Transformation

I so rarely write at my desk at home because it is so rare that I’m actually here. But I am, and so is the inspiration to write, so I will.

I never used to write at this desk because it was so cluttered. Art projects, magazines, clean laundry—heck, dirty laundry— all of it just sort of piled up. I didn’t really notice the mess at first, it just kind of happened. Little by little though, realization dawned, and each time I passed my desk, I tried to clear a part of it off. I wanted to make a space for myself to work at it. I wanted to see what my desk really looked like underneath it all.

I was lucky enough to have someone do for me what I did for that desk. Someone took the time to clear the clutter off of me to see what I really looked like underneath it all.

Just because somebody can’t love you right now, doesn’t mean that they never did, or that they never will. I feel like sometimes, I get so caught up in thinking that everyone’s life moves in this linear, predictable fashion, when really, we’re just multi-colored beads on the tracks of those rainbow-coated-wire-contraptions in the dentist’s office waiting room. We could be ships, or trains, or airplanes: we’re all going somewhere, but we’ve all got our own paths to take. These paths could cross again, or they might not. We’re all travelers in this life.

As it turns out, children's toys serve as great metaphors for my life. 

            Sometimes, I forget that just because something’s happened once, doesn’t mean it can’t happen again. Like a book, we can be read and re-read. Sometimes, it’s by the same person. Sometimes, it’s by someone entirely new. One thing is for sure: a book read once is no longer new, but new things can be found in the same pages. Love’s a threading theme run rampant, but there’s so many ways to spin it out.

In the words of the wise New Englander, Robert Frost: “In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.”

Reflections

     When I think about where I was at this time last year, I'm amazed at how things turned out, considering just how conflicted and confusing things were. This time last year, I said so many goodbyes, and until several months ago, I lived with regret over them. Now, having grown so much from the person I was just a short year ago, I see how one honestly can't live with regret. Those goodbyes meant that last month, I was able to say "hello" and mean it. That's empowering.

     There's a quote that goes something like "When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us," and I think that's really apt to so many situations in life. Admit to yourself daily that things don't last forever. Don't try to hang onto people, because people change, and that's okay, because you do, too. Grow with the people who are going the same direction as you. Don't fight the current just for the sake of fighting it: have a purpose.

     The biggest difference between this time last year and this year for me was learning to think for myself. You'd be surprised at how many of your "original thoughts" actually originate in someone else's head. #inception. We naturally hold our friends in high esteem, sure; they're our friends for a reason. But don't forgo your own thoughts and feelings for someone else's. Nobody wins. I mean, I'm not saying I blunder through life ignoring what people say (at least not everyday!) but I can't stress enough how important it is to take time to think critically about how you feel. Start with the small things, like picking out a unique style of clothing just because you like it, or whatever it is you like best. It'll help when you get to the big things, like knowing when to use advice, and when to consider the source.

      I'm also a huge fan of this little writing exercise: If I could go back in time and tell myself one thing, I would say:__________. I'd tell myself "change is okay." Humans are creatures of habit. How many times have you found yourself naturally gravitating towards the same seat on the bus, or in class, or in the cafeteria? I think so much changed for me last year at once that I wanted at least one rock to hang onto; one tangible thing to grasp while internal and external forces around me shook. It's funny how humans are primordially designed to want sameness, when honestly, the best thing I found was the beauty in being different, and the joy in letting go.

Currently, I'm procrastinating my last research paper of the semester and the fact that I have to study for finals. I guess some things never change. :)

Here's some music to get you through these last few days.

Cheers! --L.N.V.


 This next video's a real gem: A video clip and music by Hudson. First chance I get, I'm going to Australia, you guys. They can't keep hiding all of this indie talent from me forever.

To Infinity, and Beyond

I step up to the mirror built into my dorm room wall and peer in. My heart’s beating just a little too fast and swooping like the birds outside my third floor window. I run my fingers through my Cherry-Coke-colored mane and try to figure out if I want to leave it curly or go straight. It doesn’t matter all that much I decide as I brush my bangs out of my eyes. Stepping back, I let the mirror frame me: soft t-shirt, dark jeans ripped perfectly at the knees; my favorite and freshest pair of purple, blue and white Nikes. If I’m going into the unknown, I might as well look good. Like they say in the movies: to infinity, and beyond.

