Why didn't anyone tell me???
So very lovely.
One gal's perspective on the sport of poker...and life.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Spotify - all you can eat, baby.
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Sit through previews at the movie theater.
Step into an elevator.
Walk into a grocery store.
Flip channels on TV.
Wait on hold.
Sometimes it's filler you don't even notice...just cheesy muzak or classical strings droning in the background (or maybe you do notice it and just try to drown it out). Other times, though, you'll catch a lyric, a rising melody, and you're transported to another time and place.
I love music so much that I always want to know what other people are listening to because I feel like I can tell something about them by knowing (a) just how into music they really are and (b) what music they like. In fact, instead of business cards, I wish we'd all carry "My Top Ten Songs of All Time" around as calling cards. If nothing else, it would be an interesting way to learn something new about a friend, and maybe score some new music.
Over the years, I've listened on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, CD, and iTunes. But, I've lost my library a time or two along the way and it sucks. Has that ever happened to you? If so, you know it's the worst.
Seems today, all you need is an internet connection to listen to your favorite tunes (I sound like a geriatric even writing that sentence, but it's true) and the very best resource to do that is Spotify. If you're not using it - check. it. out. I'm serious. Don't keep reading - go sign up for it and get your playlists going (and then share them with me and I'll do likewise!)
My free trial period to Spotify's Premium service ended yesterday. I didn't even notice, though, because as soon as I spent a week playing with the program, surfing music, and creating playlists - I was hooked. I insta-signed up to keep my Premium service going (at a cost of $10/mo, $120/year) and I'm not looking back. Forward, maybe, because who knows how we'll listen to music five years from now, but I really don't see how Spotify will or can be topped.
iTunes is adopting a similar approach to storage via its iCloud service, but unlike Spotify (and yes I know this is a technicality given that I am paying $10/mo for Spotify), if you want to listen to the entirety of a song via iTunes, you pretty much have to own it, and to "own" (which is laughable, because if your device crashes, there goes what you supposedly owned, unless it was completely and religiously backed-up) it, you have to pay for it.
With Spotify, yes (if you go the Premium route) you'll pay $10/mo for your music, BUT it's all you can eat, baby, and any time/any where. And, if you eat like me, you know those $1 singles for new tunes that you want to add to your catalog anytime you get bored with what you're hearing can add up dangerously quick.
Even if you don't want to go that route, but like the idea of free and legal music - you can do the free version of Spotify. That means, so long as you have an internet connection, you can listen to your music. With the Premium, you get all that whether you have the connection or not.
The greatest thing about it, besides all the music (and sure, there are some catalogs not yet available, but if the Beatles can eventually get to iTunes, the White Stripes will eventually make it to Spotify) is that it syncs - like magic - with my mobile device AND my iTunes, and across every platform on which I listen to music!
In other words - Spotify is replacing my iTunes. I'm sure iTunes will serve as a complement, but seriously - unless it's music I've just got to have and it's not on Spotify (yet), I really just don't see the need to try to use them both.
Seriously, people. It's amazing.
I didn't start this post wanting to go on and on about Spotify, but maybe there's someone out there who's catalog just crashed. If that's you - check it out, you won't be sorry.
 |
| Artist: Charla Hayen |
Step into an elevator.
Walk into a grocery store.
Flip channels on TV.
Wait on hold.
Sometimes it's filler you don't even notice...just cheesy muzak or classical strings droning in the background (or maybe you do notice it and just try to drown it out). Other times, though, you'll catch a lyric, a rising melody, and you're transported to another time and place.
I love music so much that I always want to know what other people are listening to because I feel like I can tell something about them by knowing (a) just how into music they really are and (b) what music they like. In fact, instead of business cards, I wish we'd all carry "My Top Ten Songs of All Time" around as calling cards. If nothing else, it would be an interesting way to learn something new about a friend, and maybe score some new music.
