May 27, 2008 by Emily Ashley
The air smelled significantly better than it did the last time I was in LA, and the sky wasn’t blazing the majestic reds and oranges it was when I had been there for the fires over Halloween weekend.
It was beautiful this time, I must admit.
It is still crazy to me that people actually drive in LA though. If I still lived there, I definitely wouldn’t drive, because the traffic there is so ridiculous. And the gas prices…wow.
LA is such a crazy scene as a whole. The only things that matter in LA are looks, and it makes me so sad. Being a self-professed “Boulderite”, looks don’t mean much to me. I was talking to one of my co-workers today about the types of guys we like, and I said something important to me is the guy’s taste in music. And she just shook her head and said, “If he’s not hot, I can’t be with him.”
I feel like people in that city are so self-obsessed. The day I got to LA Rosa and I went to Fred Segal in Santa Monica to exchange some shoes I had gotten for my birthday, and as we were walking in we noticed these two girls outside enjoying their extra-skinny-mocha-chocolate-vanilla-latte-cappuccino’s, as we walked past them Rosa noticed them nodding at us and snickering. Usually something like that would have affected me, but after living in Boulder for so long I have realized there’s so much more than looks.
Here’s the real news girls: Looks fade. They do. And when you’re seventy years old and gravity has kicked in, you won’t to want to be such a bitch. But some people are just like that I guess.
One thing I do love about LA is the music scene. EVERYONE in that city wants to be famous, and while most of them have no talent, some of them do. Walking around the city, there are always people handing out CD’s or asking you to listen to their music, or singing, or dancing. There’s always something. It reminds me of Paris in that way, Paris is also a very musical city.
I arrived on the American Idol Finale night, and I could see the spotlights from miles away. It made me think a lot about these talent shows. And I have concluded that American Idol isn’t about talent anymore. It’s like everything else in LA: a popularity contest.
Case and point: Sanjaya.
I’m sorry, Sanjaya fans, but he COULD NOT sing. The only reason he was on the show for so long was because of his hair. There are so many people out there with true, raw talent who don’t make it because they aren’t pretty. And it’s sad that it has come to that. No one cares about real talent anymore; it’s all about what the star looks like. Take Britney Spears for example; everyone loved her when she was hot shit. She was on the top of the charts, she owned the world. Then, after popping out a couple of kids and showing the world that yes, she was just a middle American girl, her fans tossed her aside and went searching for someone hotter. Britney Spears’ voice has not changed, but her fan-base has, simply because of the fact that her looks changed.
That’s what LA does to you. That’s why I’m glad I don’t live there anymore. It’s fun to visit and play dress up and all that, but it’s so nice to be back in Boulder now. Back to sanity and small coffee shop true-talent singers. Back to happy hippies gallivanting around on their bikes every Thursday. I love Boulder because of those small little things. Because of the fact that you can play guitar on Pearl Street and people will acknowledge your talent, the fact that Penny Lane (when it still existed) held so many artists that were true to the music, true to the poetry.
At the end of the day, LA is cool for a weekend away from reality, but people just need to remember that LA isn’t reality but reality TV.
May 14, 2008 by Emily Ashley
The weather has been so strange lately. Last night it was freezing, and today it is beautiful again, it seems that summer keeps hinting that it’s coming but it’s taking a while to make that solid appearance.
Waiting for summer is like waiting for nail polish to dry; right when you think it’s dry you press on it and leave a fingerprint in the paint.
I can’t wait to be able to go down to the Boulder creek and lay in an inner tube, basking in the sun all day.
Speaking of waiting…my birthday is coming up on Saturday! 22, I can’t believe it. I remember when I turned 18 and I thought to myself, wow, I’m so old, I’m grown up! Now 18 seems so young to me. It’s weird how that happens. I’ve been thinking about the past couple years a lot lately. After my boyfriend leaves for Canada and I move into my new place on my own, I know my life is going to change drastically. But I’m worried because it’s going to be such a big transition, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
I remember I had this party for my 15th birthday, and I spent the majority of the day making playlists and lists of everything I wanted at this party. I spent so much time on it, and when the party actually happened less than 10 people ended up showing up. I was so sad.
It reminds me of that now, I feel like I’m building all of this stuff up and at the end there’s that potential there for me to fail. It’s scary, growing up. But I guess everyone has to do it.
I have this friend, he’s pretty responsible but the big problem with him is all he wants to do is play music. He was offered to go on tour with Forgive Durden this summer as a guitar tech, but he didn’t want to because he wants to play music. I don’t think he understands that all musicians have to start at the very very bottom before they make it. I think he has this false ideal that it’s all going to be given to him.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s an amazing musician, but there are so many talented people out there these days that you have to network yourself before you can make a name for yourself. Going on tour with Forgive Durden would open that door for him, but I don’t think he realizes that.
I guess to each his own.
I remember back when all I listened to was Metric I wanted to be the lead singer of a band. I thought it would be so awesome to be the front-woman of a kick ass band. I’m pretty good at singing, but I have horrible stage fright. I auditioned for the talent show when I was in high school, singing, “Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend”, and I bombed it so terribly. The teacher was pretty mean about it, and after that I couldn’t sing in front of anyone.
I never understood why singing was such an embarrassing thing, the same with dancing. Why do people not dance because they think they can’t? What is the definition of a good dancer anyway?
I can understand not being good at singing, some people are just tone deaf, but I don’t think anyone should ever be ashamed. It was only very recently that I started to sing in front of other people again. I got home from school one day and I had my headphones on, listening to Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, and I didn’t think anyone was home. I was belting out the “MAMAAAAA”’s and dancing around like a lunatic. I’m parading down the hallway and I see my roommate staring at me from the inside of his room, and that was the moment I stopped being embarrassed. I guess when you live with someone shame just seems to go out the window. At least when you’ve been living with someone as long as I have, it will be three years this august.
I can’t wait to move out though. Not because I’ll be moving away from my roommate, that part is going to be tough, but I’m so exited to be able to play my music LOUD and not have to worry about getting a noise complaint. Hooray for leaving the retirement community!
The first thing I am going to do when I move in is set up my record player and play Abbey Road as loud as I can, it’s going to be great! I do need to buy some new records…
Does anyone have a Led Zeppelin record they want to sell me?
