I'm making it official today.
Sometime this summer, I will be moving to Richmond, Virginia.
The estimated time of departure is sometime in July.
While I'm not sure how long I'll be there, because there is no way to predict the future, I do plan on living there for about 3 years.
Now, don't give me that face I have been seeing on all my friends and family, I'm serious about this. I have weighed my options, thought this out thoroughly and have come to this decision with every intent of seeing it out completely.
Recently, I visited some friends in Richmond during the holidays and enjoyed myself immensely. It's so quiet and calm and historical and beautiful and full of opportunity. There's a booming downtown district as well as the outskirts that are just surrounded in trees. So many damn trees everywhere!
I spent a week there and enjoyed every moment of it. Being on my own in a strange place, experiencing an actual season and seeing all kinds of places I never thought I'd see. After plenty of persuading from my friends I finally gave in and said I'd see them in August. Before I left there, I had made the decision to come back for good.
So far, the plan is to save up and get all my affairs in order for the next 4 months. Starting in late April, I will be applying to jobs in Richmond and scoping out places to live. Once I have a job, I will then have a moving date. When the date is set, I'll drive across the country in my little car, accompanied by some friend or possibly my mother and bring my belongings with me. Not all of them of course, but enough to get me by for the first few months and until I can get my own place. My friends, Jeff and Janan have been nice enough to offer up their house to me while I save up and get used to the area for a month or so. When the time comes, I'll then move into my own place and begin my life on my own.
Just typing those words scares me, but it's something I've looked forward to doing for so long, that the excitement beats the fear every time. Of course, now you're probably wondering why I'd move across the country? School? No. I obviously don't have a job lined up or a boy I'm chasing after. So the reason must be.... Because I can.
This is the adventure I've been waiting for. A test of my independent spirit. A chance to try something new in a different place. Something to shake up my life and give my life story some meat to it.
Don't get all teary eyed just yet, I still have 5 months until I leave and I will be back.
I'm looking forward to a few more accomplishments while I'm hear and seeing what I can do in such a short amount of time.
The idea of sorting through all my stuff and deciding what to keep, what to take and what to toss is actually exciting and I look forward to the day I put a deposit down on my own place. For now, however, I'm saving up bit-by-bit and making plenty of lists.
One day I'll be typing the words "I'm leaving for Virginia today" and it will be a beautiful day.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
For Captain Patrick.
It's been five years since I first heard the words "Patrick is dead."
While they are short and simple, they carry more weight than a 17-year-old girl can carry.
Most of high school is a fat blur of poor decisions, drama and self-discovery, but there are a few moments that stay clear in my mind and the night of December 15th, 2005 is one of those.
The final night of the choir show was over and I was wandering the grounds with my box, searching for my parents and friends. Someone walks up to me and says "Did you hear about Patrick?" as if something "dramatic" had happened. I shrugged it off and replied with a shake of my head, still searching for loved ones. Before this person (whom I don't remember being anyone of consequence) answered, my phone rang. It was Kristina, a friend who graduated the year before and knew Patrick well. She said those three heavy words and unloaded them onto me. I didn't believe her, thought it was some rumor he had probably started, but then it came from the person standing at my side, followed by a text and another phone call. I had to believe it then. He was gone. The rest of that night fades into blackness and the week to follow doesn't ring much of a bell either.
The funeral was held a few days later at Rose Hills Cemetery. When I was younger, we'd drive by it and Dad would say something like "People are dying to go there." It didn't seem so funny that night. My mother drove me and a few friends up there and allowed plenty of space and time for me to grieve. The chapel seemed large and full of people, yet during the daytime it seems so small and cold. So many young faces filled the isles and it took a lot of energy to get through it without bursting into tears. My ex-boyfriend, Patrick's best friend was sitting there, looking so sad and lost that I had to sit next to him and hold his hand. I could no longer hold back my tears when he got up to the alter and said a few words. He mentioned times we were together and looked right at me for a moment, almost apologetically. I tried my best to smile through the tears and be strong for the guy, but it was his words that were making me cry.