Passenger Seat

You drive the car, and I'll read the maps.
Wherever we're going, let's never come back.















And of course:

Lost in Translation

     As a teacher-in-training, I like to think that I know what my students think is cool. After all, I’m only a handful-and-a-half years older than them at most, so I try to tell myself that I haven’t changed so much since I was their age that I can no longer put myself back in their shoes. However, my experiences as a summer camp counselor have shined the harsh light of reality in my eyes: I apparently no longer speak (or understand, for that matter) the Klingon-like language of “pre-teen.”

     Last summer, while working as a summer day-camp counselor, one of the pre-teen campers was starting trouble, so naturally, I wanted to step up and sort it out.
     “Can JIMBOB* and me go behind the stage? I lost my bracelet.”
     The girl** (I don’t really know what to call her, but all I can think of is Britney Spears’ lyric “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman…”) Her dark bangs fell into her eyes, and I knew then as I struggled to make eye contact with her why my own mother always yelled at me to get my hair out of my face when I was a kid. I considered the girl’s question for a second. It was a likely story. And by likely, I mean completely and utterly false. I know what pre-teens like to do behind large structures where no one can see them. I told her my thoughts.
     “No, you may not go behind the stage. We’ll be going outside shortly, so I’m going to tell everyone to line up. You might be able to check after drink break, but only if another counselor goes with you.”
The girl-creature’s eyes narrowed at me; darkening with demon-like intensity.
     “But what if someone takes it!” Her voice was insistent, screeching.
     “No one will take it. Here, I can check for it while you’re outside.” I offered. I looked at her wrist to see a multitude of colorful rubber bracelets. How could she possibly know if she was missing one?   
     Having had to deal with this girl before, I acknowledged that she probably just wanted to hide behind the stage so she wouldn’t have to participate at camp. She was the type of girl that her parents probably forced to attend the program so she wouldn’t be in the house with her raging hormones and her bad attitude. I began to feel sorry for her.
     “Only I know where it is though!” She tried again, not even trying to suck up to me like I would’ve done when I was her age.
     “Then you can tell me where it is.” I attempted to reason. I could not believe I was arguing with a 12 year-old about a bracelet, when there are more serious issues out there, like world hunger, poverty, or finding the cure for cancer.
     She opened her mouth again to complain, but I was quickly losing my patience despite the few extra minutes I had spent that morning in front of the bathroom mirror taking deep, calming breaths.

I closed my eyes to keep from raising my voice, and opening them again, I exhaled.
“Dude, just go outside, I’ll look for the bracelet. Don’t worry about it.”

     The little beast drew back in rage with an intensity only the violently coursing hormones of a twelve-year-old girl could muster.
     “DID YOU JUST CALL ME ‘DUDE’?!”
My eyes widened as I quickly tried to think of ways to clarify what I meant, but not apologize. I wasn’t going to back down to her. I had no idea if the severity of the offense I had just committed warranted her outraged response. “Dude” was a term of endearment to me. It was reassuring. It was a word I grew up with. Everyone, regardless of gender, was “dude.” I’ve come to notice that a habit of mine when I start to lose my temper is that my use of the word “dude” increases to Big Lebowski-ish proportions to prevent me from saying other, less friendly words that could cause me to lose my job. Watching the girl huff before me, I began to wonder: had the meaning of “dude” changed since I was her age?

     The irrationally angry girl stormed off towards the playground doors, letting them slam behind her. She would talk about me to her friends, and tell them I called her “dude.” They would all in turn talk about how lame I was, and how I didn’t know any Justin Bieber songs, or watch TeenNick on the weekends. It wouldn’t matter to them that I put up with their horrendous and unpredictable behavior five days a week to make minimum wage. Nor would it impress them that I’d been to roughly five concerts that summer, or that I was planning to go on a road trip with the money I made from working at camp. It mattered not that I had my own car, that I went to college, or that I wanted to be a teacher because I did, in fact, enjoy working with kids. To them, I just wasn’t cool, and I never would be.




