Oh, tonight. You night of nights. It's probably quite a night somewhere, but I wouldn't really know.
Mais bref.
I was asking my dear friend Sujin (who is quite a darling dear, if I may say so) what I should write about tonight. She was recommending cute animals and why we obsess over them. She also suggested Psy. No, not the psychic type Pokémon (which includes a duck for some reason. Are Japanese ducks supposed to be psychic? Sucks to that.), but rather the Korean pop star.
That is just way too much work, and I don't think we need to be moving into questions of why here. That's just not going to end well for anyone involved. That seems like it's beyond anything I've really done with this blog before, especially given its history for ranting about insane French landladies and showing pictures of me trying to bake in the metric system. As you may have gathered, these things aren't so much an option anymore, since I have a pretty solid landlord/roommate, and I don't have so much free time to bake anymore (or, really, the inspiration to do so). Med school is exhausting, yo.
Hence, the regular writer's block. That's, what, twice in the past week where I've come up with a post that essentially said, "Herp derp, I can't think of what to write, so I'm going to just ramble on for a while past my bedtime and hope that I hit enough words?"
I'm going to go brush my teeth and figure out what I'm going to talk about. Jesus.
For those of you who don't get the picture, here's a handy link, I suppose. It's from the Aqua Teen movie (if you don't know what I'm talking about from saying Aqua Teen, then... well, no, there's really nothing I can say to put it into context. Even Aqua Teen doesn't really put it into context. It's a movie about cartoon foodstuffs, and this is the intro.), and it was probably the funniest part of the movie. Aaaaand here's the link. I'm just going to let this play while I start writing.
Anyway. Let's talk about music.
There are some songs, as I always say, that I never heard until college. Some of these, whatever. They're pretty decent songs, but they're not the greatest ever. I can't think of any examples offhand, that's how not great they are. Some, I probably should have. The two salient examples that come to mind are "Stairway to Heaven" and "Free Bird." I can somewhat understand "Free Bird"- I have a mom who is a wonderful person who married my wonderful dad, and she happens to come from north of the Mason Dixon line. Hold on. The toilet's running for the 3rd freaking time today. I'm going to go catch it, and then I might have to hobble it.
Anyway.
Yes. I didn't really hear either of those songs until I hit college. Again, "Free Bird" I can understand, because Mom's from Oop North, and as such she might not be too amenable to Lynyrd Skynyrd's dulcet tones. I mean, I guess I can even understand "Stairway," because it's not really my parents' cup of tea, I guess. I don't know that I heard much of either in the house growing up.
What I did hear, bless them, were The Beatles and Queen. And for that, I am forever grateful.
I remember living in Memphis when I was 3 or 4 and watching Help (or wanting to) nonstop. I... well, I've always had a problem with TV. Not the "Amish/Luddite/Going to bomb a Circuit City" kind of problem, but more the "Oh, free crack? Don't mind if I do!" kind of problem. But yes, Help (the movie that I don't really want to deal with italicizing right now, so we'll call it a stylistic choice, even if it's a stylistic choice to be wrong), both the movie and the song were the freaking bee's knees when I was that young. I mean, it's Ringo! And he has a ring! And these silly large bald fellows are pulling knives on him while these wacky scientists are doing strange things with magnets or some such!
All in all, for elementary school me, that was freaking awesome. A Hard Day's Night? That was in black and white, that didn't have wacky natives, there was a weird old guy, and there were just all these things that made no sense. Who needs it? said Young Rob.
This went on through about, say, middle school. At that point, I'd started listening to more metal. Wait, no, that would be high school. Middle school would have been Weird Al and Dr. Demento (and more Queen), and I got a bit turned off by The White Album and having listened to Sgt. Pepper's a few times too many (to say nothing of the #1 album).