This was not my first funeral and of course, not my last, but it seemed to be the hardest at that point. (It's now second to my great grandmother's funeral. That was hard.) Being in a chapel full of teenagers and grieving parents and family didn't seem right, although less than a year before, another friend passed away in a hit and run accident. For some reason, it took longer for it to sink in that Patrick was really gone and that I'd lost him forever. It wasn't until his birthday the next year that it finally hit me.
We gathered at his mother's house, Jules, and remembered him. We made a scrapbook and jewelry with his name on it. I still have the beaded bracelet that says Captain Patrick. Jules brought out a pot full of different colored play-doh balls. She insisted we stop being angry. We were all so very angry: angry at the drunk driver of the car he was in, at the mere fact that he was gone forever and angry at ourselves for not doing more to keep him here.
She held up a blue ball: "This is the color of his eyes. Oh how they got him out of trouble."
Next was a red ball: "This represents the lips that smiled at you so devilishly, yet made you melt every time."
Then yellow: "This is his hair, although it remained short. He was a blonde baby."
She held up three more and stated what they represented, then she walked around with the pot and had us each take a piece and carefully put them together. "This is your version of Patrick. Everything we love about him all rolled into one. Now remember how you felt when you heard he was gone. Take that anger and frustration and use it on that ball of pay-doh."
We all smashed and yelled and grunted until our pretty colored balls were now grey and disgusting.
"That is what your anger does to something beautiful."
We all put the balls back into the pot and she gave us each a turn to kick it or punch it. She wanted us to get our anger out and some did it so well, that the pot dented and cracked. We were a very angry group of teens.
"We are done being angry!" Patrick's mom was on the verge of tears and truly meant what she said. She didn't want to be surrounded by anger, she wanted to feel love. And ever since then, on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, we'd all take turns visiting her and telling her stories about Patrick. Usually him being silly or doing something stupid. But we weren't allowed to be angry.
She's since moved away, but we all remember to send her e-mails with updates on how we're doing. We will never be able to replace Patrick as her child, but we do our best to not leave such an empty space.
I could go on for quite some time talking about Patrick and how I had such a bipolar relationship with him, but I feel better just keeping those moments to myself, while letting his story be told.
There's no way I'll ever be able to forget him and that's a good thing. Because he was amazing.
I miss you, Patrick.
While they are short and simple, they carry more weight than a 17-year-old girl can carry.
Most of high school is a fat blur of poor decisions, drama and self-discovery, but there are a few moments that stay clear in my mind and the night of December 15th, 2005 is one of those.
The final night of the choir show was over and I was wandering the grounds with my box, searching for my parents and friends. Someone walks up to me and says "Did you hear about Patrick?" as if something "dramatic" had happened. I shrugged it off and replied with a shake of my head, still searching for loved ones. Before this person (whom I don't remember being anyone of consequence) answered, my phone rang. It was Kristina, a friend who graduated the year before and knew Patrick well. She said those three heavy words and unloaded them onto me. I didn't believe her, thought it was some rumor he had probably started, but then it came from the person standing at my side, followed by a text and another phone call. I had to believe it then. He was gone. The rest of that night fades into blackness and the week to follow doesn't ring much of a bell either.
The funeral was held a few days later at Rose Hills Cemetery. When I was younger, we'd drive by it and Dad would say something like "People are dying to go there." It didn't seem so funny that night. My mother drove me and a few friends up there and allowed plenty of space and time for me to grieve. The chapel seemed large and full of people, yet during the daytime it seems so small and cold. So many young faces filled the isles and it took a lot of energy to get through it without bursting into tears. My ex-boyfriend, Patrick's best friend was sitting there, looking so sad and lost that I had to sit next to him and hold his hand. I could no longer hold back my tears when he got up to the alter and said a few words. He mentioned times we were together and looked right at me for a moment, almost apologetically. I tried my best to smile through the tears and be strong for the guy, but it was his words that were making me cry.
This was not my first funeral and of course, not my last, but it seemed to be the hardest at that point. (It's now second to my great grandmother's funeral. That was hard.) Being in a chapel full of teenagers and grieving parents and family didn't seem right, although less than a year before, another friend passed away in a hit and run accident. For some reason, it took longer for it to sink in that Patrick was really gone and that I'd lost him forever. It wasn't until his birthday the next year that it finally hit me.
