conflicted

Here are some things that I've thought about in the past few days, any of which I could write up in detail were I capable of allowing it to stand apart from the pack. Alas, they all mix together in a confusing and perplexing manner.

1. Virginia Tech massacre. There is nothing I can say about this without merely repeating all the sentiments of horror and disbelief being broadcast by every medium in America. The high school where two of my nephews and one of my nieces attend was locked down yesterday because of a bomb threat. Scary, scary. And so very sad.

2. Everest: Beyond the Limit. I just spent three days watching this series, which we TiVo'd last year, and have been dreaming about it every night. I came to two conclusions about these climbers: [1] They are all insane, and [2] If they survive any portion of the attempt, whether or not they summit, they are among the toughest people on earth. Still insane, but tough.

3. Planet Earth. Another riveting series (no, I don't just watch TV).

4. Hygiene, etc... . I no longer use any post-shampoo product (conditioner, mousse, hairspray) and do not blow dry my hair. I only apply make-up if I'm meeting someone I know. If I do not need to go out of the house for the day, I also save showering (but only for one day, never for two). I will not get my hair cut or colored until it's time to start interviewing. I am also only wearing my casual clothes (see next point), so as not to increase any wear and tear on my "professional" wardrobe. This may be mildly useless, as I hope to procure a new wardrobe before I re-enter the work force.

5. My recent housewife-ish day. I met a friend for lunch, then went to the grocery store, Costco, the post office, gas station, and Trader Joe's. I did household chores, cooked dinner, cleaned up afterwards, and spent a lovely evening with my husband. I was a marvel of domesticity. I went out in public wearing a sun dress and keds, but the chilly air required more so I threw on my suede jacket. I thought it was a weird combination, until I saw a woman at Stop & Shop wearing lounge pants and a fur coat.

6. Food fight. It's hard finding anything with less than 140 milligrams of sodium per serving. Go ahead, try it. Look at every box, bag, or can in your pantry, fridge, and freezer, and tell me how many you find. And I'm not even talking bout "bad" food. Try finding spaghetti sauce, cottage cheese, deli meat, or soup. "Reduced sodium" in Campbell's world means 660 mg. per serving (because regular soup has 900 mg.).

7. Christmas gifts. I have procured my first eight Christmas gifts and approximately 20 stocking stuffers. Only 251 days 'til Christmas.

8. House dreams. There is a house for sale I can't stop thinking about, even though its asbestos roof needs to be replaced, along with every single drafty, 80-year old window (about 42 of them, if I'm counting correctly). I want to live in this house. Oh yeah, and we both need new jobs as this house is approximately 200 miles from our current location. Minor detail.

9. Sanjaya was finally voted off last night. It was just wrong that LaKisha and Blake were in the bottom three. Interestingly, they seemed to be very close -- first holding hands while center stage awaiting the ejection, which didn't seem out of the ordinary (other than the fact that LaKisha was not also holding Sanjaya's hand), until we saw Blake wiping away LaKisha's tears while Sanjaya sang his goodbye. Isn't it interesting how a quick camera shot here or there can create an impression all its own, even if it's not the right one?

10. Our cats are incredibly cute. Recent evidence includes Woodle's routine of snuggling up against my bed pillows mid-morning and staying there all day long, the tuxedos performing simultaneous head baths, and Sadie randomly waking from her naps to chirp a request to be petted.

11. It's way too late for me to be up and rambling about the juxtapositions in life. Good night.

Song: "Seven Days" by Sting
Reading Material: "The Audacity of Hope" by Barack Obama
Other: See above list

the truth

Harvey Fierstein offers a sharply written op-ed piece for the New York Times. It is full of brilliant insight that should really just be common sense for everyone, but isn't.

In the midst of the whole Don Imus situation, I've found myself in a wide range of conversations with a variety of people. And I have to say, some of the points trotted out were enough to make me shake my head in amazement.

Mr. Imus seemed to rest happily on his "it was meant to be funny" apology. But it wasn't funny. What was funny about it? All it was was three powerful insults packed into three little words. I'll let Harvey take it from here.

OUR PREJUDICES, OURSELVES
By HARVEY FIERSTEIN
April 13, 2007

AMERICA is watching Don Imus’s self-immolation in a state of shock and awe. And I’m watching America with wry amusement.

