brought to you by the letter b.

So I agreed to do this meme AGES ago and then kind of forgot about it, because I was so caught up in, you know, NOT updating my blog. But, friends, it is a new year and a new leaf and all that--and in 2009 I resolve to at least have the decency to feel guilty about not writing for weeks at a time.

Anyway, the meme, such as it is, goes something like this:

Leave a comment on this post, and I'll assign you a letter. You then write about ten things you love, all of which start with your assigned letter, and post your list on your own space/blog. (Ed. note: Spaceblogs! The tedium of the future!) When people comment on your entry, you assign them their own letters, and so the cycle continues.

What better way to start a new year than by thinking about things that you love? And about the alphabet? Sweeter combination there is none.

To be fair, you can still comment even if you don't want a letter. Just let me know. (And if no one comments, I suppose it will just serve me right for having let all of you fall away, looking for blogs that refresh content more often than once every year and a half or so.)

My assigned letter is "B". Here goes:

1. Big words. Probably one of my most favorite things in the history of things. Why limit yourself to two syllables when you can use SIX? Why be concise when you can be grandiose? I ask you.

2. Bowling. I love bowling even though I am terrible at it--as I am with most games that involve aim and, um, balls. Bowling appeals to the things I appreciate about organized sport--i.e. the camaraderie, opportunities for low-grade achievement--while lacking the things I don't particularly care for--i.e. running, sweating, fresh air. It takes place in climate-controlled spaces and can be performed with big soft pretzel in hand. It involves exactly 10% actual activity to 90% making fun of your friends' wristguards. Best game ever.

3. Brownies. Mmmm...brownies. My nemesis; my Achilles heel. If there is one unhealthy thing that is sure to break my resolve, that I find it impossible to say no to, it is that Cruel Fudgy Temptress herself. With nuts, without nuts, mint-flavored, espresso-flavored, peanut-butter-infused...BROWNIES.

4. The Bird and the Bee. (Does it count if the entry starts with "the"? Ah, hell, I'm making the rules and I say it does.) The Bird and the Bee is a band I discovered over the past year and fell for pretty much right away--I love the sort of sugary-sweet soprano voice sing-songing her way through the sometimes dark and twisted subject matter. I think it shows a sort of clever, smirking worldview...and looking back, I kind of regret not putting any of their songs on my Original Motion Picture Soundtrack.

5. Barack Obama. I can't help it. I love that guy. I loved him at the 2004 Democratic convention when he announced that we had "a righteous wind at our backs"; I loved him when he was outraged at what Whole Foods charged for arugula; I loved him when they spotted a Mad Men DVD sitting near him on his campaign jet--and I loved him most, of course, on election night when he spoke of restoration and prosperity and "while we breathe, we hope." All of this in addition to loving him for health care and equal rights and diplomacy. I look forward to January 20th, a date I've secretly started calling The West Wing: Season 8 premier.

6. Beethoven's Symphony No. 7. Particularly, the Allegretto movement. While this wasn't the first classical piece I ever loved, it was certainly the first classical piece that sprung to mind a clear image of the person behind it--a wild-haired Ludwig sitting at his candlelit piano, surrounded by crumpled manuscripts and furiously scribbling notes to a work he would never fully hear. To listen to this movement is to hear Beethoven grapple with remaining dignified in the face of mounting outrage--and I find the place at which that outrage finally seeps into the orchestration to be one of the most gratifying moments in all of music.

7. British ensemble comedy. This, for instance:



8. Brevity. It is the soul of wit, after all. (And I realize that this probably contradicts my love of unnecessarily big words--but this is my list, so suck it. "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself...I am large, I contain multitudes.")

9. Burritos. Have you had a burrito lately? It defies description. A food that's so good, you eat the packaging.

10. Beaumont. This one will likely not make sense to most of you. The short description is that "Beaumont" is what a friend of mine decided to name his house a number of years ago. Since then, however, the word has taken on a life of its own, extending to describe the group of friends that hangs out at said house and all of the inside jokes and private quirks that have come to characterize it. There are approximately nine people in the world who could fully appreciate the phrase "That is so not Beaumont," and that group and that place and that word make up one of my most favorite things. Ever.

So that's my list. Thanks to Jamelah for the idea (and the letter). Any takers?

plans and thanks and wows.

So, um...it's been a while, then?

Sorry about that.