We gathered at his mother's house, Jules, and remembered him. We made a scrapbook and jewelry with his name on it. I still have the beaded bracelet that says Captain Patrick. Jules brought out a pot full of different colored play-doh balls. She insisted we stop being angry. We were all so very angry: angry at the drunk driver of the car he was in, at the mere fact that he was gone forever and angry at ourselves for not doing more to keep him here.
She held up a blue ball: "This is the color of his eyes. Oh how they got him out of trouble."
Next was a red ball: "This represents the lips that smiled at you so devilishly, yet made you melt every time."
Then yellow: "This is his hair, although it remained short. He was a blonde baby."
She held up three more and stated what they represented, then she walked around with the pot and had us each take a piece and carefully put them together. "This is your version of Patrick. Everything we love about him all rolled into one. Now remember how you felt when you heard he was gone. Take that anger and frustration and use it on that ball of pay-doh."
We all smashed and yelled and grunted until our pretty colored balls were now grey and disgusting.
"That is what your anger does to something beautiful."
We all put the balls back into the pot and she gave us each a turn to kick it or punch it. She wanted us to get our anger out and some did it so well, that the pot dented and cracked. We were a very angry group of teens.
"We are done being angry!" Patrick's mom was on the verge of tears and truly meant what she said. She didn't want to be surrounded by anger, she wanted to feel love. And ever since then, on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, we'd all take turns visiting her and telling her stories about Patrick. Usually him being silly or doing something stupid. But we weren't allowed to be angry.
She's since moved away, but we all remember to send her e-mails with updates on how we're doing. We will never be able to replace Patrick as her child, but we do our best to not leave such an empty space.
I could go on for quite some time talking about Patrick and how I had such a bipolar relationship with him, but I feel better just keeping those moments to myself, while letting his story be told.
There's no way I'll ever be able to forget him and that's a good thing. Because he was amazing.
I miss you, Patrick.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
D.I.Y Ethics and Buddy Hacket with the old guys.
Some of my favorite memories of my father are when we simply sit and talk. Include his best friend and my adopted "Uncle" Stanley and a few cocktails and you have yourself a quite a night to remember.
These two have known each other since middle school, were best friends throughout high school and college and if it wasn't for Stanley, I can honestly say I would not exist. It was his persuasive nudge that pulled my father to Cal State Long Beach where he joined a fraternity, met my mother and fell in love. They started and ran a business together for twenty plus years and even look alike with matching beards and bellies. Their friendship is one for the ages.
These Jack Daniels infused nights usually include politics and other topics I have no interest in, yet I sit there, smiling quietly in the corner, waiting for something familiar to come out of their mouths.
"Don't hold dick. Make radio." My dad says while gesturing to something upwards.
Not even close. I continue to smile and sip my drink while they both giggle like the Catholic school boys they still are.
Jokes like that are scattered in with the conversation. Some I know from past conversations, while others are inside jokes I may never understand.
My father later explains that it is an old Buddy Hacket joke from his lounge days.
Every so often the topic changes to something I not only understand, but can take part in. Me!
I am, by far, my uncle's favorite. (So says dad.) Favorite what? I'm not sure. Neice, relative, girl, person? The world may never know. What is for certain is that I most definitely am the favorite. A title I have earned, by the way. From working at the offices of their shared business, moving from office to office, babysitting grandchildren to just being amazing. Some say I could even pull off being my uncle's kid. It'd be an honor, I tell ya!
"Riddle me this, Batman." says my uncle to pose a new topic. Most likely another I have no investment in. Yet there I sit and sip and smile while my two favorite men converse. One day, I will tell my children about these precious moments spent with my father and uncle, just as they talk about their long-since passed fathers.
A re-occuring theme I catch onto is that of Do It Yourself (D.I.Y.) ethics. Proposed means of fixing certain political situations is the idea of giving those less fortunate the opporunity to help themselves. Republicans that we are, we don't do a lot of hand outs, rather hand ups. For example, we talked about daycare and how those on welfare or unemployment should get free daycare for their kids. Instead of putting money into that, why not encourage them to run their own daycares, which will bring income as well as pay a certain amount for each kid present, making it cheaper for others to put their children into daycare. Run your own business, get government funding and deal with everything else locally.
