Sorting through my Stuff

The days are ticking by and I am realizing that I don't have too much time until I've got to be down south. And I have a lot of stuff. Too much, most likely. Which, of course, makes me feel guilty and frivolous. Meanwhile, Mom's on the phone telling me not to get rid of anything until I run it past her (and my Dad's behind her grumbling that they need less stuff, not more and he better not be seeing any of my stuff coming their way.)

One of the issues I have is that I'm moving in stages. I'm first going down for a week and a half and staying in a hotel. Then to an apartment, and, eventually, to permanent digs. As I sort through things, I have to decide if it's worth keeping (which is the easy part). Then, I have to determine when I will need it. Will I need it in the future apartment? Can I put it away for an unknown amount of time? And if I can put it away that long, maybe I should get rid of it. 

Unfortunately, making these kind of choices has somewhat paralyzed me during this process. I head towards a closet, full of energy, ready to sort, dragging everything out. And then I start. Am I going to need this in the next few weeks? Next few months? Ever again? Sure, I haven't worn it in 6 months, but I kind of forgot about it. It's kind of cute. And I've lost a little weight since I last wore it... Of course, logic like that is why I have so much crap in the first place.

It's not just clothes. I've got plenty of other, well, just stuff. Notebooks, little stuffed animals, toys the kids may or may not ever be interested in playing with, keychains, computer stuff, resume paper (how quaint!), instruction books to things I may or may not still have around. Most of it is at least potentially useful, but I think it is the volume that's the issue. Having a notebook or two around is a good idea, but I probably have 20, in various sizes. Will I ever need 20 notebooks? How did this happen? (In all fairness, some of them were free, so that's a bit of an excuse.) And then there's the guilt of deciding to get rid of something that I bought years ago but never used. "But, it's brand new!" screams the voice in my head. So wasteful, but how many times can I move an unused item?

And my books. Good Lord, the volume of books I have around the house. It occurs to me that books are my primary clutter. I've got them scattered around the various rooms in the house, piles in the guest rooms, next to my bed, somewhat organized in the study, bags of them in the basement. It's a problem. I've done a pretty good job of keeping the textbooks down to a minimum (well, they're really heavy), but the other books... How do I get rid of my guide to France from 1994? I can't just get rid of books. It's so wrong. I need to know that they may be used by someone else.

Time to make some choices.  I'll still move too much, but I'll try to cut back.

Oh, it's somewhere...

Today I started to pack up the study and it occurs to me that I don't really respect my education. Don't get me wrong, I am proud of getting a PhD and it was probably the single hardest thing I've done. But the props of my education, I don't respect those.

My diploma from grad school is in a dusty envelope on top of a bookcase. I had lost track of it for about 5 years. After I found it, my mom asked to see it, and noticed that my name was misspelled. And I've been too lazy to bother to get a new one. The copies of my manuscripts are scattered in different drawers, some water-damaged, some just copies with missing pages. My college diploma is upstairs somewhere (I think).

I've always insisted that I went to grad school for me, that it was something I needed to do. I guess it must be true.

Changing my life

I have taken a new job in a new area of the country. I'm excited, scared, and a bit in a state of denial. My life is going to change, a lot. Of course, I am assuming it's for the better, that it will all be interesting and wonderful. Okay, that's what I hope, but I know there will be days I'll be thinking, "What the hell did I do?"

(When I was typing that last sentence, I was going to put "when I get home at night..." and I thought "home? For the next few months, what will be home? Back in PA? The apartment I'm renting?" And I may have freaked out a bit. Again.)

I've only done two major moves in my life: one when I was six and my move to Philadelphia 20 years ago. Of course, the move when I was six was just part of the whole growing-up gig, but the move to Philadelphia, well, that was a big one. My parents had moved a few months before. I finished the school year (I was teaching high school), packed up the apartment, and decided to give it a go out here. The trip out was a nightmare. My Civic was completely packed (my roommate cleared out a tunnel through my crap so that I would have some use of my rear-view mirror), it was 90+ degrees, I had no air conditioning. I cried pretty much the whole way. 