*Not his actual name.
**I'm not sure if I consider pre-teens to be of the human variety at this juncture.


Here's a funny mash-up of scenes from the Big Lebowski set to Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Looking Out My Back Door." Gotta love the 90's.

Music and Pterodactyls: An Almost Love Story

Oh hey, thanks for coming over. I thought I was going to have to spend this dumb holiday by myself watching some lame rom-com on network television and eating my feelings. So, legit, thanks for stopping by and saving me from that. You can throw your coat over the back of that chair if you want. We can sit out in the living room, then? Cool, okay, yeah, hang on a sec, I’ll put some coffee on for us. This conversation could be a little while.

Secretly, Reader, I am an emotional creature. If you were to see me, you’d say “no, not that girl! She’s a stoic badass. Stoic badasses don’t have emotions!” Please indulge me, dear Reader, as I tell you some tales of love on this fine “holiday” (but definitely not saturated in emotion; I still have my “stoic badass” image to uphold).

For instance, one summer I sculpted two pterodactyls out of homemade rice crispy treats to use as a gesture of apology for someone I once loved. I parked my car in front of their house, waiting for said individual to return from work. No sooner did they exit their car, did I leap out of mine, and all of the words I’d rehearsed in my head ran together at once when I said:       

“I'MSORRYFORBEINGSTUPIDWILLYOUPLEASETAKEMEBACKIMADEYOUPTERODACTYLS!”

The rice-crispy pterodactyls before their ill-fated journey.

The look I received was a mix of pity, amusement, and raw bewilderment. This was clearly not one of my more “put together” moments.

However, it was just not meant to be. My pterodactyls had begun to melt in the hot summer sun like my composure; their chocolate chip eyes streaming like my own. I drove back across town, pulled into the back lot of an abandoned grocery store, and cried into the steering wheel. It was like I was filming a Lifetime movie.

My life is never this dramatic.

Oh, coffee’s ready. Cream & sugar?

I mean, you’ve been there, haven’t you, Reader? You’ve found yourself doing something so out-of-your-mind crazy for someone you’ve loved? It’s just me? Oh, c’mon. Seriously. You’ve been there, right? You try to do something that is as extraordinary as that person makes you feel, and that much emotion packed into a gesture, well it’s a risk, and I venture to say you’ve made many a pterodactyl-crispy-sculpture in your day that’s been left crying in the sun. But you’ve been loved too, I bet; no—cherished. You’ve been loved beyond recognition—it’s left it’s indelible mark on you, I can see it in the way you’ve stopped reading and started thinking about where love’s taken you, and what it’s left you with.

It’s a transformation; a metamorphosis. Even when you think love’s gone, it’s given you so much more than you realize. All of the intangibles language tries to describe, but it’s a feeling more than anything. I could go on, but you already know what I mean. That’s why you’re still reading.

*Cough*, Sorry, I said I wouldn’t let this get saturated in emotion. Whoo. Whoo, hoo, hoo. Okay. Bring it back. Brrring it back. Anyway.

Yet, along the spectrum of emotions I do manage to recognize, there’s some I don’t know what to do with. There’s still a box in the corner of my room at home containing the detritus of a love once shared. I suppose we’ve all got boxes somewhere, if not in our rooms, then in our heads. Don’t tell anyone I ever experience feelings about anything ever. I’d lose my hipster credibility.

Perhaps I would donate the items in the (literal) box to the Museum of Broken Relationships. Hmm, I would probably donate the Bop-It XT. 

Hours of fun...or frustration?

It was all fun and games until I was frustrated out of my mind, and I couldn’t get it to stop shouting imperatives at me.

For anyone who has ever slow danced in an empty street to the music inside your head, or felt like there could be a soundtrack to all of the moments that took your breath away (or made you feel like dry heaving, or punching someone), here are some songs for this holiday I have a love/hate relationship with.

 Ughh, okay guys, this is my absolute favorite cover by New Found Glory. HOWEVER, I do apologize that this is the only video I could find, and I am sorry for all the people making out. Guess I should've saw that coming. #logic #planbetter

This video is beautiful, artsy, and so creative. Not the official vid for this song, but still wonderful.