Since I’m a second-class citizen — a gay man — my seats for the ballgame of American discourse are way back in the bleachers. I don’t have to wait long for a shock jock or stand-up comedian to slip up with hateful epithets aimed at me and mine. Hate speak against homosexuals is as commonplace as spam. It’s daily traffic for those who profess themselves to be regular Joes, men of God, public servants who live off my tax dollars, as well as any number of celebrities.

In fact, I get a good chuckle whenever someone refers to “the media” as an agent of “the gay agenda.” There are entire channels, like Spike TV, that couldn’t fill an hour of programming if required to remove their sexist and homophobic content. We’ve got a president and a large part of Congress willing to change the Constitution so they can deprive of us our rights because they feel we are not “normal.”

So I’m used to catching foul balls up here in the cheap seats. What I am really enjoying is watching the rest of you act as if you had no idea that prejudice was alive and well in your hearts and minds.

For the past two decades political correctness has been derided as a surrender to thin-skinned, humorless, uptight oversensitive sissies. Well, you anti-politically correct people have won the battle, and we’re all now feasting on the spoils of your victory. During the last few months alone we’ve had a few comedians spout racism, a basketball coach put forth anti-Semitism and several high-profile spoutings of anti-gay epithets.

What surprises me, I guess, is how choosy the anti-P.C. crowd is about which hate speech it will not tolerate. Sure, there were voices of protest when the TV actor Isaiah Washington called a gay colleague a “faggot.” But corporate America didn’t pull its advertising from “Grey’s Anatomy,” as it did with Mr. Imus, did it? And when Ann Coulter likewise tagged a presidential candidate last month, she paid no real price.

In fact, when Bill Maher discussed Ms. Coulter’s remarks on his HBO show, he repeated the slur no fewer than four times himself; each mention, I must note, solicited a laugh from his audience. No one called for any sort of apology from him. (Well, actually, I did, so the following week he only used it once.)

Face it, if a Pentagon general, his salary paid with my tax dollars, can label homosexual acts as “immoral” without a call for his dismissal, who are the moral high and mighty kidding?

Our nation, historically bursting with generosity toward strangers, remains remarkably unkind toward its own. Just under our gleaming patina of inclusiveness, we harbor corroding guts. America, I tell you that it doesn’t matter how many times you brush your teeth. If your insides are rotting your breath will stink. So, how do you people choose which hate to embrace, which to forgive with a wink and a week in rehab, and which to protest? Where’s my copy of that rule book?

Let me cite a non-volatile example of how prejudice can cohabit unchecked with good intentions. I am a huge fan of David Letterman’s. I watch the opening of his show a couple of times a week and have done so for decades. Without fail, in his opening monologue or skit Mr. Letterman makes a joke about someone being fat. I kid you not. Will that destroy our nation? Should he be fired or lose his sponsors? Obviously not.

But I think that there is something deeper going on at the Letterman studio than coincidence. And, as I’ve said, I cite this example simply to illustrate that all kinds of prejudice exist in the human heart. Some are harmless. Some not so harmless. But we need to understand who we are if we wish to change. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should confess to not only being a gay American, but also a fat one. Yes, I’m a double winner.)

I urge you to look around, or better yet, listen around and become aware of the prejudice in everyday life. We are so surrounded by expressions of intolerance that I am in shock and awe that anyone noticed all these recent high-profile instances. Still, I’m gladdened because our no longer being deaf to them may signal their eventual eradication.

The real point is that you cannot harbor malice toward others and then cry foul when someone displays intolerance against you. Prejudice tolerated is intolerance encouraged. Rise up in righteousness when you witness the words and deeds of hate, but only if you are willing to rise up against them all, including your own. Otherwise suffer the slings and arrows of disrespect silently.

Song: "Always Got Tonight" by Chris Issak
Reading Material: May issue of "Reader's Digest" and April 23rd issue of "Time" (still working on the book, too)
Other: Hosted a friend overnight whose building was flooded by the Nor'easter. She had a long night of our cats jumping on her, standing on her pillow and staring at her face, and even pulling curtains down which landed next to her head. I'm betting she never stays here again.

poles converging

The 80s were my "formative" years. I entered high school in 1980 and graduated from college in 1988. The vast majority of vinyl in my record collection was released during this decade. I had conservatively 843 hair styles during that time, though contrary to the faulty recollection of my family and friends, I never dyed it pink (well, not intentionally).

