"When people are fairly young and the musical composition of their lives is still in its opening bars, they can go about writing it together and exchanging motifs...but if they meet when they are older...their musical compositions are more or less complete, and every motif, every object, every word means something different to each of them." -Milan Kundera
It was eleven years ago today that I last saw my dad. Sunday after Thanksgiving, back in 2000, I received the phone call that my dad was in the hospital. His illness, multiple sclerosis, had seemingly taken the last turn. They didn't expect him to leave the hospital, alive. My family informed me that if I wanted to see him, now was the time. So, on that Monday, my mom and I packed up the car and drove down to Georgia to see him in the hospital. And I can still remember all the details of the day...the music we listened to in the car on the way down, the way he looked when I saw him from the door of the hospital room, and the conversation we had. Now, I don't intend to get into all of this here, as I've written about in the past in my old zines and the like. The day after I visited, he seemed to show incredible improvement. He left the hospital. I planned to visit him for Christmas. It would be an exactly one week before I received the phone call that he had died, on December 2, 2000.
Honestly, I haven't a clue why or what I wanted to write about it in this post. I suppose I wanted to share this picture of him. I wanted to share the memory of him with you. I wanted to share the fact that on this Monday, I always spend some time thinking of him, remembering that day in the hospital-- all the forgiveness, acceptance, and picking of the pieces that it entailed. Or perhaps that every loss entails. I wanted to share that every year on this day, I listen to The Good Life's Album, "Novena On A Noctourne," because this was the album my mom and I listened to on repeat for the entire four hour drive down and four hour drive back. Maybe, I just wanted to take a cliched moment to remember what it feels like to lose people we love and care about. Like I said, I'm not really sure.
But I do know that I miss him tonight. I can't help but wonder what he might be like if he was still alive or what we might talk about if I had called him on his 53rd birthday back in early November. But because he loved music so, I'm just going to post this song and remember how I promised him I'd buy him a stereo for Christmas.
When I was home for Thanksgiving, the older of my two younger brothers said to me, "How do some people just not like music? How can they just say, 'No, I don't listen to music.'" I suppose the things I remember the most about my dad are his plaid shirts, his cowboys boots, his Wrangler jeans, his love of Miller Lite, and well, his intense love of music. I don't think there was a single moment we were together that we didn't listen to music.
So, here you go, a song to pass the time, a song to remember with...
"I can feel a winter coming we're frozen in our stares, and we know there's a world outside of these insults and injuries maybe we're just too, afraid to be one. The autumn sets a golden exit the winter is waxing that cold sun will shed no more warmth into our living rooms, where we dream our dreams, where we wait for sleep. Maybe we'll wake up with golden wings, and fly over a city screaming, take me take me!" -The Good Life
As some of you may be aware, Carly and I take a bi-annual retreat to the mountains of Tennessee. We pack the car full of books, journal articles, our computers, iPods, tasks...right next to, wine (lots of wine), food, several pairs of pajamas, and a bathing suit. We drive about an hour and half east of Nashville to Center Hill Lake, where we spend three to four days/nights, being more productive than we generally ever are at home. And by more productive, we cast a wide net. We are productive not only with our work, but also with meals (hell, I think this is the only time in my entire year that I eat three meals a day), laughter, and our own particular style of restoration. Every trip comes with its own challenges, either those that follow us from Nashville that we come here to shed or those that we find while here at Center Hill. But regardless, when we make it to our last night (and final supper), I ALWAYS feel restored. I don't know if it is the incredibly infectious laugh of Carly or if it is the putting my phone in "Airplane Mode" for a majority of the trip or rather if it is the sound of the wind that moves through the trees, but this time, the trip came at the absolute perfect time for me.
See, I've been in another one of my classic funks lately. In a trite and cliche way, a la Carrie in her Mexi-coma, I wondered to myself, "Will I ever laugh again?" The world felt heavy. I felt the effort of "having to force a smile." Yes, I'm trafficking in obscure references and lyrics here, but regardless, I haven't been myself for the last month. Unfortunately, it has led to unfortunate consequences in many of my personal relationships, but alas, I knew, one day soon, I'd pull myself out. It always just takes me some time. Yes, Jay, I do, in fact, get dark sometimes. Yes, Joel, the clouds were in my head, right between my eyes. A few days before our trip, I started to feel a turning point. And then, the night before our trip, Carly invited me to join her for the Straight No Chaser show at The Ryman. I went, because, well, when your friend calls you and tells you that have a free ticket for a show, you go. Because, well, I understand what it is like to always have a free ticket...or rather, a plus one to share.
As the show started, I started laughing uncontrollably. And yes, I knew then, I would laugh again. When something was really, really, really funny...like me attending the Straight No Chaser show-- and even getting a little tipsy while there. And so, the trip began, after a brief detour at the Culture workshop on Friday morning. So, let it begin....
Here is an account of some of the top moments of the trip:
1. The symbolic beginning with a goodbye and the purchase of a helluva lot of wine.
2. A not-so-symbolic near-death experience, where Carly says to me as we barrel down a mountain in her car, "I don't have any brakes. Seriously." (Don't worry folks, while this traumatic experience stayed with us for hours, we learned the car shut off, it acted like it had no gas, but apparently, it was just "playing possum." Wish us luck tomorrow on the journey home).
3. A far less symbolic spider cricket in the shower of our cabin. Yes, a spider cricket. I think we all know how I feel about these. We sprayed it with bug spray, until Carly screamed, "But he isn't dying!" and I grabbed a broom to put the now drenched spider cricket out of his misery. Carly disposed of him. I couldn't get that close, even post-mortem.
4. Carly's insanely wonderful chicken with verde salsa and our first dinner a la Mexican (to pay tribute to our Miraculous Miercoles weekly dates).
5. Lots and lots of wine accompanied by a viewing of Happy Thank You More Please (in the complete darkness, so when we both started bawling, it would be in the dark.) And then, an analysis of the movie. Wait, this might be as complicated (and simple) as the Swidler vs. Alexander issue...
6. My recognition that I am my mother's daughter, when it was merely 50 degrees outside and I was decked out in a winter coat, winter hat, and scarf just to go outside for a few moments.
7. The chainsaw/leaf blower incident.
8. A discussion of internet dating sites, particularly describing the perfect attributes in which to outline on my profile. While I try to find a crafty way to convey our discussion that lacks a certain amount of crudeness...I think I'll stick with an equation--- age x whiskey= no measurable difference from pre-test to post-test.
