Share your music with me

Have you ever had someone try and make a mix tape/CD/flash drive of mp3s for you? Sure you have. We all have at some point or another. Some of us even make them ourselves.

In other words, you know what it's like to have to sit down and listen to a set of songs picked out by someone else. Whether or not they had you in mind when they were making the mix, inevitably there will be some disconnect. No matter how well anyone knows you or your musical taste, no one is infallible in guessing what someone else might like.

For my whole life I've been obsessed with music. People probably don't get this about me because they don't see me walking around everywhere with my headphones stuck to my ears. Scratch that, I do walk around with my headphones in everywhere, but they're not overtly obvious headphones -  rather earbuds - so I doubt many people notice.

Anyway, the point is, looking at me you wouldn't think I'm a music aficionado. I don't wear band t-shirts or have stickers on my laptop professing my love for various artists. And actually, I'm not a music aficionado.

Is it for lack of caring? No. Lack of interest? No to that too. Lack of willingness to be exposed? Sort of, but not exactly. A really particular and picky ear? Yes, that's it.

A while back I picked up this book called Love is a Mix Tape which is by a now contributing editor at Rolling Stone named Rob Sheffield. It's this really interesting take on a love story that uses a soundtrack (set of mix tapes) as a means of expressing the history of the couple. Kind of like Nick Hornby's High Fidelity, but a little less about lists (the main character, who incidentally also goes by the name 'Rob,' talks a lot about how he likes to make top-five lists) and a little bit more about the music itself.

While I was reading this book, I admired the expansiveness of its protagonist/narrator's music collection. There was so much depth to the quantity and the quality of his interests, even if I couldn't hear it directly from the pages. He's the kind of guy you want writing about music because he has strong opinions and he knows exactly what he likes.

I bring this up because I've always respected people for trying to introduce me to their music. Music is one of those things that can inspire us so passionately that we want to share it with the world. When someone understands where we're coming from, we rejoice all the more at the solidarity of taste.

So why have I been cursed with such a harsh and limited means of assessing music?

The amount of times I've had to explain to someone why I like certain songs and not others has become practically unquantifiable. For the record, my excuse is that I must have a visceral reaction to music to truly appreciate it. While I can be an objective and passive listener, the only way I will go back and listen to a song is if it "makes my heart sink."

It kind of amuses me how many times I've had people try to make my heart sink in this way, as well. Not in a mocking way, but in a truly thankful way. I've had so many people try and send me their music, hoping they can make sense of my taste in some logical way that allows them to predict what I'll like and what I won't. I think it's because my reasoning is so evasive that they feel compelled to keep trying. And it's fun. For me, at least. Maybe it's frustrating for them.

Since I was very little, my dad always told me his rule for listening to music. "Give it three listens," he would say. A single listen doesn't give you a full understanding of the music, but by play number three, you'll feel confident enough to make a judgment.

For some time I tried to follow this mantra. Three times or nothing. Surely this will make me a more willing listener. Sadly, things didn't work out that way. Eventually I went back to only listening to a song once and subsequently chucking it or adding it to my list of tunes "to download."

My own weariness in this area has made me respect people with openness to music so much more. In the way that I have more liberal taste in film and art and television and plays, I wish I felt as open to varied styles of music. Yet, I still consider myself a lover of the craft because of how music makes me feel. That is, the music that can make me feel. Not all songs are capable.

That's the point of it, though, right? I guess if you work for Rolling Stone you might have a different definition of what makes music. Something more substantial and mechanical than mine. But for me it's all about the visceral reaction. If I don't feel a lump in my chest, then something just hasn't clicked.

With all that said, though, I love when you or anyone else shares music with me. I encourage it to be done, actually. Because there's something so wonderful about getting to send someone a song. It's more than recommending a movie or a play or something to someone. It has so much room for growth and simultaneous admiration. The bonds I've made through music, as well as the bonds I see other people make through music, are some of the strongest and most interesting collaborations we have in this world.

So why stop searching and sharing? There's certainly no reason to ask people to stop sharing music with me, even if it's such a shot in the dark as far as my tastes go. Because I love it. Or I love trying to love it anyway. I hope that's good enough.

The other half lives

Do you ever think that maybe we, as in the collective seven billion people on Earth, spend just a bit too much time wondering about each other?

It's something I think about a lot on summer days when many of my friends are back at school, my dad is at work and I am hanging out in my room on my own watching television or going on the internet or doing something equally inactive.

We're obsessed with how the other half lives. It's why there are things like reality television and websites like TMZ. It's even why we use Facebook or Twitter or blogs. We follow those who we can't be ourselves, perhaps getting a little taste of their lives to make ours more interesting.

I can't speak for all of humanity, I guess. I'm sure not everyone can stand a 12 hour day of napping in her room. In fact, I can barely stand it. This kind of experience is what makes me concern myself with the goings-on of other people's lives.

Is it a product of our generation, though? Do we have too much technology, forcing us into our chairs as we watch our lives pass before our eyes? Or rather, other people's lives pass before our eyes?

