Hoping that an Unknown Force Can Repair Things for You

I apologize for abandoning you, oh precious baby child for so long. But I've been turning tricks on the dirty streets so you can get the education that Mama never got, so you can understand, right? Don't fret, you won't become a rotten product of negligence. And that's more than I can say about my summer homework! Anywhore, on with the posting.

While we're obviously hopelessly enamored with MGMT, we also harbor other music-al addictions(FOR REAL, THERE'S MORE?) underneath the covers. One of which includes the beautifully orchestrated sounds of Arcade Fire. I've been religiously injecting my veins with their music since 2006 and I don't plan on stopping. I'm a fiend, it's true. To further feed my habit, they came out with a new album yesterday that my fellow fiend and I have been pining for since news of its creation was released. Fittingly enough, it was Becca who texted me, spreading the wealth. I think this is the only exception to the rule that fiends should never be friends. She pre-ordered her copy once again (a role model for the young 'uns; she's probably going to single-handedly save the record industry and maybe THE WORLD) but I opted to wait. See instead of going under the bridge to get my fix, I like to walk into my Best Buy (real record stores scare me) with the fleeting thrill of the hunt and get my heavy, dirty hands on (rotten fruit at last) the cd. Also, my ass is cheap (wham! the double-entendre(chill, I took French)).

So I awoke Tuesday morning with a smile for a change, knowing that I was going to be flooded with new music I could count on. But later that day, old Papabear came home in a mood and waved off my request citing that ''nothing was going to happen to the CD overnight''. I was upset, and the music-hungry beast within me growled, its prey stealthily snatched away. But my mom, forever my saving grace drove my whiny-ass to the store today. Now. I was promised eight different covers to choose from, but how many were available at BitchBuy? ONE. Was it the beautiful official cover? OH NO. I reasoned with myself and figured that I couldn't force my sweet mom to drive me around the city in search of my preferred cover. So I half(assed)-heartedly made my way to the car after purchasing my copy of "The Suburbs"(a pleasant surprise: it was advertised as $13.99, but I was only charged $9.99; similar to my "Congratulations" purchase where I expected to pay $14.99, but only had to hand over $7.99).

Prepared to sulk in my material-infused melancholy, the beautiful cosmic fates of the universe hushed me when title track of the very CD I had just purchased began to play on 91.7 when I got back in the car. If that wasn't enough to shake me from my selfish funk, I also saw the Slurpee truck/ stand on our way home. The likelihood of it being the same Slurpee truck that was parked in front of the House of Blues at the MGMT concert is slim, but it lifted my spirits all the same. I felt like both of these forces were telling me to suck it up because it's about the music, man. Ya know?

This is my somewhat dismal cover...


but I'm moving past the feeling. Look, Becca, I DO possess this "Snipping tool'!
Also. Go buy this. NOW.

Mass Adulation - Not So Funny?

I apologize for neglecting our precious blog for too long! I really have no excuse other than that I wasn't in the mood for writing. I had a few days off from work and my room desperately needed my attention, so at the prodding of my blogger, I cleaned it out. Completely.

Like really.

During this successful attempt at being organized (about time, too), I made the decision to frame all of the photos that Steph took at the concert and put them up on my wall. I knew that this could either turn out to be something that I loved looking at everyday OR a constant reminder of what could have been. The good news? It's surprisingly not the latter.


My mom kindly agreed to accompany me to our Wal-Mart (classy) after I picked her up from work one day to buy my picture frame. I didn't want my seven favorite pictures to hang separately, because both I AND good ol' Ben Franklin know that things just don't work best that way. I opted for a lovely wooden frame that holds eight pictures for the everyday low price of $12. I then went home to eagerly install both the pictures and my lovely House of Blues brochure with sweet little Ben Goldwasser's signature on it (thanks, Steph!) Do I really even need to explain further? It adds an unmeasurable amount of character to my room.