It's funny, but thinking back on it, I really didn't want to leave Toledo (I know, that simply can't be right.) But it was the only life I knew. All my friends, most of my relatives, all of my history, it was all in Toledo. And, yet, I knew leaving was absolutely the right thing to do. I can't say that there weren't times that I wanted to go back, but I had to leave. I had to seek the new life. And it was the single best thing I did. 

I sometimes wonder what I would have been if I would have stayed in Toledo. All I know is the best things about my life now are because I have left. There's a group of us from my old high school who left Toledo (sort of a weird fraternity), and we all talk about how the best decision of our life was getting the hell out. And when we go back, we look around and think, "There but the grace of God..."

So, my life is changing. I'm freaking out. But I'm choosing to believe that this will be the best thing.

Did it have to be Toledo?

Let's talk about poor Joe the Plumber. Let's say that Joe's business makes $250,000. Apparently there is no difference between what his business makes and what he makes. So, he makes $250,000/year. Let's do some math:

That's $20,833/month. This is the 33% tax bracket, which brings it down to $13,888. The Ohio tax rate at that income is 7.5% which means he pays out another $1563.

Take a minute and go to realtor.com and see what's available in Holland, Ohio. Let's say he lives in one of the more expensive houses (I've pick the one on 636 Anastasia Court for $274,900). That's another $1500/month.

According to McCain, his health insurance will be about $485/month for the whole family. Yep, that's what he said last night and we should believe him. So take that out.

So, what does that leave for poor Joe the Plumber? Only $10,340/month for all other expenses. In Toledo. Sorry, dude, that's a lot of money. Congratulations, you get to pay more taxes. 

Joe the Plumber. Joe Six-pack. What about the chicks, man?

6-4-3

I used to love baseball. Love it. I can't remember not having baseball as part of my life. Listening to the Tigers at my grandparents, Papa bitching about the Yankees, Nana's crazy crush on Mark Fidrych. And, sure, I was a Tigers fan, but I was also a fan of The Big Red Machine. Because The Big Red Machine was managed by Sparky Anderson. Yes, I was the dorky kid that was into the manager of the team. Oh George, never step on those foul lines! Needless to say, the day that Sparky Anderson went on to manage the Tigers -- bliss!

I just loved watching every little bit of the game. Following the count. Listening to the announcers spout out the crazy statistics ("The Phils are 1 and 3 when the count is full after 2 outs in the 8th inning...") The dorky sayings  ("a little chin music!") I'd watch every game during the season. It was the background of my summers.

The Roar of '84! The best year ever. Alan Trammel! Lou Whitaker! Chet Lemon! I love them all. Bless you, boys! It was so much fun to follow such gloriousness. When we moved to Philadelphia, following the Phils was a way to pass the time. We'd all watch the games and wonder if moving was the right thing to do. 

Although I enjoyed going to games, it wasn't a big part of my fan-dom. I was actually just as happy to watch them on television or listen on the radio. When I was in grad school, listening on the radio was a way to calm down. The rhythm of the game, the cadence of the announcers, it was all very zen to me. 

So, what changed? Well, the strike didn't help. I know, you've probably forgotten all about the strike, but it broke my baseball rhythm. Once I stopped watching and got used to baseball not being there, it was easy to stay away. Baseball is about sticking it out for the long run. It's a game almost every day. It's nine innings, full counts, hundreds of pitches, no clock. You got to stick it out. I just haven't been able to pick it back up.

But yay for the Phils for now!

Pandora, Revisited

Despite its shortcomings, I have not completely given up on Pandora. Also, my ipod battery has died a few times while I was at work, and I have to listen to something. Anyway, I have some additional thoughts on it.

First off, there's an update to the whole system. There's a bar that shows you how much of the song has played (actually, that may have been there all along, but I've just discovered it. Okay, I'm just not that bright.) This I like. Instead of the "skip" function, it's a "don't play this song for a month" function. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Sometimes you just want to skip it, not shelf it. So, a yay and a meh.

