It’s January 3 already and that means that tomorrow morning I’ll wake up, take my clothes out of the dryer, eat something, then go to school for another day. I’m still not able to sort out how I feel about that, but it’s weird that it’s a new year.

The January air in Seattle is damp, but with undertones of warmth. I hope it’s a harbinger of the beautiful spring we’ll have.

Last year, I made a New Year’s resolution to run 500 miles. By all accounts, this was totally doable; the running regimen for the marathon I was supposed to run in May was about 400 by itself.

Instead, I ran 71.73.

This has been an incredible decade for music. A few days ago, I was lamenting the fact that I didn’t find 10 stellar records to make a top ten list this year. I know there are a lot of people that would point out some stellar releases, but I just thought this was a down year, and I agree with kellyelephant‘s assertion that this is strange, considering how great 2008 was. It was in talking to him that I realized that I have to commemorate the past decade in list form. (Check out his page at the previous link for his top 100.)

First things first. The following records are not all records that I still listen to frequently and love. I know that might sound weird, but the point is that there are some on here that were special at the time they came out and even if they lack the staying power of others, they deserve a spot based on how formative they were for me during a particular season.

Lastly, I could’ve done 100, but I decided to do 50. Making a list should be hard because you should have to cut out good records so that only the best should make it. Given another day or so, I could easily get to 100, but I think I should have to agonize over this because I wanted such-and-such to make it, but so-and-so just edged it out.

I could preface this in so many ways, but I’ll probably just let these artists speak for themselves. So here they are, the top 50 records of 2000-2009.

50. One for the Ride by Waxwing (2000, Second Nature)

49. Give Up by Postal Service (2003, Sub Pop)

48. The Moon is Down by Further Seems Forever (2001, Tooth & Nail)

47. Your Majesty by The Anniversary (2003, Vagrant)

46. One Beat by Sleater-Kinney (2003, K Records)

45. The Crane Wife by the Decemberists (2006, Capitol)

44. Demure by Engine Down (2002, Lovitt)

43. The Reminder by Feist (2007, Cherry Tree)

42. Alopecia by WHY? (2008, anticon.)

41. Classics by RATATAT (2006, XL)

40. Achille’s Heel by Pedro the Lion (2004, Jade Tree)

39. The Trials of Van Occupanther by Midlake (2006, Bella Union)

38. On Letting Go by Circa Survive (2006, Equal Vision)

37. Fleet Foxes/Sun Giant by Fleet Foxes (2008, Sub Pop)

36. Black Eyes by Black Eyes (2003, Dischord)

35. Rock N Roll Part 3 by Ozma (2001, Kung Fu)

34. Vampire Weekend by Vampire Weekend (2008, XL)

33. Stowaway by Pattern is Movement (2005, NFI)

32. For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver (2008, Jagjaguwar)

31. Knock Knock Knock by Hot Hot Heat (2002, Sub Pop)

30. The Glow pt. 2 by Microphones (2001, K Records)

29. Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie (2003, Barsuk)

28. Survival is For Cowards by Casket Lottery (2002, Second Nature)

27. In Rainbows by Radiohead (2008, ATO Records/Red)

26. Futuresex/Lovesounds by Justin Timberlake  (2006, Jive)

25. The Milk-Eyed Mender by Joanna Newsom (2004, Drag City)

24. Make Believe by Make Believe (2004, Flameshovel)

23. Ágætis Byrjun by Sigur Rós (2000, Play It Again Sam)

22. Come On Feel the Illinoise! by Sufjan Stevens (2005, Asthmatic Kitty)

21. Gulag Orkestar by Beirut (2006, Ba Da Bing)

20. Train of Thought by Reflection Eternal (2002, Rawkus)

19. Unsolved by Karate (2000, Southern)

18. Volta by Björk (2006, One Little Indian)

17. De-loused in the Comatorium by Mars Volta (2003, Gold Standard Labs)

16. None Shall Pass by Aesop Rock (2008, Def Jux)

15. Yellow House by Grizzly Bear (2006, Warp)

14. The Origin of Symmetry by Muse (2001, Maverick)

13. Owls by Owls (2001, Jade Tree)

12. Amnesiac by Radiohead (2001, Capitol)

11. (  ) by Sigur Rós (2002, Mca)

10. The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place by Explosions in the Sky (2003, Temporary Residence)

9. Antelope by Antelope (2002, Dischord)

8. Bitte Orca by Dirty Projectors (2009, Domino)

7. Medúlla by Björk (2004, One Little Indian)

6. Domestica by Cursive (2000, Saddle Creek)

5. Ys by Joanna Newsom (2006, Drag City)

4. Veckatimest by Grizzly Bear (2009, Warp)

3. Rise Above by Dirty Projectors (2007, Dead Oceans)

2. Kid A by Radiohead (2000, Capitol)

1. Vespertine by Björk (2001, One Little Indian)

Also, thanks to Google for their free Wi-Fi here at SeaTac. According to the signs in the airport, it started out as a Christmas gift to travelers. However, when I opened my browser, the popup informed me that it is now year-round. Way to go, Google.

