Monday, February 21, 2011

Tik Tok in A Minor

I was scanning through radio stations in the car today, and as I passed by one station, I heard a snippet of a Ke$ha song. It was the "duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb" portion of "We R Who We R," as in 'We're dancin like we're duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb.'

Just hearing that one bar of robotic staccato sounded like the skipping that would occur when Vicki from Small Wonder would get splashed with water and malfunction. The thing it made me think about was- what if guys like Mozart, Bach, Chopin, somehow got transported through time to the America of 2011, listened to a Ke$ha song and were told, "yup, that's music."

Not that I'm a music critic or have anything to back up my two cents. And it's not like I haven't danced like I'm duh-duh-duh-dumb to a Ke$sha song or two, but just hearing that tiny flash of the song, out of context, put into stark contrast what music is today versus what music has been in the past.

It just makes me think about what I'm consuming as entertainment these days and if I'm really doing what's best for my brain...and the future of art. Does Jersey Shore have the staying power of Romeo and Juliet (no SamRon comparisons, please)? Will the Twilight series stand the test of time like Pride and Prejudice? Will music theory students of the future study the composition of Lil Wayne's early work while voice majors studiously listen to recordings of Auto Tuned Katy Perry songs?

I know there's still plenty of good stuff being produced, but there is also a huge glut of crap, and I think I'm hooked on more of it than I should be. Although, I have cut out some of my old reality guilty pleasures like Real Housewives and Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I've had the classic book "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad on my nightstand for two months, with page 35 still dog-eared, yet rom-com novel "Bet Me" about a frumpy, no-nonsense insurance agent who gets caught up in whirlwind romance with the strikingly handsome, achingly charming lawyer all based on a bet was devoured in two days. I guess what I'm trying to say is- actually, I'll wrap this up later, I'm missing The Bachelor.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

What's My Motivation?

After a bit of a dry spell (similar to the one I’ve been in blog-wise), I finally tried to go to the gym last night. Tried. Now I’m justified (slightly) in not having gone for a week since I have stitches in my leg and I’m not supposed to do strenuous activity. But I figured I could go walk on the treadmill and do some upper body weight training and crunches and stuff.

Then I got to the gym and drove into the parking lot. Between the influx of temporarily enthusiastic New Years Resolutioners and the mountains of snow, it made the parking lot a crazy place. Snow had eliminated some spots and created an obstacle course in others. That is no excuse, though, for creating spots wherever you decide to stop your car. People were parked diagonally, perpendicularly, and other directions that I don’t know the names for. They just dropped their cars with no regard for people driving through the parking lot, let alone trying to actually park. The way these meat heads parked made looking for parking spot like looking for a needle in an assholestack.

I did three laps around the main parking lot and two around the auxiliary lot with no luck. I told myself if I went around one more time with no luck I was going home- after all it was doctor’s orders. As I made my final lap, I saw a pair of reverse lights flash on, but I pretended (to myself?) that I didn’t and headed for the exit. After all, when else in my life am I ever going to have a doctor tell me NOT to exercise?

A couple hours later, when I was sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld and eating Girl Scout cookies, my skinny little sister walked in, flushed from a work out and told me she’d gotten a clear spot right in front of the gym door. I congratulated her and ate another cookie.