I am a great enthusiast of D.I.Y. ethics, being the music mogul that I am, and I believe that that idea can transcend into other aspects. It was mostly just great to hear how it could work outside of the music industry.
Doing things yourself gives you a feeling of accomplishment no hourly job could ever fulfill. From owning your own business to fixing your own car. It's all about you!
With exchanges of graditude and adoration, my uncle departs once again, leaving my family in this post-Stanley glow. A feeling that no one could replace.
These two have known each other since middle school, were best friends throughout high school and college and if it wasn't for Stanley, I can honestly say I would not exist. It was his persuasive nudge that pulled my father to Cal State Long Beach where he joined a fraternity, met my mother and fell in love. They started and ran a business together for twenty plus years and even look alike with matching beards and bellies. Their friendship is one for the ages.
These Jack Daniels infused nights usually include politics and other topics I have no interest in, yet I sit there, smiling quietly in the corner, waiting for something familiar to come out of their mouths.
"Don't hold dick. Make radio." My dad says while gesturing to something upwards.
Not even close. I continue to smile and sip my drink while they both giggle like the Catholic school boys they still are.
Jokes like that are scattered in with the conversation. Some I know from past conversations, while others are inside jokes I may never understand.
My father later explains that it is an old Buddy Hacket joke from his lounge days.
Every so often the topic changes to something I not only understand, but can take part in. Me!
I am, by far, my uncle's favorite. (So says dad.) Favorite what? I'm not sure. Neice, relative, girl, person? The world may never know. What is for certain is that I most definitely am the favorite. A title I have earned, by the way. From working at the offices of their shared business, moving from office to office, babysitting grandchildren to just being amazing. Some say I could even pull off being my uncle's kid. It'd be an honor, I tell ya!
"Riddle me this, Batman." says my uncle to pose a new topic. Most likely another I have no investment in. Yet there I sit and sip and smile while my two favorite men converse. One day, I will tell my children about these precious moments spent with my father and uncle, just as they talk about their long-since passed fathers.
A re-occuring theme I catch onto is that of Do It Yourself (D.I.Y.) ethics. Proposed means of fixing certain political situations is the idea of giving those less fortunate the opporunity to help themselves. Republicans that we are, we don't do a lot of hand outs, rather hand ups. For example, we talked about daycare and how those on welfare or unemployment should get free daycare for their kids. Instead of putting money into that, why not encourage them to run their own daycares, which will bring income as well as pay a certain amount for each kid present, making it cheaper for others to put their children into daycare. Run your own business, get government funding and deal with everything else locally.
I am a great enthusiast of D.I.Y. ethics, being the music mogul that I am, and I believe that that idea can transcend into other aspects. It was mostly just great to hear how it could work outside of the music industry.
Doing things yourself gives you a feeling of accomplishment no hourly job could ever fulfill. From owning your own business to fixing your own car. It's all about you!
With exchanges of graditude and adoration, my uncle departs once again, leaving my family in this post-Stanley glow. A feeling that no one could replace.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A Birthday Wish List.
My family is quite fond of wish lists.
We know each other well enough to determine if they will actually like a gift we get them, but it's so much more fun to give them something you know they want.
I've been making wish lists since I was a child. And now it's not only expected for every birthday and Christmas, it's kind of a tradition that I like to take part in for myself.
Who doesn't like shopping for themselves?
This year is a little different from my previous 20 years of life, only because of the age and the now legal substances I can ask for. tee-hee. But some things never change. I continue to add Threadless shirts, books and music to the list.
For my 21st Birthday I would like:
Every size bottle of Jack Daniel's. From the mini to the Liter.
Celebratory shot glasses. (One's that say 21st Birthday or what-have-you on them.)
Drinking money! ;)
Threadless Shirts (all in a Guys Large):
I'd rather play records.
Zombies only want me for my brains.
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.
Books:
Start and Run Your Own Record Label
The Business of Music Marketing and Promotion
The Future of Music
Bukowski in Love
Don't Hold Your Breath: The Art of Brian Ewing
Zombie Haikus
Music:
iTunes gift cards are really great for all my digital music needs.