9. The hot tub fiasco. The fact it would only heat up 1 degree every 30 minutes. The decision to spend an hour talking in the hot tub, which basically was a warm tub during the sunset, while drinking a beer. It was quite delightful, despite the bugs, the leaves, and the lukewarm temperature.
10. Sunday, November 13th should always be celebrated as "the day Carly killed a scorpion." No, I'm not kidding. In the basement here, there was a scorpion. It stopped me in my tracks. I have never seen a scorpion. And while I was fascinated by the significance of a scorpion crossing my path, when its little tail pulled back ready to sting me, I couldn't move. Luckily, Carly came to my rescue. She dropped the bag of trash on it. And then after we had injured the scorpion, I used a stick to push it down the driveway. I hope I don't see that mother tomorrow. Better yet was when Carly revealed to me that her original image of what might be in the basement when I screamed, "Holy shit there is a scorpion!" was more the size of a lobster than the size of a quarter that she discovered. Yes, sometimes, we switch up our gender roles in interesting ways.
11. Given my dissatisfaction with the hot tub, I took the world's hottest bath, complete with a glass of wine and a guidebook of Wales.
12. Carly saying to me, "Okay, Lucifer. It's like 100 degrees in here."
13. Having lunch on the screened-in back porch, in some beautiful fall weather.
14. Grilling out steaks for my first time on a grill, accompanied by grilled corn and baked potatoes...all of which I successfully caught on fire while grilling.
15. Our final supper tonight, while listening to the mix we have prepared that follows in 8track.com form.
16. The crematorium (pictures to follow).
While these are 16 of my favorite highlights from the trip....there is no substitute for the laughter and conversations that we had. This weekend was a transition. Today, I sat out on the front porch of our cabin, listening to the sounds of the wind moving through the trees and leaves, and I smiled. That's it. I smiled, without effort, for the first time in several weeks.
And with that, we've prepared you an 8-track mix to convey some of what we brought into this weekend, our experiences over the weekend, and what we plan to leave the weekend with...here you go.
My contributions:
1. Doomed Love Affair-- Ezra Furman & The Harpoons
Apparently this song was recorded at the same time as the last album. I fucking love it. And I think it is rather perfect that it was released at this precise time. I needed to transition from Wild Rosemarie to Doomed Love Affair. Thank you fellas.
2. You'd Rather Run--Jay May
We discovered JayMay while watching Happy Thank You More Please. "And it's not that I hate you, I never loved you enough to hate you. To get even or mad so as not to seem sad, just seems ungrateful. 'Cause really, I am thankful I'm sad. Maybe we're the same unabashed and unashamed. Then again, I don't know where you came from..."
3. Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of- U2
Today, I decided to listen to All Song's Considered radio. This came on. It fit. My song to myself. It was Sunday. It was the day to pick it all up and start again.
4. Blue Skies Again-- Jessica Lea Mayfield
Yep, today, I looked over and the tree next to me looked to be far more colorful than it had merely two days before...and I realized, the sky looked blue again. Finally. Finally. Finally.
Carly's contributions:
1. Tainted Love-- Straight No Chaser
The song that began it all, meaningful to us both.
2. Helplessness Blues-- Fleet Foxes
The musical version of white girl problems.
3. Awake My Soul-- Mumford & Sons
This one is everything, my whole weekend. Letting go, loving freely, living honestly. "My weakness I feel I must finally show...Lend me your eyes, I can change what you see...In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die, where you invest your love, you invest your life."
4. Reach Out I'll Be There-- The Four Tops
This was from our discussion of Happy Thank You More Please and what it means to go out and "get yourself loved." And how we decided this doesn't always mean from a man, but rather can be from friends. So, this one is symbolic of our own relationship...and these beautiful weekends in the mountains.
Pictures, of yellow leaves, wine bottles, and dinners to arrive shortly.
Yes, yes, it is true. I'm taking a Facebook hiatus. There are a million reasons why and I don't intend to get into them here, but it was necessary. Briefly, it began with Miranda July's film and transitioned into too much wasted time. I've spent the last few days explaining to my close friends-- aka the people that haven't already blocked me on FB and actually look forward to my posts-- what made me "decide to drop out of life" (Woody Allen reference for those who don't know). It's complicated, but the essence of the decision was....I'm tired. I want the quiet of not knowing EVERYTHING that happens with everyone. And perhaps the most important reason is that I wanted to try an obstruction.
A few years ago, I watched a film called "The Five Obstructions." You can look it up, as I don't intend to give you all the details. But nevertheless, it made me begin to think about how our lives might change when some type of obstruction is placed in front of ourselves. For example, several years ago, I stopped eating meat. I had some objections to the treatment of animals, but I was mostly curious about what life might be like without centering my meals around eating meat. When I moved to Nashville, there wasn't room to bring my 1980's microwave with me, so I decided, I won't have one. I wonder what life will be like without a microwave. These "obstructions" might seem insignificant, but when you've grown use to having these sort of things in your life...and you remove them, you find all sorts of things happen that you didn't expect.
So, approximately (acerca de) 48 hours ago, I decided...to deactivate my Facebook account. I can't tell you how long I will engage in this experiment, though I have considered going 30 days. But I don't know, yet. I might decide tomorrow I want to re-activate my account. But I can tell you this much...the last 48 hours have actually been quite fantastic...and well, tragic and isolating at the same time.
I don't want to go into the details yet....as I've been writing in my journal (holy shit, yes, not having FB has made me write in my journal several times a day....who knew?) and I plan to write about the experiences of being FB-less at a later time on this blog.
But more importantly....tonight, I had the chance (well, after paying about $100) to see Aretha Franklin perform at the Ryman. When I was back in Puerto Rico and I heard she was playing...I thought to myself-- this might be the last time AND how many chances do you have to see Aretha, the Queen of Soul, play in a venue like the Ryman. So, I shelled out the cash.
Throughout the night, I had so many conflicted emotions. Upon arrival to the Ryman, I found myself completely frustrated. The Ryman seemed like a different venue than I was use to. The gift shop was open. They kept repeating over the loud speakers about how to get to your seat. And all the while, as I tried to buy a beer in the world's shortest beer line at a concert, I was confronted with hundreds of "older" folks who stood in the middle of the floor anxiously looking at their tickets trying to figure out, "just what in the world was going on here at this venue."