May 12, 2008 by Emily Ashley
My friends apartment burned down last night, crazy things keep happening to apartments lately!! Anyways, we have this cat staying with us, and she just peed on the carpet so now I have created a five-foot barricade in the kitchen. I gave her water and toys and stuff, but I think she wants me to play with her. I have a soft spot for animals, I can’t help it! Except for the fact that I just put her in the bathroom and she pooed all over the bathtub, I don’t do well with bodily functions. I feel very proud of myself though, because I cleaned it up. It seems petty, but for me that’s a great accomplishment.
But anyways…
I always think about the ridiculous fads that keep emerging, whether its music, technology, cars, everything. It’s so ridiculous. I keep thinking about it whenever I’m driving in my car, stopped at a stoplight people watching or listening to the radio or trying to find my destination.
I have decided to compile a list, a “what’s in, what’s out” list, so that everyone can have some sort of idea…
What’s In: Sunflower Market, Boulder. This place has such great prices on organic food that it makes every other place look expensive. You can get organic broccoli for 88 cents a pound!
What’s Out: Whole Foods aka Whole Paycheck. Whole Foods is so ridiculously overpriced it makes it seem like only rich people can eat organic, healthy food. In a world where everyone is trying to get healthy and “go green” I ask, why does it have to be so expensive?
What’s In: iPhone. The iPhone, as I have mentioned many times before, may be expensive but once you have it you won’t need anything else. It has music, video, Google maps, Internet, everything. After getting the iPhone, my purse has become significantly less heavy.
What’s Out: Filofax. The Filofax has completely been wiped out with the emergence of technology; it’s heavy, it wastes paper, and it’s so bulky that it’s impossible not to get organized.
What’s In: Italian Rockers. I knew about Paolo Nutini way before he sang in the Puma commercial, and there is nothing hotter than a sexy Italian playing a guitar and crooning with lips pursed. Italian men have a reputation of being sleazy, but guys like Paolo give them a new name.
What’s Out: Emo. Officially, Emo is as dead as Sid Vicious. Although there are some of those few leftover emo kids out there, for the most part music has moved on and started to get better than “I’m so sad because you left me” themes in every song on the album.
What’s In: Retro 70’s rock. Finally, my favorite era is making a comeback…big time. Has anyone noticed how many classic rock stars are coming to Red Rocks this summer? Boston, Steely Dan, The Police, Steve Miller Band, Yes, and The Allman Brothers Band, to name a few. Finally, good shows for summer, huzzah! Soon, everyone is going to be a beatnik hippie again!
What’s Out: 80’s clothing. Girls, say goodbye to the neon huge earrings and, well, neon everything because it’s all about natural (not mega-teased) hair, plain (not extreme) makeup, and any clothing that does not involve pleather. I will admit, I was totally into the 80’s fad, but just like people who actually lived in the 80’s say now, I always think to myself, what was I thinking??
What’s In: Gas prices from 1998. Gas was only $1.21! Can you believe that? I can’t believe I ever complained about the price of gas.
What’s Out: Gas prices now, in 2008. Gas is up to $3.75 at some gas stations. Three dollars and seventy-five cents. It’s getting so ridiculous, I’m so glad I’m finally done with school and don’t have to drive up and down the highway anymore. I’m thinking about stopping driving all together. It’s a good thing for the environment, yes, but it’s not good when you need to get somewhere far away and can’t afford it.
What’s In: Underground Atmosphere. Atmosphere has been around forever, I first heard of him when I was in high school. When he was underground, it was really the true hip-hop lovers who listened to him; the one’s who were true blue music lovers.
What’s Out: Atmosphere on MTV. I actually heard these two girls at school the other day talking about this new artist called Atmosphere. Are you serious?? It’s only when MTV starts showcasing music that it becomes famous. And I guess it’s good for some bands who are trying to get their career to really take off, but Atmosphere shouldn’t be one of them. He has such talent and so many followers already that I feel like he’s selling out a little. Is it just me?
These are just some of them; I always seem to completely blank out when I start to put everything down on paper. Does that happen to anyone else? I think it’s because I’ve been using my brain so much on math and ethics. I’m SO HAPPY that school’s over!! Now if only I could find a way to get over to Europe this summer…if I don’t go over this year it will be the first time in my entire life that I haven’t been over there for the summer. I’m worried.
May 09, 2008 by Emily Ashley
I’ve been playing the guitar again. I had forgotten how much I love it.
When I was about 16 my mom bought me one of those Squire Strat starter kits, you know the one’s with the tiny amps? I would play this guitar every night, even though I had had no lessons and I was horrible at it.
After about a year, I started spending a lot of time at Robbs Music. There was this guitar there, a Cyclone, and it was identical to the sea-foam green guitar that Tom Delonge from Blink 182 had. I was so in love with it, I went to Robbs Music every day after school and sat in the basement playing it.
I begged my mom for it every day, and for Christmas lo and behold I saw a guitar case sitting under the tree. I was so exited; I couldn’t wait to open it.
Well, as it turns out, it wasn’t the guitar I wanted. But it was so gorgeous; a beautiful sea-foam green Fender Strat, it was amazing.
When I lived up at my moms house, secluded in Gold Hill, 30 minutes from Boulder, population: 700, I used to play that guitar all the time. I used to stay holed up in my room for hours with my tiny little amp plugged in, sitting cross-legged with the guitar in my lap. I loved it.
I couldn’t play at all, I still can’t. But back then I seemed to know what I was doing, and I remember it sounding really good. It was only recently that I realized I just can’t play guitar at all, but maybe it’s because I haven’t picked it up in years. It’s been sitting dormant in the corner of my room ever since I moved in 3 years ago, with the exception of a few times.
I was out at my friend’s house the other night. He’s in a band and is completely obsessed with music, and in a way he inspired me to start playing music again. We sat on his couch for a couple hours the other night just fucking around with his guitar, and as I was driving back home I kept thinking about how badly I wanted to start playing music again.
I wrote this poem a long time ago, and I want to turn it into lyrics. I apologize for it’s insanely emo feel, I wrote it when I was 17 and in a pathetically emo relationship. Ah high school, you gotta love fake love, eh? Plus, I was going through my Ginsberg phase…
Untitled
Trying to feel how it felt, flying through oblivion in the red, waiting for the same color to drop tears to the pale window.
The sun shines down but casts a shadow where I stand, implying I don’t deserve the rays that could permeate my hair and strike my neck.
