourhood space pod. Try some today!”)? Or will we swing in the opposite direction, with an organic agricultural revolution towards eating like, well, like my great-grandpa did? (Oh, please, Universe, let that be a yes!) And when will the Oilers win the Stanley Cup again? When, Universe, WHEN?
But the other thing is that I’m slow on the uptake. I appear to be a perpetually late bloomer and I think I’m going to need at least another seventy years before I’ve got the whole game of life figured out. If I maintain my current pace, I should reach a state of emotional and intellectual fulfillment by about 78. I know that sounds defeatist and self-effacing, but I mean that in the most optimistic way. It’s nice to have something to look forward to. And, I think, regardless of whether you think of yourself of being resigned to something as opposed to committed to something (for me, the perspective oscillates in response to sleep deprivation and blood sugar levels), if that something happens to be emotional growth, then you’ve set yourself up for a pretty rich life. And if life is rich, then who wouldn’t want a full century of experience?
In any case, I’ve had a wee taste of success these last few days and I must admit that…I’m surprised. Pleasantly surprised. I am, as of today, officially a freelance writer working from home. A freelance writer who, like, gets paid. I have a hunch that I’ve finally gotten something right such that I’ve had exactly what I wanted to happen fall out of the sky and into my lap, but I’m such a newbie to the world of optimism and positivity that I don’t know what the “something right” is. Is it an attitude? Or a combination of attitude, luck, and timing that’s impossible to replicate? Is it because I just told the Universe what I wanted? Should I be providing the Universe with an itemized list of my demands? Or is it all random and I’m wasting emotional energy by wondering these things? Like, you know, I spend months trying to find the magic keys to the kingdom, get what I want, and then tomorrow I get hit by a bus*, proving that we’re all just random aggregates of carbon molecules wandering around thinking we matter but really, just molecules, until BAM! That’s that. No more carbon molecules. (Well, okay, the carbon molecules don’t just DISAPPEAR but instead decay according to a predictable half-life for the next 50, 000 years, etc., etc., but you know what I mean.)
Anyway, I simply don’t know. I DON’T KNOW. And I’m scared to make any further moves for fear of screwing it up! Most certainly, when I’m 78, I’ll look back at this confusion over how life works and shake my head that I was once so naive and silly. Then I’ll slip on my gravity Isotoners and bounce across the moon rocks in the courtyard to go play shuffle board in the holodeck.
The one thing I’m not confused about is that I’m happy with things just the way they are, which is an attitude I know my great-grandpa would approve of.
Easter weekend is upon us, which means that years of conditioning have taught my body to expect a long weekend of skiing in the Rockies capped off by an Easter dinner featuring ham and scalloped potatoes. Obviously, skiing and ham are the ways in which Jesus himself wanted all recovering Catholic/predominantly secular families to acknowledge his crucification and subsequent resurrection. That and chocolate bunnies. (Aside: Does anyone know how coloured eggs and chocolate bunnies became part of the Easter traditions? Was there a Pagan precedent, a la the Christmas tree?)
In the spirit of the scalloped potatoes I won’t be eating this weekend (which, I KNOW I could try to make them myself but it won’t be the same as my MOM’S), this week’s list is Top Five Childhood Comfort Foods*.
Apple rhubarb crisp: Made with tart crab apples and rhubarb from the garden. I think everyone’s family recipe for crisp is different and no one likes another crisp as much as they like the one they grew up with. (The same rules apply to stuffing, don’t they?) Apple rhubarb crisp was a staple around our house in the late summer, once the apples started to ripen. Now that I no longer have access to a crab apple tree, I use Granny Smith apples in their place. But…I miss the crab apples. They have a more delicate flavour.
Bread pudding: Made with honey and raisins and served with fresh cream. I only crave bread pudding in the dead of winter…must be all the simple carbs. Have you had it? It’s just chunks of bread soaked in milk and baked into a pudding (with brown sugar and cinnamon, of course). So simple but so pleasingly warm and yummy! It also makes me miss curling up in front of a fireplace but…that’s another thing I no longer have access to. Although I don’t actually remember sitting in front of the fire and eating bread pudding, I must have done so at one point. I do, however, have a distinct memory of spilling cream from my bread pudding all over the keyboard of the Apple IIe Dad had borrowed from his school. After picking raisins out of the keys in a mad panic, things were fine if not a little sticky, and I was able to resume playing Space Eggs and went on to beat my brother’s top score.
