New Music and the problem of aging

In Twitter conversation (hi, AnnieChristina!), I was introduced to a band with the unfortunate moniker of The New Pornographers. I promptly went to Bethany's fave, MySpace Music, heard a couple of song -- the first of which still sort of tingles in my toes -- then loped over to my old faithful, YouTube.

This is my initial review: Holy mackerel.

Now tell me that the harmonies didn't make your life a little happier. I know they made mine.

In a similar conversation via good ol' Facebook, this artist, Dustin Kensrue, was recommended to me (his wiki profile is pretty interesting, though he's no Dave Matthews. Seriously, DM reads like a novel).

Do you mind if I sidetrack for a moment?

The friend on Facebook who recommended Dustin Kensrue is a long time friend, as in, his father officiated my and Bryan's wedding more than ten years ago, and we attended their church, and this kid was one of my favorite people when I was twenty and he was eleven.

He's engaged.

... Engaged. My little eleven year old friend is twenty-two and engaged.

Every time I see a picture of him all grown up, I feel a bit jolted. What do you mean I'm not twenty anymore? What do you mean he's not eleven? For real? When did that happen?

He seems to have grown into a very lovely man. Knowing his parents, I'm not surprised, but it's sad that I missed it somehow.

Dude, when did I get so old?

Lookie! Lookie!

I totally made Beth's list of her ten favorite blogs. She told me she was putting me on it, and I in turn asked if this was because she actually likes my blog or because she felt she must out of some not-entirely-misguided sense of loyalty. She said that's it's both, and I accept that.

Apparently it is customary -- perhaps even considered good blogging courtesy -- to accept this honor by then blogging about my own favorite blogs. My response to this? Okie dokie!

Firstly, were it not creating an infinite loop, hers would be top on my own list. Forget that she's my sister; she's hilarious and unpredictable and irreverent, and she loves her life. I'd read her even if she were an Internet Stranger. As it is, however, I was the first to read her blog, the first to comment, and I visit it as often as she does to read the comments. I'm her blogging sidekick. However, I'm not going to put her on my list, so go ahead and forget I ever mentioned http://www.nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/.

Ahem. Moving on.

10 Blogs I Love

1. This Is Reverb

Pastor Ryan is an Internet Stranger, but I would like Bryan and myself to be best friends with him and his wife in actual, person-to-person real life. Unfortunately, Bryan is shy (read: antisocial), and I think they live a long way from here. I content myself with reading his blog.

2. Confessions From A Mormon Bachelor Pad

Bethany already listed them, but I don't care. As much as I don't want to be counted among their far-too-many fangirls (it's really only a matter of time before there's a cutesy nickname for their avid followers), or the fact that I can't seem to bring myself to commit and comment, I adore these boys. I would wax long-winded on the whys of that, but I'll spare you. Justify yourself with these words if you must: guilty pleasure.

3. Sam Nanti's Thoughts and Ravings

I'm not entire sure how I "found" Sam, maybe through MBP (see above), but I thoroughly enjoy his blog. He's intelligent, thoughtful, well-spoken/ written and amusing. He's also one of my few Twitter associates who actually replies to the odd things I tweet. He makes me laugh. Read him.

4. Driven & 5. The Owens Family

Blogs of Adam Owens and his wife Karen. They recently lost their three year old son Gavin after a long, difficult struggle with Mitochondrial Disease. Both of their blogs are outstanding testaments to their faith through and after Gavin's sickness and subsequent death. They are amazing people, and I am humbled and honored to be their sister in Christ.

6. Redeemed

This particular blog is written by one of my best friends from college, and I actually didn't know about it until I tried to find her address on Facebook so I could send her Pioneer Woman's cookbook for Christmas.

Jackie and I haven't been in touch for nearly the ten years since college, and her blog pretty much proves that she's become a successful grown-up.

Gosh, I miss college...

Actually, it's funny but lately I've noticed how many college-aged bloggers I follow, so I'm wondering more than ever if I ever matured past then. I think so... Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Moving on...