By the way, over the loud speaker they kept repeating, "You can take your drinks into the auditorium, but you can't spill them." I've NEVER heard this at any of the other rock shows I've attended. And I should mention, I've NEVER witnessed anyone ever spilling their drinks...which happened tonight. Apparently, when you trespass into your 50's, you can't really hold (literally and figuratively) your alcohol.
Before the show began, I became incredibly broody. This might have been due to the fact that the show was scheduled to begin at 7:30, but actually started at 8:30. Trust me, the 50-year olds noticed. But for me, I started looking around, while waiting for the show. I started wondering...Is that me in 15 years? Is this how I'll behave at a rock show? And then, finding the obvious outcasts in the audience and I felt some sense of comfort and discomfort that I'll more than likely be them.
One hour into the suggested start of the show (which illustrates how I quickly adapted to their mindset, as no rock show ever starts on time), I started regretting my purchase. I wondered if I could just take a cab home.
And then....
She came out.
There was Aretha. Chills. Excitement. I put my hand to my mouth and looked over to notice the fella next to me had done the same. We were spellbound by her sheer appearance on the stage. Hell, she could have just stood there without singing and I probably would have been starstruck.
But why?
Well, Aretha probably means so much to anyone you ask. I tried to remember the first song I ever heard by her and more specifically, what song it was that I fell in love with. Because, well jeez, I'm sort of a hipster, so there is no way it could have been RESPECT...but I don't remember now. I do know this, when she sang "Think," I almost danced out of my pants. And while the show continued, I even found myself cheering for God...yes, believe it or not, I danced to gospel music.
She did some covers...Curtis Mayfield, Simon and Garfunkel.
And yes, I cried. Several times. I'm not sure if it was the sheer beauty of her voice or if it was hearing live her sing the songs I've spent numerous days dancing across my living room floor or if it is the memories I remember connected to the songs...or if I'm just going through a difficult time right now and I was moved. Yes, Aretha moved me.
As the show ended, I found my way to an individual I found in the crowd earlier that evening. There was something about him that captivated me. Yes, those are exactly the words I told him. He had this fantastic shock of white hair, glasses like John Lennon, a huge coat with fur, and his enthusiasm for Aretha caught my attention well before she ever entered the stage. My new friend, Jobim is moving to California from Nashville tomorrow...but the short conversation we had before I left the venue was fantastic.
Yes, I heart Aretha...and I'm going to work on writing something about a memory I have attached to one of her songs...but in the mean time, I realized that by deactivating myself from FB...I was able to enjoy and listen to the show in a way I might not have previously. Instead of attempting to document the show or check in or post about the show, I just let the show happen. I found myself talking to more of the people around me, instead of quickly picking up my phone to fill the quiet spaces in between.
I don't know what that means...but I do know that the last 48 hours have been quiet and relaxing. I don't know what my other options are for getting the information that I actually need for my research and the like, but I do know that for now, I'm enjoying not knowing what you are doing every moment, unless you tell me.
"It's only doubts, that we're counting on fingers broken long ago. I read with every broken heart, we become more adventurous." -Rilo Kiley
Today, I received word that Ashley, one of my best friends, had arrived in Wales to begin a new adventure of both graduate school and living abroad. I've been considering for some time writing a blog about adventures and leaving home. And I've discussed with my friends at El Cassette Grabao about collaborating regarding our top songs that remind us of leaving home. So, perhaps this blog will be the beginning of our collaboration. (Ashley and I have included our portion of the collaboration at the end of this blog post...with videos of the songs we have chosen...)
The picture above is from the Claridad Festival in Puerto Rico from late February 2009. It was my first trip to Puerto Rico (with my best friend Jennie Ann). It was my first exposure to the cultural and political environment in Puerto Rico that would capture my attention and ultimately lead to my dissertation research...and hopefully a book in the next few years.
Since February 2009, I've traveled to Puerto Rico several times. If I sat down and counted I could give you the exact number...it is somewhere close to 7 or 8 or 9, but that is the thing, I've been there so many times that I'm not sure exactly how many anymore. But my love affair with the island is not the point of the blog.
Rather, I'm hoping to talk about the sense of fear and excitement that accompanies new adventures. When I moved to Puerto Rico last summer for six weeks for my very first research trip in the field, I was filled with contradictory feelings. I was scared. I was nervous. I was excited. I couldn't wait to arrive. And these are the kinds of feelings that seem to accompany every new adventure.
Sure, leaving home and going somewhere new for any length of time is scary. Actually, I'm pretty sure that more people don't go on these types of adventures because, well, they take you out of your element. They take you away from everything you've ever known, particularly when you are traveling far away, somewhere unfamiliar, like to a new country...as many of my friends have done this past month. Granted, six weeks in Puerto Rico is hardly the same as moving for a year or indefinitely to a new country, but I'd like to think that my adventures in the summer of 2010 and 2011 give me some insight into the feelings that my friends are currently experiencing.
The other thing about adventures is that despite the fear encountered in embarking on a new place...you get to experience something new. Every corner you discover something you've not encountered before. Every day brings something unknown. And little by little, you carve your corner in this new world, but the experience of trying it all for the first time...well, what can I say, it's like the first time, whether it is a first kiss or the first time you admit you care about someone.
You might be afraid, but you jump into those unknown waters and you do it. Why? Because you must. Ashley and I have discussed countless times the need we both feel to take these adventures, to leave home, to discover other places, to meet new people, and then, even, to return to people we've known for years and recount the experiences we've had.
And so, it is with all the fear and trepidation and excitement and adventures that I've had my past two summers in Puerto Rico (and hopefully, for a full year in 2012), that I send a cheers (saludos) to my dear friends that have embarked on these new adventures and journeys. The ones that have left everything they've known behind to do something different. To try something new. To do something they feel they must... because to not do it, well, that'd just feel wrong.
So this is a cheers to Carlos, Orlando, Sam, Jennie Ann, and Ashley...my five close friends who have all moved in the past month to embark on a new journey and adventure in a new place...I'm so proud of all of you, for the guts it takes to uproot yourself from the place you've called "home" to do something new. May your adventures be grand and full of trepidation and excitement.
The idea that Orlando (of El Cassette Grabao) and I had about our collaboration was to list our top five songs that reminded us of leaving home or taking new adventures. I'm going to publish them here, along with Ashley's top five...so that we can begin the collaboration between our blogs.
I'm counting down the days until my next adventure...
For Orlando and Juanluis of El Cassette Grabao...(I wrote this before I left this summer...)