Now, I supposedly have only one station (cleverly called "Angie Radio." So creative.) It's hooked to my e-mail, right? But when I listen to Pandora at work, it's definitely, well, harder than when I listen at home. So, is it computer-linked? Time-linked? (It's a workday; she needs X. She's at home; bring on George Harrison.) I thought it was supposed to be my only account, but it definitely behaves differently. Ah, mystery.

I wish there was a master playlist. I can't remember which artists I suggested, songs I gave a "thumbs up" or "down", etc. I kind of want to add some artists to the list, but I can't remember who I've already added. Or maybe add more music by an artist I gave a "thumbs up" to earlier.  I guess I feel that if I had a master list, I could play with it a bit. 

So I haven't given up on it yet, but I'm still not happy with it. But you can't beat the price.

Floating

Not that I buy into the whole Oprah thing, but she often talks about "living in the moment." Yeah, sure, great theory, but I doubt that anyone sane could actually do that. Do you want to be "in the moment" of the last traffic jam you were in? No. Just zone out and listen to music, my friend. 

But there are times you should be there. When you should be feeling what is going on around you, what is happening to you. And I realize that at many of those times, I am just floating by. A few months ago, I was with my family at the Franklin Institute, in front of a perpetual motion machine, and I was numb. My family can make me nuts, but I also want to see them. I love me a science museum, and I really love those perpetual motion machines like the nerd I am, but I was feeling nothing. I was watching the balls go through the machine, and it was washing over me. And when I realized what was happening (or not happening), I nearly started crying. 

Thinking about it, I realized that I have been allowing this lack of feeling into my life more and more, this floating through life. And I have been calling this realization my mid-life crisis, for lack of a better name. (I suppose "mid-life crisis" is more acceptable than "dead inside.") The past few months have been an attempt to stop floating through life, changing some things up. So far, it's been working. Scary, but working. I think.

Although there is something somewhat childish about this whole thing. Shouldn't I just be happy? What is wrong with what I have? Do I have to change things in order to feel things? And yet, staying the same wasn't working. 

It's still a work in progress, but I suppose it always is. Just keep moving along. This time, with feeling.

Aiming for Seven

What makes for a happy life? Let's say there's a rating system: one to ten, ten being as happy as you can imagine. Okay, no one is going to be at that ten all the time, that's just crazy. And we'll say that five is just content, so aiming for seven, that seems like a good goal. Thinking about it, I'd say that's what I'm going for. Yeah, that's about right. And assessing the situation, I'd say that I've been hanging out there.

What has occurred to me recently is that there's more to it than just aiming for seven. Yes, seven is the average I would want, but there's two ways to hit that. One way is to hang out at seven pretty much full time: maybe hit eight on a good day, go down to four if something bugs you. But there's the second option of going for ten, and sometimes hitting two. Both ways, you can get that overall seven.

So, which way do I want to hit seven? Looking back on the past few years, I've definitely chosen that first option. Steady, but not too many highs or lows. It's been good, but lately I wonder if it's been good for me. Perhaps I should embrace a life of the second option. But it's so risky. What if I get stuck at two? What if I never see that ten? Can I even change to do this? Have I been hanging out at seven for too long?

An aside: I've been listening to "Is this Desire?" which is rapidly becoming a favorite. 

No regrets (maybe)

I've been thinking about regrets. I know there are people out there who make choices and are confident that it was the right way to go. Always. I don't know the philosophy behind this: are these folks just that happy with every decision? Do they just simply not think about it? Do they convince themselves that it was the right choice ("The powder blue tux with the blue velvet bow tie was absolutely the right choice for our wedding. In 1998.") I am not one of those people.

I reanalyze my choices. A lot. Which is, on one hand, a really stupid thing to waste time on. The decision has been made, can't go back in time, etc. Of course, I am crazy. Sure, I can wrap it in "next time I am faced with a choice like this..." but, honestly, I overanalyze things. I do it before, I do it after. Oh, I know it's not healthy.