Eyes hollow, the result of our kamikaze night straight through to the rising sun. I can never sleep anymore. The scent of my past still lingers on my pillow, forcing me to rise and stare at my future on the horizon.
Feet torn from the standards of high school, wishing grass was everywhere and we could all go barefoot.
Trying to feel how it felt in the flowers, staring up at the paper hanging down and thinking my life could be switched. Foreheads touch and in one embrace I feel the whole universe. It circles once then collapses into pencil shavings that eventually get blown away. We ask why. The questions disable us from getting any real answers.
Irony.
Music absorbed in through the portal, breathe it in and look over to me. Arms like steel chains wrapped around me. Not like Houdini, but I’m yours.
Could you be my present, past, and future?
Would you take me on that boat where we could sail off and never drown? The water would be calm, don’t let there be a storm. And in this race we are born into, lets win together and pawn the trophy for cigarettes. Sail away into the unknown abyss with only ourselves and our fags, an addict’s paradise.
Let the sky open up and try to remember sleeping next to me. Never letting me go for fear that I could float away, except for the opposite.
Eyes closed feeling fingers brushing past, trying not to take it for granted but knowing it’s inevitable.
Trying to remember how the brown of your eyes stayed open when you kissed me so meaningfully. Trying to remember the words, the song, the night. Tell me know, tell me how that window smashed and I walked through the glass trying to get to you, waiting for the moment it sucks me in waist first and I am thrown arms flailing back towards the red.
And now here comes the air. That empty, lifeless air that smells like shit and tastes like arsenic. Sitting, motionless in my little bubble that’s about to pop. The castle bursts and flowing out are the intoxications that rob us blind. Except for me, I chose to stay and sit in that air. Enjoying getting high off the fumes that dragged me here. One morning when the sun never rose but I still woke up to find you there.
Sitting as motionless as me until we met. And with one touch we became puppets, moving but with strings that made us flawed. Miette found the children, I know because I saw.
But no one ever found me. Except.
And that breath that was once so toxic became as exhilarating as landing at London Heathrow and knowing you’ll be home soon, really home.
Take me home and want me. Wash off the taboo of the past and paint on a smile with permanent ink. I wish I would have turned around and saw you standing there. Imagining your eyes regretting. Walking through the walls and fucking all the rules. I had forgotten the way it was to want and be wanted.
The voice evaporated but returned when you found scissors.
Loud as screaming at a funeral for someone who meant nothing to anyone but the one exploding at the ribcage. You can never hold those people back because they are the eagles that would never play after that one moment.
Error.
Just like the ones who can’t sail away because of the weights plastered to their feet by the cement of their mistakes. Like the color you see when you glance for a second and have to look away because it’s just so beautiful.
Maybe, if you looked again, you would stop fearing feeling and be absorbed in to. Part of the experience you always ran from.
He cried and then denied it later because he knew he got a taste of something real but he didn’t want to feel it. I know why. My life was upside down until I broke the mold and became that vulture that people see but can never touch.
Remembering that boy, that boy in the band with the boy I hate but he played the drums so I paid no attention. I wanted the guitar. Or maybe I was the guitar, just waiting to be played until the E-string finally broke and I sat lifeless again in the corner. Wishing someone would be prompted not to play me like before but just admire like the cyclone in the basement of Robbs Music. So beautiful it takes your breath away just to see it.
Like when we walked to the star and for a second I saw you sitting there and thought how awesome it would be if we were in the sky living on a planet like The Little Prince with his watering can and questions. Walking in circles and finding secret doors. Initials in scripted in my hand never letting me forget when we listened to Mozart in the field and you spoke German but wouldn’t tell me what you said.
Number six on Yellowcard and wishing I could kiss you and show you my whole world in one taste.
Wishing you would want it.
Walking down the trail alone and looking down on the little town. Lego people jumping off the bridge. Sitting fully dressed in the river trying not to ruin our mobile phones.
The song starts with a somber melody, but I just can’t remember how it ends.
Sort of long for a song, huh?
I’ll have to do quite a bit of editing on that one…
May 05, 2008 by Emily Ashley
I am sitting on the floor in the living room, amidst the chaos of five industrial sized fans blowing throughout my bedroom and hallway. Why? Of course you’re wondering why, although after I tell you this story you will wish you didn’t.
I’ll lay it out for you in play-by-plays.
Thursday night, 5:30 pm: I return home from an Iggli meeting, I haven’t been home all day and the peacefulness is quite soothing. My lovely boyfriend gives me a hug, and we settle in our wonderful tempur-pedic bed for a bit of a cuddle before he goes to dinner with his parents.
5:45: I have to go pee, so I walk into the bathroom. I lift the seat up and realize the toilet is clogged.
IT GETS GROSS, DON’T READ ON IF YOU ARE SQUEIMISH!!
5:46: I realize I don’t want to tell my boyfriend about this, to save us both embarrassment, and decide to take care of the problem myself after he leaves.
6:00: He leaves for dinner, I decide to get on it.
6:15: The toilet has filled to the brim, I’m freaking out so I call my good friend Alex and she rushes over.
6:20: We sit in the living room trying to decide what to do. Imagine this scenario: two girls squealing about how gross this situation is.
6:40: We decide to take care of the problem.
6:45: I muster up the courage to DO IT!!
7:00: After a decent amount of plunging, Alex tells me it isn't working, and I run out of the bathroom squealing. Immediately my worst fears are confirmed, I hear the sounds of the toilet overflowing. I hear it rushing onto my bathroom floor. I can’t look; I’m standing in my bedroom shrieking, “Is it overflowing?! OH MY GOD, is it overflowing!?!?!”, my bathroom is attached to my bedroom and doesn’t have a door, so we have put a towel at the entrance, but the water is seeping under the carpet. Immediately the carpet is soaking wet.
7:02: I call the manager of my building hysterical. He tells me to turn off the valve. “What’s a valve?!?!!” I’m yelping. He tells me it’s behind the toilet. “NO WAY,” I reply, “I’m not going in there!”
7:05: The manager arrives, I’m crying and frantic, he turns off the valve and informs me that he has to go down to the apartment below me because water is coming out of their light fixture.
7:10: The manager returns, calls the 24-hour plumber, and says, “Shit happens.” This is the first time I’ve laughed since the whole fiasco started.
7:30: The plumber arrives, explains that the valve behind my toilet burst, and that it wasn’t my fault, which was a relief. They announce that the carpet has to be ripped up and a hole has to be cut in the wall connecting the bathroom and my bedroom.