7. Shelby Lou's Blog

I stumbled upon Shelby Lou's blog on Twitter, and it would take too long to explain how I managed that. Suffice it to say, I love Twitter, and Shelby Lou is one of the cutest things I've ever stumbled across. Her blog is very much about her personal journey into adulthood, her faith and steps toward independence. Her's is one of those blogs that I have to remind myself that I'm the Internet Stranger, not her sister, and to not be all stalkery and creepy.

8. Busy Bee Lauren

Yeah, this is another blog I have to remind myself not to be the weird stalker. She has a huge following thanks to her association with MBP, so it's easy to keep my sisterly tendencies to myself.

Love her for her photography, adorable husband, sense of humor and propensity for goofy faces.

9. Argh Ink

NYT Bestseller Jennifer Crusie blogs. *snicker*

I don't stalk her all creepy-vampire like, so I don't have a lot of insight, but I love her writing style.

10. Killing A Fly With A Ukelele

Today, I spent an inordinate amount of time clicking links. I clicked links from Bethany's list o' faves through to someone else's list o' faves and somehow (I couldn't recreate the experience if you put a gun to my head) came upon this little gem. Yes, today. I am now following her, official-like, and I look forward to reading more and getting to know Miss Givinya de Elba better.

In recap, I do indeed read these blogs. I do indeed recommend you do as well. However, it was incredibly difficult to make a list that wasn't a duplicate of Bethany's. We follow a lot of the same blogs (so we can then talk about them, you know, like a book club).

I don't apologize for duplicated MBP. I couldn't help myself.

The Danger Inherent In Having No Audience

There is a danger to believing I'm alone in a room, talking to myself: I'll say anything. I'll get this wicked impulse to say things that I would never say to another person. For instance, when I first noticed Yahoo was allowing users to enter statuses, I became bolder and bolder with those statuses, thinking to myself, "Who's going to see?" Finally, I put in a status that read "Got some," the pinnacle of inappropriate public statements. True, but, really, who needed to know that?

Then the day came in which Bryan noticed that Yahoo was allowing users to enter statuses, only, as is his way, he started looking around at the other statuses and users rather than impulsively enter his own. Saw mine. Laughed his head off.

In discussion, he said that the only reason that particular status of mine would bother him is if it didn't refer to him, but (having done the math) because it did, it became nothing more than a hilariously inappropriate public statement.

Of course, now that I knew someone had seen it and that there was a distinct possibility of others seeing it, I went through and deleted all but one status and haven't entered another since.

This makes me wonder, though, if this was the mindset of a particular twitterer I follow when he tweeted "Just had incredible sex with my wife. No, my Twitter acct wasn't hacked." Why in the world would he tweet that? Who knows.

I followed him immediately upon reading it.

He's also the same twitterer who, this week, tweeted, "Holy crap, I'm like a real pastor." I wanted to reply so badly because there's something about a man of God who says "Holy crap" that just tickles my feet. Nothing quite like keeping it real, you know?

My point... right. Knowing/ suspecting that my readers are few to none makes me want to write about just about anything. I have things to say, trust me. It's a danger, a temptation. I guess I'm still deciding where my line is. I'll let you know.

So last night...

So last night, the Mister made the header for this brand-spanking-new blog, and I sat there as he showed off his mad Photoshop/ Dreamweaver/ html skillz, telling him how my aesthetic sensibilities were affected, trying not to doze off. He doesn't bore me; my sleeping schedule is less than ideal.

Anyway. So, brand-spanking-new header in metaphorical hand, I headed back to my laptop, plugged said header in, admired it, made my brand-spanking-new blog public and began the nearly OCD task of rechecking (for the grazillionth time) Facebook and Twitter. Facebook was dormant, as all my contacts live in the eastern timezone and go to bed at normal times like adults are supposed to do, all except for me, of course. So on to Twitter.

"Twitter has been hacked by the Iranian Cyber Army."

Um. Joke, right? On me, right? Because, while not a n00b, I'm not the dextrous internet l33t that others are. I know this. I accept it.

