insight

i just realized something.
a lot of other blogs i read or come across seem to be:
a. designed to promote a particular business or hobby
b. documenting a hardship or a recovery from a terrible accident or something similarly motivational
c. none of the above, but still more interesing than mine

so i've come to a conclusion.
i've either got to abandon this blog or make it interesting. exciting. enthralling.
possible suggestions for the latter course:
a. inflict upon myself a tear-jerking tribulation (DISCLAIMER: i'm not saying that the trials enumerated on other blogs are the result of self-infliction. rather that i live a great life devoid [so far] of terrible circumstances [knockonwood.]. through no particular benevolence or lack of stupidity on my part.)
b. adopt a lucrative hobby
c. live a fascinating life

i'm too content to follow path a. i'm too lazy to follow path b. i suppose path c. is really my only option.

i'll start first with a wild fling, in which i run about brainlessly with my friends after dark, setting fire to unoffending objects and getting drunk off near-beer. then i'll happen upon a wise, anonymous old man in my galumphing about, who will teach me the meaning of life and steer me off the treacherous path i will currently be treading through a combination of gentle admonitions, humorous stories, and homemade peach cobbler. he will then disappear without ever telling me his name, but not before slipping thousands of dollars rolled up and stuffed inside lifesaver mint containers into the peach cobbler, along with a note encouraging me to take the right path. i banish my less-than-desirable friends in an explosion of cinema-worthy drama, and traipse off to oxford, where i study something vague and distinguished. i fall in with the wrong crowd at the university, too, however, and only through an incredibly emotional event, perhaps the accidental hospitalization of a friend, do i remember the wise old man's words and forsake my dishonorable lifestyle. i receive top grades and become valedictorian of my class, but am soon unable to return to the states because someone steales all of my personal belongings at the airport. reduced to poverty, i procure lodgings at an old roommate's apartment and begin to look for a job. i have very little luck, however, and soon become dispirited. this is a low time in my life, full of tears and afternoons spent wandering the streets of london with a scowl on my otherwise pretty face and long hours holed up in my room, writing bitter poetry by candlelight. after an intervention with my friend, however, i return to my usual self (though i retain the haunted-poet aura) and find work cleaning at a restaurant. through some improbable accident, the manager walks in on me singing and playing piano or guitar one evening when i should have been cleaning up, and instead of chiding me for neglecting my work, invites me to perform at the restuarant because my heretofore undiscovered musical talent might bring in more customers. i sing every night and begin to save up money so i can return to america, and one day, a tall, dark, british man, just as emotionally vexed as i, turns up at the restaurant and witnesses my performance. convinced of my overflowing musical ability, and wondrous at how i eluded discovery before, he whisks me away to the most glamourous part of london and informs me of his true identity as a producer for a small record label. we record my album together, and inevitably fall desperately in love. but, he informs me, we can not be together, for he is engaged to another woman, an unpleasant french ditz whom he despises but whom he is forced to marry by both parties' families. the night before my album hits stores, we slip away to italy in disguises and under fake names. though i reveal myself to no one, it is impossible for me not to hear about my album's instant success after it is released, with critics calling me "as genius as the beatles" and "as brilliantly engineered as michael jackson's best hits," for all of britian is in an uproar at the beauty of my music. i have little time to worry about that, however, for me and my fiancee must weave through all of europe, always narrowly escaping capture and identification from spies clearly sent by his ex-fiancee's family to track us down and force him to marry their daughter. we shake off the men on the mediterranean sea, in a high speed chase incident involving a yacht, four jetskis, a helicopter, and an especially large tuba. free from their tracking, we are married in greece. seconds after the ceremony, however, my husband receives a note from a carrier pigeon, informing him that his father has died. we return to england, where i learn that his parents are the ruling monarchs of a tiny island country off the coast of denmark, but who were removed from the throne by a savage coup. my husband's mother informs him that now that his father - the cause of their problems - has passed, the people of his native country should be welcome to the return of the royal family. we depart minutes after the funeral, and after a mighty (and somewhat pointless) fight in order to get the people of his country to listen to him, my husband delivers a powerful speech from the roof of a burning building, in which he convinces all of his subjects to allow him to return to his rightful place as king. i become queen, and we rule the small island nation peacefully to the end of our days.

cath... -- death cab for cutie

belated promise ring -- iron & wine

congratulations -- mgmt