But we all know I'm the vinyl child of the family and have some requests.
Portishead "Third"
The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
Brandston "Trying to Figure Each Other Out"
Two Tongues EP
CInematic Sunrise "Coloring Book"
Probably my favorite record of all time:
Brand New "Deja Entendu"
Huck-A-Puck Stuff:
Locket Necklace with magnetic tops
Hair Clips
Cute Necklace
We know each other well enough to determine if they will actually like a gift we get them, but it's so much more fun to give them something you know they want.
I've been making wish lists since I was a child. And now it's not only expected for every birthday and Christmas, it's kind of a tradition that I like to take part in for myself.
Who doesn't like shopping for themselves?
This year is a little different from my previous 20 years of life, only because of the age and the now legal substances I can ask for. tee-hee. But some things never change. I continue to add Threadless shirts, books and music to the list.
For my 21st Birthday I would like:
Every size bottle of Jack Daniel's. From the mini to the Liter.
Celebratory shot glasses. (One's that say 21st Birthday or what-have-you on them.)
Drinking money! ;)
Threadless Shirts (all in a Guys Large):
I'd rather play records.
Zombies only want me for my brains.
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.
Books:
Start and Run Your Own Record Label
The Business of Music Marketing and Promotion
The Future of Music
Bukowski in Love
Don't Hold Your Breath: The Art of Brian Ewing
Zombie Haikus
Music:
iTunes gift cards are really great for all my digital music needs.
But we all know I'm the vinyl child of the family and have some requests.
Portishead "Third"
The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
Brandston "Trying to Figure Each Other Out"
Two Tongues EP
CInematic Sunrise "Coloring Book"
Probably my favorite record of all time:
Brand New "Deja Entendu"
Huck-A-Puck Stuff:
Locket Necklace with magnetic tops
Hair Clips
Cute Necklace
Thursday, March 12, 2009
New Music Hero: Paul McGuire
I had the chance to catch a new favorite band of mine at Chain Reaction back in December. You, Me and Everyone We Know. It was actually more like I knew about the date 3 months in advance and would not let anything stop me from going.
While I waited for the date to arrive, I checked out the other bands that would be playing that night. If I'm paying $10, I might as well get something out of it. And one of those bands was Karate High School. (Yeah, I like bands with pretty amazing names.)
Their music is a heavier pop/rock sound. It's fast, a little angry, high energy and gets you hyped. Their live show was amazing. I liked the music, but once I got the chance to experience it, it was all over. I was going to follow this band!
During the show, the lead singer, Paul, who we shall get to in a moment, started to tell a story about his dad and the Christmas he did not get the bike he had been asking for. He sounded very sound and everything in me just wanted the hug the guy. Not in a way that we'd cry or something, but just so that he knew someone was listening and cared. And so I pushed my way through the crowd to the front where he was sitting on the stage. I put my arms out to hug him and smiled as sweetly as possible and the guy screamed at me "Don't touch me!" I was taken aback, mostly cause he was loud and I did not expect to get yelled at. But he hugged me and said thank you and even pointed to me in the crowd later in the set.
After they finished their set, which was pretty amazing, he bumped into me and apologized for yelling and that it was just a joke. I explained that I was just trying to make friends and give him a hug cause he sounded like he needed one. I'm a hugger, what can I say? He was super nice and thanked me and my friends for coming out and such. I even got a pretty gangsta picture with him. hehe.
I had been waiting for them to return, but as fate would have it, just as they hit California, their guitarist, Geoff, was diagnosed with Skin Cancer. And of course they had to cancel the rest of the tour so that he can deal with his disease quickly and hopefully easily. You see, when a band member gets cancer or falls greatly ill, it doesn't just affect the band, but it filters down to the fans who feel very useless and scared for someone they care so much about. Of course, all the fans have been sending tons of support his way and hope that he gets better soon.
While leaving my tid-bit of love for Geoff, I stumbled across Paul's solo page. I knew he was the songwriter and obviously a pretty great singer, performer and storyteller, but I did not know that he is my new acoustic dream. He not only had an acoustic version of one of the band's songs, but a cover of some other band's song as well as some solo stuff. It all sounds amazing and I just fell for his voice. Some voices are made to accompany an acoustic guitar.