The thing is, I typically blog from work--on my lunch break or on slow afternoons. But if you could get a look at the dry-erase calendar that holds all my tasks for the month, you would see how far blogging has fallen on my to-do list. As it turns out, come Thursday I will be giving the most ardent thanks for the simple blessing of having survived this week--this week whose shortened duration resulted in super-concentrated demands and insanity. I mean, wow.

This year I shall be feasting in Austin, TX with two parents, two siblings, two siblings-in-law, one grandmother, one absolutely fetching new niece, and a partridge in a pear tree. I'll be the last to arrive and fly in just in time to celebrate my brother's 30th (!) birthday. Again, seriously, wow.

Oh, I suppose that, since I've been silent for a month, I should at least weigh in on certain America-related events. All I can say is that lately it feels like Aaron Sorkin is executive-producing our current events, and that my YouTube favorites list now includes the video of Grant Park at the moment the election winner was declared because I can't stop watching it--I just keep hitting "replay" and feeding off of the explosive, uncontainable joy of the crowd. I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but seriously? Wow.

This post has no focus. Probably because I can't muster it. My brain is so worn out from work that if I had to go back into those paragraphs to add transitions and a common theme, I think I might cry.

But please, go forth be thankful and eat turkey. And pie.

the noise.

If all of my friends stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of me, I doubt I'd be able to point to two whose political views were identical. Not only that, but there are some that differ so greatly that I seriously wonder how they make it through the day without getting into fist fights with each other.

That was true long before the current campaign started, and it's true today. The main difference between then and now is that all sides have turned up the volume.

And when the volume goes up, something happens--we become consumed by the noise and forget who we are. Just as mild-mannered people go to football games and make themselves hoarse from screaming at the other side, just as quiet bookworms go to rock concerts and suddenly find themselves crowd surfing, so too have respectable, honest, caring people come to verbal blows with one another and refused to back down.

I'm a firm believer in healthy debate; I think it's amazing and wonderful when people find it in themselves to get fired up about their country. But lately I find myself asking, when did it get so personal?

I think that when you're passionate about something, it becomes hard to see how anyone could take up the opposite side. I think that when you tie so much energy and emotion to one side of an argument, a person voicing opposition may as well be slapping you in the face.

And sometimes we feel like our only course of action--the only thing that will stop the constant slapping of our faces--is for us to scoot up to the keyboard, hit the CAPSLOCK key and fire at will.

But I guess the thing I wish we could all collectively realize is, no one is slapping us in the face. People are putting out some really big talk, and some of them are not using the nicest words to do it--but really, their political views have nothing to do with you or with me. My comment about someone that neither one of us has met is not directed at you, and your stance on economic policies that neither one of us had a hand in writing has nothing to do with me.

The drawback to amplifying the volume is that before long, the noise consumes us. We forget who we are and identify ourselves only by the lyrics we're singing at the top of our lungs. And if you're singing a different song than I am, well, you might as well be calling me a moron.

But here's the thing, people--we have to look at who we will be when the noise subsides. Because the election will end, and no matter who wins, you will still be you and I will still be me and America will still be America. And if we get so bent out of shape now, it may be hard to re-straighten ourselves later.

In any kind of contest, it's hard to resist making a jab at the other side. It's hard to resist going after what you know will be an easy laugh from some--even if it comes at the cost of an uncomfortable grimace from others. But try as I might to be a cheerleader for my point of view, I would never, ever assume that someone on a different side is automatically less intelligent or less careful about their decisions than I am. And I hope that when all of this is over we can still reach across the aisle long enough to have coffee and laugh at the same jokes (the non-political ones).

Let's just turn down the volume, take a deep breath, and force a smile. Please?

dress up.

Last weekend one of my best friends from Augusta came to visit. While we cruised around town with my roommate, our conversation turned to Halloween costumes--how our friends don't seem to want to dress up anymore, how it's hard to decide what to be, etc. At this point, my Augusta friend (AF) piped up enthusiastically:

AF: "I've already got a costume! I'm going to borrow my sister's from last year."
Roommate: "Oh, cool! What is it?"
AF: "A bumble bee."
Roommate: "Oh that's so cute!"
AF: "Yeah, and it's like, a sexy bee."
Roommate: "..."


OK, while I'm sure the whole bee/flower/pollination setup does lend itself to some rather creative innuendo...seriously? A sexy bumble bee?