Over the years, I've listened on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, CD, and iTunes. But, I've lost my library a time or two along the way and it sucks. Has that ever happened to you? If so, you know it's the worst.
Seems today, all you need is an internet connection to listen to your favorite tunes (I sound like a geriatric even writing that sentence, but it's true) and the very best resource to do that is Spotify. If you're not using it - check. it. out. I'm serious. Don't keep reading - go sign up for it and get your playlists going (and then share them with me and I'll do likewise!)
My free trial period to Spotify's Premium service ended yesterday. I didn't even notice, though, because as soon as I spent a week playing with the program, surfing music, and creating playlists - I was hooked. I insta-signed up to keep my Premium service going (at a cost of $10/mo, $120/year) and I'm not looking back. Forward, maybe, because who knows how we'll listen to music five years from now, but I really don't see how Spotify will or can be topped.
iTunes is adopting a similar approach to storage via its iCloud service, but unlike Spotify (and yes I know this is a technicality given that I am paying $10/mo for Spotify), if you want to listen to the entirety of a song via iTunes, you pretty much have to own it, and to "own" (which is laughable, because if your device crashes, there goes what you supposedly owned, unless it was completely and religiously backed-up) it, you have to pay for it.
With Spotify, yes (if you go the Premium route) you'll pay $10/mo for your music, BUT it's all you can eat, baby, and any time/any where. And, if you eat like me, you know those $1 singles for new tunes that you want to add to your catalog anytime you get bored with what you're hearing can add up dangerously quick.
Even if you don't want to go that route, but like the idea of free and legal music - you can do the free version of Spotify. That means, so long as you have an internet connection, you can listen to your music. With the Premium, you get all that whether you have the connection or not.
The greatest thing about it, besides all the music (and sure, there are some catalogs not yet available, but if the Beatles can eventually get to iTunes, the White Stripes will eventually make it to Spotify) is that it syncs - like magic - with my mobile device AND my iTunes, and across every platform on which I listen to music!
In other words - Spotify is replacing my iTunes. I'm sure iTunes will serve as a complement, but seriously - unless it's music I've just got to have and it's not on Spotify (yet), I really just don't see the need to try to use them both.
Seriously, people. It's amazing.
I didn't start this post wanting to go on and on about Spotify, but maybe there's someone out there who's catalog just crashed. If that's you - check it out, you won't be sorry.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Brotherly Love
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I've got two brothers. They make up the respectable side of our family, what with them being doctors and all. I guess, as doctors go, they must be ok at what they do. When I visit them in the small Texas towns where they live, I can't help noticing that people stop them on the street to say hello, shake their hands, thump 'em on the back a time or two. It might be that. It could also be that each of these towns have populations of, say, eleven. Max.
I'm five years older than my youngest brother and four years older than my middle one. That age difference generally meant if I wasn't beating the tar out of them as kids, I was making their lives hell by getting my own way, generally to their detriment. Things haven't changed much.
During family vacations, we were captives on the road. It's where we learned to make uneasy truces, which, depending on how hot it was in back seat, often came crumbling down at the slightest provocation.
We each excel at slight provocation.
My parents loved acts like the Eagles, Simon and Garfunkle, The Mamas and the Papas, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Elvis, Dan Fogelberg, Loggins & Messina, Carole King, Waylon Jennings, Anne Murray, The Carpenters, Don Williams, The Steve Miller Band. Pretty sure Eddie Rabbit made an appearance a time or two. Seriously, who doesn't love a rainy night?
Since this was during the time Lawrence Welk was king. I'd say we made out ok. Besides, as we got older, we introduced them to groups like The Sugar Hill Gang, The Gap Band, Prince, Rick James, The Beastie Boys, Eminem.
