Speaking of Say Hi To Your Mom…

On my way home from work last night, I was listening to the song “But She Beat My High Score” off of the album Numbers and Mumbles and thinking and laughing about these lyrics.

and there’s a flame, there’s a spark,
but she beat my high score.
so say goodbye, there’s the door.
I can’t see you anymore.

I, like many guys, am insanely immature when it comes to video games (or anything competitive for that matter). I hate losing and will throw a tantrum internally or externally when losing at something that I feel I should’ve won. I really thought I would’ve outgrown these issues by this point in my life, but I haven’t.

Mary and I have a Game Cube at home which is used almost exclusively to play either Mario Kart or Mario Strikers. I used to dominate at these games, particularly Mario Kart, but the gap has closed considerably. Mario Strikers, the more I play it, then more I realize, seems to have a considerable amount of arbitrariness to it. Shots that shouldn’t have a chance go in. Periphery players running in crazy directions. This is all compounded I suppose by not having control over the goalie and is exceedingly frustrating when both players are roughly equal.

Our last three game set began with a 7-0 walloping on my part, and finished with two straight 2-3 goal wins by Mary. I gave up with about a minute to go in the third game I was so frustrated. Yes, I am one of those people. Every time we play I vow never to play again.

At least with Kart I feel like there’s some sense to it. I generally am a better driver but Mary hangs around close enough these days to take me out with solid item usage. I don’t like it and often play the poor sport card of “the only reason you won is because you got such and such…” (If you can remember back to Psychology class I believe this would classify as the Fundamental Attribution Error. I am aware of my fallibilities. I still blame the prize box though.)

With these self-revelations in mind, I find it intensely amusing to picture the breakup scene of the guy in the above mentioned song as he flips out over losing his number one slot on the high score list to his girlfriend. Given my own poor sport propensity this might not be the most unreasonable scenario in the world.

From Say Hi To Your Mom, I also highly recommend Discosadness which has the phenomenally addictive song “Kill the Cat.” I haven’t listened to any other albums yet, but I imagine an album called Ferocious Mopes must be good as well.

I listen to a lot of music these days. Like triple figure gigabytes on the hard drive a lot. It’s an mp3 collection that spans a pretty good chunk of the current alt-indie-postmodern-folk-pop rock variety. It’s a good sampling and I have plenty of listening options.

I wouldn’t, however, say that my musical preference is particularly varied. I mean, on any given day I might double click on a Buena Vista Social Club or a Godspeed or a soundtrack or a something Neko Case, but in general the music that I tend toward is simply that music that makes me feel happy. (Oh, before I forget, speaking of Godspeed, Dan told me a while back about a coffee shop called Godspeed You Black Coffee. How brilliant is that?)

Anyway, that happy music falls under three categories. The first category would be that kind of anthemic, climax-reaching music. The kind of music with eight minute plus songs full of tension and buildup with a crescendo that you can feel rattling around your chest then slowly leaking out to the rest of your body before getting trapped in your head. I’m thinking of Sigur Ros or Explosions in the Sky, but I also have albums by at least twenty other bands that would fit the bill. My night driving, road trip kind of music.

Secondly, I like that real laid back zen/surfer music with a beat/groove. Jack Johnson, Thievery Corporation, and Zero 7 come to mind off the cuff. It’s good post-surf music, strung out and exhausted, and happily soothed while the sun sets.

And thirdly, I really like that goofy, easily accessible, pop-esque rock. Often more lo-fi, though not always. Simple lyrics, nothing too heavy on the ears. Say Hi to Your Mom is glorious. As is anything by American Analog Set or Stars. Snow Patrol was great until Clear Channel ruined them (I’ve still always got Songs for Polar Bears). But, they would fall in this category as well.

And after all that, I perused through my music collection and realized that there are a heck of a lot more categories of music that I really love and frequently listen to. For example my current listening pleasure of today is the Beta Band (listen to The Three E.P.s and fall in love) which is not so easily pigeon-holed. And I just listened to some old school Weezer (Blue), Oasis (Morning Glory), and Radiohead (Pablo Honey) last night. I do enjoy that Modest Mouse twang and those gigantic-sound new wave Killers, and Jack White commanding and Beck’s whining.

Really I suppose it’s just impossible to try to lump music preference into a blog post. Maybe some day when I have more free time (even today I’m too lazy to link all the bands listed above) I’ll take on that daunting task.

During my senior year of high school I suffered a separated shoulder about halfway through my final wrestling season. I remember it hurt like crazy and I never did give it a decent chunk of time to heal until the two week layoff between Regionals and State. In the meantime, I struggled through practices and meets, packed on ice pack after ice pack, and injury defaulted out of each of my finals matches at Districts and Regionals.

Since the end of December I’ve started to make it a priority to keep/rebuild some of that leanness and healthiness of years prior (those post-wrestling-abuse years, not the freakish wrestling regimen). I’ve got a gym membership at the Kentwood Athletic Club and have been lifting, biking, and swimming on a regular basis. The diet also has been solid. Lots of fruit, whole grains, more veggies than usual, lean proteins, flax seed, etc. And I feel a little of the old pep coming back. A little more vibrancy of muscle and clearness of though (perspicacity, for those of you paying attention to one of my all-time favorite words).

Anyway, I was swimming at a pretty good clip (for me at least) yesterday afternoon, rushing to finish my laps right before work, when I felt that old wrestling shoulder twinge again. Nothing crazy, just a little bite somewhere under the right shoulder muscle. Same stab I used to feel during practice when trying to snap a quick sit-out and switch to the right side against some resistance. It’s funny to me how those old injuries never really go away.

I’m not sure where exactly my religious leanings currently lie. I have a rough idea, but it’s all pretty open-ended at this point. For the moment I guess I’ll just say that I have Christian tendencies. As I’ve said in the past, I think, this is pretty much solely based on my upbringing. Which I’m not saying is a bad thing, just a little limiting. I think my parents did an admirable job of raising an inquisitive mind, but the schools and church they placed me in also did an admirable job of slapping up blinders. Likely more to follow on this subject (expanding knowledge base / exploring world around me) if I ever get around to writing that resolution list (new February resolutions?)

I’ll limit the ruminations for today though.

I’m thinking of this as I’ve been assigned devotions for our weekly team meeting tomorrow morning. I work for a Christian organization, that openly expects its employees to actively profess certain beliefs and even checks you on those beliefs during the interview process. And I can play ball with this game. I can whip up a mean little devotion and speak reasonably articulately on Biblical passages and interpretations in grander contexts.

But it just feels a little strange sometimes. I don’t like the implied obligation to be “spiritual” at a certain time in a certain place. Really, I just don’t operate well with mores. Kind of the way I often feel about Christmas and birthdays. I don’t like the act of giving “because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right now.” It just seems like the act itself loses some of its thunder.

But then in the end I always just sigh and decide not to rock the boat. And it’s not the fear of conflict or whatever. In the end I just decide that I have better things to do with my time then respond to asinine questions from people that have already prejudged you from the moment that you deviate from the straight and narrow.

So, no, there will be no discussion-inciting readings from the Koran tomorrow morning. Just a pithy little number from 2 Corinthians.

On my way to work this morning I saw a lump of a squirrel on the road, preceded by a red smear. I felt sadness. A few minutes later I watched a squirrel scramble across my lane, then abruptly change directions as it reached the median, and begin to dash back toward the curb. I crunched my breaks, spilling the contents of the passenger seat all over the floor, then looked back in time to see him scampering up a tree. The guy in the car behind me probably was none too happy, but I will happily maim the front end of his car if it means I haven’t created another lump in the road. Conscience clear.