"But freedom is an idea. It always comes down to Earth in the form of some simple thing we love. Like being able to play the song we want to hear."--Austin Dacey
I promised shorter, more frequent posts. But I haven't blogged because I haven't had anything all that interesting to blog about. Oh, I've left comments, but nothing worth committing to my own blog. I don't have anything really new to say about current events, either. Others speak about Future Justice (?) Sotomayor and secret CIA plans with more knowledge and eloquence than I do. I've thought that maybe I should take some of my friends up on their insistence that I try Twitter, so I could just dash off the random thoughts I have, with the built-in editor of a strict word limit. As those of you who've been to the Front Porch before know, I have a bad habit of running off at the keyboard when I do commit myself to blogging.
Instead of blogging, I've been at my terrace garden, picking tomatoes and peppers and snipping herbs. It is beginning to pay for itself. My brother also has a terrace garden, and we dared each other to try corn, just a few stalks. The experiment worked out much better for him than for me, but since he's in Florida and I'm in NYC, that's not such a surprise, really. I have a *lot* of squash of all descriptions from the farmers' cooperative to sneak into everything. L'Ailee's getting a little tired of it.
I've been on the phone with friends and family. As much as I love to e-mail and text and play around online, the phone is still where the real stuff happens for me. Some things, you just have to open your mouth and *say*. I taught one of my Swim Girls what country music is really brilliant for when I sang Joey + Rory's "Cheater, Cheater" for her in the locker room. (How can you not love that oh-so-direct "Where'd you meet that no-good white-trash ho?" Seriously?) She asked me to help her load some more "good country songs for me" onto her iPod. "Cheater, Cheater" made it, and so did Reba McEntire's "Strange"--I'm guessing it's pretty obvious what she's going through now. Sometimes I wish I could offer the world more than a sympathetic ear and a perfect playlist.
I guess I'll just offer up a collection of odds and ends that I've been thinking about instead:
This is the article I quoted above my post. I wrote in my last blog entry that I think of love and sex as human rights. I think of music and other forms of expression the same way. Among other rights, young Iranian adults are fighting for the right to make and listen to the music they want.
Why the vampire craze is bad for women. I'm not sure I entirely agree, but I found this worth linking anyway.
It might not be so bad, I don't think, if people didn't lose their shit over teaching teens how to own their sexuality.
What am I doing being a Witch for free when I can get paid (with a live-in position!) for it?! And, you know, L'Ailee loves England...
SpongeBob SquarePants turns 10! There's a documentary about it tonight.
My brother is 27 and dying to finally launch his own farm. (We think it will happen next year.) He is apparently one of, if not many, quite a few. USA Today ran this about young organic farmers.
Finally, Danica Patrick's scary fan encounter makes me grateful I never went into NASCAR.