Fruit soup: Exactly what it sounds like—soup made from fruit! Mostly dried fruits, actually. Despite a dramatic episode at the age of five wherein I ate a hearty (fibrous!) portion of fruit soup before embarking on a long car ride and quickly succumbing to intense motion sickness, my love for fruit soup continued unchecked throughout childhood.
Good ol’ perogies: (Or “pyrohy” for the purists.) We aren’t Ukrainian, but basically everyone in our town is and perogies were a staple of every wedding and group event we went to. We also had perogies about once a week, usually, if I recall, on nights when I had baseball or figure skating. Mom made them with fried onions and bacon and served them with sour cream. Although I’m pretty sure I would enjoy eating Styrofoam pellets if they were slathered in sour cream, onions and bacon, perogies are somehow the perfect, starchy delivery mechanism for this dairy/fat/onion trifecta.
Cheez Whiz: As much as I’m embarrassed to admit this, I was an outright Cheez Whiz FIEND when I was a kid. I literally had Cheez Whiz sandwiches on a daily basis for the first seventeen years of my life. Then I moved out and discovered how expensive Cheez Whiz is and tried a knock-off “Cheezy Spread” something or other that fit my budget. And my refined taste buds were all like, “Puh-leeze. This is not the zesty, high-end petroleum product to which we are accustomed. Do not insult me in this manner again. Good day. ISAIDGOODDAY.” Then I read that Cheez Whiz is one polymer away from being plastic. For real. So I never went back to mainlining Cheez Whiz and now buy a small jar about once a year, just for old times’ sake. I know Cheez Whiz is reviled by many, but have you TRIED it on a celery stick? Damn, that’s some good snacking. I also suggest, if you’re having turkey this weekend, trying a Cheez Whiz and turkey sandwich with a hint of cranberry sauce. STOP MAKING FACES. It’s delicious and it was always the special post-holiday sandwich that my dad would put in my lunches.
Happy Easter everyone! As always, leave your top five comfort foods in the comments.
In the space of about 48 hours sometime last week, a rapid fire of events tore through our lives and the experience has been akin to getting hit by a tidal wave of stress and uncertainty. Of note, Kieran’s work is moving to Toronto. As in, that place in Ontario. Away over yonder. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY.
[Breathes into paper bag]
Although slim, this means there’s an outside chance that we, too, might be moving to Toronto (the one in Ontario, on the other side of the country). We like to aim high, you see, and it’s not enough to change provinces once in a year. At least two inter-provincial moves would really test our mettle. For the record, I would like to point out that my mettle has been thoroughly tested and my reserves are sorely depleted (wizard needs mettle badly!). So there’s the whole mettle thing and the whole neither of us has any desire to live in Toronto thing. At least, it’s never occurred to us to want to live in Toronto. So far. [Breathes into paper bag]
If this past week is any indication, however, there’s a much stronger chance that we’re simply going to go through a period of job seeking, applying, and interviewing. It’s really fun to keep this stage alive such as we (somehow) have this last year, as it involves a great deal of emotional and financial uncertainty and is punctuated by the intense fits of stress and clammy hands that directly precede an interview*.
Also of note, before we received the news of our impending poverty, I succeeded in a huge way in keeping my first New Year’s resolution and bought myself a bunch of new clothes, telling myself not to feel guilty, it’s okay to spend money, The Universe won’t punish me by taking away all our money if I buy new shoes. Now THAT, my friends, is irony. Coming at you at 12% interest.
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*I have a phone interview tomorrow for a writing contract that would actually be really cool. Which is great, I know. No, really, it’s great. I just hate this feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling that comes before the interview [dances around and flaps hands in agitation]. Somehow it would almost be easier if I didn’t really want the opportunity. I wish I was one of those confident, cheerful people who gets to soar through life on the buoyant sea breezes of their self-esteem. I’m sure my obsessive and sensitive nature offers a certain attention to detail and level of care that the sea-breeze people can’t offer, but it’s hard to convince prospective employers of that when you’re too busy swallowing your own tongue to articulate anything meaningful about your character and work ethic.