At this point, Dear Readers, Rob realizes that he had a point somewhere, but it got lost in the morass of trying to type this business in a hurry. Sure, he could draft these entries first or maybe come up with some sort of outline, but where's the allure in that? Where's your imagination? Well, it's probably thinking of the many myriad things I could have come up with to talk about The Beatles, or Queen, or whatever the heck I was going to talk about. No, that's giving my narrative a bit too much credit.
Hmm.
Well, at some point late in high school, Rob finally got an iPod. It was one of those many traditional birthdays in the Cameron family where there's the question of, "Hey, Mom/Dad/Susan/Rob, what would you like for your birthday?" And then comes the great Cameron tradition of answering, "I don't know."
"Well, what about ____?"
"I mean, I guess. Sure. That sounds good."
Seriously. If we got a freaking genie, we'd die before we figured out what to wish for. (For the record, my family somehow manages to consistently find great gifts despite my obstinate ass. I mean, I got an iPod and a guitar off that sort of arrangement. Clearly they know some deep magics and have been holding out on me.)
And that's when Rob heard Abbey Road. Well, I mean, most of it. He'd obviously heard some of the songs before. But then there are songs like "Because" and, well, THE ENTIRE FREAKING B SIDE. There's really nothing like them. I remember hearing "Because" on a flash animation during high school. This is AFTER he'd done a freaking Beatles medley in middle school (well, almost. One of the sixth graders passed out, so the concert ended before we really went on, but the competitive choir got up there, including Rob in his... just absurd competitive choir vest.
But man. Abbey Road. That changed things. Well, slightly. Well, not really. Life went on. But it was still and is still a pretty incredible album. I mean, before I found that one, I had been listening to a lot of Rammstein and assorted other metal (and still Queen. Yeah, that's another band that never really lost its appeal.). Admittedly, I still do listen to Rammstein (and got to see their concert in Atlanta last April. There was lots of pretty fire.
But man. Even when I've re-listened to The White Album and realized that, okay, fine, Revolution 9 doesn't really ruin the whole thing, and there really are a lot of solid songs on there. Even when I auditioned for a capella with Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (doing percussion and instruments along the way. This would have come off as more (or possibly less) impressive had more than one of the four judges heard the song before. I mean, seriously. I thought that MY musical knowledge had been limited. Okay, fine. They probably knew and know a lot more about music than I do, but Sgt. Pepper's! Even if it's overrated, it's still really good! Still, they had at least heard of all the songs we did for a capella. Me... slightly less so. And now that this tangent, which was at least slightly less esoteric than most of my other ones, is winding down like a car wrapping around a telephone pole, let's close that parenthesis), it's STILL all about Abbey Road.
Of course, one of these days, I should really listen to Revolver and Rubber Soul.
On a slightly more serious note (i.e., because I still have to cover about 200 words before I'm done here), it's Election Day tomorrow. I probably should have tried to find my registration before now, but welp, I got busy doing this after I finished outlining staphylococci and streptococci (the verdict: They will straight up cut you.). Please go out and vote. There are a lot of issues, both locally and nationally. Some of them really shouldn't be issues anymore. The fact that they are is frankly disgraceful to me, and I hope that whoever is elected will change that (and maybe also give more funding to the NIH. Ligands ain't cheap.). I'm in a state that's... well, we might be out of the visible spectrum, we're so red. From what I've seen of the ballot, it doesn't look like there are even any Democrats running for some positions.
Hopefully, where you live (okay, except for the folks in Charleston with me, unless you're voting absentee elsewhere), there's a little more spirited (AND CIVIL, OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL SMACK YOU IN THE FACE WITH A HAMMER)
Ahem.
Hopefully, where you live, there's a little more spirited and civil debate about the issues. Get out there, vote, and grab a beer while you watch the election coverage, unless beer's not your thing, in which case what are you? Some kind of non-American American? I like your style. Let me grab you a be- oooh, almost tricked me there. You're sneaky.
Meanwhile, until I turn 35, I will continue to put my name out there for the office of Glorious and Benevolent Dictator For Life. Heck, even after I turn 35. Article II ain't got nothing on me.