The thing is, this [I'm sure] is not an isolated conversation. Halloween is an example of the pressure to be sexy colliding with the pressure to be unique in a horrible, gruesome spectacle. It's not enough to have sex appeal--you must have it in a form that no one has thought of, ever! You must seek out the sexy in the most remote corners of nature/society!

A quick Google search brought up tons of sexy versions of otherwise run-of-the-mill costumes to prove my point. Believe me, these are not your mother's witch/French maid/cheerleader getups:

Little Red Riding Hood
Ghostbuster
Ms. Freddy Krueger
Pirate (I don't know about you, but raping and pillaging TOTALLY turn me on)
Eskimo (she's thrown frostbite to the wind and decked herself out in a fur-trimmed miniskirt)
Nun (shudder)
Wednesday Addams (don't remember seeing this much midriff in the movie...)
Statue of Liberty (who knew freedom was so...HOT?)

I'll spare you the contents of the remaining 43 pages on the one site I clicked. You get the idea.

Of course, this all brings the question to mind: what's left? What has been mercifully allowed to remain completely un-sexy? And once I find it, how could I maybe make it sexy and dress up like it for Halloween?

Like, what if I went as a giant banana...but a sexy giant banana? Or a Christmas tree...but a sexy Christmas tree? Or Ben Franklin...but sexy Ben Franklin?

Any other ideas? Let me have them. If you've got a great one I might just be compelled to go for it.

life: the soundtrack.

A few weeks ago, Jamelah issued this challenge: "If your life were a movie, what would be the soundtrack?"

Much of my life is spent accompanied by the iPod, working out the answer to this very question. So I jumped on the chance to actually make up my mind and put something down in concrete. I had no idea what I was in for.

The problem with creating your life's soundtrack is that there are so many variables to consider. First of all, it's not like you can just throw all your favorite songs onto a CD, because the songs you love might not necessarily be the songs that tell your story. And when it comes to telling your story, how much do you tell? Which experiences do you choose? Do you put together a Cliffs-notes-style narrative from birth to present, or do you pick one formative year to document in extensive detail? Do you choose songs that remind you of moments, or do you pick important moments and then search for songs to fit them? And what about continuity--do you pick individual songs for individual scenes, or do you decide beforehand what your life "sounds like" and then only pick songs that fit into that tone?

IS IT POSSIBLE NOT TO OVERTHINK THIS? IF SO TELL ME HOW.

Ahem.

At any rate, after much toil, I have come up with my album. I ended up compromising on most of the questions above; my narrative starts at about seven years ago and runs up to the present. I alternated between "songs = moments" and "moments = songs" selections, and while I didn't pick an overarching sound, I did try not to make the songs clash too badly with each other.

I started to list out each song with a brief explanation of why I chose it and what it describes...but it was turning this post into a novella. So, in brief, here's the plotline:

Transfer to Augusta State. Daydream. Make new friends, hang out with them. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Lose love. Lose family member. Hang out with friends some more. Set out for the city to make a name for myself. Take a while to discover and establish myself in a new life. Find place in new job and new group of friends. End up pretty happy with life. Daydream some more. Reflect on that life and all the people in it. The end.

(If you want more detail, ask me for the full liner notes. I've definitely got them.)

So without further ado, I give you...


Lesley: The Motion Picture Soundtrack

1. Imaginary Girl by The Bees
2. Comptine D'Un Autre: L'Apres Midi by Yann Tiersen (from Amelie)
3. Going, Going, Gone by the Posies
4. Sketches (20 Something Life) by La Rocca
5. Heart of Mine by Peter Salett
6. The Secret Life of Daydreams by Jean-Yves Thibaudet (from Pride and Prejudice)
7. Foundations by Kate Nash
8. No Need to Argue by The Cranberries
9. Reverie by Claude Debussy
10. I Grieve by Peter Gabriel
11. Lost Horizons by Gin Blossoms
12. The Sadies by The Trial
13. A Hazy Shade of Winter by Simon & Garfunkel
14. Thin Line by Indigo Girls
15. Never Give Up by Melissa Ferrick
16. The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy) by Simon & Garfunkel
17. Back Together Again by Indigo Girls
18. La Valse D'Amelie by Yann Tiersen (from Amelie)
19. Hold On Hope by Guided By Voices
20. Goodnight by Zox

benched.