For some perspective, I look to my childhood self. When I was a little one without any awareness of computers, who only watched Power Rangers and Barney on television, I was still the type of person to become interested in learning about what others were doing at any particular time and place.

By the time I was nine I was already pondering the production of television. I'd assumed that all performances were recorded live and transmitted to the box in my living room. It was impressive to me, to think that I could watch someone doing something far far away without even getting up from my couch.

I would later learn that Lizzie McGuire was not, in fact, transmitted live for my viewing pleasure. But that didn't mean I gave up on the idea altogether. It was once I came to this realization that my interest was piqued by the subject of celebrity. What was Hilary Duff doing while her own show aired on Disney Channel? Was she watching it like I was?

These kind of thoughts still litter my days. I guess it's because on an afternoon in early September I can get incredibly bored. I'll refresh my Facebook news feed only to watch photos and statuses pop up from every corner of the globe, little reminders that maybe I'm not doing enough for myself. Maybe my life could be more interesting if I tried to make it that way.

Then I ponder about ways to make it more interesting. I could do little things like going to the grocery store or driving to the park and reading a book there. But then I get too discouraged by the singularity of these activities. If I have to do something alone, then I guess I no longer want to do it.

I'm the type of person who loves to go out and experience things. One of my greatest joys in life is traveling and gaining new knowledge about the world around me. But my place as a mama's and a daddy's girl has made me afraid to take on these things alone.

When I go to the grocery store, I don't like to be wandering the aisles by myself. When I go to the park I feel weird about being there alone. Even if no one else notices that I'm lonely, it's all I think about. So I end up just staying home, where the loneliness is curbed by a little box or a keyboard that proves there still is life out there. Life that is actually living, unlike me.

My curiosity about the life going on around me went so far as to make me think incredibly morbid thoughts when I was younger. If I look out my bedroom window and don't see anyone outside, could that possibly mean I'm the last remaining person on Earth? I'd turn on the television not just to distract me from being alone, but to stand as proof that I literally wasn't alone.

I think this obsession comes from something more intrinsic than just my occasional boredom and shut-in tendencies. We're practically trained by our culture to want to know what's going on elsewhere. Just the fact that we're alive and breathing isn't enough to keep us interested. We want to know that someone else is as well.

This is the reason that gossip exists, and why we write letters to one another. It's part of why television exists, and part of the rationality of the internet. We're keeping in contact, but we're also being reminded that the world is bigger than our bedrooms.

It's good for someone like me, who likes to know that there is more out there than what is in my immediate vicinity. Being raised an only child to my mother and the younger half-sister to a girl who was 12 years my senior and not always hanging around the house when I was, the companionship had to exist somewhere.

But it scares me just the same, to think that we fear technology taking over our lives and separating us from our fellow human. In a way, that's already happened. At the very least, it's our job to get out into the real world and show that we can live just as well as the other half does. That's my goal anyway.

The aquarium in pictures

How do you top off a weekend of animal watching and childhood reliving? Go to the aquarium.

The Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach has always been a great place to visit in Southern California. I figured this fact out a dozen or so years ago when I was on a school trip to the place. It's expansive and memorable. There are places to pet stingrays and sharks (I only pet the stingrays, because I'm a wuss). It's a cool and clean event for kids and adults that takes place primarily indoors, which is a nice relief from the summer heat. Have I not convinced you yet? This is beginning to feel like an advertisement, but it is only because I truly love this aquarium.

Here it is...in case you haven't caught on to the purpose of this picture post.

You may see jellyfish...I only discovered today that they don't have brains.

And adorable sea otters, who you'll want to stare at for hours on end.

And fishies. Fishies galore.

Plus a new penguin habitat which is a fun addition to the aquarium.

Be sure to pay attention to the labels outside the tanks, including those which teach you how to identify "divers," homo sapiens.

And then there's Marlin and Dory (a clownfish and a palette tang) from Finding Nemo.

Also, shark eggs that have been altered in such a way that you can see the babies growing inside them!

See if you can spot a semi-camouflaged seahorse.

Here's a not-camouflaged-at-all hammerhead shark.

Is there even an animal in this photo? Yes, a sea dragon. Is that not the coolest thing you've ever seen or heard of?

Animals are pretty amazing. And sea animals are no exception. Whereas I marveled at the sheer size and activity of the many inhabitants of the zoo yesterday, today was fascinating in a whole new way. There are so many different types of fish as well as sea mammals and amphibians at the aquarium. It becomes hard to keep track of what you've seen when you walk through rooms and rooms of them. But even going back and repeatedly staring into the same tanks, one thing becomes very clear. We live in a magnificent world. One where animals can blend seamlessly into their surroundings or stick out with orange, white and black coats in crystal clear water. Whatever the case, it's something to marvel at.

LA Zoo in pictures

There are a few things that I really enjoyed as a kid that I had to give up over time. While many of my favorite pastimes don't fall under this category, one that most assuredly does is going to the zoo. So somehow, when trying to figure out what to do this weekend, I convinced my dad that it would be fun to spend Saturday at the Los Angeles Zoo. We rose early, drove speedily, parked efficiently and made it into the zoo early enough in the morning that when we left at midday we felt we'd seen all that there was to see. And it was a grand ol' time.