7:45 onward: They get to work, my room is in shambles. I’ve had to move EVERYTHING to one half of my room. Half of my room is concrete, the other half a mocking light-blue carpet. The toilet is in my bathtub.
And then…the fans. Oh the horrible fans that exude a noise that is as loud as an airplane engine. I would add pictures but stupid Photobucket isn't working.
And then, an idea! A little light bulb lights up and it comes to me: headphones.
Ah yes, I have retrieved them. Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony” is in order, I think.
Oh the music cascades over me. I look around, at all my possessions laid out all over the living room, the fans all around, but I can’t hear them anymore. This beautiful music is all I hear. Oh it’s wonderful.
Music can always make me feel better. Especially The Ninth; I think it’s because it reminds me of Wales and the beauty of it all. Weird how something so dark can make you feel so happy. If you’ve seen A Clockwork Orange, Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony” will probably remind you of that, but it’s not like that for me.
It is weird, listening to this beautiful music while staring around my apartment that is literally in shambles.
I can hear only classical music, and it’s a weird sort of peaceful. I like it when I’m alone in this place. My roommate and my boyfriend both think it’s bad for me to be alone, but I actually really like solitude. It’s only sometimes that I get the urge to be around people. If I could sit in my room and play my record player all day, I would, without hesitation.
The only thing that sucks about being here alone right now is
A. I can’t enter my room, because of the fans and the fact that I have no door, which brings me to
B. I have absolutely no privacy and I have to lock the front door if I want to shower
C. I can’t hear anyone knocking on the door, which means when the plumbers come to take away these vile noise-protruders I might not hear them and they could leave, and
D. The contents of my closet are in the living room. Open for everyone to see and inspect.
It’s like that line in Fight Club, when The Narrator comes back to his apartment only to see it’s been burned down, and he says how embarrassed he is about everyone seeing all his stuff. That's how I feel, my whole life is now in the living room.
But I guess at the end of the day, I only have one thing to say:
SHIT HAPPENS, LITERALLY.
May 03, 2008 by Emily Ashley
Yes! I was in yoga today and the teacher played what sounded like the Garden State soundtrack! It was so great! She played Zero 7, Sia, Frou Frou, the works. Finally! I wonder if she read my blog…
It was a new teacher, because I took a C2 class instead of my regular Hot Fusion. It wasn’t for me though, too much cardio and not enough meditation, I’m all about peace of mind over working working working out.
It was just so great, I couldn’t wait to come home and write about it, as every song came on I just thought about getting home and writing.
Anyways, my roommate drove me to school today, he’s only done it twice but I secretly love it. He works all the time, you see, and I spend almost all my time at night with my boyfriend, so I barely see him anymore. Even a 20-minute drive is special because he’s like a brother to me, and I miss him always being in my life. We listened to The Beatles (of course, I need to go to Beatles rehab, seriously), but at one point that song, “Boys in the Hood” by Dynamite Hack came randomly on.
It took me flying back to my freshman year in high school. Santa Monica, California. I had the biggest crush on my brother’s friend, Sean Henderson. God, even thinking about him now makes me remember how much I liked him. I had it bad. Now that I think about it, he wasn’t really that attractive. He was too tall, super skinny, a Joey Ramone body type, with blond hair that he meticulously spiked so every strand would stand at attention on the crown of his head.
But we used to listen to that song all the time. When we would talk on the phone he would always play it and we would always sing the lyric “Started talkin' shit, wouldn’t you know?
I reached back like a pimp and I slapped the ho'” together, then burst into a fit of giggles. It was truly a kindergarten crush.
But it’s weird, even after all these years I still think of him. I guess some things just stick with you.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately. There are so many things I want to do with my life. I want to compose, I want to write, I want to be an Art History teacher, I want to travel across America in a VW van, I want to go backpacking in Nepal, I want to spend a year in Paris, I want to be in a band, I want to win a Pulitzer, I want to do so many things.
I’m working on my CU application now, I’m going to try and get into the Art History program, but it’s really strange for me because in a way I’ve been living in this wonderful little bubble of Community College and now I actually have to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. It’s pretty scary.
Everyone goes through this though; it’s just my turn.
I really do want to be a conductor at one point in my life. I want to compose to the annual performance of The Nutcracker at CU every November. My grandma used to take me every year and I would watch the conductor and wish I was doing that. It’s one of those things that looks really easy but is actually hard work.
I’m just hoping that I’ll figure it out soon…I hate how college expects you to know what you want to be when you are 18 years old. I’m glad I went to Community College for so long, because honestly I was a completely different person at 18. It’s weird to see how people change. It's the same with bands, It's interesting to see how they evolve as time goes by. Take Blink 182, for example; in the beginning they were all about fart and "your mom" jokes, and now Tom Delonge is the frontman for what I think is one of the most worthless bands around, Angels and Airwaves. Sometimes I want to write him a letter and just say, COME ONE MAN! What happened?!?!
What happened is we all change, we all evolve. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, it happens.
April 30, 2008 by Emily Ashley
Has anyone noticed that new thing MTV has been doing? I think they are finally catching on that everyone thinks they should change their name from MTV to RTV (Reality T.V.), wow, thats a pretty lame joke huh, ah well, I tried. So they have started doing this thing, and I actually think it’s pretty cool, where during the commercial breaks they have a little border at the bottom that tells you what the song in the commercial is called. That’s pretty cool. There’s this Nike commercial with this Saul Williams song, “List of Demands”, it’s such a rad song. I just want to get up and start working out like crazy when that song comes on. I guess that’s the point, the advertising people at Nike have it right on.
Music and advertising really go hand in hand don’t they. Watching commercials, it’s odd to see what kind of music they put in. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it pisses me off to no end that they put classic songs in commercials.
Example: Taco Bell playing Modern English’s “I’ll stop the world and melt with you”, GAHHHH!
It’s so annoying because now every time I hear that song I think of Taco Bell, and I hate Taco Bell!
I used to be a slave to advertising. I’ll admit it, I’m not ashamed! I saw a commercial for a Nintendo DS, and I kept seeing it over and over until I wanted one so badly that I caved and bought one. I still use it all the time, and taking it to Europe helped on those 9-hour bus rides, but it made me a slave.