On top of his amazing talent with music, he has this great sense of humor that makes me think we'd make great friends. And feeling that way towards someone you barely know is a great way to feel comfortable around them the next time you see them. For instance, in an interview he stated this about his mother, who he listed as his major musical influence:
If I ever make a dollar from the music I write, I'm totally treating her to Taco Bell.
So the next time I see him, we can talk about Taco Bell and our mothers. So awesome!
Every blog he posts makes me fall more for this guy. And having role models like him really motivate me to continue with my career in the music industry. I don't want to just talk about it all the time, I want to be apart of it and get paid! But for now, I'll just write about it.
Paul McGuire and Me.
While I waited for the date to arrive, I checked out the other bands that would be playing that night. If I'm paying $10, I might as well get something out of it. And one of those bands was Karate High School. (Yeah, I like bands with pretty amazing names.)
Their music is a heavier pop/rock sound. It's fast, a little angry, high energy and gets you hyped. Their live show was amazing. I liked the music, but once I got the chance to experience it, it was all over. I was going to follow this band!
During the show, the lead singer, Paul, who we shall get to in a moment, started to tell a story about his dad and the Christmas he did not get the bike he had been asking for. He sounded very sound and everything in me just wanted the hug the guy. Not in a way that we'd cry or something, but just so that he knew someone was listening and cared. And so I pushed my way through the crowd to the front where he was sitting on the stage. I put my arms out to hug him and smiled as sweetly as possible and the guy screamed at me "Don't touch me!" I was taken aback, mostly cause he was loud and I did not expect to get yelled at. But he hugged me and said thank you and even pointed to me in the crowd later in the set.
After they finished their set, which was pretty amazing, he bumped into me and apologized for yelling and that it was just a joke. I explained that I was just trying to make friends and give him a hug cause he sounded like he needed one. I'm a hugger, what can I say? He was super nice and thanked me and my friends for coming out and such. I even got a pretty gangsta picture with him. hehe.
I had been waiting for them to return, but as fate would have it, just as they hit California, their guitarist, Geoff, was diagnosed with Skin Cancer. And of course they had to cancel the rest of the tour so that he can deal with his disease quickly and hopefully easily. You see, when a band member gets cancer or falls greatly ill, it doesn't just affect the band, but it filters down to the fans who feel very useless and scared for someone they care so much about. Of course, all the fans have been sending tons of support his way and hope that he gets better soon.
While leaving my tid-bit of love for Geoff, I stumbled across Paul's solo page. I knew he was the songwriter and obviously a pretty great singer, performer and storyteller, but I did not know that he is my new acoustic dream. He not only had an acoustic version of one of the band's songs, but a cover of some other band's song as well as some solo stuff. It all sounds amazing and I just fell for his voice. Some voices are made to accompany an acoustic guitar.
On top of his amazing talent with music, he has this great sense of humor that makes me think we'd make great friends. And feeling that way towards someone you barely know is a great way to feel comfortable around them the next time you see them. For instance, in an interview he stated this about his mother, who he listed as his major musical influence:
If I ever make a dollar from the music I write, I'm totally treating her to Taco Bell.
So the next time I see him, we can talk about Taco Bell and our mothers. So awesome!
Every blog he posts makes me fall more for this guy. And having role models like him really motivate me to continue with my career in the music industry. I don't want to just talk about it all the time, I want to be apart of it and get paid! But for now, I'll just write about it.
Paul McGuire and Me.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The New iPod Shuffle.
Apple just posted their new iPod shuffle on their website today.
What? No event featuring a turtleneck-clad Steve Jobs in front of a power point presentation of their latest gadget?
Just when you thought the iPod could not get any smaller, here it is, just shy of a AA battery.
It has more memory. 4Gs compared to the 2Gs in the previous models.
The click wheel is gone and a steam-lined device attached to the head phones controls the volume, let's you pause and skip songs and gives you the freedom to control your music, without taking the iPod out of whatever nook you've stashed it in.
