Musical memories

I’m constantly entertained by sensory memories. For me, smells and sounds are strong triggers. Listening to my ipod tonight, here are some stories that came back to me. (I apologize in advance to my husband, who has much better taste in music than I have historically expressed. I can already hear him protesting the fact that I mention the Black Eyed Peas.)

• Glycerin, by Bush: During the summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I spent five weeks at Northern Kentucky University attending the Kentucky Governor’s Scholars Program (GSP). That experience might qualify as transformational; that was the point where ideas of who I was and who I wanted to be really fell into place. I realized that I had peers that saw the world like I did, had similar ambitions, and understood and related to me. This song – and What’s My Age Again by Blink 182 – was on a mix tape that my roommate made for me when we parted at the end of the five weeks.
• One Week, by Barenaked Ladies: Occasionally I will hear this played, and it will immediately transport me back to Rolla, Missouri, during the same summer as GSP. I spent a few weeks there playing research assistant, which really meant I got to hang out for a few weeks with some other precocious 16 year olds, completely unsupervised. Fortunately in the short period in a dead college town, the most trouble we could really get into was unintentionally harassing the Indian man who ran the 24 hour Dunkin Donuts. (This is not on my ipod, but it’s a fun memory.)
• Iris, by Goo Goo Dolls: This was the anthem for every “misunderstood” almost-adult during my senior year of high school. It reminds me of GSP and my best friend at the time, Dave. It also makes me disconcertingly feel 17 again. (This song is also not actually on my ipod…)
• With or Without You, by U2: One time I went to the mall in Lexington to go shopping with a friend’s new girlfriend. This song came on the car radio, and we sang it at the top of our lungs, sitting at a stoplight, en route home. She ended up being one of the few people that I would sing inappropriately loud with, in a horribly fun way and in terribly confined spaces. Unfortunately we had a falling out about ten years after this particular moment.
• Californication, by Red Hot Chili Peppers: My bestie, roommate, and now long-time friend Ashley and I liked this song when we lived in the dorms in college. I also remember listening to it in the car with my friend (and roommate at a different time) Carrie. I’m pretty sure we listened to that album when Carrie, Joe, and I went to King’s Island in Cincinnati on a free day between moving into the dorms and starting classes. Somewhere there is a VHS tape of the three of us flying together on the crazy SkyFlyer bungee ride. We picked up a case of pool noodles on the way home, so that we could have “sword” fights in the lobby at 2 am on weekends (and weeknights, and during finals week, and once in the middle of an Honors class) that semester.
• Happy Phantom, by Tori Amos: I LOVED this song (and the rest of the cd) in college. I would play it in the car on a regular basis, so it reminds me of Lexington and my old neighborhood where I lived during my junior and senior years. I listened to the Little Earthquakes album less over the years because it made me miss playing piano.
• Babylon, by David Gray: This song was popular the summer that I was working and living in Louisville during college. It elicits images of my apartment (brand new! with a pool!), walking and rollerblading through a nearby park, experimenting with cooking for one, sitting on my back porch sketching the trees, killing the daily large wood spider that would explore my kitchen every morning, and listening to the neighbor’s derby party soundtrack (particularly Dude Looks Like a Lady, because that song should OBVIOUSLY be played at 110 decibels at 11:00 at night).
• Piece of My Heart, by Janis Joplin: I used to play a Janis Joplin greatest hits album loudly and incessantly when I was angry at my college boyfriend. During my senior year of college, I must have been angry at him quite often, because that’s the period I travel back to when I hear this song. It reminds me of my Lexington apartment, friends, classes, roommates, and parties from that year.
• Elephunk Album, by Black Eyed Peas: This takes me back to Urbana-Champaign. My closest friend in grad school had (and still has) a weakness for rap and R&B, which you would never guess until you got in her car and looked at the music selection.
• Crazy, by Gnarles Barkley: I drove across the country with Ashley when she moved to California. Before we left, Yusuf shared with us a music video that he had stuck in his head. It was for this song. I remember watching the video on a laptop in the kitchen of the house at Lake Cumberland.
• Black Horse and the Cherry Tree, by KT Tungstall: This song played constantly on the radio during the drive out to California with Ashley and her parents. (And a temperamental cat and two birds.) The memories from that trip are too many to start into here. Entering Phoenix in July when it was 117 degrees does come to mind, though. I still believe that my skin was in danger of melting off.
• Say It Right and Promiscuous Girl, by Nelly Furtado: These two songs remind me of the period towards the end of a particularly unpleasant relationship, when I started blogging and talking to a couple of friends online. We passed the music from this album around to each other, and both songs got radio play. I remember sitting in the den of my first apartment in Chicago, as well as my commute to and from work.
• On the Radio, by Regina Spektor: This brings me back to driving back and forth between home and Milwaukee, on the interstate after dark, many times during the winter of 2007-08. A friend had given me the yellow album with little hearts (Begin to Hope). I think I got to this song on the album about the time I got to Lake Forest, because it conjures an image of the Oasis lit up at night.
• Missed Me, by Dresden Dolls: I first heard this song when Olga’s bellydancing teacher danced to it. I loved the song and the performance. That event occurred during my period of single-ness before I met San, which was a surprisingly good period for me.
• Glamorous, by Fergie: Remember the aforementioned “With or Without You” friend? She and I would sing along to Fergie while driving around Chicago, because the world needs more pairs of extremely white girls rocking out to Fergie while commuting on Lake Shore Drive in a Corolla.
• The Scientist, by Coldplay: This song plays at the end of the movie “Wicker Park,” which San and I watched on our first Valentine’s Day together. This was the night we decided to move in together when my lease expired a few months later.
• Franz Ferdinand: For some reason, this reminds me of visiting Holly in Ireland. I haven’t figured out the relationship yet. Maybe she played it while we were there?
• I Gotta Feeling, by Black Eyed Peas: Unfortunately, this song is extremely catching. It also got way too much radio play, and made up a disproportionate amount of the soundtrack during my commute to work from Oak Park. It brings up images of River Road. It also reminds me of Josh and Kay’s wedding reception, which was a blast. (Josh remembers it, too - he mentioned it when the song was played at my wedding.)
• Metric (the entire lightbulb album – most people know it as “Fantasies”): San and I listened to this album while driving to Michigan for our first wedding anniversary weekend.