Mais bref.
I was asking my dear friend Sujin (who is quite a darling dear, if I may say so) what I should write about tonight. She was recommending cute animals and why we obsess over them. She also suggested Psy. No, not the psychic type Pokémon (which includes a duck for some reason. Are Japanese ducks supposed to be psychic? Sucks to that.), but rather the Korean pop star.
That is just way too much work, and I don't think we need to be moving into questions of why here. That's just not going to end well for anyone involved. That seems like it's beyond anything I've really done with this blog before, especially given its history for ranting about insane French landladies and showing pictures of me trying to bake in the metric system. As you may have gathered, these things aren't so much an option anymore, since I have a pretty solid landlord/roommate, and I don't have so much free time to bake anymore (or, really, the inspiration to do so). Med school is exhausting, yo.
Hence, the regular writer's block. That's, what, twice in the past week where I've come up with a post that essentially said, "Herp derp, I can't think of what to write, so I'm going to just ramble on for a while past my bedtime and hope that I hit enough words?"
I'm going to go brush my teeth and figure out what I'm going to talk about. Jesus.
 |
| Yep. This may be appropriate for the rest of the post. |
Anyway. Let's talk about music.
There are some songs, as I always say, that I never heard until college. Some of these, whatever. They're pretty decent songs, but they're not the greatest ever. I can't think of any examples offhand, that's how not great they are. Some, I probably should have. The two salient examples that come to mind are "Stairway to Heaven" and "Free Bird." I can somewhat understand "Free Bird"- I have a mom who is a wonderful person who married my wonderful dad, and she happens to come from north of the Mason Dixon line. Hold on. The toilet's running for the 3rd freaking time today. I'm going to go catch it, and then I might have to hobble it.
 |
| Too much? |
Anyway.
Yes. I didn't really hear either of those songs until I hit college. Again, "Free Bird" I can understand, because Mom's from Oop North, and as such she might not be too amenable to Lynyrd Skynyrd's dulcet tones. I mean, I guess I can even understand "Stairway," because it's not really my parents' cup of tea, I guess. I don't know that I heard much of either in the house growing up.
What I did hear, bless them, were The Beatles and Queen. And for that, I am forever grateful.
I remember living in Memphis when I was 3 or 4 and watching Help (or wanting to) nonstop. I... well, I've always had a problem with TV. Not the "Amish/Luddite/Going to bomb a Circuit City" kind of problem, but more the "Oh, free crack? Don't mind if I do!" kind of problem. But yes, Help (the movie that I don't really want to deal with italicizing right now, so we'll call it a stylistic choice, even if it's a stylistic choice to be wrong), both the movie and the song were the freaking bee's knees when I was that young. I mean, it's Ringo! And he has a ring! And these silly large bald fellows are pulling knives on him while these wacky scientists are doing strange things with magnets or some such!
 |
| And then there were other reasons. I was hoping to find a better image of Eleanor Bron in the movie, but there really aren't many. |
All in all, for elementary school me, that was freaking awesome. A Hard Day's Night? That was in black and white, that didn't have wacky natives, there was a weird old guy, and there were just all these things that made no sense. Who needs it? said Young Rob.
This went on through about, say, middle school. At that point, I'd started listening to more metal. Wait, no, that would be high school. Middle school would have been Weird Al and Dr. Demento (and more Queen), and I got a bit turned off by The White Album and having listened to Sgt. Pepper's a few times too many (to say nothing of the #1 album).
At this point, Dear Readers, Rob realizes that he had a point somewhere, but it got lost in the morass of trying to type this business in a hurry. Sure, he could draft these entries first or maybe come up with some sort of outline, but where's the allure in that? Where's your imagination? Well, it's probably thinking of the many myriad things I could have come up with to talk about The Beatles, or Queen, or whatever the heck I was going to talk about. No, that's giving my narrative a bit too much credit.