My friend Jeff recently took on a project to improve one of the bus stops in our neighborhood, East Atlanta Village. This bus stop sits about a block away from my house and is one of the highest traffic stops on our route, yet until recently there was no good place to sit down while you waited. And we weren't the first ones to notice, either--every so often, you'd walk by and see that someone had put out a couple old milk crates or even brought a makeshift wood-and-staples construction to help out. But those would usually fall apart pretty quickly, leaving the scene as it was before--and it just wasn't serving the bus stop patrons very well.

Now, it's important to note that many--if not most--MARTA bus stops don't have seating. Yet with the amount of people that regularly use this particular stop (many of them older), plus the amount of time it usually takes to catch a bus on Glenwood Ave. (trust me), a proper bench was in order. So Jeff set about making a more permanent (and more comfortable) solution. And what started with a regular bench became a bench plus a trash can, then became a bench plus a trash can plus flower pots--creating a cheerful, brightly colored space on an otherwise grey and litter-strewn block.

I love this idea because it's an example of a small change that makes our neighbors' lives just that much better. Believe me, at the end of a long day, the last thing you want to do is stand and wait for the bus. Not only that, but when you use a bus stop on a regular basis, you start feeling a sort of connection to that space. And if I showed up one day at the bus stop by my office and saw that someone had put time and care into making it more comfortable and more pleasant, it would totally change in my mood. All of which goes to say that little differences are significant, and we could all stand to put some energy into making our neighborhoods better.

Below is a video that Jeff, his wife Andre, and a couple of their friends made while building and setting up the bench. Have a look.



Benched from Brandon McCormick on Vimeo.

dear abby.

Abigail Grace Carter

Born September 5, 2008
Weight: 7 lbs, 13 oz
Length: 20 inches








Dear Abby,

Yesterday I took a deep breath as you took your very first, and then I sat up and tried to get my head around the huge step forward you've just pushed our family to take.

It's hard to imagine my brother as a father, probably because I've spent most of the past five years pretending that none of us are actually grown up. Since he's the oldest, it makes sense that he's the first to introduce the Carters to the next generation (and as I write that I'm laughing at myself, because I've just realized that I use "the next generation" a lot in the ads I write--it's a handy phrase to throw in when you want readers to think about The Future--but until this minute I never really thought about how weighty an idea it really is).

The version of your dad that I grew up with might have buckled under the pressure of being a parent, which makes it all the more baffling for me to see the kind of person he is now: leveled and responsible and ready to lead a family of his own. As you've been gestating, I have had opportunity to think about how my relationship with him has developed and rounded out over the past ten years...from brash arguments to meaningful debates, from brushing off to taking in, from finger-pointing to soul searching--together.

As for your mom, it's so rare in life that the right person will crop up at just the right place and just the right time--yet that's what she did for Chris, and she's the reason that I can marvel at how your tiny family picture is already so complete.

There are a lot of challenges facing the world as you find it, but there are also lots of reasons to find growing up at this point in history exciting--even revolutionary. As you're clocking your first few hours of life, a woman and an African American are in the running for the highest offices in the land. One hundred and fifty short years ago, neither of those two would have even been allowed to vote. And while your dad and I disagree--pretty ferociously at times--on their respective qualifications and the issues they stand for (not to mention those of their running mates), the fact that you are coming into a world where the barriers to your success are eroding every day before our very eyes makes me want to pump my fist in the air.

I look forward to spoiling you, as I've been informed is my chief responsibility as your aunt. I can't wait to introduce you to the things I love. To sparklers and bubble wrap and indie films. To Shakespeare. To Whitman and Austen and Roald Dahl...and when you're older, Sarah Vowell. To Debussy and Mozart and Simon & Garfunkel and the Indigo Girls.

A tiny, devious part of me hopes that you'll grow up to be a vegan feminist liberal who roots for the Washington Redskins, because I know it would so annoy your father. But I can never indulge that fantasy for long; it would be impossible to abide any Carter who isn't a Cowboys fan.

I suppose I'll have to hold back my ambitions for you until you at least learn to say the words that will tell us what you think is important, but until then, my biggest, strongest hope is that you'll not go one minute of one day without feeling certain of the love that we're all standing by, waiting so eagerly to give.

Welcome home, baby girl.

Love,

Aunt Lesley