Although I had an appreciation for the punk aesthetic and its music, my claim was always that I was "new wave, not punk." This difference was most evident in the genre of music (British alternative pop), fashion accessorization (multiple piercings but only in the ears), and the rebellion factor (the closest I came was "Rebel Yell").

One of my favorite artists of the decade was a singer/songwriter/musician named Nik Kershaw. Catchy songs and clever lyrics -- a great combination. He enjoyed a little success in the States with the song "Wouldn't It Be Good," but was a massive success in England for much of the decade.

During the 80s, it was relatively easy for me to get his albums on vinyl. But toward the end of the decade when I started building my CD collection, it became much more difficult to procure their digital counterparts. I eventually found an independent record store in Yarmouth, Maine where a sympathetic owner (and fellow Kershaw fan) sought out the hard-to-find discs for me.

Like many artists, Nik slowed down after a period of high exposure, shifting his focus to writing hits for other artists (including Elton John!) and recording his own albums on a much more elongated schedule. I've managed to stay relatively on top of their releases and usually found a way to procure them since then.

Yesterday, I woke up from a dream where Gwen Stefani was performing a concert in my living room with Billy Idol and Nik Kershaw singing backup for her. (There was more to this dream, but isn't that enough detail?) I headed into the office with the distinct goal of filtering my iTunes library and listening to nothing but Nik Kershaw for the day.

I did just that, and spent a little time reading email and the New York Times while listening to gems like "Wide Boy" and "Billy" (how appropriate, given Mr. Idol's appearance in my dream). Then, at some point, I looked at iTunes and realized that the mini iTunes store at the bottom of the screen was suggesting I consider a couple other selections from Mr. Kershaw. One of them was an album I did not have! Released in 2006!

How did I miss this?!

Needless to say, I purchased it on the spot, and have been listening to it ever since. I am very pleased with it, and just have to forgive myself for letting five months pass before realizing it existed. (In my defense, I've had a lot going on in the last five months.)

Fast forward to last night. It was 11:00pm, Ted was asleep, and my second wind kicked in. I flipped channels looking for something interesting to watch on TV when I found the Henry Rollins Show on IFC. I watched it with interest, as I find Mr. Rollins eminently compelling. And while I was enjoying the conversation, it slowly occurred to me how much Henry Rollins now looks like Nik Kershaw. To wit:

Nik Kershaw 2007

Henry Rollins 2007

Now, to the uninformed, this might not seem such a big deal unless you have an appreciation for how very different they are from each other. Here are two additional comparisons to drive the point home. First, photos of each from long ago.

Nik Kershaw 1983

Henry Rollins 1983

Now, for musical differences. Take a few minutes to watch these videos.

Nik Kershaw 1984

Henry Rollins 1984

And there you have it. Today's "whoa, how did that happen" moment. Well, I guess it was actually yesterday's moment, and I'm just now getting around to blogging it. I feel compelled to once again observe how infrequently I'm blogging when, theoretically, I have more time to do it now than ever before.

I have also ditched writing about American Idol all together. This is partially due to my waning tolerance of it, and partially due to Ted's new Tuesday-Wednesday weekend which keeps us busy and even traveling. Oh well!

Now, I must review my "To Do" list, head to Costco, and get productive.

Song: "All About You" by Nik Kershaw (of course)
Book: "Field Notes on the Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness" by Marc Ian Barasch
Other: Won $330.40, mostly playing roulette, but also at the nickel slots

unexpected absence

I thought I would have been blogging more, this first week of unemployment. But alas, I spent much of the first three days of this week fixing my internet access. First the cable modem died. Then the router. It was Wednesday afternoon before everything was functioning correctly again. And I just haven't bothered to write anything since then.

Until now, that is.

And what am I going to write? I don't really know. I am inclined to include today's "Poem-A-Day" from Poets.org (did you know that April is National Poetry Month?). I actually started writing a poem on the 1st, thinking I might try to write one every day. It's been a long time since I've written any poetry, and so the stasis has slowed my attempt. That, and a bunch of errands and chores that have commandeered the week.

