Soliloqui

i talk to myself.
  • scissors
    March 5th, 2009ChristineMusic, Thought

    i’m thinking of a painting with a girl in a yellow dress in the middle of a green field, blue and yellow tint and wispy white clouds overhead, and her face is wiped clean with blue, one thick bright brushstroke blending with the sky…
    it’s pretty right? pretty yet macabre yet hopeful.

    i think a breeze is flowing through, leaving rustled hair and cool sentiments.

    i’m listening to old pop, ballady music from my middle school days. why do i think such shallow songs are so beautiful right now? catchiness is underrated. because maybe what i need right now are laymen’s terms and direct translation from emotion to simple words, not convoluted poetic constructions.

    i have the heart of a 14 year old. i’m immature in love. it’s confusing and painful but hopefully rewarding one day.

  • Iris

    1
    scissors
    November 26th, 2007ChristineDaily Life, Music

    And I don’t want the world to see me
    ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
    When everything’s made to be broken
    I just want you to know who I am

    I wanted to write about something a few days ago, but I forgot what. I remember I had a lot to say about it though. What a shame.

    It’s hard for me to contemplate or let my mind wander freely on the off-chance that I might remember my mind’s fleeting blog topics. The reason? I have a fucking paper due on Friday. On a 300 page book I haven’t read. Yet.

    Yeah.

    Oh. I actually remembered what I wanted to write about. But I’ll save that for next time. This was a shit entry posted so I could copy and paste the beautiful chorus of “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls. I think it holds some relevance to events in my life right now.

    Sorry for wasting your time. Hah.

    Oh. Again. Even though I got soaked in the rain today, I still think rain is romantic. I don’t know why I (and many other people) think that. I really don’t get it. What is the appeal of rain? I guess the word is pretty. It’s wet. Why am I thinking about this? Because I just read the lyrics to “She’s My Kind of Rain” by Tim McGraw and it’s just beautiful.

    She’s my kind of rain
    Like love from a drunken sky
    Confetti falling down all night
    She’s my kind of rain

    She’s the sunset’s shadow
    She’s like Rembrandt’s light
    She’s the history that’s made at night
    She’s my lost companion
    She’s my dreamin’ tree
    Together in this brief eternity

    I’m sorry my friends, but even the cynic of all cynics cannot deny that this is the kind of love we all want.

    Speaking of country music, I told my dad (the britpop/alternative/rock enthusiast) that I was kind of into country music now. He says I’ve spent too much time in Ithaca. I said I don’t listen to the radio here anyway, because I don’t have one. Don’t know why I listen to country music now. I guess because it’s romantic and simple, not convoluted or pseudo-deep like some of pop/rock these days.
    Oh my, it’s Christine Lee, the fob wannabe country music fanatic. I’m a walking oxymoron.

    This was a weird, disjointed entry. Y’all know I’m only trying to avoid the 284 page wrath of “Among Empires: American Ascendancy and Its Predecessors”.

    my first taste of love
    bittersweet
    green on the vine
    like strawberry wine

  • scissors
    August 15th, 2006ChristineMusic

    R.I.P. F.I.R. Seriously. F.I.R.’s debut album was brilliant. Sophomore album wasn’t as good as the first but still had a few great songs like “Wuxian”, “Qiannian Zhi Lian”, “Ba Ai Fang Kai”, and “Ci Niao”. By the release of the third album this year, I can see that it’s downhill from here. They have run out of songs. The only songs I somewhat like are “Feixing Buluo”, “Yu Yinghua”, and to a lesser extent, “I Don’t Care”. If I compared this album to other Chinese pop albums coming out simultaneously, I would say that it’s not bad. But this is F.I.R. we’re talking about. I always held them in a higher regard than the others. Now they have sunk to the boring slow song level of those other dime-a-dozen artists who can hardly hold a note. Why did they let the guitarist Real write so many songs? He writes drab ballads and completely butchers LeAnn Rimes’ “How Do I Live”. Ian is basically the mastermind behind F.I.R. and now he’s too busy with his other projects to care about the group that propelled him to fame. The only song that resembles the F.I.R. I know and love is “Feixing Buluo”, which doesn’t even come close to their previous hits.

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