Please excuse the flash delirium, I'm not too skilled with the camera.

Look Down From Your Temple

For reasons known only by the blessed gods of music and the cosmic fates, I stumbled across MGMT early on, just as they were on the cusp of mainstream success. I had heard some of their songs surprisingly enough through YouTube and thought I would buy their debut album on a whim. It also didn't hurt that Andrew (ever so) slightly resembled another obessesion of mine: Joseph Gordon-Levitt; at least on the "Oracular Spectacular" cover. And of course we know this blog became a product of that 'whim' approximately two and a half years later.

Maybe it's because we ourselves don't possess an inkling of musical talent ( I'm speaking for both my comrade and I, but she could be hiding an operatic voice from me) that we treasure music as dearly as we do. We are as possessive of our favorite bands as we are possessed by their sweet sounds. And as of late, this possession has become ever more prominent (like sweet little Ezra's nose; thanks crack cocaine!) and developed into the dreaded seventh sin : SNOBBERY. It might be the seventeenth, I wouldn't know because my Bible is in Spanish.

While reminiscing tonight over past farewells in old autograph books and successfully avoiding any real contact with the outside world on a Saturday afternoon, my fellow good time girl and I found lyrics we had written in the margins and almost religiously over any blank space. They included some good ol' RedHotChiliPeppers and Arcade Fire tunes, but also words from "Time to Pretend" and "Electric Feel". This was in 2008. We were 14. I don't want to toot our own horns (partially because I played the flute) , but if we have grown to cherish other MGMT songs of more substance (not to say that we DON'T cherish the hits!), I'm not exactly going to bond with your stripper ass over these TWO(techincally SIX) YEAR OLD songs that you just learned the words to. Or commend your taste in music when you reccommend 'Kids' to me. Or smile endearingly at your tye-dye headband. SORRY. You're a little late in this game already and you don't even have the decency to listen to "Congratulations"? My lip can't curl in disgust fast enough at the thought of it. Do you know what SHAME is?

It was these recent occurences that left a dead weight in my stomach and I came to realize that after I left my cocoon of music-sharing bliss with a few selected souls, I have emerged a secret, sinister snob. On the other hand, I'm fairly certain I'm one of the kids that other snobs look down upon because I don't listen to their precious OBSCURE and INDIE bands, much less call bands 'INDIE'; which MGMT is NOT. That's just poor anti-hipster taste. But now I'm just rambling.

P.(M).S - ETERNAL thanks to all three followers who are reading. Please don't think I survive off of a haterade liquid diet; I actually love food(sorry hipstahs), especially that of the dessert variety and I do have love and appreciation deep within me that I will share in a later post, SOON.

Endless Form, Endless Time

Sadly, this blog has helped me realize a lot about myself. I don't want you readers to think that we overuse the word "obsession" for lack of a better, less intense synonym; when I say obsession, dictionary.com's definition does a really swell job of capturing our state of being:

"Obsession- n. The domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc."

Persistent desire? I could think of quite a few, but I'll, well...spare you. But don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. (Kathryn Bielamowicz?) If you've seen Andrew or Ben (my two personal faves), you'll understand exactly where I'm coming from.

Like all good things in my life, I can pretty much trace most of my memorable middle and high school happenings to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. They were my very first obsession, and thank God they came my way by chance: six months prior, I was stuck with mixes that I had made that included artists like the Black Eyed Peas, Chamillionaire, and A.F.I. Yes, all on the same CD. It was by a stroke of luck that led me to discover both them and my co-blogger; we had known each other for almost two years but had rarely spoken until we found out that we had both freshly fallen in love with RHCP. Instead of spending the summers of our youth outside playing on playgrounds, with animals or digging up worms, we were passing by humid Texas days in the comfort of our air-conditioned rooms firing links back and forth on AIM with "RARE RHCP INTERVIEW CIRCA 1985" in the title bar. (Thanks to AIM, we're great typists and have a decent command of English grammar. We even know the difference between the English and French spelling of center). I assure you, either of us could tell you almost anything you ever wanted to know about RHCP, and where one of us lacks, the other picks up the slack. (Slack and lacks have the same 5 letters! Who KNEW?) I just finished Anthony Kiedis's autobiography poignantly entitled "Scar Tissue" for the 6th time on the way back from L.A., and I'm sure Ms. Estephanie's read count is up there, too. So okay, maybe we have obsessive personalities, but I really don't think that they've adversely affected our lives; our grades haven't suffered (although our social lives most definitely have), and I feel like because of them, we have a widened musical knowledge and an appreciation for different artists.