Also? Our phone has chosen this week of all weeks to all but stop working and keeps HANGING UP ON PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYERS.
The Top Five Movies from last week seemed to resonate with a few people and that was super fun. As a result of the comments, I’ve now watched Valley Girl (thanks Shannon!) and Kieran (spurred on by momdotcom) is going to force me to watch Beastmaster. Anyhoo, I’m gonna keep things random on Top Five Tuesdays, so that it doesn’t derail into 80s nostalgia every time (just most of the time) and will try to come up with things that aren’t always pop culture related. This week’s top five list is inspired mostly by our bike trip: Top Five Canadian Place Names That Make Me Laugh.
Dildo Island (Newfoundland): Yes. Oh, yes. It’s real. And they have adventure tours. We, of course, pulled over to the side of the road to ensure we would have photographic evidence:
Sounds like wholesome family fun.
St.-Louis-du-Ha! Ha! (Québec): Exclamation marks included! (!!!) Man did I love seeing this on road signs.
It just brings up so many questions. Like who was St. Louis? And did he laugh a lot or was he actually from a place called Ha! Ha!? If it is a place, where, then, is Ha! Ha!? Is there a Ha! Ha! in France? On the other hand, if it’s not a place, who decided that Ha! Ha! is masculine instead of feminie? Why?
Vulcan (Alberta): What’s actually funny about Vulcan is not so much its name, but that the town has embraced the name to the extent that it hosts an annual Star Trek convention and built a Starship Enterprise replica. (Aside: In dork cross-pollination news, the X-Files filmed an episode there. If I recall, it’s the one where Mulder first finds the alien clone of his sister and the whole bee thing is introduced.)
Regina (Saskatchewan): Perhaps this one isn’t exactly obvious. Unless, of course, you’re six and can’t keep straight in your mind which one is the capital of Saskatchewan and which one is specific to the female anatomy and, as a result, you spend more than a few geography classes in paroxysms of dread lest you be called upon and end up blurting out the wrong word in front of everyone. It turns out I’m not the only kid who went through this and it’s not entirely uncommon for poor old Regina to be used euphemistically. And, yes, it cracks me up every time.
Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump (Alberta): I’ll admit I debated whether it’s appropriate to include a world heritage site in this list. But that doesn’t change that it’s one crazy-ass name. The first time you hear it when you’re a kid you’re like, “Wait…whaaaaat? We’re going WHERE?” According to Wikipedia, when Dave Barry found out about Head Smashed in Bufflo Jump, he looked it up and phoned the interpretive centre and was greeted “Head Smashed in, may I help you?” which he claims is one of the highlights of his life.We actually did ride quite close to the site last summer but we were dogged by winds so strong it was a struggle to stay upright on the bike, so I didn’t stop to take any pictures.
Alrighty then! Leave your favourite wacky place names in the comments.
I find myself consistently wanting to make Top Five lists, High Fidelity style, as blogging fodder, so I’m making it an official blogging activity and choosing a day of the week that allows for alliteration. (Of course alliteration. We here at Blue Yon Belly take English Nerdery seriously.) For one thing, I love a list. For another, I love condensing and categorizing the (largely pop-culture related) minutiae of my life.
This week’s Top Five list is Top Five Movies That Impressed My Impressionable Young Self. Note that this list is chronological instead of denoting the order of importance or significance of the movies.
Grease 2: Yes. My first movie obsession! I actually saw Grease 2 long before I ever saw the original Grease. I was still a baby when the original came out. I believe the first time I saw Grease 2 was at a neighbourhood birthday party in about Grade 2. I didn’t understand very much about the movie, due in no small part to not having seen Grease and therefore not understanding the whole “Pink Ladies” and “T-Birds” thing or why, for that matter, the cast members would burst into song at key plot points. Nevertheless, not really getting it did not prevent me from joining the other neighbourhood girls in a group obsession that entailed recreating time and again Michelle Pfeiffer’s “Cool Rider” scene, where we would take turns donning an enormous satin jacket belonging to someone’s mom (the jacket was blue instead of pink, but it had to do) and warbling “I wanna coo-oo-oool rider…” whilst balancing on a step ladder in the garage.