When I first started thinking about collaborating with Orlando on this particular blog post, the idea occurred to me when he told me about moving for graduate school and I thought about Ashley my best friend here in Nashville, Tennessee, who is also moving from Nashville to Cardiff, Wales for graduate school in September. I thought about how during these times of massive transition, we often turn to music to remind us of the people and places we leave behind when we move from place to place. Not only do we find ourselves saying personal goodbyes, but in our last remaining days in a city or town, we walk through its streets noting to ourselves, “This is the last time I’ll walk down this street” or maybe more appropriate for myself, “This is the last time I’ll buy beer from this store where I’ve made friends with the people who own it.” And then months later, as we find ourselves in a new place, surrounded by unfamiliarity, we turn to the music...to remind ourselves of how it felt to be in that place, for that time, with those people.
Although I’m only leaving Nashville for the next weeks to stay in San Juan, I thought it would be interesting to bring together two different people that I both know who are saying goodbye to a place they’ve both lived for many, many years. Orlando will leave San Juan and Ashley will leave Nashville. They will uproot from what they’ve known for years and travel onwards to new adventures. That being said, I’ve had to say goodbye to many places in the past. I’ve moved from Charlotte, North Carolina to Asheville, North Carolina to Boone, North Carolina to Asheville (again), and Charlotte (again), then onwards to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and finally here to Nashville. For each there are songs that will always remind me of the people and places of those time periods…and so here you go, my five songs about leaving things behind…and moving forward to something new.
1.Crazy- Patsy Cline
My first move was from my hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina to Asheville, North Carolina to start college. That first night was one of the most difficult. I had never left home before. I was sharing a dorm room suite with three other girls—Allison, Misty, and Tori. That first night was spent unpacking, opening letters that my best friends and family from home gave me after they helped me move in, and too many tears. In a moment of loneliness and loss of our homes and families and friends, the four of us gathered in a room and realized we all had one thing in common—our love of Patsy Cline. And for the next couple of hours, we listened to Patsy Cline on repeat, while we told stories of all that we left behind.
2.Misunderstood- Wilco
When I left Asheville after two years of college, I was ready to leave. I didn’t venture far—only two hours away into the mountains of North Carolina, but my time in Asheville was always marked by the feeling expressed in this song. The leaving and the returning to Asheville, the complications of life and love, and the sheer feeling of wanting to scream at the top of my lungs—“I want to thank you all for nothing, I want to thank you all for nothing at all.”
3.South of the South- David Dondero
Dondero is one of my favorite musicians of all time. He is an old friend from when I was in college; however, it wasn’t until I lived in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina that I was able to meet up with him again. When I heard this song, I knew—it completely captured the southern states of the United States….the humidity, the screen doors, the coastlines. “My own sweats basting me, thunderstorms are chasing me.” Saying goodbye to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina was probably one of the most difficult places I had to leave. I fell in love with the kitsch and the tourists and the ocean and the pink houses. It’s been three years since I’ve lived at the beach, but for those of you that have traveled the coast of the south—you know what I mean, it stays in you. It just never leaves. It will always be home, no matter how far you travel.
4.Nashville Moon- Magnolia Electric Co.
I haven’t left Nashville yet, at least not for long—six weeks last summer and again six weeks this summer. But every single time I leave for field research, I hear this song in my head. Because every time I leave, I think of all that I leave behind. In the last couple of years during my time in Nashville, I’ve felt a real sense of community—in my neighborhood and with my “Nashville” family. So, I know when the time comes to leave in a few days, I’ll miss all of it…and one day in the close future, I’ll be saying goodbye to Nashville forever. And now, with my friend Ashley leaving Nashville, I can’t help but also think of her, leaving behind everything she has known for years…but onwards, mi camarada for new adventures.
5.I Must Belong Somewhere- Bright Eyes
Although there are places that I have obviously become attached to in my past, there are some folks—and I include myself in this—that don’t feel like they really belong anywhere. This past month, I took a road trip for almost two weeks, where I drove through many of the southern states of the United States. And during a ten hour drive through Alabama, I realized I often feel more at home on the road. I think there are just some of us that feel like we belong somewhere—but we aren’t quite sure where. In the past couple of years, I’ve started to feel that way about Puerto Rico. Although I only get to spend a couple of months there every year, it becomes increasingly more difficult to leave. And while I might not feel like I belong anywhere, I think rather the reverse is true, there are tons of places I belong—with all of my friends spread throughout the world, whether in Charlotte, North Carolina or Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, Nashville, Tennessee, or San Juan, Puerto Rico.
One extra for the sense of "home" that we all long for...
6.Home- Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
I think this one might reflect what I’ve expressed already in what I wrote about the Bright Eyes song—but I’ve been careful to think about how I define the word “home” lately. When I wrote recently on my Facebook that my home was on the road, he inquired, “What does home mean anyways?” And, again, I recognize, home is in the faces of my friends…wherever we all may be at the moment.
And here are Ashley's top five songs, though at the time, she didn't feel the need to expand on them, maybe now that she has arrived in Wales, she can add to her list...She referred to them as goodbye songs, so I'll let them speak for that...
1) Coldplay, "The Hardest Part"
2) U2, "Kite"
3) Amy MacDonald, "Mr Rock and Roll"
4) Duffy, "Rockferry"
5) Travis, "Closer"
6) Smokey Robinson, "Tears of a Clown"
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And now, I'm going to listen to all of Ashley's songs in the remaining hour of this Thursday night and think about all her great adventures to come....We look forward to the challenge of collaboration with Orlando and Carlos. Bring it. Dale!
As you know, my least favorite blog to write is always the last one from the summer...which is why I've hesitated until tonight. In addition, when I see the "Hasta Pronto" as I'm boarding the plan from San Juan, I always start to cry. This time, it had multiple meanings. Before I left this summer, I knew I'd be back as opposed to last summer, when I wasn't as sure. So in the days leading up to my departure, there was less sadness...as everyone knew I'd be back. But, my dear friend Ashley (from Nashville who is departing for Wales soon) told me before she left, she doesn't like saying goodbye, but prefers to say "see you soon." So, when I arrived at the departure gate and saw this....I realized the joy and sadness that accompanies the sentiment of "see you soon." Perhaps more importantly, I realized, some of my best friends are spread all throughout the world, but the kinds of relationships I've built with them...well, they are durable. I know despite our locations...I'll always see them again...and hopefully, I'll see them soon (Ashley, Magaly, Jorell, Eggie, Carlos...and the rest of you).