The funny thing is that, even with the unhealthy obsessing, overall, I don't have too many regrets. Maybe my obsessing is an attempt to convince myself that it was the right choice. But I'm pretty happy with how the story has turned out so far. Now, onto the next set of choices.

I do regret the perm I got my sophomore year in high school. How did I get any dates?

Chumpie's

Every night when we walk, we pass Chumpie's. You might call Chumpie's a convenience store, but it's not really that convenient. Unlike a 7-11 or a Wawa (oh, how I love you, Wawa!), Chumpie's has limited hours and is closed on holidays. Which is actually fine because they don't really carry that much. No matter, we rarely actually enter Chumpie's.

Mr. HP is fascinated with the Chumpie's bike. For whatever reason, the braintrust at Chumpie's has put this huge sign advertising ice cream on the back of one of those adult tricycles. Not that anyone actually rides the bike anywhere. They just bring it to the road everyday, and back to the store at night. Mr. HP kind of wants to steal the bike. He always notes if it is locked up or not. I point out that if he started peddling off, it's not like (a) he would be hard to spot or (b) he could get away very quickly. No matter, he still kind of wants to snatch that bike. I keep imagining the kid behind the counter spotting him jumping on the bike, pedaling away. The kid sighs, shakes his head, mutters, "not again," grabs his car keys, and chases after Mr. HP. "Dude, you gotta bring the bike back."

A Surprising Old-People's Concert

Last week we saw Liz Phair and it turned out that it was an old-people's concert! I know! Am I sure it was an old-people's concert? Well, I was home before 11, even with traffic issues. 

Liz Phair is touring in honor of the 15th anniversary of "Exile in Guyville" which was just too tempting to turn down. She was playing the TLA, which I like because it's a small venue. I dragged Mr. HP along, assuring him that although there would be a bunch of angry chicks, it would be a bunch of angry chicks who like sex. Turns out a lot of really dorky guys like Liz Phair as well.

We were sure that a "special guest" would be wasting an hour or so of our time, but at 8:20 or so, Liz and her band took the stage and launched into "6'1"". Whoo-hoo! It was kind of weird, knowing exactly what she would play in and the order she would play it. She stayed fairly true to the album which I am mixed about. On one hand, it's always cool to hear new versions of the songs you've heard a hundred times, on the other hand, I don't want her "messing up" my favorites. 

One of the funny things about the concert was the fact that the album is 15 years old. Most of us in the audience bought the album back then, when we were, well, young, angry chicks. And Liz isn't that different from us. We've all read our old diaries and laughed and cringed at what was in them. I'm not sure how I'd feel about singing that diary on stage. 

A bit about "Flower": obviously she can't sing both parts, so during this tour, she pulls someone on stage to sing the back-up vocals. Earlier in the show, a couple of girls in the back had "whoo-hoo'd" that they would do it, but when it was time, they were not to be found. This young-ish (possibly drunk) guy in the front was like, "I'll do it! I'll do it!" Liz was looking at him, like, no way, dude. He starts begging, no one else volunteers, she's, like, oh, what the hell. Everyone else in the audience is thinking: disaster. And he was fantastic! Honestly, better than I ever thought. And you could tell the Liz was digging it, too. 

One last thing: I miss ticket stubs.

Bargain Hunt!

Let's discuss my love for "Bargain Hunt"! You've never seen it? Oh, you are missing out. It's a simple show: two teams of two go to an antiques fair and, assisted by an "expert", spend 200 pounds (oh, yes, it's very British) and then resell these items at an auction. The team that makes the most at auction wins the profit! Yes, the entire amount! It's crazy!

Now, if you have BBC America and catch this fabulous show, your first thought will be: "Oh, this is a show from the '70s," but you would be wrong. I would like to remind you that this is a British show. But how can you not think it's the '70s when you see the host, the wonderful David Dickinson. Yes, those are rainbow reading glasses. That feathered hair! Those suits! I am cooing with delight! 

