I’ve been trying to figure out how Bel Canto has created such ice cold music, then I realized that a lot of the mood comes not only from the chords, but the instruments themselves. Most of them have no reverberation, and the ones that do begin with a staccato prick. On top of that, there’s no steady beat, just awkward, military style plucks. Add in some airy vocals with what I assume is a soprano sax (it’s a little too brassy to be a clarinet, but sounds like a reed instrument nonetheless), and almost any type of music would sound cold.

In the mornings, Dolly will wake up from my alarm. When it rings, whether she’s on my legs, on her pillow, on my neck, or against the wall, she’ll walk to the foot of the bed and stare at the door. At night, she’s usually in my room by the time I go to bed. I think she’s finally been able to adapt to my schedule because it’s the first time I’ve been able to consistently go to bed and wake up for more two months.

Bus rides are always either really good or really bad.

They’re really good when I find a window seat. That’s when I can tune out completely, lose myself in my music, and become totally oblivious to anything going on around me. I get to watch everything pass by and drift in and out of my thoughts. It’s when I get the most thinking done during the day (even more than in the shower).

They’re really bad when I can’t find a seat and I’m left standing up. I keep my music low so that I can hear any announcements by the bus driver, or people trying to get by. I’m always on guard about where I should be moving or when a seat might become available. And music on a low volume isn’t really worth listening to.

One of the reasons why I haven’t bought a car is because I’d lose all my thinking time. Every day I can reflect for an hour going to work and an hour coming back when I’m on the bus. If I was in a car, I’d be too busy paying attention to the road, to bad drivers, to traffic lights, to pedestrians. I wouldn’t be able to think, and I’d probably write a lot less.

Some days, when I’m coming close to my stop, I wish that the bus would just keep going, just keep driving, and never stop. I’d ride it from morning to night, listening to my music, just enjoying the feeling of going somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

Thinking about nothing and everything.

The more someone pushes me, the more I lose interest.

There are three reasons I watch Train 48:

1. Zack gets into the most hilariously fucked-up situations
2. Krista Sutton in business attire (even though her hair is sorta stupid)
3. Only losers watch Train 48

I hate how transparent people can be. Let me guess…you want to impress this girl, you want to talk about yourself, you want some of my fries, you think that girl has a nice ass, you love your reputation as a character, you want me to listen to this song.

I only consider it transparent when these people never actually say what they think or what. It’s not like they begin with, “I only act this way around you cause I want in your pants”, or “I don’t really care about you but I’ll let you speak first so I can have my turn later”, or “I want some of your fries so I keep asking about how good they are so you’ll offer me some”, or “You’re hot so I’m going to stare”, or “I want a crazy reputation so I’m going to act crazy”, or “I want to be the one who introduced you to this song”.

I’ve been told that I’m very transparent when it comes to people I don’t like, and hopefully that’s the only case for me. I generally won’t go around telling people that I hate them, but I’d rather someone know than not know. That way they won’t waste their time with me and I won’t waste my time with them.

Things would certainly be a lot better that way.

So Tristan finally updated their site for the spring 2004 collection. There’s something about a girl in a dress shirt and a blazer. And if there’s no dress shirt involved, well…that’s even better.

I wonder if anyone else melts just looking at her. It’s probably just me. I can’t be blamed though. The redhead-blazer combo is deadly.

Over the weekend I bought a dress shirt (with the little plastic insert things that keep the collar straight), a silk tie, and a pair of Quicksilver boardies. I’ve been buying more than I should. I keep calculating the price of things in terms of number of work hours.

The perfect temperature is when it’s warm enough to sleep with the window open but cold enough to need the warmth of a nice duvet.

I could never understand why some songs could make my eyes water.

• Radiohead — Paranoid Android, with its contradictory chords
• Thrice — Artist in the Ambulance, with its repenting, inspirational movements
• Dreamtheater — Disappear, as the harp leads to distortion in a bittersweet explosion
• Billy Talent — Nothing to Lose, with its heartwrenching chorus
• Godspeed, You Black Emperor! — Hungover as the Queen in Maida Vale, right when a single violin interrupts the sermon
• No Motiv — Born Again, when the drums kick in heavy and lead the listener to the present
• Lovage — Anger Management, with its pining soft rock melody
• The Dears — Heartless Romantic, with its thumping, distorted bass hits against the droning organ synth and dual vocals
• Elliot Smith — Waltz #2, with its steady, but heart-breaking tone
• Bad Astronaut — These Days, every time the effusive chorus rushes in
• Strung Out — Match Book, in its entire energetic hopefulness
• Postal Service — The Dream Of Evan And Chan, through all the opening lines
• Misfits — Saturday Night, as soon as the dragging guitars kick in
• Portishead — Undenied, with Beths fragile voice accompanying a simple, distorted loop

For the longest time I had assumed that it was the songs themselves, composed so well with so much pain, that would blur my vision. These songs were sad, and tears were the proper response.

Then I heard something a little different, something that was calming yet lifting. A dreamy song by Modest Mouse called Float On, that filled me with an indescribable satisfaction every time I heard it. And I realized that all these songs, as sad as they are, were making me happy.

So happy that tears are the proper response.

It’s always Saturday morning when I feel like finding out how people are doing. Saturdays are the only time that I don’t feel rushed to be doing something, so I can take my time and read what people have to say. The thing is, finding out how people are doing simply consists of checking my blogroll, and no one ever updates on Saturday mornings. It’s not a very good system. I end up browsing though other peoples blogrolls until I find one that’s interesting, and that’s generally how my blogroll gets bigger.

Long Weekend.

Oh Yes.

I had a spot reserved on a campsite at Bon Echo for the three days, but opted out to work on a few small projects and errands, and take it easy. I haven’t had a weekend to myself in too long.

I’m learning more things at work than I had ever imagined was possible. Now I understand things like the importance of making a budget, the loopholes to look out for on a lease, the difference between writing an asset off as an expense or depreciating it, or even something like the economic factors considered in setting monthly goals. There are also general work things I never knew about, like how to deal with salesmen, how to leave messages, what’s considered a good health plan, government regulations vs. union regulations, etc. I’ve even had to learn how to be a print production coordinator for marketing/PR materials. Then on top of all of this, I’m learning about the entire esoteric dental industry, from the personalities of dentists and denturists to the manufacturing process of everything from crowns to cast partial dentures to hawley retainers, just so I can understand the target audience and understand what I’m marketing.

Every so often I’ll read a confession on grouphug.us that will make me think of one of my friends, as if he or she may have been the one to write the it. And even more rarely, I’ll read one that makes me think that I wrote it, even though I know I didn’t, and this is one of them:

270642834: i wear my retainer, even when i don’t have to, cuz it makes me feel nerdy, and nerds turn me on.

My boss walked in to my office the other day and introduced me to the newest hire, a tech who also happens to be a very competent artist. The man tells me that he occasionally sees me on the bus in the morning, so I ask him if he’s sure that it’s me and not some other Asian guy. He tells me with no hesitation, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask him this question, that it was my hair that gave me away.