Going to L.A. was an absolute dream come true. It was my equivalent of a kid going to Disneyland for the first time (I did happen to go; they have amazing ice cream, and I even saw Ariel!). There has to be something to a city that continues to be the focal point of so many songs and movies and still stands strong as the quintessential representation of 21st century Americana. I did the expected: I walked down Hollywood Boulevard and the Hollywood Walk of Fame, I walked, but didn't shop, on Rodeo Drive, visited Sunset Boulevard, and went to Venice Beach. I had previously made a list of all of the seemingly pointless places that only a dedicated RHCP fan would understand the significance behind, and was lucky enough to find most of them.

Before I left, I asked Ms. Co-Blogger here if she had any special places that she was yearning for me to visit for her. After pulling her beloved copy of "Scar Tissue" out of the cozy sweater that it lays dormant in when it's not being read, she told me that she wanted me to visit both Echo Park and the Greek Theatre. Echo Park has a RHCP significance as does the Greek Theatre, but the latter now more closely relates to our blog. MGMT will be playing there in a few weeks, and she wanted me to see if a poster or some other type of memorabilia was there for the taking. There wasn't, but here's what I did find, Steph:





The Red Hot Chili Peppers played here on their rise to fame, and now MGMT will be playing here on July 16. Our two favorite bands, just a few years apart. I'd say we've come full circle.

You Got The Goods So Baby Won't You Flaunt It

We wear our cherished "Congratulations" custom coins around our necks and our young, music-filled hearts on our sleeves. And yeah, we maintain a blog devoted to MGMT. It's no secret that we have a love matched by none for the band. It also shouldn't come as a surprise that our eyes and ears are always peeled for anything related to MGMT be they mentions by other bands, notes on Subway glass counters, or in this case artwork.

Before I present the picture, I have some 'splanin' to do. I keep talking about my aunts(specifically two of them), but I've never really distinguished them. My comrade in weekend-warring can actually attest to the fact that I rarely mention any other members of my family in day-to-day conversations. The eldest of the two is only in her mid-twenties(don't fight it, just ACCEPT it dawg!) and the subject of this post. Now, contrary to my pigmentation and popular belief, I AM Mexican. My accent is forever lost at sea (because I can't swim) and I glow in the dark. But I assure you that what I lack in color, I make up for in Latin SPICE and SOUL.

Bearing this in mind, my aunt Paula ...to put it (somewhat) mildly, exemplifies a modern-day Latina fabulous stereotype. In other words, bat-shit crazy, but incredibly lovable all the same. Her clothes and hair speak (or rather scream) for themselves,mirroring her loud-and-proud attitude. And why should her nails be an exemption? Month after month she extends her hand to show off the latest creation concocted by her favorite Chinese nail-artist who's managed to satisfy my aunt not only with basic color-blocks, but with a plethora of 'peacock-ing' patterns. Needless to say, the color schemes make sense only to her and leave the rest of us dumb-founded; each time, I find it harder and harder to keep my laughter within me.

This month however, I giggled with the purest of joy:



















Tell me you don't see the resemblence in the wave. But maybe I'm out of it too. You may now bask in complete bafflement.