My love for David is deep and true, but I also have a soft spot in my heart for some of the experts. The experts vary from show to show, so there is the anticipation of who will be on the show. Will I be stuck with one of the women (bleh, they're all horrible) or will we have one of my favorites? Philip Serrill is just cuddly, but David Barby is especially wonderful. Sometimes, after you have gotten over the disappointment that David Barby is not one of the experts, he will be the auctioneer! Joy!

The teams are actually the big throw-away of the show. They serve a couple of basic functions for me: the women provide someone for David to openly flirt with (oh, they love it!) and the men are always porcelain experts (not gay -- British.) Sometimes they show the expert obvious clunker items, which is always a bit amusing, especially when they've already bought the item. Of course, the expert is too polite to do anything but say, "Oh, dear."

But David makes the show sing. He offers his opinion on all of the purchases ("a bit dear..." "cheap as chips!") and, sometimes, other items up for auction. He hugs the ladies when items don't do well and will do the math for you ("You bought that vase for 40 pounds, it sold for 15, for a loss of [pause for thinking] 25 pounds.") He gives the winning team their cash prize (if there is one) and questions them about what they will do with their huge amount of cash (usually go to the pub. Of course.)

Oh, Bargain Hunt, never change!

A Day at the Beach with President Garfield

Yesterday was one of those days I should have more often. Visiting a friend, exercise, walking on the boardwalk, historic sites. Of course, today I'm sunburnt, sore, and bitching about bits of bike seat still stuck in my butt. 

Bru invited me out to Long Branch for a day of bike riding, crazy dogs, and Jersey shore adventure, and I took her up on it. Before I went down, Mr. Higgy-Piggie ask me when was the last time I rode a bike. Had it been that long? He pointed out that he never saw me ride a bike and he's known me for about 14 years. And it's not like I was this bike-riding fool before I met him. Luckily, riding a bike is, well, like riding a bike. Not saying that I didn't almost run Bru down a couple of times.

After living around in the Philadelphia area for over 20 years, it still amazes me how quickly you can be at the ocean. The ocean! With a boardwalk and everything! Bru keeps explaining to me that this is why she lives in Long Branch, as if I need convincing. So very nice. And it was really beautiful yesterday. Almost too nice, which is why we both have sunburns.

We did a lot of bike riding. Okay, it was a lot for me, being the out-of-shape wimp I am. Poor Bru, had to listen to my whining. But we saw it all: the ocean; pretty, rich-people houses; Garfield statue; the Church of the Presidents; Asbury Park (for rock 'n roll cred). 

It was just nice to hang out in a beautiful, interesting place. Although I'm bitching about it today, it's kind of great to be sore from so much exercise. 

A good day is going bike riding with a friend. A good day is seeing the ocean. A good day is dorking out by a Garfield statue. A really good day is free dessert. A great day is having all of that in one day!

And, despite what she says, Bru's dogs aren't that crazy.

More about the Olympics

About 15 or so years back, "Sports Illustrated" did one of those super-huge stories on what it takes to be a world class athlete. There was a lot about the drug abuse, but they also discussed the abuse on the bodies, the sacrifices (moving to be by world-class coaches, that sort of thing), the limits of the career even if you get to a certain level (short careers, little recognition for a lot of the sports, etc.), and how this was across most sports. And as I read this, it occurred to me that you would have to be bat-shit crazy to be a world class athlete. 

As someone who loves to watch sports, this article was unfortunate, as it has colored my view every since. It is especially true when I watch the Olympics, as, for a lot of these sports, this is the big spotlight. Think about it: those divers work just as hard (harder?) than the baseball players we heard about all the time. But the divers get that once-every-four-years shot (and what about the folks who don't even make the team!) Even if they medal -- has anyone really thought about Laura Wilkinson in an off-year? Yeah, love of the sport, blah, blah, fine, I'll accept that. But that doesn't mean it can't bother me a little.

For me, this Olympics has had a lot of the things that are wrong with sports, which is sort of the opposite of what it's supposed to be about. The craziness over age, dropped batons, stepping out of bounds, it's been about the details, not about the sports. I'm watching because I feel I should, not because I want to. 