Over the years, the seasons and the scenery changed. The tunes rarely did. 'Already Gone' by the Eagles is the highway between home and the Guadalupe Mountains, Big Bend, Balmorhea, Garner State Park, Carlsbad Caverns, and Ruidoso. Windows rolled down, hot wind blowing, I'm in the window ledge of the battered station wagon (or maybe it was the red and black suburban), one brother's in the other and the other's on the floor...probably crying or playing with Hot Wheels. Or maybe they're on the ledges and I'm on the floor with a book. Wind blows my Dad's hair. He's singing...one hand on the wheel, the other crooked out the open window.
It was against this backdrop that my brothers and I gained an abiding love for road trips and the soundtracks that accompany them. It's also where we learned to forge temporary peace, typically in 3 min 21 sec intervals.
I know my brothers are good doctors. More than that, though, they're really good people.
My youngest brother didn't make our last family outing to Port A this summer, but my middle brother and I held this hootenanny in his honor. Liquid refreshments may, or may not, have been involved.
I'm five years older than my youngest brother and four years older than my middle one. That age difference generally meant if I wasn't beating the tar out of them as kids, I was making their lives hell by getting my own way, generally to their detriment. Things haven't changed much.
During family vacations, we were captives on the road. It's where we learned to make uneasy truces, which, depending on how hot it was in back seat, often came crumbling down at the slightest provocation.
We each excel at slight provocation.
My parents loved acts like the Eagles, Simon and Garfunkle, The Mamas and the Papas, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Elvis, Dan Fogelberg, Loggins & Messina, Carole King, Waylon Jennings, Anne Murray, The Carpenters, Don Williams, The Steve Miller Band. Pretty sure Eddie Rabbit made an appearance a time or two. Seriously, who doesn't love a rainy night?
Since this was during the time Lawrence Welk was king. I'd say we made out ok. Besides, as we got older, we introduced them to groups like The Sugar Hill Gang, The Gap Band, Prince, Rick James, The Beastie Boys, Eminem.
Over the years, the seasons and the scenery changed. The tunes rarely did. 'Already Gone' by the Eagles is the highway between home and the Guadalupe Mountains, Big Bend, Balmorhea, Garner State Park, Carlsbad Caverns, and Ruidoso. Windows rolled down, hot wind blowing, I'm in the window ledge of the battered station wagon (or maybe it was the red and black suburban), one brother's in the other and the other's on the floor...probably crying or playing with Hot Wheels. Or maybe they're on the ledges and I'm on the floor with a book. Wind blows my Dad's hair. He's singing...one hand on the wheel, the other crooked out the open window.
It was against this backdrop that my brothers and I gained an abiding love for road trips and the soundtracks that accompany them. It's also where we learned to forge temporary peace, typically in 3 min 21 sec intervals.
I know my brothers are good doctors. More than that, though, they're really good people.
My youngest brother didn't make our last family outing to Port A this summer, but my middle brother and I held this hootenanny in his honor. Liquid refreshments may, or may not, have been involved.
If you are not part of my family and you listened to every one of those clips, you are probably just now realizing you're never gonna get those 15 minutes back.
I'm sorry.
***
Saturday, May 28, 2011
La Musica
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I left a comment on @Laoch's blog the other day (which I found by way of @HellaChella's blog - if you like to think and laugh, you should totally follow them as quickly as possible). Laoch was repairing his digital library and asked about favorite songs. I left a comment and then spent the afternoon enjoying a lot of music from my past. Yesterday, however, I realized that I had left two very important songs off my all-time favorites list.
The first song is Volver, Volver by the legendary Vincente Fernandez. I want you to imagine you have just, finally, after long-last, been dumped by the love of your life. This is the one with whom you had great, mind-blowing sex but then treated like shit because the intensity of your feelings for them scared you to death. Fed up with your selfish crap, they finally kicked you to the curb. You tried to get on with your life, partying it up with friends...to no avail. Finally, after months of mindless trysts and nightclub debauchery, you find yourself alone, closing down another nameless bar. There you sit, an empty tequila bottle in front of you and another bottle half-gone. You definitely can't see straight, but you can sure still feel the heart ache as you pour out your grief to the only guy still listening - the bartender. And so you start to tell him - all I want to do is go back...
