Daily Archives: March 31, 2011
Listening to All Eternals Deck, the latest album from indie rock institution The Mountain Goats, is a bit like flipping through a photo album chronicling a stranger’s entire life. Each track is a snapshot—a single image, light on context but with an emotional weight that rings clear. Depression, isolation, fear, and despair permeate the album, but are always tempered by lyricist John Darnielle’s trademark touch of guarded hope. So when Darnielle sings “Rise if you’re sleeping, stay awake/We are young supernovas and the heat’s about to break” on “High Hawk Season,” it’s hard not to feel stirred, even if you aren’t entirely sure why.
When listening to an album for the first time, people often find it helpful to ignore the lyrics to better get a feel for the album’s musical merit. However, in the case of Belong, the sophomore release from The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, this proves an impossible task—the trite, clichéd lyrics mar the album from its very start. The album’s opener, “Belong,” sets the tone for the rest of the tracks, complete with uninspired lyrics that sound like they come straight from the pages of a dramatic high-schooler’s diary. Although it begins hopefully with a pop-friendly guitar introduction, it takes a turn for the worse soon thereafter, with scratchily mixed overtones and the murmurs of lead singer Kip Berman’s repetitive and dull chorus of “we don’t belong, we don’t belong.”
Movie studio execs must be keeping America’s psychiatrists pretty busy. I imagine all their therapy sessions start out with a discussion of the same recurring dream: their spouses have lost all interest in them and have fallen for the small, evil red envelopes that have been moving in on their territory for years. Of course, when they first met, the movie execs thought the envelope was awesome: it babysat the kids, walked the dogs, and trimmed the roses. Then, boom! One day, said executive catches the little red bastard in bed with their better halves!
When I read Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma for a class last week, I violated one of the few rules I live by: eat in near-complete ignorance of where your food comes from. As a rule, I don’t want to know how my chicken was treated before it became a component of my McNugget, which species of fish are farmed unsustainably, or which vegetables are still awash in pesticides when I buy them at the supermarket. I don’t eat any foods specifically for its locavore … ness, and I just barely can argue that I eat healthy.
Ever since I began Irish dance lessons in second grade, the month of March has always been filled with performances. Whether marching in my town’s parade or dancing at black-tie events, during the week of St. Patrick’s Day, my dance shoes almost never leave my feet.
When I made the decision to go to Georgetown last spring, I knew what the school was known for and, well, what it was not known for. The strengths, which in my eyes outweighed any drawbacks, included its relatively small size, location in D.C., and academic reputation. But my decision still meant making sacrifices. As a musician who plays many instruments, including piano, guitar, and (my personal favorite) drums, I found Georgetown had relatively few outlets to satisfy a non-music major’s cravings for jamming.
The New York Times has always held a special place in the hearts of liberal elitists like myself. When I was young, I grabbed the Los Angeles Times on Sunday to read the color comic strips. Decidedly uninterested in the latest shenanigans of Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield, or that cheeky bunch over at Family Circus, my parents went for the Gray Lady’s news and opinion sections. Long after our subscription to the L.A. paper was cancelled, the New York Times remains an integral part of my family’s breakfast routine. It is considered a grave offense to throw the paper away before both of my parents have the opportunity to read it.
Like almost every Georgetown student, I don’t enjoy much of the time I spend in Leo’s. But it’s not the food that bothers me. I love the “Flavors of Home” line, I love the sweet potatoes and the white sauce on the boiled noodles, and I love making myself waffles downstairs. People who complain about the food in Leo’s are either spoiled or not hungry enough. But, though it has nothing to do with the dining hall’s gastronomic offerings, my lunches and dinners are still unsatisfying.
Although student leaders vocalized months worth of pent-up criticism about the Student Activities Commission’s new funding method at a town-hall meeting Tuesday night, SAC commissioners made no definite commitment to change the policy in the near-term.
A subcommittee of the University’s Sexual Assault Working Group recently drafted a proposal to change the student code of conduct’s language pertaining to sexual assault in order to clarify the definition of sexual assault.