There's been some cool things: Dara Torres, the water polo team, Usain Bolt, but not enough. Maybe it's the coverage -- not enough live events, not enough of the less common events, Bob Costas (he just seems grumpy and tired and bored), but something is missing. I miss the Olympics of my youth. Or, more likely, I miss watching the Olympics without knowing all the nonsense that goes on behind the scenes.

But, seriously, who is watching all the volleyball?

Thoughts on The Olympics

Ever since I was a kid I've been obsessed with The Olympics. Just insane over the whole thing. Rushing out to buy the "Sport Illustrated" preview issues so I knew who to keep my eye on, that kind of thing. But it's just not doing it for me anymore. I'm not sure why, but I've got a number of theories. Anyway, here's a few thoughts on what's happened so far:

Age things: First off, can there be a real conclusion about the ages of the girls on the Chinese gymnastics team. Aren't there some pictures? Look, she's celebrating her 8th birthday and it's the new millennium! (He's birthday is January 1st, according to the official record.) Do you remember that Romanian gymnast who got her gold medal taken away because she took some cold medicine? Hey officials, this is a bigger deal. There seems to be some convincing evidence that some of these girls are 14, and none that they are 16, besides those passports.

Speaking of age, how 'bout that old bag Dara Torres? I'm surprised she can even make it to the pool to practice!

Ugly American: Am I the only one who thinks that the announcers are trying too hard to make China seem just wonderful? I'm not saying it should be a bash-fest, but aren't there some issues here? When they interviewed the female diver (Jingjing?), she said how much she hated it and how she was afraid to dive when she first started. Could we point out that this might be a bad thing? When these little kids are taken away from their families so that they can learn tumbling, I'm not thinking, "Oh, how cute!" When racers bike past Tiananmen Square, shouldn't we all be reminded of more than its "beauty"? 

I am over beach volleyball. Especially during primetime.

Usian Bolt may be Superman. He ran that final like it was a qualifying race and still kicked everyone's ass.

Yeah, I watch the marathon. I actually look forward to watching it, so stop interrupting me, Bob Costas.

Why does my HD Olympic station show so much boxing? 

More handball, please. It's what soccer would be if soccer were awesome. 

iTunes store

Since I am old and don't listen to the radio much, I need new ways to discover new music. This is one of the reasons I started to play with Pandora, but that has been a disappointment, as I have already mentioned. Before I was playing with Pandora, I had tiny, tiny hopes for assistance from places like amazon and the iTunes store. Yeah, that didn't work so well.

Oh, iTunes store, do not judge me based on what I buy from you. The first song I bought was "Romeo's Tune" (shout out to Brunella!) and most of my purchases have been, well, impulsive. "The Groove Is in the Heart", oh yeah! The Darkness? Hell, yeah! Buying a handful of Christina Aguilara songs is cheaper than buying the whole greatest hits album, so I grab those (no, I won't tell you which ones.) There are some real embarrassments on the list (even than "What a Girl Wants" -- shut up!), but, at 99 cents a pop, who cares? 

However, this means that the music they recommend for me is just random and a bit scary. I try to modify the suggestions by rating other things and telling the store what I already own, but the crazy remains. Right now it is recommending Jimmy Buffett, "Still the One", and Brandy. Oh my. And no. Just no.

Oh, look! It just recommended "Jesus Christ Superstar"! Maybe there is hope after all...

Thoughts on Pandora

Lately I've been playing with Pandora and I'm trying to decide if I like it. I like the idea of its potential to expand my musical horizons. I like that it's free. I like that you can update your preferences, etc. But I am finding it limited.

I haven't really listened to it very much (probably a total of less than 10 hours) and the number of repeated songs I have had is higher than I would like. "Imagine" has come up a couple of times and, although I like it, there are so many other John Lennon songs out there. "Imagine" illustrates another point: Pandora doesn't seem to dig too deep into the catalog, which doesn't really help you discovery new music. If I check that I like "Imagine", shouldn't Pandora play something a little less common? Play "Jealous Guy", see if I like that as well, and then keep going further. I'm also wishing there was a better rating system. Thumbs up or down is not enough. There are a lot of songs I like okay, which I may throw a "thumbs up" at, but if it's something I really love (or really hate), shouldn't that affect things more? Once again, I like "Imagine" but we've all heard it a million times. I really love "Nobody Loves You when You're Down and Out", but all I can do is give it the same rating as I gave "Imagine."