Those tiny pockets in jeans now have a new best friend.
Some down side is the lack of visuals and playlist control. (Previous shuffles had the same problem.)
However, these new iPod Shuffles come complete with a VoiceOver system.
You simply hold down the play button and a robotic voice will come on and tell you the name of the song as well as the artist.
Continue to hold down that tiny button and it will tell you the playlist you are currently listening to followed by your list of previously selected playlists. When you hear the playlist you want to listen to, simply click the button again.
And voila!
Sounds like a great new toy for my father, who is happy listening to anything.
I once witnessed him listening to Styx and when the song changed over to "Gaston" from Beauty and the Beast, he didn't een flinch. He actually sang along with a few arm gestures here and there for affect.
I'm sure there are plenty of other music lovers of this sort out there in the world who would love this new iPod.
But for those of us a little more serious and in need of greater control to what they listen to, this just shall not suffice.
Being part of the music industry, you need to be able to present your product in a way that is professional.
I've experienced plenty of bands at Warped Tour especially who want you to listen to their music, but have only brought an iPod shuffle and a dinky pair of headphones. They stumble to unravel their headphones and can never seem to find the one song they ant you to listen to.
There are the ones who have older versions of the regular iPod and they can not only find the song they want to share with you in an instant, they can also play you videos of them live and how photos of their album or of the band when they are cleaner and less musky. it makes the world of difference to a fan and potential purchaser.
Apart from the business aspect of it, there is the daily usage. I have playlists for different moods, situations, events and even just specific artists that I'm loving at the time. So in a moment I can change my music just as my mood or situation changes.
Being able to flip through pictures and videos is also a great upside to the regular iPod. You never know when you need to show off a picture of your latest rock star run-in.
It's all just a matter a preference. And that's why iPods are on top of the music playing devices. They give you options. Not just in size, shape or color. But in how you experience your music. How do you top that?
What? No event featuring a turtleneck-clad Steve Jobs in front of a power point presentation of their latest gadget?
Just when you thought the iPod could not get any smaller, here it is, just shy of a AA battery.
It has more memory. 4Gs compared to the 2Gs in the previous models.
The click wheel is gone and a steam-lined device attached to the head phones controls the volume, let's you pause and skip songs and gives you the freedom to control your music, without taking the iPod out of whatever nook you've stashed it in.
Those tiny pockets in jeans now have a new best friend.
Some down side is the lack of visuals and playlist control. (Previous shuffles had the same problem.)
However, these new iPod Shuffles come complete with a VoiceOver system.
You simply hold down the play button and a robotic voice will come on and tell you the name of the song as well as the artist.
Continue to hold down that tiny button and it will tell you the playlist you are currently listening to followed by your list of previously selected playlists. When you hear the playlist you want to listen to, simply click the button again.
And voila!
Sounds like a great new toy for my father, who is happy listening to anything.
I once witnessed him listening to Styx and when the song changed over to "Gaston" from Beauty and the Beast, he didn't een flinch. He actually sang along with a few arm gestures here and there for affect.
I'm sure there are plenty of other music lovers of this sort out there in the world who would love this new iPod.
But for those of us a little more serious and in need of greater control to what they listen to, this just shall not suffice.
Being part of the music industry, you need to be able to present your product in a way that is professional.
I've experienced plenty of bands at Warped Tour especially who want you to listen to their music, but have only brought an iPod shuffle and a dinky pair of headphones. They stumble to unravel their headphones and can never seem to find the one song they ant you to listen to.
There are the ones who have older versions of the regular iPod and they can not only find the song they want to share with you in an instant, they can also play you videos of them live and how photos of their album or of the band when they are cleaner and less musky. it makes the world of difference to a fan and potential purchaser.
Apart from the business aspect of it, there is the daily usage. I have playlists for different moods, situations, events and even just specific artists that I'm loving at the time. So in a moment I can change my music just as my mood or situation changes.
Being able to flip through pictures and videos is also a great upside to the regular iPod. You never know when you need to show off a picture of your latest rock star run-in.
It's all just a matter a preference. And that's why iPods are on top of the music playing devices. They give you options. Not just in size, shape or color. But in how you experience your music. How do you top that?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I Know A Thing Or Two About A Thing Or Two.