Communication-Easy As The Ocean

Estephanie's phone doesn't understand the whole concept of limited texts so naturally, it stores every single one sent and recieved. Whilst looking back upon them at four in the morning trying to cure her insomnia, she found these gems. ENJOY.

March 24, 2010
In response to Estephanie's text notifying of the blessed "Congratulations" leak:

10:42:00pm
OMG OMG OMG OMG. Do i sign up to get it on my itunes?

10:46:00pm
I've only listened to two songs, but i love it!

March 25, 2010

7:23:00am
i preordered my album!

In response to Estephanie's incredulity:
4:02:00pm
I know, but it comes with a limited ed. Scratch-off cd cover...with a special coin!

8:14:00pm
i don't like congratulations as much as oracular spectacular

-Estephanie thinks it's safe to say the times and thoughts on this album have a-changed or else the purpose of this blog would be woefully defeated. Estephanie was just as skeptical about the album but has grown to hold it dear to her heart.
And I now realize that instead of impersonating Rebecca, I sound like a dumbass talking in third person.

I Can Stand By My Pillar of Hope

I'm seven years older than my sister and nine from my brother; it's no secret that my arrival was a mistake. But that's cool, I guess, being a product of love. It's sort of ironic too though, seeing as sometimes I'm sure their maturity outweighs mine(and with my brother, my intelligence can also be put on the line). I also don't understand the whole concept of "responsibility". However, one duty that I readily and wholeheartedly accepted as the eldest was controling the sound waves during the dreaded journeys to school and the joyous journeys from school.

I wish I could say that the radio played a part in our traveling soundtrack, but the state of Dallas radio is just too depressing to even mess with. Therefore the morning and afternoon's sounds were determined by which albums were out or the season. While "Blood Sugar Sex Magik" is my go-to autumn album(don't worry, I say "fall". I just appreciate an apt alliteration), it's not too family friendly. Bearing this in mind, I realized my choices were going to be limited this school year. I needed something to refresh me and break me out of my groggy morning daze but that could also simultaneously comfort me after a grueling eight hours of textbook torture. If teachers understood the importance of balance between work and play, I easily could have had the time to create the perfect mix, but I had no such luck. It was then that I hestitantly held the door open for my summer sounds. I know, it was treason; fall was crisp and cold, while summer was a sultry haze. But I knew that MGMT's "Oracular Spectacular" and VW's "Vampire "Weekend" could overcome the seasonal shifts.

"Contra" also made the rounds in my Chevy when it first came out, but it was "Congratulations" that made a home for itself in the cd crevice since its debut in April. Now, I realize that playing my music for kids as young as my siblings could be misconstrued as some sort of brain-washing, but I wasn't going to put up with Selena Gomez or any other DisneyChannelflavor-of-the-day-pop-bullshit either. I know my early ventures down the music pathway were misguided(Ashley Simpson and Hilary Duff), but some shining bright light of hope gave me a firm slap in the face, opening my ears and guiding me in the direction of truth(I'm sorry, I love me some "Siberian Breaks". It was some twist of fate when I first heard "Universally Speaking" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers in my grandma's PT Cruiser; it was my rebel/riot grrl aunt and her gang of then-punks who showed me this light and sparked my curiosity. Most of my music-al education from then on was done on my own (Vampire Weekend was actually my co-blogger's influence) and I just wanted to help my sibs out. I guess it WAS some form of subliminal messaging, but I never really knew they were listening.

Then a couple days ago, while on a car ride to a baby shower, I plugged my earphones in to drown out a different aunt's tales of dance-club terrors. I skipped through song after song, completely missing the point of the shuffle option on my iPod, until I reached "Brian Eno". I was silently jamming in a spastic but seated jig, when the chorus arrived and turned, awestruck, to watch my sister chiming in with "What does he know?!" And in that single moment, my faith in tomorrow's (younger) youth was restored.

Sidenote- Yeah, I realize I have a problem with length(feel free to insert a "that's what she said" or another comment that's stuck in the gutter). TAKS was torture.