Here's what I'll do for now. Include today's poem and dust off an old favorite. I'll find some sort of graphic to include in this entry. And then I'll call it a post for now. Maybe I'll work some more on my own poem during the day and come back later to share the results.

Poem-A-Day for April 6, 2007

Bent Orbit
by Elaine Equi

I wind my way across a black donut hole
and space that clunks.
Once I saw on a stage,
as if at the bottom of a mineshaft,
the precise footwork
of some mechanical ballet.
It was like looking into the brain
of a cuckoo clock and it carried
some part of me away forever.
No one knows when they first see a thing,
how long its after image will last.
Proust could stare at the symptom of a face
for years, while Frank O'Hara, like anyone with a job,
was always looking at his watch.
My favorite way of remembering is to forget.
Please start the record of the sea over again.
Call up a shadow below the pendulum of a gull's wing.
In a city of eight million sundials, nobody has any idea
how long a minute really is.

And now, to dig into the archives.

A Supermarket in California
by Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.

In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!

What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! -- and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.

I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?

I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective.

We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?

(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.)

Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?

Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

I'm also changing up my typical post ending. In addition to the song currently playing, I will now include the book I'm reading, and maybe something else unique to my work-free life.

Song: "Faith" by Elmer Bernstein
Book: "Doing Nothing" by Tom Lutz
Other: Played "Promenade" and "Gnomus" from Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" on the piano

the window is broken

version one of three

For someone who fancies herself a wordsmith, I've been foundering for days as to how best to announce my departure from the company. Nothing sounded right, and so now I'm allowing that flimsy excuse of a sentence to do my dirty work.

My last day is tomorrow (Friday, March 30th). I have enjoyed the variety of challenges I've had during my 13 years with the company, and most of all, will miss the camaraderie.

I don't yet know what I'll be doing, and I am equal parts excited and uncertain about my future! I hope that we'll have the opportunity to cross paths again, either professionally or personally – perhaps both.

Please stay in touch, and don't be surprised if you hear from me!

All the best,
Kelly

standing up

napkin notes

Not getting to this until 11:30pm, and don't want to take 90 minutes to compose. So just using incredibly terse scribblings to update. Not even going to use pronouns. Ha. British Invasion night with Peter Noone and Lulu.

1. Haley. Ppppbbbbbbttttt.

2. Chris R. Very good job, showing restraint and singing talent on "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying."

3. Stephanie. Flat in spots, generally shaky. Hugely frustrating because I know she's talented. First time I haven't loved the dress, but I did love the jewelry.

4. Blake. Excellent. "Time of the Season" the perfect song for him to show off both singing and beatboxing talent. Finally judges agreed.

5. LaKisha. Excellent as always. Very pretty dress, and love the million dollars in diamonds. But the song "Diamonds are Forever" did nothing for me.

6. Phil. "Tobacco Road." Good grief. Pppbbbbbtttttt.

7. Jordin. Nose gets closer to LaKisha's and Melinda's noses every week. Never heard "I Who Have Nothing" before tonight, but she did it justice.

8. Sanjaya. Remember how I said Sundance Head should NEVER had attempted to sing Pearl Jam? Multiply that sentiment by a gazillion, and you have Sanjaya singing the Kinks' song "You Really Got Me." The only thing that prevented it from slipping into blasphemy territory was the sheer amount of fun he had singing it.

9. Gina. "Paint it Black" was the perfect song choice for her, but Simon said it best: "style over content."

10. Chris S. Another impeccable song choice in "She's Not There." Wasn't keen on the walking-through-the-audience bit, but overall another good performance.

11. Melinda. Perfect. You'll note I didn't merely say "Excellent." She surpasses most all of the rest with ease and grace. As much as I love LaKisha and am rooting for Blake and Chris Sligh, I still think Melinda takes home the prize.

Miscellaneous Note. Who is Ashley, and why did every single minute of the 2-hour show make her cry?

Synopsis. Nothing changed my overall opinions tonight.

Phew! That entry only took 14 minutes. Unfortunately, it's painfully apparent. I have to find a happy medium! 'Night.