My last week on the island was quite fantastic. No, it was perfect. I found myself repeatedly explaining to people how painful it always is when I leave. I'm not sure I can explain it here. I'm not sure I want to. But I do know this...every single time I leave, I feel like I've left something behind. I feel like I leave a place I belong, which is rather odd. I'm not Puerto Rican. I have no "claim" to the island (at least in the traditional sense), but I do know that it is the place that I feel the most at home. It is the place I feel most like myself, despite struggling through conversations and the complications of being in a world you haven't spent most of your life...I don't know what it is...but for me, Puerto Rico is home. I have family there. I have friends there. I feel right there. And while, you might think I'm dialing in some melodrama here...I've considered more times than I'd like to admit in the last couple of days considering leaving graduate school and moving there. (Disclaimer: Don't worry mentors and the like, if you help me get there, I'll stay in the program, which should be taken as a threat...maybe).
I'll never be able to really explain it. And I actually don't care to do so...I know that when I'm sitting in a club/bar and I stand up to greet and embrace my friends on the island...or when I'm in the grocery store attempting to communicate about looking for a specific grocery item....or when I'm sitting at a party listening to a joke being told in Spanish and I'm carefully trying to translate...or when I happen upon some random individual who can talk with me for hours about my research...or when I watch the sunrise and sunset over the ocean...I know...I belong there. And it hits home with every text/message/email between me and my family when I realize my leaving doesn't just impact me...but we all feel it.
And so, without further ado...my last week on the island...
1. An early, exciting, and awkward morning awaking in Rio Piedras...then trying to navigate my way through the early morning streets of Santurce, drenched in sweat to arrive back home and attempt to sleep off the last several hours.
2. Proposing promiscuity/marriage to Ashley...and a life of freedom.
3. Making a southern meal for my family...homemade mac n' cheese, lima beans, green beans, cornbread, deviled eggs, and sweet tea. My absolute favorite part of the evening (and quite possibly the whole trip) was the hour I spent with Magaly, while I was cooking and we talked and laughed. That lovely lady is one of the best friends I have ever had. And then enjoying the meal all together.
4. A late night surprise visit to El Bar Bero with Carlos, Juanluis, Orlando...and the famous Sergio! It was a pleasure to meet Sergio...finally. I also enjoying getting to meet some of the bike crew in PR, particularly Jandy. And then drinking a bottle of something that looked akin to Pepto Bismol, but was really more like a Guava version of chichaito (#bad choice). The pictures are phenomenal.
5. Trying to get to Rebecca's birthday party in Old San Juan. Let's see...it started with me almost not attending. Then Eggie decided to go. Then Enrique didn't offer me a ride (Queeeeee?). Then Magaly asked me why I was speechless and we had a good talk. And finally I arrived.
6. Actually arriving at Rebecca's birthday party. The bands were rad. The venue was awesome. I didn't have a cupcake but they looked great. I got the chance to see my friend El Ochi (which I will always protect his first name). Late Night at the pizza place...meeting Milo and a ton of other Jawbreaker fans who took no offense to the fact that I played 10 dollars worth of Jawbreaker tunes on the jukebox.
7. A lazy Friday. Magaly made a delightful Tortilla de Espana (which I hadn't told her I had dreamed about the night before). We watched some episodes of Weeds and finally History of the World Part I....it might have only been better if we had not watched episodes of the aforementioned, but instead enjoyed some of the aforementioned and then watched the movie.
8. A Saturday afternoon in Old San Juan. While it was too crowded for my taste, I had the chance to meet a lovely fella from the student strikes in the 1970s...and then had the fortune of having trifongo at Fefo's and meeting Vity. I'm only sad I didn't get a chance to talk more with him.
9. Naty's birthday house party. I met so many wonderful people...Jose, Obama (yes, the President), and some other handsome fella that I didn't catch his name. We talked about politics, the fact that Bud Light pales in comparison to Medalla, and other unfortunate experiences. It was a lovely party, indeed. Plus getting to spend more time with Jorell, Eggie, and Myrna was needed. Wait, maybe my favorite part was when Eggie asked me to be his own personal photographer (see the photos below).
10. The After-Naty's-Birthday-Party...a follow-up at El Boricua...handsome fella and friends in tow.
11. Watching the sunrise with Eggie after the party.
12. A lazy Sunday brunch. I might have died if Magaly hadn't prepared a delightful meal of french toast and watermelon (Mildred!!!). And some awkward family portraits.
13. A Sunday sunset on the beach...where I went to shed a few tears about leaving so the roommates didn't see.
14. Sunday night...having to say goodbye to Jorell and Enrique.
15. Monday Sunrise...sitting awake in my room, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood and preparing myself for leaving.
16. Monday morning and the drive to the airport with Magaly. I'm pretty sure we talked about anything possible to avoid the current sadness. We joked, we made small talk...because neither one of us could handle having to say the goodbye. Lucky for me, I warded off the tears until I got inside. Then...the lines were so annoying with los gringos that I wasn't able to cognitively understand what was happening until I arrived at the gate.
17. The tears.
18. The airport bar in San Juan: The way gringos pronounce Medalla, Tina Turner's Private Dancer...and then the airport bar in Charlotte: Tina Turner's What's Love Got To Do With It....(there is a message here...)
19. An intense crying fest when the wheels lifted off the ground in San Juan and I watched the island drift away.
So, like Carlos has said, I'm Jack. I want to go back. I need to go back. The island wants me to come back. And until then, I'll have to tell all my friends and family there, "I'll see you soon, my loves." And I'll miss all of you every day, but I'll mostly miss my afternoon conversations with Magaly....well, and all those handsome men that seem a world away from me now.
So, here we are. I've got 6 days left on the island. Next Monday, I return to Nashville. Then a week and a half later, classes begin again. And as if you didn't already know, I'm not overwhelmingly enthusiastic about leaving. Hell, I never am. Today, on the beach, my eyes got a little misty as I thought about that drive to the airport, the heat emanating from my sunburn, and the way my heart always sinks as the plane lifts off from the island.
But I'll be back sooner than later, because I must.
This past week has been extremely healing. I let go. I got my confidence back. I also found my groove in the most unsuspecting of places...and now, there is simply no comparison.
Here's the rundown:
1. The unrelenting disappointment of Tropical Storm Emily. Other than "some" rain and losing the power for 20 minutes, Emily left us disappointed. I had hoped to fully enjoy a traditional puertorican storm party, but Emily dragged her heels and passed right by us.
