Nuances Can be Nuisances

I am going through a very strange period in my life indeed. I'm not sure if it is the insomnia, the sickness, or self-reflection catching up with me.

I could quite possibly have short-circuited finally, and maybe I have become one with the 40 oz. of crazy that I should have dealt with a long time ago.

But I don't really deal with things. Not in the manner that I guess they should technically be dealt with. I like laughing and having fun and being witty and making sardonic comments so that I don't have to feel that sense of doom that is always hanging over my head like a big fat gray raincloud.

My actions have always been impetuous, ever since I was a child. Yet I have always been prideful of the fact that I don't over-analyze things and I am quick to let any feelings of panic by way of my actions go with but a brush of the hand.

I cleaned out my garage on Sunday. It was a hellhole. It was also fucking unreasonably cold out for May weather. With my iPod hooked to me on full blast and a hoodie on, I got my hands dirty as I pored through the past that I have been dragging around with me since the age of 15. Soon the hoodie came off, as I was sweating, and soon I was drowning in a sea of memories.

I used to have quite a prowess for documenting every last second of my life. I have over 10 journals as proof. I found them. I started on the ones where I was 14 and falling in love, but got bored of what an idiot I was and moved over to the later years.

As I started reading, I realized there were far to many nuances from my past of over 10 years ago that were mirroring my current state. It's slightly disturbing. How can one person continue to bitch about something yet think they are making changes only to look back and realize that they are still standing in that same pile of quicksand that they had been previously stuck in? How did I manage to trick myself into thinking that I had gotten out? I don't know.

It's odd. I don't like when people throw quotes in my face. Because they are taking advantage of a profound thing that another person said and trying to switch it up so that the quote applies to the situation at hand. I think that's cocky. That's reading something into words that a person said and then assuming that they meant something by it according to the current state of affairs that you are trying to apply them to. Feels dirty.

But what if you quote yourself?

I found this entry tonight dated 03/27/01: GOD I AM OLD. No that was not the entry.

It was:

It's moments like these that make me step back and look at my life as a whole and appreciate it through and through. I wish I could remember those moments with a distinct sense of clarity while taking into account that I just need to appreciate them for what they are. They are just moments. I don't need to cling to them. I don't need to crave them and lust for them. I need to remember to enjoy the ride and stop flashing back on them wishing that I were there right now rather than at work, sitting in front of the t.v., napping on the couch.

Yup. I officially realized tonight that I am an over-analyzer. More so in the sense of nostalgia though.

And to top it off. I haven't changed. I suppose that should be slightly depressing, but in all honesty, it's more embarrassing than anything.

Anyway, 30 Songs in 30 Days.


* Day 07 – A song that reminds you of a certain event----Huey Lewis

My friend summed it up best when she said that when she was little she had herself convinced that Huey Lewis was her cool uncle. It's true. He's been there for me through the bad haircuts, the happy moments, the breakups, hanging out at breakfast, making up dance moves to his album Sports, reappearing for American Psycho, and not too long ago on a warm spring day, I didn't even care if this was the dorkiest thing ever, I BLASTED Sports while I drove around with my windows down. I will always have a special place in my heart for Uncle Huey.

He reminds me of damn near every event in my life. He's my little musical family member. My cool uncle who gave me noogies and a hug.

The Heart of Plimsouls Still Beatin'

No shit. I went to bed last night at 3:30 a.m., and as I lay there drifting off, I had a very vivid dream that I got knuckle tattoos that said: |H|U|E|Y| |L|E|W|I|S| Needless to say, I was a very sad panda (or human being I guess) when I awoke to look at my knuckles only to see that they were still untouched by holy words. We will talk more about my affinity for Huey one day. That may take awhile though.

Lately since I've been on my death bed, only get to sit in front of the computer sick, I have had time to rediscover music in ways that I haven't since the olden days of horse drawn buggies and Napster.

I tapped into a genre well that I have never quite played around in before, and that would be Mod/Pop/Punk mainly from the 70s and early 80s, and music started to spray all over me. It's been an overwhelming yet delightful experience, regardless, I don't even know how to start jumping for joy. For when I find one HOLY SHIT THIS IS AMAZING BAND! all of a sudden, another one crops up. It's like I have lice, but the doctor assured me that it's just a lot of bands thank God.

Say what?? There is more out there than just The Ramones and The Sex Pistols? Don't get me wrong, those bands are great too and they were a definite staple of the punk scene, but telling people you like them is like telling people that Jay-Z is your favorite when you claim that rap music is your bag.

Generally most things that I have been drawn to have been out of the UK, Scotland, Australia, etc. But I recently came upon the Plimsouls, and Lord knows, I have listened to this song 3,000 times. I am pretty sure my house's ears are bleeding right now. But it's so solid. It's so tight. It's so rockin', It's just a little over two minutes. You know those songs. They leave you longing for more. You rinse, lather, and repeat. Over and over. It's called The Zero Hour.

The Plimsouls were formed by Peter Case who had been in the Nerves prior, another band I have been drooling all over. The Nerves by the way were the OG writers of the now infamous Blondie song, "Hanging On The Telephone." Again, more on that later. These guys ar also, bless their I love their little souls, from L.A.!

Enough! Put some socks on and prepare to have them rocked off and listen to this bitch already! I have three times thus this morning.