Okay. In the interest of full disclosure, the Wi-Fi is slow (it took about 4 minutes to upload that picture), and the USB ports in the chair don’t work. But this is one time, like one of the only times in life, that it’s the thought that counts. I’m satisfied.

***

I woke up three hours before we had to leave the house this morning with absolutely no packing done. True to form, I spent the better part of the first hour rearranging songs on my iPod. When you only have 16GB, you can get most of the essentials (the entire Björk and Radiohead catalogues), some good standbys (Aesop Rock, Joanna Newsom, Coltrane’s Giant Steps), some stuff you want to get more into (Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, Gnarls Barkley’s St. Elsewhere), and some things you just picked up that deserve a few listens (Jack Peñate, thanks to C.Y.P.J.N.).

After I finished that, I got to packing. As I struggled to fit two weeks into a small backpack, I realized how socialized I was not to check a bag. Ever. Like, you just don’t do it. It’s not worth the time. And after having my luggage lost between the Bahamas, Denver, and France, I recognize that if you can get away with it, flying only carry-on is the way to go. But I wondered what it might look like to give myself the option of checking a bag and packing it–gasp!–not even all the way full.

I’m sitting at my gate burning up because I arrived here wearing a t-shirt, a sweater, a hoodie, a soft shell, and a peacoat. And my bag is brimming, as is my “personal item.”

Next up, I’m getting ready for a 2.5 hour flight from Seattle to Denver. Typically, for a flight like this, I would pack at least 3 books, my iPod, a DVD to watch, my laptop, a notebook and pen, and a magazine. Then I’d end up sleeping all but 45 minutes of the flight.

This is something I worked on at therapy before leaving. I’m apparently trying to make it so that I never have an idle moment. What am I trying to escape? Am I afraid of what I might think about or what kind of emotional processing awaits should I look out the window (please God, let me have a window seat) and realize there’s nothing to do?

Would I be able to survive this flight? I almost packed only my iPod just to force myself to think.

In the end, I split the difference: an iPod, my laptop (which I bring by default, because my laptop bag is my personal item–does that count?), a single book, and a notebook. And a friend’s paper from our hermeneutics class.

It will be interesting to see what my time looks like.

Summary:

Neuroses covered:

• Compulsive packing (compulsive attempt at preparedness?)
• Compulsive self-distraction (compulsive avoidance of emotional processing?)

***

As a sidenote, it does get exhausting to be an an MA program for psychology and never be able to do anything without pathologizing it.

I had recently been wondering what ever happened to the Free Mumia campaign. I mean, it was all the rage when I was in high school, but then it seemed to fade out of vogue by the time I reached college.

I was just reading an article on Derrida’s concept of différance by one John Caputo. It is easily as difficult to read as anything from Derrida himself.

But I noticed that Caputo had a book called The Prayers and Tears of Jaques Derrida, so I wikipedia’d Derrida to see if I had somehow overlooked the fact that he had any theological leanings whatsoever.

While I didn’t find that to be the case, I did notice that Derrida was a supporter of Mumia.

Finally, on the Wiki for Mumia, there was a link to a recent (!) article in Bloomberg from April 6 of this year. Apparently, in 2008, “a three-judge panel of the U.S. 3rd Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the murder conviction, but ordered a new capital sentencing hearing over concerns that the jury was improperly instructed.” Interestingly, it was on April 6 that the U.S. Supreme Court rejected an appeal to retry the case. There is a pending appeal by the prosecutors of the case intending to reinstate the death penalty.

So it seems like he’s in a holding pattern. I imagine that he wishes that spoken word artists would find it cool again to take back up the flag and carry it on. Whatever happened to that?

I love this school.

Cars are stupid. (*See also: post title.)

I took M. to Portland to see Grizzly Bear as a surprise for a birthday present. It was really wonderful. Those guys are some professional musicians. Amazing. It wasn’t high energy, but it was high art.

On the way home, we decided to get an oil change, since we saw a place in stupid Fife, WA (there’s no link there on purpose: it sucks) that had an oil change for an amazing $13.95. Even after oil, it was still only like $16.

The catch? It took like 3 hours.

When we went to pick it up, the guy told us that it was leaking oil (which it of course never had prior to the change) and that there was a leak in the oil pan (whatever the eff that is) and something else that would cost $100 to fix. We declined.