I’m better now; I’ve become a lot more responsible with what I buy. I don’t know how Target got the rights to play Beatles songs, but I guess that just shows how powerful franchises are.
Also, have you noticed how on the radio a lot of commercials sound like actual songs? There have been many times that I have thought a commercial was a song, and listened to it until they announced what they were selling. Music just makes such an impact on people.
So, changing the subject, finals are almost halfway over. Only less than 3 weeks left! It’s going to be such a great relief to not have to drive on the highway two times a day. It’s bittersweet though, because in many ways I really don’t want the summer to come.
Why you ask?
My boyfriend of over two years (on and off) got into UBC yesterday. In Canada. And I want to be happy for him, because he really wanted to get into this school, but it’s really hard because now I know that we’re going to break up at the end of the summer. It’s really hard.
I hate when I’m feeling sad about a boy. I’ve felt sad about him many times, but this is different on so many levels.
When I’m sad, any slow song can trigger tears. It’s ridiculous, I can’t listen to any song that is remotely slow or romantic or sad, or else I’ll just start bawling.
He went to Ireland last year for seven months, and there was this one time when I was in my English class and the girl starts playing a slow song. I just lost it and started crying right in front of the entire class. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive; it’s just my personality I guess.
I don’t know what this guy did to me though, because before him I didn’t want any sort of serious relationship. I was afraid of commitment, but now…oh I could commit to him forever.
Which means I’ll be spending a lot of time lying in my bed listening to Coldplay and crying.
Sorry, am I depressing you? I just can’t stop thinking about it. I gotta be real, you know?
I’ve written a lot about break-ups, but especially now it’s really on my mind. It’s going to be weird, when you’ve lived with someone for so long, seen them every day, and then they’re not around…it’ll be weird.
A Rush of Blood to the Head
He said I’m gonna buy this place and burn it down
I’m gonna put it six feet underground
He said I’m gonna buy this place and watch it fall
Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls
Oh I’m gonna buy this place and start a fire
Stand here until I fill all your hearts desires
Because I’m gonna buy this place and see it burn
Do back the things it did to you in return
Ah,ah,ah
He said oh I’m gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
Oh and I’m gonna buy this place, that’s what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
And honey
All the movements you’re starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They say start as you mean to go on
Start as you mean to go on
He said I’m gonna buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside me baby watch the orange glow
Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why
So I’m gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
I’m gonna buy this place, that’s what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head
And honey
All the movements you’re starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without a trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They said start as you mean to go on
As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on
So meet me by the bridge, meet me by the lane
When am I going to see that pretty face again
Meet me on the road, meet me where I said
Blame it all upon
A rush of blood to the head
April 29, 2008 by Emily Ashley
I just spent the last half hour lying on my bedroom floor gazing blankly at the ceiling listening to Roger Water’s Dark Side of the Moon Coachella performance…on the phone (sighhhhhh). Rosa (Beautiful Disaster) is at Coachella right now. As I sit in my bedroom in Boulder, Colorado, she is in Palm Springs watching the live version of my favorite album. The album I fell asleep to every night for about a year. The album that holds so much meaning for me.
It’s impossible not to listen to that album all the way through, you can’t just skip to a song like any other album. I think that’s what makes it so special. I remember when I was 14 and had just discovered it, “Brain Damage” just spoke to me. I felt as though that song had been written just for me.
“And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon”
I was clutching the phone in my palm, wishing more than anything to be there seeing what she is seeing at this very moment. I just kept thinking to myself, ‘I would give anything to be there right now’, and I would have. If someone had told me to cut off my foot, I probably would have, just listening to it made me want to be there so badly.
It made me think of when I was in Paris last summer, and I found the record of Dark Side of the Moon at one of those riverside-booths. Gonzague and I were walking down, looking at the old books in French and the souvenirs and the posters of old Paris. I always stop and look at the selection when I spot a thing of records, and when I saw that record leaning against the wall, it was already mine. 15 Euros, that’s about $25, which isn’t bad, I was so exited. The whole walk back to Gonzague’s scooter I held it against my chest and just waited for the moment I could play it.
I was in Bart’s not too long ago, and as I was browsing the record selection I overheard the cashier tell his friend that along with Zeppelin records, Dark Side of the Moon is one of the hardest to find. I remember smiling to myself and being like, ‘ha! I have it!!’
Plus I got it in Paris…bonus!
There’s this new song that just came out that I am completely OBSESSED with.
It’s called Someone To Love, by Fountains of Wayne. Remember them? Stacy’s mom? God I hated that song. You see, I do indeed have a really hot mom and when that song came out all my guy friends would sing, “Emily’s mom has got it goin’ onnnnn”. So annoying.
Anyway, this song is totally rad. Every time I hear it I literally get up and dance dance dance, I can’t help it! It moves me. I’m going to overplay it…I can already tell. I listened to it 3 times yesterday. I think I have an addiction to music.
Totally random: I just flipped on the T.V. and saw Chuck Norris endorsing some athletic infomercial.
Chuck Norris doesn’t sleep, he waits…
Why is Chuck Norris so special? I never got it…he’s just a silly ginger kid who acts tough.
Ah well, at least it’s not Danny Bonaduce.
April 29, 2008 by Emily Ashley
I was sitting in class today, listening to my teacher babble on about finals and “get every last point you can” and blah blah blah. She started listing off all the important due dates and I pulled out my iPhone to enter them in my calendar, and she starts to yell at me for using my phone in class. I tried to explain that my phone was also my calendar, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I wanted to get up and say, “welcome to 2008! No one carries Filofaxes anymore!” but of course I sheepishly tucked my phone away and wrote it all down on my hand instead. If I get ink poisoning, I’m blaming her.
I understand why teachers don’t want you to use phones in class; texting ect. but if you are one of the people with a blackberry, iPhone, or something of the sort then they should make an exception so that you can actually get all your shit sorted.
I’ll admit though, I do quite a bit of texting in class, and it’s sometimes hard to get away with it. I feel like I’m back in high school, trying to be sneaky. I’m in college! Let me be free! Is that ignorant? Is college just like high school, except we’re all older?
I don’t know what I would do without my iPhone now. I don’t know how I ever got by without it. I guess I’m just a slave to Apple.
Anyways, I wanted to share something that was really interesting. A couple days ago I was watching TV and “The Thieving Magpie” comes on. Immediately I think of A Clockwork Orange, the part when Alex’s gang walks in on Billy Boy’s gang assaulting that woman in the theater. It’s weird, how music can always remind you of that one certain thing.