2. Learning how difficult it is to find grants for fieldwork on the island given the colony status of the island. While this might not seem like a highlight from the week, the adversity fueled my fire again. It reminded me of just how important this research is to me-- personally and politically. And it will get done, no matter what happens.
3. I had a revelation about my personal relationships. Too many times, I've been willing to overlook a partner's lack of interest in the things that are the most important to me. For example, too many times I've simply shrugged off a comment like, "Oh, I don't really care about politics and stuff like that. I'm just not really political." I'm done with it. If you don't want to help start the revolution with me, I don't plan on taking my clothes off with you.
4. My attempts to convince Jorell that the drink Hot Toddy has incredible healing powers. Unfortunately, the only result was Jorell confusing the name of the drink and henceforth referring to it as "Potty Toddy" for the rest of the week.
5. Osvaldo Budet Melendez's art show at Galeria Nacional. I've been wanting to meet Osvaldo for a few months now, ever since I helped support his documentary on the UPR student strike. Here is a link to the webpage about the documentary. Not only did I enjoy Osvaldo's art, but it was great to finally meet him in person.
6. Also at the art show, I got the chance to catch up with some friends (Maritza, Diego, and Joel), but also meet some new friends (Mari Carmen and a couple of guys I met at the bus stop). Perhaps the most fun of the night was discussions about programming people in your phone as "Higher Power" and the girl talk that took place in the street. Absolutely hilarious and wonderful.
7. Spending an afternoon at Cafe Cultura with great music and a handsome barista.
8. Saturday Brunch prepared by Enrique. There is just almost too many funny moments to convey...the Supermaxx bags, the fruit, the 5-inch thick pancakes, the whipped cream, the 3-eyed mask...and well, the fact that brunch was announced at 10:30 and was served to the table by 2:30pm. Wait, maybe I'm exaggerating...however, it was quite delightful. And it was great to spend some time getting to know Rebecca.
9. A late Saturday impromptu beach trip with Magaly and Jorell.
10. Dinner with Magaly, Jorell, Diane, and Raul.
11. Pal Cielo with Eggie, Hommy, and Dilcia. I jumped into a dance party with some folks I didn't know. I was the only one to dance to Bailando. There was dancing in the street courtesy of Enrique, Rebecca and friends...also Eggie and Hommy. Then, in my classic style, I invited Eggie to hang out inside the apartment, then proceeded to fall asleep immediately, thus leaving Eggie locked in the apartment until Jorell rescued him.
12. Magaly's new-found obsession with the song, "Damn, I wish I was your lover..."
13. Underwear pranks.
14. Getting Magaly and Jorell hooked on Weeds (yes, the show)...I really also liked it when Enrique blew the finale of the first season for them. Bad Enrique!
15. A truly Manic Monday. I finally got the chance to meet up with Marisol, a colleague from NYU studying here on the island, and her partner Jenny. I got to share a couple of beers with Joel and Cholo. And then, meeting up with Giovanni for drinks at El Refugio...and making new friends--Lourdes and Carli. It was the birthday of Lourdes and they invited Giovanni and I to join in on the celebration. There was chichaito. There was salsa dancing. There were pink flowers. We continued to celebrate into the wee hours of the morning. It was a rather wonderful Monday and a perfect way to begin my last week on the island.
I sit here on this Monday night--exactly two weeks away from my return to Nashville-- with a slight sunburn. To be honest, I'm more upset about the mere 14 days I have left here than I am the sunburn. Generally, before I leave I try to take in as much of the sun as I can. I know, I know. It's not good for me, but to be honest, when I leave the island, I like to take some of it with me in a physical manifestation. So in the days I've returned to Nashville, I can continue to feel the warmth of the island on my skin. Yep, I'm a total dramatic sentimental about having to leave. Most of you know how difficult it was last year for me...and I don't suspect it'll be any easier this year.
This past week was quite interesting. Not only was I far more productive than I've been in months, I also was far more productive in spending time with my friends and family. Thus, it is difficult to start to concern myself with leaving, particularly when I feel like I just hit my stride. Yes, this is why I need to be here longer than simply six weeks.
So, in reference to this past week-- I'm sure it is no surprise for you...but there is nothing more that I love than kitchen dance parties and unexpected early morning parties on the beach. And that was exactly what happened.
Here is the breakdown:
1. Unexpectedly, I had five great interviews last week. What I find the most exciting is how generous people are with their time and how excited they are to talk with me about my work. One of my interviewees actually contacted me the day after the interview requesting a follow-up because there was so much more they wanted to tell me.
2. Enrique's confusion about the lyrics to the Violent Femmes song Blister in the Sun....when he sang to us repeatedly, "Let me go out, like a twister in the sky, let me go out....." Que fantastico.
3. Moving on and moving up.
4. Missing the soul dance party, but making plans to have a redux in Rio Piedras this upcoming week with a new friend.
5. My weekly phone dates with Ashley (Ludman), while laughing and recognizing the whole mess of trouble that one particular text message implies.
6. Being a flaneur on my walk to the train station at Sagrado Corazon on Thursday and on my walk down Calle Loiza today to find the post office. Though sadly, finding the post office is an indication that I'm starting to think about sending some of my belongings back to Nashville.
7. Ashley's diagram of the whole process from man to devil in disguise.
8. Michelle sending me a picture of our tickets to the see the Atlanta Braves in September. Wooot!
9. My discovery and first, second, third, fourth, and fifth visits to turntable.fm in the past week. Yes, folks, I've got a new addiction.
10. While in my pajamas on Thursday night, receiving a phone call from Carlos inviting me to go out to El Bar Bero with Orlando, Juanluis, and Giovanni. The evening was quite fantastic. Carlos forced me to order a bottle of wine in Spanish. Then the bartender informed me I was the first person to ever buy a WHOLE bottle of wine. Then, shenanigans at the SuperMaxx, followed with a late, late night/morning on the beach with a whole bunch of Medalla. A wonderful evening.
11. Followed by a wonderful hangover on Friday....only to be cured by a trip to the overly touristy Mexican restaurant Tijuana's with Jorell...and then more turntabling.
