Letting Off the Happiness SAN FRANCISCO

I just had to share this because it was relevant to the last post... I had gone into Amoeba on the 10th of November, and I spotted this:

 Bam! There you have it. Thanks, Amoeba.

But while we're on topic, I feel like I would happily, hipsterly hang out in Amoeba much more often if it wasn't so starkly gray in there. Atmosphere is everything, and they just aren't working with what they've got. They also play really shitty music, really loudly. And it's every time I've been in there, except when Amanda Palmer was physically in there, playing good music. So there's a little slice of opinion pie for ya.

xoxo - Amanda Rachel

Letting Off the Happiness

I rediscovered my love for Bright Eyes' album Letting Off the Happiness. The song "Loose Leaves," which has always been one of my favorite Bright Eyes songs, popped into my shuffle on Wednesday. I was surprised to find that I was hearing it in a completely new way  now that I'm older and at a much different point in my life. So I started listening to the whole album, and it was like hearing it for the first time. I was ecstatic. It's very cool to see how an album can evolve over the years, as though it had a life of its own.

I have a friend who told me she didn't understand my  love of Bright Eyes. And I get why it's not for everybody. His early albums don't have the most beautifully delivered vocals, and that can be a deal-breaker for people who aren't instantly in love with his lyrics.
There are some bands that make music that seems to perfectly reflect your insides. Bright Eyes is one of those for me. (Granted, I'm particularly attached to this band because in high school, my good friend gave me every Bright Eyes cd there was. So these songs not only transport me to her, but they also link me to that time.) Somewhere in me lives a little drunk Nebraskan boy, so hearing a Bright Eyes album is like hearing my own thoughts sung back at me.

The first time I was ever really struck by the song "Tereza and Tomas" was during my freshman year of college. I was lying on the floor of my friends' dorm room (Bruce Hall, woo!), listening to my headphones, and this song came on. I could envision being surrounded by nothing but gray ocean and gray sky. This picture that my friend Max took really embodies the feel. To me, the song is about letting everything in the past stay in the past. It is one of the most effective songs I've ever heard for relaxation. And the roughly 20 minutes of low humming at the end of the song has the same effect on me as a hotel air conditioner - Knocks me right out.
Anyway, it was a really peaceful feeling, being on the floor of my friends' room while they slept. And early in the morning when I left for class, I remember the campus was still fairly empty and quiet and kind of foggy. It was a really extended, serene experience of the song.

See? That's just how I felt about one song on one album on one night six years ago. Now, that's a good band. Italics for emphasis!
 
xoxo 

Amanda Rachel

8 Months and 1720 Miles Later...

Hello, old friend.  

It's not that I didn't ever think about this blog. Time can escape you very quickly if you never make it a point to do something you want to do. So here I am!

The first six months of this year were to be my last in Texas for the foreseeable future. It was the slowest closing I've ever experienced to a part of my life. 

Especially toward May and June, I made my brain stagnant in order to brace for the move. The idea was to keep from rooting any further into my life in Texas, and so in my head, that period of time ended up feeling like a long drive to the airport where nobody says anything to each other because they know the goodbye is coming. 

Which is not to say that I didn't have long, heartfelt talks with my friends and family. I did. The long, quiet drive simile is more to describe what it was like inside my head. I think I was actively working to numb my brain, and in the process I stopped writing, stopped planning, stopped thinking about anything I really wanted, except moving to California.

And here I am, in San Francisco! As John Mayer might say on his newest and  appropriately-timed album, I am the new Queen of California. Three weeks and two days have passed. It feels like I've been here much longer than that, yet I can't believe it's already mid August.

So what is San Francisco like, you ask?

Oh, you know - beautiful, cold, friendly, peopled, lots of dogs, hilly, foggy, touristy, cool, soulful, hip. 

The trees are much taller and thicker and magical than those in DFW, but that's probably an unfair statement to the DFW trees. The trees in the part of Texas I'm from had mostly just been planted, at best, 30 years ago. They'll be tall and thick and magical one day, too. But. San Francisco trees are just absolutely gorgeous.