It’s like that with a lot of music for me. If I hear a certain song, it will take me back completely. I can smell the same smells and feel the exact same way I was feeling when I first heard it. If I listen to “Roulette Dares (This is the Haunt)” by The Mars Volta, I am immediately taken back to Paul’s apartment, years ago, before he moved to New York. I can smell his smelly boy apartment: hair dye, b/o, beer, and cigarettes. Every time, I don’t understand it! Music is like a sixth sense, it’s unbelievable. It has so many sensory aspects, music can catapult me anywhere. Right now, as I’m typing this, I am listening to “The Thieving Magpie” with my headphones on, and am composing/typing at the same time. Wow, music is so amazing, it’s hard not to get up and dance around my room at this very moment.
Speaking of getting up and dancing, Coachella is coming up soon. I’m so upset I won’t be attending. I need to make it there once in my life, that would be so great. Not as great as Woodstock would have been, but…
Roger Waters is going to be there! ROGER WATERS!! That would have been so awesome, just to hear Dark Side live would have been the best moment of my life. To hear his voice raw, real, and unaltered would have been outasite. He’s coming to Red Rocks but tickets are just way too expensive. Why can’t music just be free?
Other bands I’m bummed I’ll be missing at Coachella:
Metric
Jack Johnson
Fatboy Slim
Prince
PORTISHEAD
Death Cab For Cutie
Sia
Wow, Coachella is actually gonna be pretty great this year. Man. Ah well, it came down to Europe for spring break with the boyfriend or Coachella. Which one would you have chosen? I know…tough call.
I’m listening to that Panic At The Disco song, “Nine in the Afternoon”, and it really does sound like The Beatles. A word to Panic At The Disco: come ON guys, if you’re gonna rip off a band as amazing as the freaking Beatles, at least give them some credit.
And going on SNL dressed as Sgt. Pepper?! Next time fire you’re stylist and come up with something you can call all your own. Chicks dig guys who are original…
I guess all bands draw inspiration from each other, but most bands don’t COPY the same sounds.
Sorry, I was about to go off on a bit of a rant just then…
Well I’m off to do more homework…curses to finals!
April 17, 2008 by Emily Ashley
In true
There is one thing I think of when I am in yoga, I think of it every time, and I always think about writing about it.
The music in yoga…
It’s usually the same, chant-like meditation music. But every now and then a teacher will throw in a really good song that is familiar, and because I already know the song it makes me work harder.
Yesterday my teacher played a cover of “colorblind”, originally by the Counting Crows, and it was so moving I started to push myself harder and really feel what I was doing.
Every time I walk out of yoga I think to myself, “I wish I could DJ a yoga class.” And I know I make a lot of playlists in my blogs, but here’s another one, just in case anyone who reads this is a yoga teacher. Which may very well be likely because I am broadcasting live from
My Yoga Playlist
Start out with Zero 7’s In The Waiting Line; this will create a mellow yet motivated atmosphere. Continue on with Veruca Salt’s Aurora, it is a gorgeous song that flows well and is great for a starting meditation. Once you start to really work the legs, play Citizen Cope’s The Sun’s Gonna Rise or Gwen Stefani’s The Sweet Escape, depending on what kind of mood you’re in. Both songs will get you in the mood to work your ass off. After the legs, you will move on to the concentration series (my favorite), play something like Massive Attack’s Teardrop, this song will keep you awake and alert, but is also tranquil and mild enough to still be able to concentrate. For push-ups you will need something to get the students through this, I personally think the push-ups are the hardest part, so play something like Franz Ferdinand’s Take Me Out, it’s not the most conventional yoga music, but it is such a familiar song that it will pump everyone up and make them want to groove, very cool. For the spine exercises you will need something mellow, because by this time everyone is sweaty and exhausted. Play Portishead’s Glory Box, this is such a great song, something about it just speaks to me and I think it will really bring out the emotional aspect in the yoga practice. For the final stretches, play Coldplay’s Green Eyes, I think Chris Martin wrote this song for Gwyneth Paltrow (correct me if I’m wrong), and his voice just croons and wails out this amazing love song, perfect for coming down to earth after a practice. And finally, for final meditation, play Ray LaMontagne’s Trouble. When you are lying on your mat, tired and totally relaxed, this will be the best song to zone out to. It is so beautiful, his voice is amazing, and it works for everyone. Who doesn’t love this song?
I have been thinking lately about how great it would be if I became a yoga teacher, but I’ve only been practicing for about 4 months, so it wouldn’t really work right now. But if I walked out of a yoga class after that playlist, I would be so happy. Call me bias, but I think that one is pretty perfect. Don’t you?
Oh, and randomly, a message to
I can’t wait for summer!
April 14, 2008 by Emily Ashley
So, the first lovely hints of summer are starting to creep out of the cold Colorado Mountains. Today was an absolutely gloriously beautiful day, 80 degrees and sunny. I was running around school in my favorite flower spring dress and smiling and skipping about, the sun has strange effects on me; I become Julie Andrews circa The Sound Of Music.
Anyone catch Rock Of Love last night? It came time for rock star Bret Michaels to make his decision of who would be his “rock of love”, for the second time around.
I seriously thought he would pick Daisy, the uber-hot punk rock chick, but to my dismay he picked Ambre.
Has anyone else noticed the trend of musicians having their own dating shows?
Flavor Flav…
Bret Michaels…
Tila Tequila, yes, believe it or not she actually DOES play music. Think Peaches…but a little toned down, but anyone would sound toned down compared to Peaches, she’s fearless!
So, back to today. For the longest time I have always thought about writing these down, so I’m going to compile the list. It may sound a bit weird, but I always notice specific sounds that I just love, sounds that people don’t usually notice, but maybe after this you will.
I love the sound of building vents humming the air conditioning into the little offices.
I love the sound of sneakers on hard carpet, the pat pat sound they make.
I love the sound of cars, really early in the morning, they just sound different then, I don’t know why.
I love the sound of a mix CD when the person you have a thing for has made it for you, trying to find all the hidden meanings, the special songs they have put on it, trying to make a confession. That used to happen in high school, and I always loved it.
I love the sound of a Dell computer keyboard, the keys are deeper than Mac’s and they make a more satisfactory sound.