12. Followed by a late night conversation that can only be summed up by saying this: dot dot dot.
13. Waking on Saturday to discover that Diego was joining the family to celebrate "the last Saturday of summer" for Magaly and Jorell. Diego and Magaly cooked up a super fantastic dinner. Magaly made us the most delightful basil mojitos. There was several kitchen dance parties. We watched Weird Science, though I think everyone was too intoxicated to gather the specific details of the "science." And then onwards to Nellylandia with Eggie, a fantastic rock show at La Repuesta, then back to Nellylandia to see Diego and Jorell. While everyone was obviously quite intoxicated at that point, when I heard Diego speak English to me, I was sure that I was more intoxicated than I thought, but I wasn't.
14. Waking up late on Sunday to discover that Diego was making brunch for the family. Gosh, I wish I could remember the name of it now....because it was just what we all needed. Then spending a lazy Sunday afternoon watching countless episodes of Mad Men with everyone.
15. Chepi Fest in Rio Piedras. Getting to see lots of friends, in particular Ronald and Milannie. But I suppose the most shocking event of all was when Jorell became the Incredible Hulk and proceeded to rip his jean shorts off of his body while singing.
16. And well, the beach. Because it really is so lovely.
Here are the photos...and I'm saving a couple of key videos-- one of Enrique performing "Twister in the Sky" in the living room and the wild dance moves of Jorell and Magaly in the kitchen-- for a sneak attack...one day when everyone has forgotten that I have these videos....Ja!
Week 3 seems to be the week that I hit my stride. Not only did I figure out a way to suffocate my inner demons, but I figured out how to release the rope that someone had thrown around my foot intent on dragging me down to the bottom with them. This also means, my blog for this week will undoubtedly be less entertaining than in the weeks before, as I found myself spending more time working. It felt exceptional.
Perhaps some of the most important advice I received this week came to me last night from a dear friend. She reminded me that I should stop blaming myself for someone else's inadequacies. And that I should take the first step forward, just to walk this way and let him walk that way...one foot in front of the other. And just like that I realized how many times instead of recognizing the inability of a person to give you what you need, we turn inwards. We seek some explanation within. We obsess over something we can't change. At that moment, the most wonderful thing happened, I felt unbearably light. Let it go.
So besides my own inner turmoil, what happened this week?
1. After rescheduling an interview, I took the afternoon to explore Condado. I visited my favorite beach park, then stopped on my way home at a little restaurant called Greenhouse for a mojito and tostones. It was nice to sit and reflect, alone.
2. Martes Karaoke at El Local with the family....and to finally get to see Carlos, Noelia, and Ralph again. There's nothing quite like dancing, singing, and laughing with my good friends...and remembering Ralph's astute observation about how much brand new relationships are sort of like Christmas. Not to mention, out of nowhere, someone decided to sing Ace of Base's I Saw the Sign song. Obviously, the song of the summer. And FINALLY, Jorell getting to sing Tarzan Boy.
3. Three great interviews at the UPR.
4. My beach days.
5. Some awkward sights...the teenage boy on the train with an out-of-control mullet singing loudly to Beyonce's Single Ladies...and another teenage boy skateboarding to the beach in a pair of blue crocs.
6. Meeting potential interviewees while out running errands.
7. A failed Tacomaker expedition with Eggie.
8. The rock n' roll show at Nuestro Son with Eggie, Jorell, Santos, and Carlos. I got a chance to see Marisol, which was lovely. Listen to some geek talk about video games. Watch my life flash before my eyes as I almost died from a mosh pit...particularly, my favorite was when the fella I thought was protecting me from the pit decided to join in...and proceeded to pick up another young man lifting him straight over his head and throw him into the pit.
9. July 23rd. A sweet--yet drunk-- late night text message.
10. Brunch prepared by Enrique and Magaly on Sunday, complete with a whole slew of 3-eyed masks and a history lesson...and of course, apple juice. There should always be apple juice at brunch.
11. Sunday. Beach. Mary Wells. Productivity.
12. My discovery of Orange Crush in the pharmacy near the house...and the fact it reads Crush China.
13. Going to Joel's apartment in Rio Piedras for his famous Huevos Rancheros this morning, which was delightful...and finding out upon arrival that Cholo was joining us. There was good conversation, delightful food, and the joy of seeing old friends. I'll have to see these two much more in the coming weeks.
14. Family dinners....with stories of Michael Jackson and more "incidents." I thought I'd never stop laughing.
15. The random moments when Enrique breaks out in song and dance in the living room.
What's planned for the upcoming week? More interviews. More karaoke. Soul dance party. Chepi Fest in San Juan. And of course, more more beach days with my lovely friends here.
"I know this bar with a jukebox full of medicine...I know this song, with this one really killer line. I can't remember exactly, but it slays me every time." -Ani Difranco
It should come as no surprise to you that with a blog called Music Is Memory, that music acts as a primary organizing force in my life. In addition, due to the fact that my career requires me to spend hours upon hours at a computer in solitude, I spend many hours with music playing through my headphones. There is nothing I enjoy more than getting a new record or playing an old favorite through my headphones, while enjoying a beverage or two. In fact I could probably spend an entire day doing just that....wait, I think I have recently. If pressed, I'm pretty sure I could make a soundtrack for every phase of my life, every friend, every lover, and every road trip that I've ever had.
But for some reason, there were a couple of months at the end of last semester I forgot this. Somehow, I began spending far more time watching television and far less time listening to music. I'm not sure how it happened, but I do remember who reminded me of how much I absolutely love to just sit and listen. Navigating through playlists or youtube videos and enjoying the simple joy of discovery, to travel back through painful and happy memories...and sometimes turn it up so loud in your apartment that the sounds bellow out into the streets.
During a rather tumultuous "relationship" I had during the past couple of months, a man (to remain unnamed) reminded me. We shared a musical motif from the past. Songs, records, and bands that despite not knowing each other, we shared. Although Jawbreaker's 24 Hour Revenge Therapy meant different things to us, it was important that we had both grown up with it. We didn't have to do all the work of translation that happens when two individuals come from different musical motifs. And in a somewhat obsessive manner, we shared music with one another. Some days, we communicated primarily through song lyrics. Other days, he would come over and we'd lay on my couch, sharing headphones, listening to the music turned up as loud as possible-- recounting our memories of the songs and making some of our own memories to others.
And I realized how intimate it is to share music with someone, particularly by sharing the same set of headphones.
But then I started thinking about all the times I've shared music. Having friends located all around the world, there are many nights we find ourselves chatting, sharing youtube videos with one another...often going to the extreme, as my friend Amada and I have-- by synchronizing our listening by starting the song at the same time, while simultaneously typing out our favorite lyrics as the song plays.