When her roommate borrowed the car the other night and it was no longer in the driveway, M. saw an oil stain in the driveway, only about the size of a large cookie. (It’s how I measure everything.) I realize that could be a lot of oil, but not, like, two quarts, right?

We decided to see if it got worse. It did.

Today, I took her to get her hair cut, and when she got out, she noticed that the car was smoking. I took it to park around the corner and, alas. She was right.

I’m sitting here while she gets her hair cut trying to figure out what to do. In doing so, I’m discovering a lot about my hatred of vehicles.

It used to be an issue of self-righteousness. I almost never drove, and cars were jerks to me, so I could hate them because I was caring for the environment and they weren’t.

But it was always more complex than that.

I frequently borrowed cars or lived with someone who had one, which always came in handy, like cars do, with their alluring power, supposed safety, hauling capacity, and protection from the elements.

I never wanted to admit to myself that I relied on them. I always said that I lived “car-free.” In hindsight, this was only true when I lived in France.

Today when I found the oil leak under the car and thought about M. and I sharing the bill for $100, my heart sank, and I felt incredibly depressed. It sunk lower than the feeling of us not being able to afford it.

I discovered where I go when things like this happen. When I was younger, I can clearly remember my mom and dad having an established budget. I mean, they would constantly stray from it, but my dad did some work on trying to establish one. I mean, I think so. To the extent he was able.

The one thing we could always count on ruining the budget was repairs. Just when we ended up right under the bar on our shoestring budget, the damn car would need a new clutch or something. The number of $600 always sticks in my mind. This is about the price of a clutch, right? And whatever combination of repairs were required, it was always like $600. When we didn’t have any money left over.

So there it is. I fear owning a car because of the helplessness involved in coming up with an extra $600 out of nowhere. And where does it always come from? Credit cards. And what do I not have any of? Credit cards.

For all cars offer you, they sure do leave you helpless, depressed, and poor.

Are they worth it?

Thanks for nothing, cars.

is it possible that my behavior toward women in the past decade has amounted to transference? That I assumed that all women were capricious and would leave on a whim, and purposely sought out women who would fit that type so that when i was let down, I was subconsciously relieved because the fact of them leaving not only justified my suspicion of them leaving, but also freed me from having true intimacy with them, thus repeating my patterns? Is it possible that, as Singer suggests (1970), my transference is disrespectful in that it “generalizes in relatively unquestioning terms,” in that a woman’s true personality, is negated and disregarded? Does it also, as Singer asserts, imply an “abandoning of [my] capacity to see, learn and understand” the personalities and behaviors of others as necessarily individual?

Yep. Try that one on for size.

Thanks for nothing, Sigmund.

]]> http://toanunknowngod.wordpress.com/2009/10/13/heres-a-gem-i-discovered-upon-reading-tonight/feed/ 0 iamnicholas http://toanunknowngod.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/emotional-hangover/ http://toanunknowngod.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/emotional-hangover/#comments Wed, 23 Sep 2009 01:57:46 +0000 iamnicholas http://toanunknowngod.wordpress.com/?p=34 ]]> This morning I slept until 11am.

Yesterday was an incredibly long day, the entirety of which was devoted to digging up things about emotional issues I thought I had dealt with. What do you do when someone opens up a wound you thought had scarred over, revealing to you that it was really just a scab, ripping open the gash to a new flow of rich, red blood? This undamming of emotion made me feel incredibly vulnerable.

This last sentence is a victory. Another thing I covered was my inability to actually feel emotions. If you know me at all, you’ll immediately object, but let me explain. I spend all my time talking about feelings. It’s all I do. It’s why I go to Mars Hill. It’s why I’m paying a ton of money for graduate school. But you’ll find that if you ask me to talk about how something made me feel, I’ll skip the middle man and get straight to the analysis. Am I impressing you with my fancy therapy-ese? Here’s a partial transcript from a one-on-one I had with my practicum advisor (read: therapy session).

PA: How did you feel when she said that?

Me: I think it put me in this place where..

PA: Stop. Try again. How did you feel when she said that?

Me: Well, I feel like my emotional response goes back to my family of origin, you know, like…

PA: Do you see what you’re doing? Try to describe an emotion.

Me: Well, I cried, so I must’ve felt “bad” about it, right? So what are my options? Angry, frustrated, or sad, right? So I guess I felt frustrated.

PA: Why don’t you do a Google image search for “feelings.” You’ll get a chart of faces with feelings under them. Study that for next time.

How are you feeling today?

This was pretty humbling. I realized that I explain my emotions away rather than actually feeling them.

And how does that make me feel? Embarrassed, I guess.

I still don’t know.