The vid I really want you to see is linked in the song's title above, but here's next best:
Now my friend Bill (@PokerCurious) took me to task, saying the words were nonsense (and that I am wasting my days on Twitter blahblahblah). Pshaw... Remember, we are on a months-long bender and have ended up, after a bottle and a half of tequila, crying to the bartender. As we cry, and remember our love, *this* is what we are saying:
My other overlooked favorite is Luis Miguel's Si Nos Dejan. I don't know if it's his eyes, the horns, the intensity of the way he sings, or what, but I adore this song.
And here's what he's saying:
The first song is Volver, Volver by the legendary Vincente Fernandez. I want you to imagine you have just, finally, after long-last, been dumped by the love of your life. This is the one with whom you had great, mind-blowing sex but then treated like shit because the intensity of your feelings for them scared you to death. Fed up with your selfish crap, they finally kicked you to the curb. You tried to get on with your life, partying it up with friends...to no avail. Finally, after months of mindless trysts and nightclub debauchery, you find yourself alone, closing down another nameless bar. There you sit, an empty tequila bottle in front of you and another bottle half-gone. You definitely can't see straight, but you can sure still feel the heart ache as you pour out your grief to the only guy still listening - the bartender. And so you start to tell him - all I want to do is go back...
The vid I really want you to see is linked in the song's title above, but here's next best:
Now my friend Bill (@PokerCurious) took me to task, saying the words were nonsense (and that I am wasting my days on Twitter blahblahblah). Pshaw... Remember, we are on a months-long bender and have ended up, after a bottle and a half of tequila, crying to the bartender. As we cry, and remember our love, *this* is what we are saying:
This passionate love, is beside itself, to return.
I'm on the road to madness and although everything tortures me, I know love
We parted ways some time ago But it's time to lose
You had every reason, I hear my heart and I'm dying to return
And come back, back to your arms again, arrive where you are
I know how to lose, I know how to lose, I long to go back, back, back
We parted ways so long ago ago, But now it's time to lose
You had every reason, I hear my heart and I'm dying to return
And come back, back to your arms again, arrive where you are
I know how to lose, I know how to lose, I long to go back, back, back.
My other overlooked favorite is Luis Miguel's Si Nos Dejan. I don't know if it's his eyes, the horns, the intensity of the way he sings, or what, but I adore this song.
And here's what he's saying:
If they let us, We will love each other for our whole livesI fell in love with both these songs before I ever knew what they were saying. Interesting, the power of music. So, taking a page from Laoch, I now ask you - do you have a favorite song? If so, what is it? And, why?
If they let us, We will go and live into a brand new world
I believe that we can see The breaking Of a new day
I believe that you and I Can still be happy
If they let us, We will seek for a little corner, close to heaven
If they let us, We will make velvet out of the clouds
And there, being together And very near God
We will become what we always dreamt of
If they let us, I will hold your hand, my love
And I'll take us there
If they let us, We will forget about everything else - If they let us
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Taking a Shot
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A few weeks ago, my friend Terry proposed a deal. She wanted to stake me in some online tourneys, but she wanted me to play something higher than the $2.20's I've written about here previously. "You sit on your ass for hours on end, wade through 5000 runners and are happy with a $20.00 payout. I know you're insane AND a bankroll nit, but come on! Don't you want to take a shot?"
I loved the idea. First, as the Bling Blang Blaow boys already know, winning a tourney like the Sunday Million is every player's dream. Second, I feel like part of a team. I know poker is an individual sport, but knowing that I've gotta be accountable for why I played a hand a certain way does make me stop and think. Third, it's less of a financial risk for my own bankroll. And, nit that I am, that's always good. Fourth, it creates a requirement to do homework. Being staked by a buddy who's a poker player in her own right and seriously interested in strategy and play (and better at it than me), the set up created the perfect opportunity to go over hands together, to talk strategy, decision making, odds/outs, and all that stuff we've got to be thinking about when at the table. And last but not least, I love me some Terry so how could I say no?