More recently, at the height of the tumultuous "love affair" (I'm using quotes because exactly what it was has yet to become solidified in my mind), my friend Art came over to my house...and we laid on my living room floor and played Bright Eyes as loud as possible, while singing at the top of our lungs. Sometimes we got up to dance. Other times, we cried. And still other moments, we laughed hysterically.
Tonight, I spent a portion of my evening constructing a playlist for my dear neighbor Ashley, who is about to embark on an incredible journey that will land her in Wales for graduate school. She mentioned needing more "break-up songs" to help her break-up with the city of Nashville...and if there is anything I know, it is broody, sad songs. The kind of songs you can listen to, while soaking in all the sadness. Sometimes it is just necessary.
But I keep coming back to sharing those damn headphones. Lying next to one another on the couch, forced to stay close to keep the headphones in our ears, often with our eyes closed, just listening.
And now that things have ended, I'm left with the task of etching out my pain from an "exploitative situation" (see, I'm still not sure), by posting songs on my facebook wall that echo and resonate my dissatisfaction over the loss and emptiness. When I try to ask myself why I'm doing this? I suppose I'm still using music to share, to communicate, to write the words to the emotions I'm not sure how to name. But maybe more importantly, to demonstrate the impact it had on me, like a bruise that still hasn't quite faded.
All of this has reminded me of just how many of my memories and emotions I pack into music. Songs that once reminded me of a past situation have become reconstructed, with multiple memories embedded into just that one song.
"And if the sound of this it frightens you, we could play it real cool, and act somewhat indifferent." -Cracker
Furthermore, I found evidence of this power tonight when I came across a show that All Songs Considered recently podcasted. It is called "Cry Baby Cry: Songs That Make You Weep" (and you can listen to it here). Listening to both Bob and Robin recount their own memories attached to songs, as well as stories from listeners, was heartbreaking, even if at times it felt like Casey Kasem's long distance dedications.
So, there you have it.
And here is a video for you that resonates at the moment...
Once upon a time, Monday use to imply one of two things: Motown Monday at the 5 Spot or Manic Monday at Cafe 103...but that was a more simple time. So, tonight, I've got a dance party for one in my room-- while thinking about past nights at the Cafe and Motown dance parties in my house with my neighbors. Incidentally, this also means I'm looking for a dance party on the island...so folks, let me know if there is one happening.
This past week, I started interviewing. 2 interviews, 8 hours of data, and loads of follow up contacts. I also started working again, which was an incredible feeling.
Ultimately, I can safely say I'm on the right track now. There are no trains on this track.
Although I haven't secured any interviews for tomorrow, I'm trying to remember one of the most important lessons that I learned my first summer-- just let things happen and unfold naturally. So much of what happens on the island takes place on its own time, without being forced. Some days the person you are interviewing doesn't show up or sometimes you have to reschedule, but they always get done. It was this lesson that I lost sight of in the last month and a half...and so I'm glad to fully embrace it again.
So, what happened last week?
1. I had two incredible interviews with people I've been wanting to interview for over a year. They were incredibly insightful and gave me some new perspectives on my research. Not to mention, the company was stellar.
2. I successfully navigated the bus to Old San Juan and even got to feel superior to the other gringos on the bus.
3. Within five minutes of arriving at Universidad de Puerto Rico- Rio Piedras, I ran into an old friend...the sweet Cholo. We got to catch up briefly and I'm super stoked to see him in the upcoming week.
4. I gave directions to a young woman who attends the UPR-Mayaguez campus, but only after mistakenly thinking she was asking me for directions to the closest waiter, not museum.
5. I had a wonderful meeting with a future collaborator, Alessandra-- while we shared drinks at El Refugio (one of my favorite spots in Rio Piedras).
6. Developed a crush and made tentative future plans to oooh and aah over said recipient of crush.
7. Family dinner...avocado egg rolls might be the most delicious thing I've ever put in my mouth. (Come on, Ashley, Michelle, and Cassy...get your head out of the gutter).
8. Jorell and Magaly's tiniest violin.
9. Finally feeling awake again. Really, really awake...though not being able to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, but also making some progress on my paper.
10. Beach days...like last Friday and today. Sadly, today, I've developed an intense sunburn. Yes, this is why they make sunscreen. You'd think I'd have learned that by now.
11. Although this is state-centric, Erin Bergner buying me a ticket to see Wilco in October.
12. Road trip to Aguadilla with Magaly, Jorell, and Eggie for Chepi Fest. There was good music. There was laughter. There were uncomfortable situations in the parking lot of the Wendy's. There were roosters crossing the road. But most importantly, there was Ace of Base.
13. Chepi Fest in Aguadilla. Chepi was a close friend of Jorell and Magaly that passed away last summer. Actually, I was here last summer when it happened and I remembered being moved by the emotions they shared with me. Chepi's loss impacted loads and loads of people...and when Jorell recounted to me at the show what people loved so much about Chepi, I was reminded of the loss of Charlie. It sounded like they were cut from the same cloth. Plus there was lots of great music and good friends.
14. The quote..."I'm pretty sure he has everything big."
15. Dragging Jorell away from the show...which resulted in Jorell and I almost fighting one another, Chester fries, and the wicked Gasolina (which folks, is awesome. It is basically a mixed drink in a Capri Sun pouch, complete with a straw and everything...GENIUS).
16. Jorell and I joking the whole next day about fighting.
17. Texting with Art on Sunday afternoon...and realizing they'll never let us share a room at rehab. (Sad face).
18. Making a wise, wise choice.
19. Going to the movies here. I particularly enjoyed the fact that popcorn only costs $1.70. The movie was fantastic, but perhaps my favorite part is when the Woody Allen movie was only in French and the subtitles were in Spanish-- and I got to practice my understanding of the language by figuring out what was being said.
So, there you have it...another wonderful week full of productivity, ocean waves, and the most fantastic friends. Here's to next week (Saludos!)...where I'll get to see more old friends (Joel, Carlos, Noelia, Miguel, Cholo, Bernabe....this means you, so make it happen)...and I'll continue to work. Not to mention, today, I realized I've only got a month left...and that made me a little sad.
Music is Memory is a project that seeks to understand connections between music and memory. Primarily, I am interested in collecting the memories (and emotions) that we, as individuals, have attached to particular songs. I "collect" memories of hearing a song for the first time, but also how these memories change and meld over time.
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