"Still Remains" by Stone Temple Pilots from one of my favorite albums of the 90s. I spent most of Summer '94 listening to this CD. At the time, I'd just begun working for the company where I've now been for 13 years. Our office was in Kirkland, WA, which on the eastern shore of Lake Washington, across from Seattle. Lots of nice parks to which I escaped for lunch and STP-listening.

a.i. weirdness

There were more than a few bizarre moments on 'American Idol' tonight (or as Ryan Seacrest calls it, "A-MER-ican Idol"). At times, it just seems like an alternate reality show (ha! I made that up! I'm so clever!). There is a very distinct line between amateurs who want to be stars, and small-time professionals who just needed a launching pad to a national audience. Then there's stuff in between the two.

Now that it's down to the Top 12, my recap will be complete. Alphabetically (how diplomatic). Photos included indicates a Top 5 Kelly Choice (not diplomatic). Diana Ross night.

Blake Lewis

Except for a few rough edges that may be attributed to his amateur status, Blake knows himself and his style, and he's true to them both. His singing voice is good, although sometimes it is under-emphasized in comparison to everything else going on (beatboxing, fancy footwork, etc.). I think he did a fine job of arranging "You Keep Me Hanging On" to fit his style, even if it rubbed the judges the wrong way. Blake gets a vote tonight.

Brandon Rogers
It's disappointing that I don't like Brandon as much now as in the audition process. Clearly, he has talent. I mean, he's a professional backup singer. But week after week, he's been, well, weak. Tonight's version of the always fabulous song, "You Can't Hurry Love," was just... you know, weak. Such a waste.

Chris Richardson
I have liked Chris despite (or perhaps because of) his obvious desire to be the doppelganger of a certain boy band veteran named after woods and water. Tonight, his Justinian falsetto aerobics and trills were just confusing, and his choice of song ("The Boss") was downright puzzling. C'mon, it's Diana Ross. Surely you could have picked a better song!

Chris Sligh

Again, a contestant creates a unique arrangement, and it completely tweaks the judges. I don't know why. I think Chris has come the closest to taking a contrived situation ("Everyone sing Gregorian chant, regardless of your strengths") and making it work for his particular style. [Chris Daughtry was particularly good at this last year.] If the judges would have gotten over their personal dislike of the arrangement, I think they would have found his vocals to be as strong as all his previous performances.

Gina Glocksen
I like Gina. Really, I do. She's a much better singer than I am. That said, I'm an absolutely terrible singer. She did OK tonight, but I can't see her making it more than a few more weeks (and only that long to allow for the worst to be voted off first). It cracked me up when Paula told her that "Love Child" should be a fun, upbeat song. Um, Paula, have you ever listened to that song?

Haley Scarnato
Poor Haley. She's beautiful (although tonight's pumpkin-shaped, eggplant-colored, hip-banded, baby doll dress was a nightmare). Unfortunately for her, no matter how important it is for pop singers to be pretty, they also have to possess a certain degree of talent. I felt bad for her because she knew that she had botched it up but good (although that post-singing performance was a bit hammy). Her departure from the show this week would be the only acceptable reason for Sanjaya making it through again. Bye, bye Haley.

Jordin Sparks

Jordin has her ups and downs, all of which (I believe) can be attributed to her youth. Through it all, she has a very strong voice and, in the right circumstances, has let it roar. Tonight, she roared. The song (some obscure piece from the movie "Land Before Time") sounded remarkably like a Vanessa-Williams-sings-Disney bit, but she completely pulled it off. If she can sing like this more often, she could make it a long way toward the prize. Just no more sappy songs!

LaKisha Jones

I haven't been shy in my praise for Ms. Jones. Tonight is different only to assert that she is clearly separate-from-but-equal-to Melinda Doolittle, to whom I'd given a slight edge to first place last week. LaKisha (or Kiki, as Diana Ross presumptuously called her) was stunning, running slightly afoul of the A.I. rules by singing the Billie Holliday song, "God Bless the Child" (she got away with it because Diana Ross covered the song for the movie "Lady Sings the Blues."). If she doesn't win the crown, she'll have no trouble finding a recording contract of her own -- probably from 19 Records.

Melinda Doolittle

Well, we all know how I feel about Melinda, don't we? Tonight did nothing to change my opinion of her. She took a song I would otherwise have thought nothing about ("Home" from the movie, "The Wiz"), and made me interested in it. She is just that good. She's a pro, and unlike Brandon, she has been completely up to the challenge of stepping into the spotlight. Going out on a (very strong) limb, and saying that the Top 2 will be Melinda and LaKisha.