So, we're not doing this deal until the first of the year but...it got me itching to play some of those higher stake games. Just TALKING about it with Terry caused me to throw caution to the wind. I immediately bought into some $22, $33, $55, and even a $109 tourney. It was crazy. I cashed in a few and of course busted out of a lot. I did that several days in a row. I nearly decimated my bankroll. I called Terry crying - "What the hell are we thinking?! This is insane!! I am a pitiful poker player, the definition of spewtard, and this is a stupid idea and we can't do this!"
She told me to quit crying and to calm down. I stopped playing the higher stakes. I went back down to my regularly scheduled micro-insanity levels and kept the dream of the bigger limit tourneys in my back pocket, knowing that the first of the year is right around the corner.
I kept reading strategy. I kept talking hands with Terry. I kept reading hands/strategy on skype with another group of players. I played less tourneys at time and I played a lot fewer hands. Also during this time, I'd seen a video in which Annie Duke was sharing that when a poker player is running good, they tend to attribute it to skill; yet, when they're running bad, they attribute it to luck and lose out on an opportunity to study how they played the hand the way they did, which can only lead to improvement. That stuck with me and I was going over my HEM hands like crazy - the ones I won AND the ones I played badly.
I don't know if taking a shot at the higher levels helped me see that I was playing too many hands or what, but something happened during my short-lived time in those senior classes. I found myself playing a very tight, aggressive style and just waiting. Folding. Waiting. Holding. Folding. Watching for the right spot - and then striking. I found myself shortstacked so many times and just folding, folding, folding, only to strike with a hand and doubling, tripling up and being right back in the game.
I took that experience back to my freshman class games and played the exact same way. And you know what happened? I final tabled the Ladies game on back to back nights on Stars. I came in 4th out of 5299 in a $5.50 $20k gtd, and cashed in 5 of 8 of the tourneys I played.
It was sweet, people. Sweet.
So...taking a shot is not good bankroll management. We all know this. But sometimes, good things besides just winning more money can come out of taking such shots.
I posted a tweet tonight after coming in 34th out of 5000 in a $2.20 tourney about finally knowing the secret to running deep in online tourneys. Well, you know there's no secret. You've got to play well, have your good hands hold, and get lucky a time or two (or three or four). What helped me, besides a few distractions like mess-eeng alound on twitter, posting dumb links and listening to my favorite music (and bombarding followers with links to same) was taking the shots I took and then taking what I learned back down into the stakes my bankroll will allow.
That's what's happening of late. I'm hoping it's going good for you, too. If not, keep plugging away and try to find a good friend like Terry with whom you can talk pokers. In the meantime, have a wonderful holiday season and good luck at the tables!
I loved the idea. First, as the Bling Blang Blaow boys already know, winning a tourney like the Sunday Million is every player's dream. Second, I feel like part of a team. I know poker is an individual sport, but knowing that I've gotta be accountable for why I played a hand a certain way does make me stop and think. Third, it's less of a financial risk for my own bankroll. And, nit that I am, that's always good. Fourth, it creates a requirement to do homework. Being staked by a buddy who's a poker player in her own right and seriously interested in strategy and play (and better at it than me), the set up created the perfect opportunity to go over hands together, to talk strategy, decision making, odds/outs, and all that stuff we've got to be thinking about when at the table. And last but not least, I love me some Terry so how could I say no?
So, we're not doing this deal until the first of the year but...it got me itching to play some of those higher stake games. Just TALKING about it with Terry caused me to throw caution to the wind. I immediately bought into some $22, $33, $55, and even a $109 tourney. It was crazy. I cashed in a few and of course busted out of a lot. I did that several days in a row. I nearly decimated my bankroll. I called Terry crying - "What the hell are we thinking?! This is insane!! I am a pitiful poker player, the definition of spewtard, and this is a stupid idea and we can't do this!"