"This is a song for the one that I love. I haven't met them yet. But, I'm quietly confident." An Horse Forever.

I weep when I hear this song because of how beautiful it is. Honest. #notafraid.

 "You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved..." 

And a more cheerful one...

I used to put this song on and walk around campus, just to think things over. 

Drew Tabor is precious and talented. A friend showed me this gem. I can actually sing along to this one! 

 Classic.

 "In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life."

 Seriously, read the lyrics to this song. All the awards. Forever.

 One of my favorites: 

If you have a valentine: you’re lucky to have met them and have them in your life to share this day with. If you’re flying solo, just remember that right now, someone you haven’t met is out there wondering what it would be like to meet someone like you. Take heart in that. 

Cheers! 

--L.V.

Live From Philadelphia...Radio 104.5 Winter Jam 2012

Hey there!

Sorry posting has been so crazy; I'm back at school for the semester, so I barely have time to do necessary-life things, like showering, eating, sleeping, and breathing. However, last weekend, I did manage to get away to Philly with a couple friends to attend the totally awesome (and totally free!) Winter Jam 2012, hosted by Radio 104.5 at the Piazza. Suhweet!

Lineup included Rivers Monroe, fun., and New Found Glory (however, you won't find any pictures of NFG because I was too busy being tossed around in a roiling sea of drunk Philly concert-goers! Wee!) 

Stage at Winter Jam 2012 in the Piazza.

First up was local indie rock band, Rivers Monroe.

Rivers Monroe

Rivers Monroe.

Next up was who I came to see: fun. (Above: lead singer Nate Ruess.)

Nate Ruess of fun.

                                            

 I love going to Philly. I love the sights, the sounds. The bustle of a city that still manages to feel like home. 

A bike rack is ready for winter despite the warm temperatures in Philly that day. 50 degrees!

I am all about old/vintage cars, and I could not resist this one parked outside Lorenzo's. Totally reminded me of some sort of "Philly Mob Boss" vehicle.

I love coffee shops. So. Much. 

South Street is colorful.

I feel as though this record store has every record ever made since the start of recorded time. (Pun intended).

Random faux-animal tail on the sidewalk. Just finding treasure on the sidewalk in Philly.

Obligatory Starbucks photo.

B-E-A-U-tiful day in the city!

Nash Ambassador. Mmm vintage.

This is Doug. Doug belongs to my friend's cousin, who graciously allowed us to stay in her apartment over the weekend while she was away on business.

Doug was probably as big a highlight for me that weekend as going to the show. What a neat cat.

Here's part of fun. & NFG's lineup:








^ This one takes me back, haha.


^As does this one.


Thanks for reading, & stay tuned for more posts!
--L.N.V.

The New Year's Pre-Party Playlist

     2012 is right around the corner, and you might find yourself going out to a party to ring in the new year, or maybe you're the one throwing the soirée. Whether you're celebrating the close of 2011 at a large party, or you're just chilling with some close friends and family, you're gonna need some festive music to get you feeling awesome. Here's some gems that sparkle brighter than the glitter at a Ke$ha concert for while you're getting yourself looking sharp. 






























For instant party success, follow these simple instructions: 
1. Turn up your bass
2. Add this track 
3. Mingle and enjoy :) 

A Very Indie Christmas

While everyone else is listening to Justin Bieber Christmas covers, you can listen to indie ones, because mainstream Christmas music is so...mainstream. So toss your ironic scarf over your shoulder because you're indoors, stir your all-organic chai latte from the non-chain coffee shop down the street, and turn your speakers up, because it's about to get festive-- indie style.

This video of Ingrid Michaelson & Sara Bareilles is ridiculous. There is so much knit-hat-thick-glasses-musical-genius happening that I just can't handle it. 

These guys crack me up. No video for this, just audio, but it's enough, haha. 

Yes, this song is in here twice. This is my absolute favorite Christmas song, and the Darlene Love version is unbeatable. 

Happy holidays to you and yours from KSG! I'm going to attempt to study for finals now. Key word being "attempt."

Cheers! 

-- L.V. 