Phil Stacey
You know, I haven't really been that excited about Phil all along. In my opinion, bald doesn't work for him. But let's focus on the singing. What I've seen is a guy who gets utterly lost at the beginning of a song (particularly in the lower range), and then strengthens only when the chorus swells. Tonight, he was able to bring most of that strength to almost the entire song, although he does tend to get LOUD when he gets strong.

Sanjaya Malakar
Heavy sigh. Yes, he's adorable. As Diana Ross said, "he is love." OK, we get it. The sweet 17-year old has a heart of gold. Remember how he cried when he made it onto the finals and his sister didn't? Awww. Sweet. However, 'sweet' didn't help him reach the peaks of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." He tried too hard and still didn't get anywhere close to the power and emotional impact that song almost innately carries. And someone needs to tell him to be more assertive when the stylists walk toward him -- grinning maniacally -- with hair irons in their hands. Run away!

Stephanie Edwards
Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. Early on in the Top 24, she was among my favorites. And I still think that she's got talent. But she doesn't do herself any favors with song choice. A disco Diana Ross song ("Love Hangover") just didn't do it for me. I'll pull the Paula routine and comment on her look, though. She has the most sensational outfits. Tonight's dress was another stunner. I've yet to see her dressed in anything that wasn't absolutely gorgeous. I still have hope that she'll rapidly develop some mysterious personality trait and rebound. We'll see.