She told me to quit crying and to calm down. I stopped playing the higher stakes. I went back down to my regularly scheduled micro-insanity levels and kept the dream of the bigger limit tourneys in my back pocket, knowing that the first of the year is right around the corner.
I kept reading strategy. I kept talking hands with Terry. I kept reading hands/strategy on skype with another group of players. I played less tourneys at time and I played a lot fewer hands. Also during this time, I'd seen a video in which Annie Duke was sharing that when a poker player is running good, they tend to attribute it to skill; yet, when they're running bad, they attribute it to luck and lose out on an opportunity to study how they played the hand the way they did, which can only lead to improvement. That stuck with me and I was going over my HEM hands like crazy - the ones I won AND the ones I played badly.
I don't know if taking a shot at the higher levels helped me see that I was playing too many hands or what, but something happened during my short-lived time in those senior classes. I found myself playing a very tight, aggressive style and just waiting. Folding. Waiting. Holding. Folding. Watching for the right spot - and then striking. I found myself shortstacked so many times and just folding, folding, folding, only to strike with a hand and doubling, tripling up and being right back in the game.
I took that experience back to my freshman class games and played the exact same way. And you know what happened? I final tabled the Ladies game on back to back nights on Stars. I came in 4th out of 5299 in a $5.50 $20k gtd, and cashed in 5 of 8 of the tourneys I played.
It was sweet, people. Sweet.
So...taking a shot is not good bankroll management. We all know this. But sometimes, good things besides just winning more money can come out of taking such shots.
I posted a tweet tonight after coming in 34th out of 5000 in a $2.20 tourney about finally knowing the secret to running deep in online tourneys. Well, you know there's no secret. You've got to play well, have your good hands hold, and get lucky a time or two (or three or four). What helped me, besides a few distractions like mess-eeng alound on twitter, posting dumb links and listening to my favorite music (and bombarding followers with links to same) was taking the shots I took and then taking what I learned back down into the stakes my bankroll will allow.
That's what's happening of late. I'm hoping it's going good for you, too. If not, keep plugging away and try to find a good friend like Terry with whom you can talk pokers. In the meantime, have a wonderful holiday season and good luck at the tables!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Passions
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I lived in Dallas, Texas until the 3rd grade. On my block on Santa Teresa, I had two best friends, Sarah and James. I remember James had hair the color of dusty caramel. It was short but thick and tough like a Brillo pad.
James and I were shirtless every day we could get away with it. We were sinewy and tan and superheroes and shirtless made for easier tree climbing. The trees on Santa Teresa were Goliaths. Certainly they were on par with those growing in the Redwood National Forest.
When I was 8 or 9, I loved my jean jacket and my BB gun. I remember exploring the pastures near my grandparents' home looking for things to shoot with my beebees. Watching brittle rust fly from tin cans brought the most satisfaction but fence posts and anything that made that great *ping zing* sound would do. I was the biggest tom-boy growing up. I don't think I even realized I was a girl until I started 6th grade.
Being in West Texas, these pastures generally consisted of not much more than caliche and sand paths meandering around humming, groaning pumpjacks, gnarled and weathered mesquite (which is still my favorite tree), and lots and lots of tumbleweed. West Texans treasure this stuff so much they made a State Park out of it. White Sands in New Mexico always gets the glory but the Monahans Sandhills are an unsung Texas gem.
When I turned sixteen, I got a camera for my birthday. My whole family came over to celebrate. "Whole family" for me included both my brothers, Mom and Dad, my Grandparents, Great-Grandparents, Aunt and Uncle and cousins. That's a lot of family in one little West Texas town (I had other aunts/uncles and cousins in other towns and the family has grown exponentially since then). I didn't get away with much growing up but I sure tried.
The camera was a very expensive Canon, included all the fancy lenses and film and I even got lessons as part of the package. I promptly opened my presents, gave some desultory thanks and headed out the door to go to a friend's house. Spoiled brat. Man, was a I lucky.