There seems to be a love for live versions of songs, which, bleh! Sure, once in a while live versions are cool, but there's usually a reason a band has spent months in a studio recording an album. And because of the limits of the rating system, I don't want to hand out a "thumbs down" just because it's live. The other day it played a live version of "Badge". I like Cream, I like the song, didn't like it live. I want to hear more Cream, so I give it a "thumbs up" but now am I going to get more live stuff?

I'm trying to give it more time, but the repeating thing is getting to me. Right now, it's playing "Rebel, Rebel" again. I know that Bowie is a one-hit wonder and all...Grrrrr.

So, a blog and Pandora. Am I the coolest girl in 2003 or what?

Music for Old People

As promised, here's the rundown from The Police concert. Now, people my age want to think that The Police and Elvis Costello are so hip, but, let's be honest, we're all older now, and this was an old-people concert. If you doubt it, let's note that the ticket said that the concert was to start at 7:30, and, at 7:28, the lights were out and Elvis was on stage. We are old and do not have time to waste!

I've already told you a bit about Elvis, and I really did enjoy his set. The mix was a bit off (too bass-y, as these things tend to go). He mostly did the "hits" ("Watching the Detective", "Radio, Radio", etc.), which is fine and appropriate given the audience. I can't help but feel that if we went to one of his concerts where he was the headliner and he wasn't playing to Police fans, he would've dug a bit deeper into the catalog. I loved the arrangement of "Everyday I Write the Book". He did "Alison", which I always find a bit boring, but Sting came out to sing it with him. The way Sting was singing along, like he was a huge fan and he won some awesome contest: "I get to sing on-stage with Elvis Costello!" And, ha! to all you jerks who came late because they only wanted to see The Police.

I still can't get over how much Elvis wants us all to sing along. He did this last time I went to see him (18 years ago! Good God, I am old.) We were all listening politely, because I paid to hear an Elvis Costello concert, not to hear the jerk next to me singing the wrong words to "Accidents Will Happen." But he still yelled at us for not singing. 

Okay, now to the headliners. Let's just say I could watch Stewart Copeland play the drums for 24-hours a day and not get sick of it. And when he stepped away from the kit to play other percussion (for "Wrapped around your Finger", etc.), so very awesome. Now, here's the weird thing I noticed. About mid-way through the set, it occurred to me that no one member was leading them. It was three guys, each playing their part (quite well, I must add), but they were so tight, they didn't need one of them to lead. They each had a part of the stage, and I just don't think they could see each other, but they were totally together. There were a few bits where they had to move closer together, which just proves the point that they probably couldn't see each other. Well, I was impressed.

And we were on the road by 10:30. Old people -- we've got to get our sleep; we have jobs, you know.

Why being a girl sucks

I really know virtually nothing about her, but I do have something to say about Miley Cyrus. Well, not her exactly, but reaction to her. Last week, I'm buying the "TV Guide" with Miley on the cover (for my 9-year-old niece. Really!) As I go through the checkout, the (older generation female) cashier looks at the cover and says, "I don't understand why she's so popular -- I don't think she's that cute." Now, I have no problem with someone questioning her talent, but why does she have to be cute to be popular? And then, that night, my mom said the same thing! Mom! Well, at least I could give my mom a hard time.

Too shy, shy

So, how do you tell people you have a blog? I don't know, it seems a bit vain. "Hey, read my opinion -- it's so very awesome." I'm not sure of the reaction: "um, okay?" I think my generation is a bit more private than these kids today. Of course, I read a few blogs by people I don't even know. (In fact, I don't read anything by people I have actually met. I have to wonder if any of my friends have a secret blog.) (Now I'm imagining the conversation when we all reveal our secret blogs...)