Do Some Good: The Born This Way Foundation

Mother Monster wants all of her Little Monsters to feel accepted and loved.
No, this isn't some convoluted cult. This is Lady Gaga, and she is launching a nonprofit foundation next year focusing on youth empowerment and "issues like self-confidence, well-being, anti-bullying, mentoring and career development" according to the Grammy award winning artist as quoted in The Huffington Post.
Also affiliated with the Born This Way Foundation --named for Gaga's hit song about self-acceptance-- is the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, The California Endowment and the Berkman Center for Internet & Society at Harvard University.
Of the Foundation, Gaga says: "Together we hope to establish a standard of Bravery and Kindness, as well as a community worldwide that protects and nurtures others in the face of bullying and abandonment."
My paws are up, Lady Gaga, because this is music to my ears.

To join the movement online, go to http://www.bornthiswayfoundation.org/ .

2012 Adventure Preview: Mississippi

Hey there!

I'm leaving for Thanksgiving break tomorrow. It'll be nice to be home for a little while. What I'm really excited about though is my trip to Smithville, Mississippi that I'll be going on with other students from my college over Christmas break. Smithville is a disaster area-- torn up by a tornado-- and a group of us are going there with some fantastic "Aunts" and "Uncles" from Lend A Hand. I've never built a house, or fixed a roof, but I'm beyond stoked to meet new people, learn new things, and to journey out to Knoxville, Tupelo, and other places down South on my way to help those affected by the disaster.

As an aside, the American South is iconic as being the birthplace of rock-and-roll-- with headliners like Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash, music during this chapter in American history is unforgettable. Even modern music artists like Harrison Hudson take notes from 60's and 70's southern rock, so I'm interested to see this part of the country that has had such a profound effect on music history as we know it.

It'll be my first "Do Some Good" act for 2012! Woo!

What do you plan to do next year? Think it over with some solid southern-inspired tracks.













Stay tuned, and I'll keep you posted on Mississippi & other adventures!
Thanks for reading!
-- L.V.

American Thunder

Hey, so remember that position I got at school writing music reviews? ...You do?! Your memory is way better than mine!
Here's the article I wrote this past week on Harrison Hudson:

Just the title of Harrison Hudson’s third full-length album—“American Thunder”—makes me wish I were driving a muscle car with the windows down, drumming my fingers on the driver’s side door. The album’s sound embodies the spirit that was so much a part of ‘50’s and ‘60’s Americana: raw emotion and pure stream of consciousness. That unbridled sense of freedom, nostalgia, and soulful rock roll over the listener in this third-time’s-the-charm album with a perfect storm of melodies, and Hudson’s vocals are smooth like a soda fountain treat.

            From humble beginnings in Atlanta, GA, Harrison Hudson got his start as a songwriter backed by a band. In 2008, Harrison Hudson had become a full band—taking his name as their title— and making a new home in Nashville, TN. I caught up with Harrison Hudson in May of 2010 when they were touring with Manchester Orchestra at the Theater of the Living Arts in Philly.

Their song, “Indie Rock and Roll Queen” was an instant favorite of mine for its hard-hitting power chords and catchy lyrics. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to dance around playing air-guitar, singing into your hairbrush; not caring if your roommate judges you.

            Harrison Hudson captures the vintage, southern-rock feel and re-inspires it in a new generation of music enthusiasts—not re-manufactures the past. “American Thunder” tells the modern tale of “boy meets manic-pixie-dream-girl” (where are my Garden State fans at?) and “boy winds up heartbroken when she leaves him for another guy.” If you’re anything like me, though, the album closes after playing “Run My Way” about six times, and then mouthing the words to “Bookstore Girl” as you walk across campus to class. It turns it into a “choose your own adventure” story.

Harrison Hudson writes the anthems for the new age horizon chasers and radio blasters. Now if only gas still cost 24 cents a gallon…       

To listen to all tracks on Harrison Hudson's new album, check out their website. 

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more music posts, updates, and reviews!
-- L.V.

The Year We Got Christmas for Halloween

Usually, when I'm blogging it's pouring down rain, but today we are having a weather event: it is snowing in October. Now, depending on where you live, this may not be a big deal (here's looking at you, Nova Scotia!) but for the east coast of the U.S., this is pretty unusual.