Ugh, it takes me too long to do these entries! I've called in my votes, but now I really need to go get some sleep. 'Night!

~~~
"Never Get Enough" by Raul Midon. I discovered this album when NPR did a piece on him. Once I listened to it, I was transformed. It is a magical album. He is magical.

Actual posting time: 12:42am zzzzzzzzzzzz..............

kittehs, puppehs, et cetera

It should be a requirement for every person on the planet to make a daily visit to Cute Overload. Go there. Now. And later today. And again tomorrow, and every day thereafter. Go, I beg you. Go. You won't regret it.



You cannot resist!

"She Can't Help Herself" by Level 42. One of my favorite bands of all time. This is a great track from their 1991 album, "Guaranteed." They just released their first new record since then. I paid $30+ for it because it's only available as a British import. Well worth every penny. Follow the link on their name above and listen closely to words of the intro. They're so clever!

quick critic

OK, the female American Idol contestants have two advantages over the men. First, more of them have more obvious talent. And second, all of them want to win and take the whole thing way more seriously.

I only have a few things to grumble about tonight, unlike last night, which was so icky, I reduced it to a tiny footnote in an entry otherwise about the Bicentennial! By the way, one more thing about last night. Sundance Head. I'd included him in my "honorable mention" category last week (which can be taken with a grain of salt because my only other H.M. was voted off), but this week, I've completely jumped off the Sundance bandwagon. He attempted to sing "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam, and it became painfully apparent to me why nobody except Eddie Vedder should ever sing a Pearl Jam song. Ted was baffled that I found it such an affront.

So, brief girl gripes. My biggest issue is with Antonella Barba. She should have been one of the first off, but she's managed to hang on through a few weeks of remarkably weak attempts at singing. As if that weren't bad enough in itself, tonight she had the audacity to mutilate the wonderful Corinne Bailey Rae song, "Put Your Records On." Shame, shame, shame!

Otherwise, Gina did a respectable Evanescence although she shouted it a bit -- Amy Lee, she's not. Sabrina proved again she can sing even if her power and flair were a bit lacking tonight. Jordin tried a bit too hard on a Pat Benatar song, but the talent peeked through. Haley was OK but ultimately forgettable.

Which leads me to the girl highlights. Here are my favorites, in order of my preference.


1. Melinda Doolittle. Holy cow. Let the judges say whatever they want about her timidity, Melinda is world-class. She may be shy and unassuming in pre- and post-singing chat, but when she's on stage, she is a superbly talented and entertaining professional. And her performances have never disappointed me. Not once. Not only my favorite female, but my favorite to win the Season 6 Idol crown.


2. Lakisha Jones. It's unfair to put Lakisha in second place, because -- much like Melinda -- her performances are always flawless. She has a confident and powerful voice and presence, and clearly should make a living as a singer (not a banker!). This is obviously some inexplicable differentiation in my head that puts Lakisha slightly behind in the ratings, but it's certainly not for lack of talent. She has also never given anything other than lustrous performances.


3. Stephanie Edwards. Also talented and strong, she's a little less consistent than Melinda and Lakisha. Still, she's got the ingredients: she just needs to cook them up the right way every week. Noteworthy though really meaningless in the context of singing well to win a contest -- her dress tonight was stunning. And her hairstyle reminds me of Fantasia.

With that, I bid bon soir. I'm tired, and even the quickest of blog entries takes me an hour. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I will have more time to dedicate to this process. You'll see.

"You Taught My Heart to Sing" by Dianne Reeves. The funny thing about iTunes shuffle is that I feel like I should always be entering different artists here, but there's always the possibility of hearing the same artist numerous times in a sitting. Usually, it's a sign that there is a larger number of songs by said artist in my library. But sometimes, it's just random. In this case, it is the former. I love Dianne Reeves and am in possession of all of her recordings.

nifty!

I would talk about Idol tonight, but I don't want to. How's that for temperamental? MSNBC's Test Pattern blog directed me to an online test to name all 50 states in less than 10 minutes (take the test here). Thanks to a song I learned many moons ago, I was not only able to name all the states in a mere 95 seconds, but I did it in alphabetical order.

When I was reading the Test Pattern comments, I realized that there are apparently legions of people who also learned this song. As I read more and more of the comments, I think I've concluded that it was taught to elementary school kids around the country for the Bicentennial. I remember quite distinctly being in 4th grade when Mrs. Watson-Jones taught it to us, which was 1976 for me.

I only remember the part that lists the states. I'd managed to completely block out the rest of it (except at the end where you shout very deliberately NEW HAMPSHIRE IS THE BEST!). Here it is for your listening enjoyment. Pay no attention to the massive typo on the title of this clip.



Did you ever learn this song? Can you still sing it? How well do you remember the Bicentennial?

I remember lots. My father, oldest brother, and I were in a Revolutionary War reenactment militia. My uncle who lived in Concord, Massachusetts (birthplace of the revolution) bought me a black plastic fife, which started my 8-year hobby of dressing up in authentic costumes, reenacting battles (the fifers were always at the front of the line and therefore the first to die), marching in parades, and traveling far and wide. A year or two later once my interest in fifing was cemented, my Dad had a rosewood fife carved for me. I also procured a buglehorn and penny whistle along the way, with a brass scabbard for the lot of them (well, except the buglehorn, which I flung over my shoulder on a satin rope).

By the time we journeyed to the South in the early 80s to do the later Revolutionary battles, I was regularly teaching spectators about the instruments and even showing them how to play. I especially remember Yorktown, which not only had over a million participants, but was even attended by President Ronald Reagan and France's President Francois Mitterand. The combined fife and drum corps was over a thousand musicians strong. There was a time delay from the front of the group to the back of it. It was cool.

At camp, a group of girls about my age came up to me and asked about the fife. I spent probably 15 minutes in explanation and showing each of them to play a note or two. When the lesson was over, one of them said to me in a serious Southern drawl, "Where're y'all from?" When I answered, "New Hampshire," she said in the same serious drawl, "I thought I detected a Norrrrrrthrnnn accent." She dragged out the word "Northern" as if she were picking up a mouse by its tail to toss it out of the house. Too funny.

Also in 1976, my parents bought a brand new Volkswagen bus. It was two-toned with blue on the lower half and white on the top (not quite like the one pictured, which is actually a 1959 model). The full-size roof rack was red, and it bore state-issued Bicentennial commemorative licence plates. We were a patriotic lot.

After a decade of having a VW bus as the family transport, this would be the final one for us. It lasted four years, after which, my parents bought the wildly popular 1980 Chevrolet Citation for $4000. It's amazing the weird little details I remember from my youth.

Time for bed. By the way, the boys were weak again tonight. Only Blake Lewis and Chris Sligh were worth the price of admission. OK, I guess I couldn't go completely without an Idol mention.

Song playing as I finish writing this post is a serious flashback from the beginning of the house music craze. "Good Life" by Inner City. I love this song. Five stars.