Did your nose itch? (Probably not.)

Hosting is a privilege. I can nourish the people I love - family and friends - and share life. We forge our bonds through experience, laughter, and conversation. Sometimes there is sorrow, but that is where we find strength and support each other.

We recently had friends visit Chicago from my hometown. They weren't coming specifically to visit me, but I'm going to selfishly claim that I planted the seed when I saw them last Christmas. I loved showing them around, introducing them to a few things that I love and sharing pieces of my adult life with them. I welcomed them, and I was surprised when I realized that by showing them where I live, I felt even more at home. I understood a little deeper what my cousin felt when she thanked us for visiting them recently - in Japan.

I can count on my two hands (sadly, it barely requires the second) the number of times family or friends from Kentucky have made the trip since I moved north. Even though I've been here long enough to qualify for "Chicagoan" status, I seldom have the opportunity to share this part of me. I don't get to welcome my family into my home, share my favorite foods, show them the things I see every day. This part of my life is unintentionally closed to them. We can't talk about the view of the city from the lakefront, the feel of sitting on the rocks looking out over the beach and the water, the smell of ethnic foods, or the sound of the train in the quiet of early morning. They don't learn my context, and I'm lousy at conveying it.

This reminiscence makes me try harder to visit my friends and family who have also expatriated from their hometowns. I suspect that they sometimes have moments as well when they feel a bit cut off. (Or maybe that's just me...but regardless...) I realize that I am woefully out of touch with my oldest friends and family, and feel helpless as I watch our homes, friends, occupations, marriages, interests and concerns grow distant and dissimilar. Those first few feet of foundation for these relationships are still there, but the rest of the structure has diverged in alternate directions. Is this just part of "growing up"?