I love the sound of a record when it is first starting, how it clicks and there is a sort of silent whir.
I love the sound of construction paper when you cut it.
I love the sound of heels on cobblestones, cliché eh?
I love the sound of fluorescent lights when they are about to die.
But most of all…
I love the sound of The Beatles, when they are actually speaking. Sometimes, on the radio, they’ll play little snippets of interviews and I’ll always know it’s them because of their silly Liverpool accents, I love it, I feel so connected to them.
I think it’s important to notice all the sounds of the world, because in a way, it’s all adding up to this huge symphony. I saw a movie once, I can’t remember what it was called, but it talked about what I’m speaking of. I don’t think people stop and listen enough, they just go about their day like it’s all the same, but there are special little things about each and every day that make life unique.
Look around sometime, stop and listen, you’ll find it.
April 06, 2008 by Emily Ashley
I had woken up in an oddly good mood that fateful morning. Had gotten a bagel breakfast with my boyfriend and dropped him off at school. I returned home awake and ready to conquer the day.
(Jet lag will do that to you... 6am in Colorado is 1pm in London)
I say to myself, Emily, you have to call AUP (The American University of Paris) and set up an interview. You have done everything else; you have sent in your (amazing) application, the one you spent days and days on and poured your sweat and tears into, you have travelled halfway across the world to tour the beautiful Paris campus. Hell, you even stayed behind post-tour and talked with a counsellor. You’ve done it all, old girl, all but the interview.
The defining interview.
I pick up the phone, there is no suspense, I expect to speak with Kerry, the regular, NICE secretary. But instead I am greeted by a different voice.
Here is how the rest of the conversation went. I will write it verbatim, because I will never forget this conversation as long as I live.
AUP person: Hello.
Me: Hi, may I please speak with Kerry?
AUP person: She’s not here can I help you. (in a gruff voice, and no question mark at the end, like I was taking up her precious moments)
Me: Yes, I sent in my application and have just returned from Paris to tour AUP, and I was calling to set up an interview.
All the while I am being super polite, well-spoken, freakin’ Jackie O.
AUP person: What’s your name. (Again, not a question, more like a demand)
Me: Emily Ashley.
AUP person: I need to look up your file hold on. (All spoken in one exasperated breath)
Hold Hold Hold Hold Hold the phone clicks back on
AUP person: Yea I’m sorry we just CAN’T accept you.
Pause
She’s waiting for my response, but what she can’t see is my mouth gaping open in complete shock.
After a couple of moments of silence, she starts laying into me about how bad my GPA was in high school, and apparently still is. Even though I am positive that I have a high GPA because the past two semesters I have made mostly Bs and As.
But she doesn’t stop at just one rude remark. She goes off.
AUP person: Your GPA is so so so bad that we simply cannot accept you. It is so bad that we just cannot accept you. Sometimes, rarely, we accept GPAs of 3.0, but YOUR GPA is horrible.
And then, to add fuel to the fire, she says this number:
Maybe you can spend another year at community college, and then try to get in next year. I feel both her judgement and sarcasm as closely as my own beating heart.
And that was it. My dreams were crushed under this woman’s ugly heel. Writing it just does not do it justice, it was the worst thing I have ever heard. She was so mean to me, I was actually stunned.
And then the tears came. Upon handing up, I sat at my desk holding my phone in my palm staring blankly at the wall with my mouth a gaping hole.
I didn’t get in.
I didn’t get in.
There was only one thing that could help.
The Beatles, of course.
I decided to pick “1967-1970”, record four, to throw on.
And as I’m sitting on the floor, back rested against the bed, it comes on.
Here comes the sun.
It was perfect for that moment. I felt like it was being sung just to me. Just to say, hold on, it will be ok. Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun.
So there I was, crying my eyes out at 9 in the morning listening to The Beatles and letting the hard reality set it, I won’t be going to Paris next year.
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right
It made me feel better, listening to those lyrics, hearing them sing the words I was feeling inside. And as I sat there crying I thought about them, those words.
It’s all right.
Lyrics have a profound affect on me. They make me think.
And I think at that moment those lyrics, “It’s all right” meant two different things to me.
One: it’s all right, as in, it’s ok, don’t worry.
Two: it’s all right, as in, this is right, this is what’s meant to be happening.
I don’t understand why something as stupid as a high school GPA ruined my chances of going to the college I had hoped to go to for so long. It was my dream. To study Art History in Paris. To go to the amazing school I had toured not 6 days ago. They didn’t look at my recommendations, which were perfect. They didn’t look at my ACT score, which was a 29. They looked at a decimal. They looked beyond my passion.
But The Beatles, as silly as this may sound, knew how I felt right then. And at that moment it felt like they had written that song just for me, reserved for this very moment in my life.
This morning devastated me to the point of no return. I had never felt anything like it. I had actually convinced myself that there was no doubt that I was going.
But I’m not.
So I sat there instead. Listening to The Beatles.
Then…
I hear the lyrics of yet another song. The perfect song to follow the first…
Desmond has a barrow in the market place
Molly is the singer in a band
Desmond says to Molly - girl I like your face
And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand
Obladi oblada life goes on bra
Lala how the life goes on
And I’m up, off the floor, and I’m dancing. Pointing to myself in the mirror and mouthing the words. I’m twirling and flailing and jumping around. I’m happy, in a sad sort of way.
Obladi oblada life goes on.
And it does, doesn’t it. It goes on. And that’s that.
But without music, I wouldn’t have been able to pull myself through and realize that.
Without those four wonderful boys, I would probably still be crying.
It just goes to show. When in doubt, play The Beatles.
April 03, 2008 by Emily Ashley
Living in
So when standing on the Jubilee Line at 5 p.m. in
I look at my boyfriend, who looks as comfortable as can be, and down at my iPod.
Maybe some music will make me feel better.
I switch on the little “on” button on my tiny pink shuffle and the amazing beat of Citizen Cope’s Sun’s Gonna Rise. I love this song, if you haven’t heard it stop reading this and go listen to it. It is one of my favorite songs, and is one of the rare songs that is perfect for any situation.
There’s something about listening to music on the subway. You look around you and suddenly everything is perfectly in sync with the song. There is a bum tapping his foot to the beat, a businessman reading the newspaper and turning the pages just at the right time, a woman in which the song is describing.