As a senior, I got a guitar. I took a few lessons but mainly I learned the basic chords and taught myself to play the songs I loved most. For me, music is the most nostalgic form of memory. I can picture moments in time when certain songs come on.
'Already Gone' by the Eagles is the highway between home and the Guadalupe Mountains, Big Bend, Balmorhea, Garner State Park, Carlsbad Caverns, or Ruidoso. Windows rolled down, hot wind blowing, I'm in the window ledge of the battered station wagon (or maybe it was the red and black suburban), one brother's in the other and the other's on the floor...probably crying or playing with Hot Wheels. Or maybe they're on the ledges and I'm on the floor reading a book. Wind blows my Dad's hair. He's singing...one hand on the wheel, the other crooked out the open window.
'Bali Hai' from South Pacific is a kitchenette efficiency hotel in Ruidoso. How Mom got us to watch it is still a mystery but this was before Nintendo DS and smart phones, Twitter and Facebook. We loved it. Plus, she made homemade popcorn with extra gravy (real butter).
'Super Freak' by Rick James is the local Mexican food restaurant. I've just punched the numbers for the song on the juke box before I remember I'm there with my dad. And my granddad. I am mortified as I hear Rick start singing, "she's a very kinky girl...the kind you don't bring home to motha....." I walk back to the table wishing I could disappear and hoping, praying they're not listening to the words. The line of my dad's mouth as he chews his enchiladas tells me this is not so. We eat in silence as "I really like to taste her (every time we meet)" reverberates in my ears.
After college, work in a real job and a real office with a real boss and co-workers was what every self-respecting person I knew was supposed to be passionate about. And I was for a long while. I didn't go to law school until after I'd worked in the "real world" for nearly ten years. So, being older, when I went law school, I treated it like my job. And it's proved fruitful. Yet...I assume that the law, like accounting (or anything corporate, really?), can suck the joie de vivre out of pretty much anything after awhile...and if you let it.
A little more than five years ago now, during some time off before my daughter was born, I found a site online where I could play a card game called Poker. And there were other people there playing, too, not just computer bots.
Poker feels like music to me. Different hands are different songs, each holding distinct memories of places, times, people.
Today, I play online and live. I talk about poker, read about it, study it, twitter about it, blog about it, dream about it.
I wonder if it will last.
James and I were shirtless every day we could get away with it. We were sinewy and tan and superheroes and shirtless made for easier tree climbing. The trees on Santa Teresa were Goliaths. Certainly they were on par with those growing in the Redwood National Forest.
When I was 8 or 9, I loved my jean jacket and my BB gun. I remember exploring the pastures near my grandparents' home looking for things to shoot with my beebees. Watching brittle rust fly from tin cans brought the most satisfaction but fence posts and anything that made that great *ping zing* sound would do. I was the biggest tom-boy growing up. I don't think I even realized I was a girl until I started 6th grade.
 |
| Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons |
When I turned sixteen, I got a camera for my birthday. My whole family came over to celebrate. "Whole family" for me included both my brothers, Mom and Dad, my Grandparents, Great-Grandparents, Aunt and Uncle and cousins. That's a lot of family in one little West Texas town (I had other aunts/uncles and cousins in other towns and the family has grown exponentially since then). I didn't get away with much growing up but I sure tried.
The camera was a very expensive Canon, included all the fancy lenses and film and I even got lessons as part of the package. I promptly opened my presents, gave some desultory thanks and headed out the door to go to a friend's house. Spoiled brat. Man, was a I lucky.
As a senior, I got a guitar. I took a few lessons but mainly I learned the basic chords and taught myself to play the songs I loved most. For me, music is the most nostalgic form of memory. I can picture moments in time when certain songs come on.