Chicago is a lovely place in the summer, and San and I have an open door, empty futon, and stocked refrigerator. I can't wait to revisit some places I've neglected, such as San Francisco and North Carolina, and meet some new places like Virginia. It's high time we refresh some stale memories and create some new ones. Does your nose itch yet? I hope so...let's have visitors.

Home in the Neighborhood

I’ve heard my neighborhood referred to as “the bohemian part of town” by people who have lived here their entire lives. I never really took on to it in the last two years that I’ve been here. However, in a conversation today, I realized that “bohemian” is probably an appropriate adjective. I mean, we don’t have a naked cowboy and the scent of patchouli won’t assault your nostrils, at least not when you’re on the sidewalk. We do, however, have a wandering minstrel, who owns at least three stringed instruments that he plays as he strolls along the streets. We also have a black man in a kilt who walks a bichon frise. More than one home has an arguable excessive, though tidy, number of mosaics, stained glass windows, and other artwork hanging from their porch and in their front yard. The older woman who lives in the condo next to mine has “decorated” the hallway with her “art” which generally consists of a clock, some sort of plastic flowering bush with a duck perched in it, and something seasonal. There are garden animals in her parking spot, featuring a rabbit, frog, alligator, and their little metal and acrylic friends. Another of my neighbors has obscured the make of their car with liberal bumper stickers. One of the restaurants up the street is decorated with foil balls dotting the ceiling tiles, framed paint-by-number posters, and reclaimed mailboxes that have been morphed into sea animals. The local coffee shop gives the Starbucks across the street stiff competition. It all makes me feel at home.

As 2011 came to a close...

...we found ourselves in 2012.

Here we are on the other side of the New Year. I always feel complete looking back at the year, to mark the happenings and to be gracious for all we have. This year’s been a full one.

• We got married! I mean, seriously now, this is the highlight of 2011. Surrounded by our families and best friends, we vowed to take care of each other until someone kicks the bucket. This is not a small promise! (Love you, bebe!) We got the year off to a good start in March.
• January and February were filled with getting ready for our wedding. We did most of the work, from assembling the invitations and programs to decorations and writing ninety percent of the ceremony. (Yes, we cried when we first read our vows to see how they sounded. That’s when we knew we did them right.) April was spent recovering from the wedding.
• We honeymooned in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We perused art galleries, ate ourselves silly, and hiked through Tent Rocks National Monument. The photos came out pretty great. Too bad we were just learning how to use the camera.
• In professional news, Tracy earned a promotion at her structural engineering firm, which allows her to become a stockholder in 2012. San finished his first year of work at his current job, editing a professional publication.
• Tracy was appointed to the condo association board, and became the president in October. “SUCKER” must be etched into her forehead in some secret fashion.
• Over the summer, Tracy and San rearranged the small room off the kitchen (who really needs a formal dining room anyway?!) to accommodate a piano. Tracy is finally beginning to re-establish her relationship with the instrument that fueled half of a piano performance minor.
• Tracy took up a new hobby: DSLR photography. A budding pile of photography books has begun to collect on the lowest shelf of the coffee table, and Tracy’s latest purse selection took into consideration whether or not the camera would fit comfortably.
• San continues to fill all of his non-working hours dreaming of producing mead in a more structured and consistent fashion, and nurturing his new baby, I Kick Your Face Comicast. The podcast is scheduled to be a weekly downloadable discussion show about comic books and pop culture. If you’re interested, it’s on iTunes or at www.ikickyourface.com.
• Friends visited Chicago, and we visited friends. Attending the Superman Festival seems to have become an annual tradition. Tracy finally visited Niagara Falls (her second trip to Canada!) while visiting San’s family in New York for Thanksgiving. Christmas proved to be another short, busy jaunt to Kentucky. The long weekend was livened with an evening spent at a local winery that was recently opened by a couple Tracy knew from high school.

At the beginning of a new year, we raise our glasses to toast the exit of things past, and to celebrate optimism and looking forward to great adventures ahead.