 

I have spent most of my time in the Haight area, which is fun for me because one of my best friends is super obsessed with that late '60's culture. It makes walking around Haight kind of a nostalgic experience in a completely different way. 

I also have started taking public transportation by myself for the first time EVER in my life. (Back off, I'm from the suburbs.) Not having a car has been so weird! I feel like I haven't really listened to my music in a long time. But I can't imagine having a car in San Francisco. I have spent upwards of twenty minutes looking for parking for my aunt's car, and I think we've managed to get three parking tickets since I've been here. It's insanity.

Public transportation was probably one of the biggest sources of anxiety when I moved here. I was terrified of getting lost, not having any idea where I was going, being late, being way too early, etc. 

Well. It's not so big of a deal thanks to the iPhone. I can get around, but I still think it's a ridiculously unreliable system. Buses often arrive later than you expect them to. Once, I had been waiting for a bus at night, alone on a street corner, and the bus driver just completely did not stop for me because he "must have not seen" me. Which meant I had to wait another 30 minutes for him to make another round. On a street corner at night!!! Aw hell no. I have never been more afraid of looking like a hooker. I am glad to report that no one drove up and asked, "How much?"

That missed-bus incident actually happened to me after one of my swing dance classes, which I'm taking now. I am loving it. One of the most important things I think a person can do when they make a big life change like this is to find something to do at least once a week to unwind. You have to have some outlet of silliness. And that can be hard, especially if you're like me and you don't know anyone in the city yet. Dancing, particularly swing, has been one of the best ways to laugh for an hour straight. I've danced with kind old men, nervous middle-aged men, and too-cool-for-school guys my age. I've seen women in fancy swing dresses bust a move. It's so freaking cool. I always leave in the best spirits with the added bonus of learning to do something I've always wanted to do!

So. If you're feeling very blah, or if you're feeling very stressed, find a way to get involved with something you've always wanted to do. Don't be nervous. You're not the only person who's ever been out of their element. You'll be glad you did it.

In other news... My friend and her husband visited from Texas last week. They wanted to see EVERYTHING in San Francisco, so I had the opportunity to get out and see a lot more of the city. Sight-seeing buses are fantastic. 

 We made our way to view Alcatraz, of course. ^^^ Gotta do it, just to say you did it.

 Pier 39 was all about the sea lions. Arf arf.

 Also, I want to sail (on somebody else's boat) at some point in my life. I loved Pier 39. If it was a little more quiet, a lot more warm, and a lot less touristy, I would quite like to live there. Maybe. Maybe I should just say it reinforced my love for living very near the ocean.

 We saw the Palace of Fine Arts, which was in what I thought was a pretty strange location. On the other side of the street were residential homes, so somebody's front yard looks out onto this. GOOD FOR THEM.

It was so great to have them visit. One thing I've really learned about moving off somewhere new, especially when you've never done anything like that, is how important it is to have support. Hearing people tell you they're proud of what you're doing and that they're confident you'll be fine can make you feel like everything's really going to be okay, even if it's not. I mean, realistically, no one knows if I'm going to be alright out here professionally and financially. I have my doubts, the more I research Los Angeles. But the thing that has kept me that much more productive and proactive is having a support system of people who I can laugh with and who will tell me I'm putting too much pressure on myself. 

In other news, I started reading Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury in the first couple of weeks that I was here. It turned out to be the most beautifully nostalgic indulgence of a novel. It's probably not the best thing for me to be reading right after I moved away from the place where I grew up, but it's also kind of nice. I recommended it to my mom, who is not enjoying it as much because, as she says, Bradbury's adjectives are actually really long phrases of wordy descriptions. I happen to love it, but I can see how it's not for everyone. Give it a shot if you're a sucker for nostalgia. I am, by golly gee whiz!

Ok! Kiss kiss! Today I go to the DMV to get a California driver's license. Ooo woot!

xoxo

Amanda Rachel