It has been brought to my attention lately, that I actually know what I'm talking about (for the most part) when having discussions with band members and other such employees of the music industry. I tend to finish their sentences and receive surprised looks when it was exactly what they were planning on saying. I don't do this for attention or admiration, I do this because I just know.
The last 5 years have been a constant learning opportunity. As if I enrolled myself in Music College and certain events I've attended have been my classes.
Promotion 206. Booking 103. Band Member Recycling 112. Fan-Girl 402.
The events have given me the learning material I need to understand how the industry works and the people I have met give me the insight on specific details of the business as well as, the showmanship side of music. The opportunity to learn something new from every person I meet or show I see or conversation I have, is taken full advantage of. If this is going to be the industry I want to be apart of then I need to pay attention now and be prepared for the future.
Of course, there is still lots to learn and always will be. Since this industry is in the midst of a huge overhaul, where vinyl sales are up, record sales are down and digital music is taking over. Soon CDs will be as obsolete as 8-tracks. But until then, I want to know everything I can about how CDs go from blank pieces of plastic to pieces of art.
On top of the in-person learning experience, I've been reading a lot about different aspects of the music industry. I'm currently reading "Everything You Need To Know About The Music Business (9th Edition)" by Donald Passman. There are notes in the margin and plenty of underlining of topics I'd like to know more about and such. I've loved it thus far, even though it is geared more toward an entertainer looking to build a career. But it has given me plenty of information that I know will come in handy.
Some other reading materials I plan on adding to my pile are:
The Future of Music: Manifesto for the Digital Music Revolution
Start and Run Your Own Record Label
And I'm sure I'll find more to read. But I'm a slow reader and I tend to forget to read. (It happens.)
What the point of all this was that I don't want to be a paper pusher or a retail sales person, because I don't know anything about that. What I do know is music and how the scene has been evolving and what to do with band members and bookers and what venues are best for certain bands. And I would like to use this knowledge. I would like to work in the music industry, somehow. Some jobs I've pondered have been:
PR Assistant at a Record Label.
Booking Agent Assistant
A&R Scout
Promoter
Music Booker at a Venue
Band Manager
Contributing Writer for music magazines/websites
The last 5 years have been a constant learning opportunity. As if I enrolled myself in Music College and certain events I've attended have been my classes.
Promotion 206. Booking 103. Band Member Recycling 112. Fan-Girl 402.
The events have given me the learning material I need to understand how the industry works and the people I have met give me the insight on specific details of the business as well as, the showmanship side of music. The opportunity to learn something new from every person I meet or show I see or conversation I have, is taken full advantage of. If this is going to be the industry I want to be apart of then I need to pay attention now and be prepared for the future.
Of course, there is still lots to learn and always will be. Since this industry is in the midst of a huge overhaul, where vinyl sales are up, record sales are down and digital music is taking over. Soon CDs will be as obsolete as 8-tracks. But until then, I want to know everything I can about how CDs go from blank pieces of plastic to pieces of art.
On top of the in-person learning experience, I've been reading a lot about different aspects of the music industry. I'm currently reading "Everything You Need To Know About The Music Business (9th Edition)" by Donald Passman. There are notes in the margin and plenty of underlining of topics I'd like to know more about and such. I've loved it thus far, even though it is geared more toward an entertainer looking to build a career. But it has given me plenty of information that I know will come in handy.
Some other reading materials I plan on adding to my pile are:
The Future of Music: Manifesto for the Digital Music Revolution
Start and Run Your Own Record Label
And I'm sure I'll find more to read. But I'm a slow reader and I tend to forget to read. (It happens.)
What the point of all this was that I don't want to be a paper pusher or a retail sales person, because I don't know anything about that. What I do know is music and how the scene has been evolving and what to do with band members and bookers and what venues are best for certain bands. And I would like to use this knowledge. I would like to work in the music industry, somehow. Some jobs I've pondered have been:
PR Assistant at a Record Label.
Booking Agent Assistant
A&R Scout
Promoter
Music Booker at a Venue
Band Manager
Contributing Writer for music magazines/websites
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