My American Cousin: This was a Canadian movie that played on the CBC, so my Yankee Pankee readers may not know it. My American Cousin played on TV shortly after my parents bought our first (and only?) VHS, so I was in a sort of honeymoon phase where I would record movies and TV shows just for the thrill of it. My friends and I would watch our favourite movies over and over after school, sometimes simply fast-forwarding to our favourite scenes if there wasn’t enough time to watch the whole thing before dinner, and this movie gets to lay claim to having started this trend. My American Cousin gave rise to an obsession with the 1950s and, I think, was the inspiration for a 1950s themed party I had right after school started in Grade 6. We all dressed up in bobby socks and skirts and, after watching the dance scene in the movie, had a sock hop in the basement. (There’s some cute and hysterical photos from this party that I should find. I think we had a lot of fun trying to jive.)
Stand by Me: I think the huge appeal of this movie was that it was about kids that were the same age as me and my friends were at the time that it came out. What was, and is, so great about Stand by Me (and I’d say the same about the Stephen King novella on which it is based, The Body) is that it captures the essence of being 12. There’s not a lot of movies with kids as protagonists that aren’t tacky teen romances or saccharine kids’ stuff about unicorns and choo-choo trains. But Stand by Me hit the nail on the head. Although my friends and I certainly never went looking for dead bodies, we did goof around in vacant lots and back alleys and, yes, on the railroad tracks. And we were constantly sleeping out in someone’s back yard and staying awake all night talking and listening to the radio (always 630 CHED). We didn’t smoke, but we swore a lot a felt very old and bad-ass for it and cracked each other’s shit up by outdoing one another in crassness (so, great, I haven’t matured past 12) and we would tell each other secrets and solemnly pinkie swear to keep them. Stand by Me kinda allowed us to embrace all that, instead of making us feel like we were in a holding pattern, waiting for high school. Plus poor, doomed River Phoenix was totally hot and he cried because he was accused of stealing the milk money even though he totally didn’t and obviously his sweet shattered soul needed me.
The Princess Bride: There’s just something magical about this movie, isn’t there? The charming goofiness of the story, the costumes, the music…I actually saw The Princess Bride for the first time in the theatre with my mom, a girls’ night out while my dad was out of town. The Princess Bride makes my list, then, not just because it quickly became a staple of sleepovers and birthdays, but because it signified the end of an era. I started junior high a couple of weeks after my mom and I saw the movie, and although I never consciously phased out going to the movies with my mom, it was phased out in short order all the same, as I was heavily invested in not committing social suicide. As a fairy tale that’s clever and cheeky enough to be sophisticated, it’s the perfect movie to bridge childhood and adulthood.
Dazed and Confused: Dazed and Confused signifies the last time I reacted to a movie the way a kid does, where you and your friends kinda obsess about it and watch it until you memorize the lines and listen to the soundtrack over and over. My friends and I even spent the summer after this movie came out dressed in bell bottoms and vintage stoner T-shirts and saying things like “I just wanna dance,” and, in a smarmy Matthew Mcconaughey drawl, ”All right, all right, allll riiiight.” We also spent a lot of time getting drunk at bush parties* then lying on the hood of some beat up car and staring up at the sky, but that probably would have happened anyway, regardless of the bush party at the Moon Tower being the focal point of the movie. I still on occasion find myself saying “Check you later!” while cocking my finger like a gun. (”Check you later?!? Check you later?!? Chicks don’t dig that stuff man!”)
Honourable Mentions: The Goonies; Back to the Future; Teen Wolf (recorded on VHS and watched numerous times after school, often fast-forwarded to the scene where he surfs around town on the top of his van);Dirty Dancing (another staple of sleepovers and birthday parties); Adventures in Babysitting; Willow; and Say Anything.
OK, your turn! Tell me your Top Five Movies That Impressed Your Impressionable Young Self!
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*I have been told that this term is perhaps unique to the Albertan vernacular. I don’t know what else you would call a party out in the bush…???
