So I was going to sleep tonight, but instead I think I'll stay up another hour or two and just cry my eyes out over this song.
------- It's called "Story" (full lyrics on the original page) and tells precisely that, with a pretty accent and whimsical music that in no way belies that it is a BITTERSWEET TALE of love come and gone. And goodness, what a beautiful music video to go with it. The fact that I was emotionally devastated after one listen pretty much says all you need to know about its perfection.
I voted today, even though it was just for mayor & school board, since I figured I might as well register at this address (prior to now, I've always voted at college). WOW, IT WAS UNCOMFORTABLE. The room was totally deserted except for me, my parents, one guy, and the volunteers, and I hated every second of it.
First, the volunteers had a faux-argument about who was going to sit down and walk me through the registration form (they seemed like they were joking with each other, but I felt embarrassed for not registering ahead of time and saving them the inconvenience, even though this way was more convenient for me).
Then the old guy beams at me and is like, "How old are you?", probably expecting me to say 18 or 19. I still automatically blurt out my age whenever I'm asked, but I think 23 is past the acceptable threshold for asking, because people always look awkward after I say it, apparently chagrined that they are dealing with A Legitimate Adult rather than a teenager. Regardless, I felt like a loser for being 23 and coming here with my parents, even though in the absence of a utility bill I needed them to vouch for my registration eligibility.
Then, I panicked when the form asked if I'd been previously registered under a different name/address, and obviously I was registered in my college town, but I was living in multiple places on campus and I can't remember if I had to specify my actual building of residence in said college town. Finally I decided to just put the school's address down, but then I blanked out on it, and while I was staring at the paper, the guy's like "it's very important that you fill out your previous address," as if I was stalling for time or trying to figure out how to get out of it. (Mercifully it came back to me at the last second.)
THEN, since I'd mentioned my parents being here (during another panic-stricken moment when I was like "Utility bill?! I don't have a utility bill!"), he called the random guy over to vouch for me and says "You know her, right?" Guy: Uh, no... Me: Um. My dad is the one over there.
FINALLY, I am registered, and feel silly walking across the vast and deserted conference room expanse to "privately" fill in all of two circles. But I do it...and then am promptly stricken with panic about where to put my completed ballot. Also HOW to put it in - faceup? Facedown? What is this weird machine that sucks it in?
It doesn't help that as I approach the box, two new guys volunteering are staring at me and whispering to each other (OMG, STOP LOOKING AT ME!) before they approach and ask if I'm the one who just registered, because if so...I forgot to fill out my driver's license number on the form. Way to make me paranoid.
And as a parting shot, the old guy sees me leaving, winks, and says "There, that wasn't so scary now, was it?", like, YES IT WAS, and also THANKS SO MUCH for implying that I had a look of sheer terror on my face the whole time. Which I probably did, because I have not had to personally interact with strangers outside of garage sales and cashiers for a very long time, and I was utterly perplexed about how to talk to them and what to say in order to get things taken care of - it was like navigating in a foreign language. People conducting Official Business are scary, even when they all appear to be retired senior citizens.
But at least I did it and don't have to do it again for a year.
The high school musical this fall is something called "Urinetown." I have looked it up, and it sounds even more infuriating than the disgusting title implies, but that's beside the point.
The title IS disgusting, so it doesn't matter if it is the greatest, most hilarious, most well-written play with the best songs in the history of theater: you don't know that. Because you do not give it a chance. You see that title and you refuse to attend the show on principle. I want to see their ticket sales at the worst they've been in 10 or 20 years*. That will teach them a lesson about encouraging people who write plays with idiotic titles and think they're all clever and bold for doing so.
In sum: PUNISH THEM. PUNISH THEM ALL. By boycotting this production. If your child is in it, boycott it twice as hard. Then consider smacking them about the head for not judging the play by its cover, which is a perfectly legitimate course of action, especially in this case.
[*In actuality, I am depressingly sure that this will be their most popular musical ever, and thus encourage them to continue rejecting the AWESOME CLASSICS such as were performed throughout my high school career, and go for more idiotic Tony-winning crap from the 21st century, with all its edgy modern commentary and whatnot.]
Kristin Chenoweth is SO PRECIOUS on her rendition of "Last Name." Like, I've never really been a big fan of the song - even though Carrie is equally precious in her ability to make a song with terrible, sleazy lyrics into something cute and fun - but now that I have the Glee version, I'm listening to it on endless loop. Well, a loop that includes her on a duet with Matthew Morrison on "Alone," because they were so FABULOUS singing that one, too.
I cannot believe that Glee, after starting out with lukewarm, only 50-60% positive feelings, has turned into my favorite show in the space of a week. I feel like such a sellout. I still love you, solid veteran shows! Rock on, long-lasting CBS crime dramas! I swear! It's just, with less time, I...am made so much giddier by this shiny musical love.
Give me this and The Office - whose squee might very well break after the wedding, when Erin resumes having lines and Pam resumes having a horrible sales job; I don't know - and I feel like I'd be good to go.
So Josh Groban guest-starred on Glee. This promptly reversed my feelings on the show from "episode 2 was so gross I decided not to watch anymore" to "GLEEEEEEEE; AS LONG AS I CAN FAST-FORWARD WITH ABANDON, IT IS THE BEST THING EVER."
But more importantly, watching behind-the-scenes clips in which Josh takes an unholy amount of joy in playing as creepy a version of himself as possible, prompted me to bust out the old "Live at the Greek" DVD that was so integral and instrumental to my freshman-year-of-college experience. Aww, it has been far too long since I watched him be goofy in between heaven-sent vocals. David Tennant & John Krasinski kind of distracted me for several years in the celebrity department, but Josh should always be in there.
And BEST of all, I remembered that said DVD also came with a CD, and to my very great joy, I'd forgotten that "America" is one of the tracks on there. I still wish there was a studio version (is there a studio version?), because his voice has completely ruined my ability to hear anyone else sing it and I don't want to hear the chatter and audience cheering every time I play it, but I'll take what I can get.
I love this song. I love its nostalgic road-trip imagery to absolutely ridiculous levels, and I can't even tell you how clearly it's burned into my brain as the background music on cold winter nights in my first dorm as I did homework. Particularly this part, since I looked out over an open field from said dorm. Fit pretty well with my emotions on many an after-dark bus ride back to St. Ben's, too.
So I looked at the scenery; she read her magazine And the moon rose over an open field "Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping I'm empty and I'm aching and I don't know why...
I really need to stop deleting all the Groban music off my MP3 player every time I try to free up space. Yes, we cycle in and out of active listening, but I WILL ALWAYS PUT IT BACK. *begins arduous process of re-uploading*
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