As the train sped down the tracks, jerking left and right, the song became the soundtrack. I looked at my beautiful boyfriend, clad in his chic peacoat, and watched him as he nodded his head to the music in his own ears, and somehow it went along perfectly with mine.
Our first day in
The whole day in
We took a bus to
Paris is the most beautiful place in the world. I know I say this often, but returning there just validated it for me. Walking around, watching the hustle and bustle of the busy streets, it’s amazing for someone who lives in a town that consists of the same people, doing the same things.
There was a moment, we were walking down the Metro hallways and I was saying how badly I wanted to see an accordion player. They were scarce this time, probably because it is the end of winter, and it was raining and cold, but as we sat on the Metro train two men suddenly appeared.
One with a sax, one with an accordion.
Lo and behold, they started to play. And I sat there, clutching his hand, smiling so wide sunshine was exuding my mouth, so exited that I got to see them. I took a video, it was just too great not to capture.
This is only one moment of my trip, and I will write much more about it, but I wanted to give you guys a teaser. I have to get to class now, until we meet again.
Citizen Cope
Sun’s Gonna Rise
Yea yea yea yea yea
Rollin' down the highway
Like a rocket
Headed to town now
You can't stop it
Got a wheel in my hand
As I stand
On the floor
Of the board
Of this car
On the road
Got this woman in the back seat
Yeah she's my wifey
In the middle of the delivery
Man she saves me
To this day I don't know why
She picked me up
When I was down on the road
With the wind when it blowed
Well a sun's gonna rise in a mile
In a mile you'll be feeling fine
In a mile you will see
After me
You'll be out of the dark, yeah
You'll get your shot
March 20, 2008 by Emily Ashley
In less than 24 hours I will be on a plane embarking on my grand adventure around
Making a playlist for a trip like this is truly an art, because one has to take into account their excitement factor, and also that they will probably want to sleep on the plane, and therefore should have some “chill out” music on reserve.
So, here I go, yet another one of my playlist compilations.
I have this thing I do; I have to have the perfect song for take-off. The perfect take-off song is essential because if you queue it up perfectly with the actual ascent into the sky, it adds this amazing sense of excitement and freedom.
Some songs I love to take-off to are:
Songs I love to walk around cities to:
Songs to listen to on the train, while the countryside is whipping past you:
Songs to listen to on the plane ride home:
Songs to sleep on the plane to:
So there you go, fellow travelers. I know I added a lot of Beatles tunes, but what can I say; for every mood, there is a Beatles song to go along with it. See you in 10 days! Wish me luck!!
March 18, 2008 by Emily Ashley
So I remember back in high school there was this girl, Allysse. She was a total rock star, she was a crazy punk who really didn’t care what people thought of her, and I completely admired that, even though after I left high school I stopped talking to her, and ultimately never saw her again.
I was driving to school this morning, and this memory popped into my head that I hadn’t thought about in a long time, I decided earlier today that the next spare second I had I would share this story with you.
So pause on Allysse for a second…
I had this English teacher, Mr. Vacca, my junior year in high school. I didn’t realize how great he was until I had finished his class, but some of his teachings will stay with me forever.
This one day he handed out the lyrics to Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War”, and played us the song.
The lyrics are as follows:
Come you masters of war
You that build the big guns
You that build the death planes
You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten all the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
While the death count gets higher
Then you hide in your mansion
While the young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
(Mr. Vacca was a hippie in the 60’s, god I wish I could have had his life).
So, back to the story of Allysse.
Every year, Boulder High holds a talent show, and in 2004 the talent show caused an uproar because Allysse had decided to sing this song, “Masters of War”. Because we were in the middle of war, people started to think that her singing the song was a threat towards President Bush. Come on.
Weeks before the show the whole school was filled with whispers and hushed gossip of this controversy. Would the school let her go through with it? Was this going to impact our school? What was going to happen? Everyone wondered this.
The night of the talent show:
The secret service is standing in the back. Trying to be inconspicuous but failing miserably because everyone knows if you have a clear earpiece coming out of your ear and down the back of your fancy, expensive suit that screams “CIA”, you are obviously not a boulder local. It was a huge deal, the secret service, at our school, because of a song.
A song, that’s all it was. Just a song that she wanted to sing because she believed in it, she believed that if she sung it people would listen; people would want to make a difference.
So the talent show goes on as usual. A few comedic bands doing silly covers of Vanilla Ice and such, a few boring monologues and tone-deaf wannabe Broadway stars. Then, towards the end of the show, Allysse makes her ascent onto the stage.
I could feel the tension of the auditorium. This tiny punk girl, dressed like Brody Armstrong, looking like a confident rock star was about to rock our school like no one else ever had.
They handed out flyers with the lyrics of this song to everyone in the audience.
The band begins to play.
Tension.
She raises the microphone to her bright red lips…
She opens her mouth and starts singing.
But no one can hear a sound.
She’s screaming once she realizes the microphone doesn’t work. She’s screaming, trying to get everyone to hear these important words. But no one hears a thing, except for the band desperately trying to play as softly as possible in order for someone, anyone, to hear her.
Everyone in the audience is silent, trying to hear this girl pour out her beliefs.
But alas, The Man has silenced her.
She finished the song, screaming, but no one heard her.
We all knew what had happened. They had turned down her microphone. They had silenced her.
All because of a song. A song that had real meaning and wasn’t some fluff song to look like a star for five stupid minutes.
She tried to do it over. We all begged the show staff to let her do it over. But she wasn’t allowed. They said it was because it would have been unfair to let her do it over because of other people messing up and not getting another chance.
Then the curtains closed and the Talent Show was over. Everyone left like nothing had happened. The Secret Service went back to their lovely, secret world, and everything was back to normal.
Except for me, it wasn’t normal at all. Something inside me clicked when she was silenced, something inside me said “this isn’t right”.
I made a shirt that night, and wore it the next day, it said
You silence us, fuck you.
The moral of the story?
Songs are powerful. They impact people more than the average person knows. If music wasn’t powerful, then why did the Secret Service make a trip to the small town of
Even now, years later, I still feel it was wrong. I feel that music is meant to be powerful, it’s meant to make people think and feel, although music may make you feel uncomfortable at times, music is like poetry, and you should never, ever, take that away.
If you want to read more about it, or just simmer in the sheer absurdity of it:
http://abcnews.go.com/US/Story?id=247437&page=1
http://www.notinourname.net/restrictions/talent-show-29nov04.htm