'Already Gone' by the Eagles is the highway between home and the Guadalupe Mountains, Big Bend, Balmorhea, Garner State Park, Carlsbad Caverns, or Ruidoso. Windows rolled down, hot wind blowing, I'm in the window ledge of the battered station wagon (or maybe it was the red and black suburban), one brother's in the other and the other's on the floor...probably crying or playing with Hot Wheels. Or maybe they're on the ledges and I'm on the floor reading a book. Wind blows my Dad's hair. He's singing...one hand on the wheel, the other crooked out the open window.
'Bali Hai' from South Pacific is a kitchenette efficiency hotel in Ruidoso. How Mom got us to watch it is still a mystery but this was before Nintendo DS and smart phones, Twitter and Facebook. We loved it. Plus, she made homemade popcorn with extra gravy (real butter).
'Super Freak' by Rick James is the local Mexican food restaurant. I've just punched the numbers for the song on the juke box before I remember I'm there with my dad. And my granddad. I am mortified as I hear Rick start singing, "she's a very kinky girl...the kind you don't bring home to motha....." I walk back to the table wishing I could disappear and hoping, praying they're not listening to the words. The line of my dad's mouth as he chews his enchiladas tells me this is not so. We eat in silence as "I really like to taste her (every time we meet)" reverberates in my ears.
After college, work in a real job and a real office with a real boss and co-workers was what every self-respecting person I knew was supposed to be passionate about. And I was for a long while. I didn't go to law school until after I'd worked in the "real world" for nearly ten years. So, being older, when I went law school, I treated it like my job. And it's proved fruitful. Yet...I assume that the law, like accounting (or anything corporate, really?), can suck the joie de vivre out of pretty much anything after awhile...and if you let it.
A little more than five years ago now, during some time off before my daughter was born, I found a site online where I could play a card game called Poker. And there were other people there playing, too, not just computer bots.
Poker feels like music to me. Different hands are different songs, each holding distinct memories of places, times, people.
Today, I play online and live. I talk about poker, read about it, study it, twitter about it, blog about it, dream about it.
I wonder if it will last.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Brandi Carlile
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Anyone who's followed me for any length of time on twitter knows how much I love Brandi Carlile. This gal is the real deal. I can post clips of her music here (and I will), but nothing does justice to that voice until you see her live. And once you see her live, well, then, you will become a groupie like me.
To describe her music by genre is difficult because she transcends them all. She's just as comfortable singing an old Willie Nelson or Patsy Cline classic (and that's tough to do) as she is rocking the Beatles. So what does she sound like? Vintage. Classic. Good time rock and roll.
If you get to see her live, do yourself a favor and get a ticket. It'll be the best music money you've ever spent.
Update - hear her entire Bonnaroo 2010 Concert from NPR here. It rocks!
On that note, here are some of my faves:
Way to You
A cover:
Mad World
One of her most recognized:
The Story
Completely unplugged in concert - who does this? - Dying Day.
And give me a break, who can cover Johnny Cash better?
Folsom Prison Blues
Lots of her music can be listened to here as well, but why not take a moment and support her with a purchase?
I hope you'll check her out!
Anyone who's followed me for any length of time on twitter knows how much I love Brandi Carlile. This gal is the real deal. I can post clips of her music here (and I will), but nothing does justice to that voice until you see her live. And once you see her live, well, then, you will become a groupie like me.
To describe her music by genre is difficult because she transcends them all. She's just as comfortable singing an old Willie Nelson or Patsy Cline classic (and that's tough to do) as she is rocking the Beatles. So what does she sound like? Vintage. Classic. Good time rock and roll.
If you get to see her live, do yourself a favor and get a ticket. It'll be the best music money you've ever spent.
Update - hear her entire Bonnaroo 2010 Concert from NPR here. It rocks!
On that note, here are some of my faves:
Way to You
A cover:
Mad World
One of her most recognized:
The Story
Completely unplugged in concert - who does this? - Dying Day.
And give me a break, who can cover Johnny Cash better?
Folsom Prison Blues
Lots of her music can be listened to here as well, but why not take a moment and support her with a purchase?
I hope you'll check her out!
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