I called for the Mister, as close to l33t as I will ever be.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Open Twitter," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Um," I said, still feeling as though I was about to be the unwitting butt to a joke I don't get, "just see if it will open for you." It didn't, so I dragged him back across the apartment to where my laptop still showed this has-to-be-a-joke screen. He burst out laughing. I was definitely feeling like I was missing the punchline.

"Well," said he, "I guess you should stay off of Twitter. If you use that password anywhere else, you might want to change it."

"'Kay," I said. "I'm going to bed." This is what I do when I'm disconcerted. It's how I make up for all the lack of sleep that occurs elsewise.

So I go to bed. I woke up this morning wondering if Twitter is broken and what kind of an uproar this caused, only to discover that no one else seemed to have noticed. Wha? So... not a big deal then. I guess...

The Mister did the research (it's what he does while I'm researching how the singer from Blur is the voice behind 2D of Gorillaz and that Adam Gauntier of Three Days Grace was born the same week I was and listen to the Relient K/ Owl City song "Terminals" over and over, wondering if the lyric is "But if grace recieves all my weight/ it becomes a crutch/ And I don't want to walk with crutch so much that I can't stand taller than before" and debate whether I agree: Should we as Believers not use grace as a crutch and isn't grace actually the rock & foundation under our feet, so that wanting to stand without it is folly and pride? I really wish I knew if that's the correct lyric because it disturbs me. Not my point, though) and found that the event wasn't nearly as catastrophic as we might have wondered last night.

I went on to do my own research (Google, Yahoo, Facebook, Twitter) and found that no one is reacting. Yahoo didn't even bother to mention it. None of my Facebook contacts noticed. Only two (four counting two tweets late last night) Twitter contacts made allusion to it.

So... I guess that's it then, huh?

... Well, that's good, I guess.

I don't know. I still feel as though I'm missing something.

Anonymity

Here you go. You ready?

My name is Jessica. I am 31. I am married and have been since 1999. I have two boys, and their names are Elijah and Asher. We live in Atlanta.

There. Who's reeling?

Let's strip off a little more, shall we? I have a few internet aliases which shall now be revealed so that those who might have stumbled upon me elsewhere might know me for who I am. Here they are: Punk, Chahhead, Jolliebell.

Hi. *wave* I'm Jessica. How's it going?

I need to be honest; that's what this comes down to. I need to be able to say the names of my boys and reference our setting and speak of myself in the third person if I so desire because sometimes, I so desire.

So, in all honesty, I swore I wouldn't open a blog until I finished writing my book(s), but I'm so burnt out, writing thousands of pages over the last nine and a half months, and I'm starting to turn my attention elsewhere, mostly Twitter, and my head is becoming full of things I wish to say but have no outlet from which to speak. Write. You know what I mean. Stop nitpicking.

For instance, I noticed lately that the statuses I post for Facebook and Twitter are never duplicates, one to the other. NEVER. And there's a reason for this: audience.

My husband -- whom we shall refer to as either Bryan or the Mister from here on because that's who he is -- once described Facebook as a big room of our friends and family, just hanging out and chatting (and farming... you know who you are). That's who my audience is there: friends and family. I post dorky things my kids have said or done and update those who live far away (everyone) about what's going on with us down here in the ATL (See? Like how I referenced where I live? Nice, right?). But I never post the more random thoughts that slip through my head. Those I save for Twitter.

I only have a small following, and most of those are either family or nearly-spammers (you know who you are), but I have a couple of people who follow me (whom I also follow) that are neither, and these tend to be the people I'm thinking of when I very carefully construct the tweets that I post. They're a different audience, and, in a way, I'm giving them a different character, another side of me than those on Facebook see. I'm not a mom & housekeeper & homeschooler; I'm a music snob & caffeine addict & writer. It's freeing in a way, but, in that same way, it's just another pigeon-hole.

Here, I'm laying it out. I'm all of me, and I'm not sure how well I'm going to do with that since I don't know who my audience is and I myself am still trying to figure out how all the pieces of myself fall together, what the whole picture looks like. But, in the meantime, I'm going to write as though you, the audience I someday might have, is seeking the whole picture.

Welcome.