Arriving at the entrance, there was already a line at 10 am.

Once in, my dad consults a map...this tool would do us little service throughout the day since it was so wackadoodle.

We passed by some dinosaurs - I mean dinosaur statues - on the way to see the animals.

Then we caught a glimpse of a few flamingos and marveled at their super thin legs.

In the reptile room (not the actual name and thus not a reference to A Series of Unfortunate Events), we encountered a green tree python.

But we soon moved onto the giraffes. Who have eyelashes! I never realized that because I'm unobservant.

Moving onto the rhinoceroses.

And a lone butterfly who was not part of the zoo, but who decided to fly around me and make me happy.

And then came the pairs of animals. First the tigers...

Then two pairs of painted elephant statues...

Then two zebras standing side by side.

All in all, a pretty wonderful day at the zoo. Save for the unbearable heat once lunch time rolled around, it was an ideal experience. We started early, we saw much of what we came for (except for the lions who went into hiding to spite us for), we talked a lot along the way and, on a personal note, I was able to rekindle some great memories from childhood of visiting the LA Zoo. So no complaints today, no analysis. Just fun.

Exploring time

The summer is coming to a close rather quickly. These kinds of transitions make way for a lot of different thoughts running through my mind. There really is so much to think of. Packing up my room. Making the most of my time at home. Going back to school. Going abroad, for goodness' sake.

Matt Smith as The Doctor.

When I look around my room and think that in a few weeks I'll be headed off to London, it makes me a little sad. So instead I avert my attention to the television, where there is a marathon of Doctor Who episodes playing in preparation for the premiere of a brand new season of the show.

For a long time I've wondered what it was about this show that appealed to me. I'm not much of a sci-fi geek, so I didn't exactly find the concept of time travel or space aliens too enticing. In fact, I think that's what turned me off to the show on the first watch.

It wasn't until I came back to the show and realized what great storylines and characters and dialogue was present within its scenes. It was worth taking a second look at, even if I didn't quite understand the appeal of watching a "madman in a blue box" masquerade around the galaxy saving us from constant doom.

Once you go Whovian, though, you never go back.

In keeping with this obsession - which is now full force what with the return of the show and the depressing departure of the Ponds that is forthcoming - I've decided to consider what my own adventure might be like with The Doctor. I already put so much thought into what life would be like in some other era, so I might as well consider it as a sub-consideration of the experience for a Time Lord companion.

After looking back at the last six seasons of the new series of Doctor Who, I've reasoned with myself that it's shortsighted to only appreciate those episodes which go back in time. As someone who often lives life in a state of constant nostalgia, I want to watch episodes that attempt to depict various eras past.

This is precisely why I don't necessarily enjoy sci-fi in the first place. So much of it is about conjecture, when there are so many wonderful stories taking place just outside of our temporal reach. Once time has past, events become history. But what if they didn't have to be? What if they could be present? If I were dealing with science fiction topics, this would probably be my greatest challenge - to create that bridge between past and present (with little regard for the future).

I think Doctor Who actually does this incredibly well. It draws from everything we know and love in history and makes it fit within the confines of a show about aliens trying to destroy the Earth. That may sound silly, but when you watch the show you realize what a seamless concept it really is.

Now we get to the all-important question. If I were a companion to The Doctor, where would I go and what would happen?

While it may seem a predictable answer from me, I believe I'd manage to convince the Time Lord that it would benefit us to travel back to meet John Keats. It's always haunted me that Keats - along with many of my other literary and artistic idols - died at such a young age, unable to fulfill the potential that they clearly possessed.

If I could alter the course of time and history, I would use the power to make it so historical figures who met notoriously early demises, might have another opportunity to prove their work through more extensive and prolonged work periods. If John Keats had lived into his 30's or 40's, who's to say that his work wouldn't have become more immensely passionate or intelligent?

This might spark a dilemma, since one of the primary issues in Doctor Who is the alteration of events that are cemented in history. Since the poet died and it has become widely known since that he never created anything past the age of 25, would that makes it unfeasible to alter his fate?

Whatever the case, it's a subject I like considering. There is so much in this world that we can't alter, that we just have to face the facts of and go on with our lives knowing. But what if we could change things? This doesn't so much bother me in regards to altering the future to befit my whims, but it certainly comes up a lot when I think back on the life I've led and the lives I've seen others lead. What could've been done differently? And what if we could?

I don't know if anyone else watching this show takes the thing so seriously. Considering it's meant for entertainment, many of the ethical dilemmas - despite showing up relatively often in the series - are glossed over for the most part. Still, it's a show that raises these questions. And looking back on years of aversion to sci-fi, I kind of wish I hadn't.

Even the most frivolous of occupations - like thinking about time travel and such - can make for really fascinating internal dialogues. And as someone who likes to take away meaning from the art they consume, it's clear to me that this is one medium worth exploring.

So bring on season seven of Doctor Who. I'm ready to question even more.