Fittingly enough, She & Him released their much anticipated Christmas album, "A Very She & Him Christmas" this past Monday.



I dropped everything I was doing to download it, and I listened to it all day. In fact, I am listening to it now as this wonderful snowfall is occurring. Zooey & M. Ward, you make my life beautiful.











I could honestly just listen to this, watch the Polar Express, drink hot chocolate/ good coffee, and snuggle right now. My life would be complete.

Happy Early Holidays from KSG!
Stay warm!
--L.V.

Live from Philadelphia... An Horse

     Hey there fellow music lovers & concert attendees! It has been an obscenely long time since I've posted last, for which I do apologize.
     Last weekend I had the ultimate pleasure of seeing An Horse perform at the North Star bar in Philly. The duo always put on a great show. I even got to shake hands and introduce myself to Harrison Hudson, who you might recall from KC & DC's last tour with Manchester Orchestra  .
I think the crowning moment though was when I was at An Horse's merch table. Damon was running it, and I got a chance to talk to him, and tell him that I saw them perform at Lollapalooza over the summer, and  that I thought their show that night was fantastic. I tried really hard not to fangirl. I may or may not have succeeded. However, if Kate was out there, I probably would've fangirled, haha.
Check out some of the pictures from that night:

Outside the North Star

Damon Cox setting up for An Horse's set.

Kate Cooper tuning her guitar.

KC & DC

Kate Cooper

An Horse

There was a mustache painted on the wall just above one of the drum sets. I am definitely returning to the North Star to see another show.

Bye, Philly. I'll see you again soon!

Thanks for reading!
--L.V. 

P.E.M.F.G. (Please Excuse My Fan-Girling)

Yesterday was my last day at school before fall break. I'm pretty confident that I did really well on my algebra II quiz (haters gonna hate; yes: I am STILL taking algebra. Anyone who says that stuff goes away after high school definitely lied.)
So instead of "Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally" when working through the order of operations, I'd like you to "Please Excuse My Fan-Girling" as you listen to Elizaveta, who I'm pretty sure is going fill your life with joy (unlike math, which usually only fills my life with despair.)

Have a listen:


IS THIS NOT THE MOST MAGICAL SONG THAT HAS EVER GRACED YOUR AUDITORY NERVE ENDINGS?! (Please excuse my fan-girling. So sorry for that outburst. You were warned. Scientific facts may or may not be correct. Over it.)


Seriously, she should musically narrate my life. I could easily see this being played in the background as I walk from the coffee shop back to campus. Magic.

Born in New York City, raised in Russia, and now building her career in the United States out of raw talent and sheer bliss for artistic expression, Elizaveta is turning heads in the music industry. She studied flower alchemy and minored in music while in university, and studied opera when she came to the States (hence those absolutely incredible, jaw-dropping operatic notes in her songs.)
Of her music, Elizaveta notes on her blog, "I seek to sing in a manner which would create within your chest a safe, magical, truthful place of power beyond the slow burn of stars."
She used the word "magical." Several lines up, I used the term "magical", all before I even knew she had a blog, or used the word "magical". I would say mission 100% accomplished.

For more music, magic, and information on Elizaveta, check out her blog here .

Thank you for excusing my fan-girling.

Carry on.
--L.N.V.

The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know

If I had to choose a favorite instrument among the many that please my ear, I would have to go with piano. I find it has the most soothing of sounds, with silvery, tinkling high notes, or rich, melodious low ones. Piano can be sassy, jazzy, declarative, or the deepest of melancholy. It can be bubbly, high-spirited, and enchanting. I love its versatility, and I think that's why it appeals so much to me. Its sound is only limited by the player's imagination; as though the monochromatic keys issue a dare with the press of each note: "be adventurous, be creative; paint with the invisible words that say so much."

A lovely piano that belongs to a friend of mine.

When I type, I like to listen to piano. That way, I can pretend that those soulful notes emanating from my iTunes are my creation. Reality reveals, however, that I will always love piano music from afar because regrettably, I lack the skill and dexterity required to produce even a string of sequential harmonious notes. *Sigh....*