Hmm.
Well, at some point late in high school, Rob finally got an iPod. It was one of those many traditional birthdays in the Cameron family where there's the question of, "Hey, Mom/Dad/Susan/Rob, what would you like for your birthday?" And then comes the great Cameron tradition of answering, "I don't know."
"Well, what about ____?"
"I mean, I guess. Sure. That sounds good."
Seriously. If we got a freaking genie, we'd die before we figured out what to wish for. (For the record, my family somehow manages to consistently find great gifts despite my obstinate ass. I mean, I got an iPod and a guitar off that sort of arrangement. Clearly they know some deep magics and have been holding out on me.)
And that's when Rob heard Abbey Road. Well, I mean, most of it. He'd obviously heard some of the songs before. But then there are songs like "Because" and, well, THE ENTIRE FREAKING B SIDE. There's really nothing like them. I remember hearing "Because" on a flash animation during high school. This is AFTER he'd done a freaking Beatles medley in middle school (well, almost. One of the sixth graders passed out, so the concert ended before we really went on, but the competitive choir got up there, including Rob in his... just absurd competitive choir vest.
 |
| This is more accurate than you'd thing. |
But man. Abbey Road. That changed things. Well, slightly. Well, not really. Life went on. But it was still and is still a pretty incredible album. I mean, before I found that one, I had been listening to a lot of Rammstein and assorted other metal (and still Queen. Yeah, that's another band that never really lost its appeal.). Admittedly, I still do listen to Rammstein (and got to see their concert in Atlanta last April. There was lots of pretty fire.
 |
| Their gift is the sooooooong. And, Eric, this one's for you. |
But man. Even when I've re-listened to The White Album and realized that, okay, fine, Revolution 9 doesn't really ruin the whole thing, and there really are a lot of solid songs on there. Even when I auditioned for a capella with Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (doing percussion and instruments along the way. This would have come off as more (or possibly less) impressive had more than one of the four judges heard the song before. I mean, seriously. I thought that MY musical knowledge had been limited. Okay, fine. They probably knew and know a lot more about music than I do, but Sgt. Pepper's! Even if it's overrated, it's still really good! Still, they had at least heard of all the songs we did for a capella. Me... slightly less so. And now that this tangent, which was at least slightly less esoteric than most of my other ones, is winding down like a car wrapping around a telephone pole, let's close that parenthesis), it's STILL all about Abbey Road.
Of course, one of these days, I should really listen to Revolver and Rubber Soul.
On a slightly more serious note (i.e., because I still have to cover about 200 words before I'm done here), it's Election Day tomorrow. I probably should have tried to find my registration before now, but welp, I got busy doing this after I finished outlining staphylococci and streptococci (the verdict: They will straight up cut you.). Please go out and vote. There are a lot of issues, both locally and nationally. Some of them really shouldn't be issues anymore. The fact that they are is frankly disgraceful to me, and I hope that whoever is elected will change that (and maybe also give more funding to the NIH. Ligands ain't cheap.). I'm in a state that's... well, we might be out of the visible spectrum, we're so red. From what I've seen of the ballot, it doesn't look like there are even any Democrats running for some positions.
Hopefully, where you live (okay, except for the folks in Charleston with me, unless you're voting absentee elsewhere), there's a little more spirited (AND CIVIL, OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL SMACK YOU IN THE FACE WITH A HAMMER)
 |
| SO HELP ME GOD |
Ahem.
Hopefully, where you live, there's a little more spirited and civil debate about the issues. Get out there, vote, and grab a beer while you watch the election coverage, unless beer's not your thing, in which case what are you? Some kind of non-American American? I like your style. Let me grab you a be- oooh, almost tricked me there. You're sneaky.
Meanwhile, until I turn 35, I will continue to put my name out there for the office of Glorious and Benevolent Dictator For Life. Heck, even after I turn 35. Article II ain't got nothing on me.
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