Slot for the topic
Nov. 11th, 2004 11:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pseydtonneYou know it's happened to you. Now it happens a lot more.
You sit down to watch TV -- maybe it's your favorite show, maybe you're just surfing to clear your head of pesky thoughts. On comes an ad and you have no idea what it's about yet. However, the song is oddly familiar. Then it hits you: mofo! That's a deep cut from a semi-obscure band I love! Thirty pieces of silver! Gah! One time![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fangirl715 mentioned this about the Violent Femmes and a car commercial.
This time, it was Camper Van Beethoven in a Citibank ad.
When I say obscure, I mean "Guardian Angels". This is an instrumental, but half of CvB's songs are instrumentals. What makes this track obscure is that it's on a rerelease of Vampire Can Mating Oven, a B-sides disc that suddenly had twice as much stuff when it came out on CD.
I realize CvB isn't really obscure anymore; they're not even the Future Bible Heroes or Atom & His Package kind of obscure. It still means people with my taste are now making advertising for banks.
I'm coming to terms with my anal retention. I'm sure some of you will say "about fugging time!" but hey. I grew up in fear of being anal. I wanted to be cool, I wanted to be able to get beyond hang-ups and never fear to be exposed as a loser. Now I understand that repression is also an anal trait. I also understand that Freud isn't everything -- I'm not primitive for simply wanting to sort my metaphorical shit, just as I'm not atavistic for enjoying cunnilingus (oral fixation).
I'm a pack rat. I have a family history of it. I'm better at clearing stuff out than my mother is, but I still reek compared to what is needed for living in a crammed city. Admitting that being a pack rat involves some form of anal retention is a step toward... uhhh, something.
Why has this come up? Well, it's something I'm fleshing out from my therapy. I want to confront everything that keeps me from becoming successful in life. I've been holding myself back and I want to know why so that I can stop doing it.
It may be working. Today I was bored out of my mind at work, whining to myself about the non-sales calls. Suddenly I glanced at one of my coworkers spinning herself in her chair. She was sitting on her shins so that she could spin more freely. This gave me a great view of her ass. I stared a little and then realized "hey, I'm not screamingly horny! I don't feel like the world will implode because I don't have someone to cuddle this evening! In fact, I haven't felt that way in several days but it hadn't struck me until then.
By the way, it's nice to be surrounded by people my age at work. Too bad it's reminding me I should get out of this job because they're all there because they have families while all I have is fear of striking out on my own. Are they too young to have kids or am I too old to be single? Never mind. The trend is to stay a teenager into one's thirties these days...
So I'm filing things. Now that I have an iPod, I like being able to choose a genre or artist while I'm driving. However, this is almost impossible when it turns out half of my MP3s have no such data. Since I got a lot of my MP3s from computers I've fixed, I have the problem of uncategorized material. I'd say I have 2000 songs with only a file name. Even when the file name has the band name and song title, it's all slammed together without spaces -- "TheArtist-TheDamnSongName.mp3".
There are programs that can create ID3 tags, but I'm still finding a smart one. I wish I knew what to look for in an ID3 tag so that I could write a script to handle the job. For now, I found one decent program but I still need to tweak the spaces and add in the album name from the holding folder when I've finished. Too much work. If I start to touch one file manually, I want to waste my time doing all of them. This is a temptation of the mundane, one that could kill.
More later. I finally found a restaurant supply store in Manchester on my way home from work, so I must get up early to get my seltzer supplies.
-a place for too many things and nothing in a place, Ps/d
You sit down to watch TV -- maybe it's your favorite show, maybe you're just surfing to clear your head of pesky thoughts. On comes an ad and you have no idea what it's about yet. However, the song is oddly familiar. Then it hits you: mofo! That's a deep cut from a semi-obscure band I love! Thirty pieces of silver! Gah! One time
fangirl715 mentioned this about the Violent Femmes and a car commercial.This time, it was Camper Van Beethoven in a Citibank ad.
When I say obscure, I mean "Guardian Angels". This is an instrumental, but half of CvB's songs are instrumentals. What makes this track obscure is that it's on a rerelease of Vampire Can Mating Oven, a B-sides disc that suddenly had twice as much stuff when it came out on CD.
I realize CvB isn't really obscure anymore; they're not even the Future Bible Heroes or Atom & His Package kind of obscure. It still means people with my taste are now making advertising for banks.
I'm coming to terms with my anal retention. I'm sure some of you will say "about fugging time!" but hey. I grew up in fear of being anal. I wanted to be cool, I wanted to be able to get beyond hang-ups and never fear to be exposed as a loser. Now I understand that repression is also an anal trait. I also understand that Freud isn't everything -- I'm not primitive for simply wanting to sort my metaphorical shit, just as I'm not atavistic for enjoying cunnilingus (oral fixation).
I'm a pack rat. I have a family history of it. I'm better at clearing stuff out than my mother is, but I still reek compared to what is needed for living in a crammed city. Admitting that being a pack rat involves some form of anal retention is a step toward... uhhh, something.
Why has this come up? Well, it's something I'm fleshing out from my therapy. I want to confront everything that keeps me from becoming successful in life. I've been holding myself back and I want to know why so that I can stop doing it.
It may be working. Today I was bored out of my mind at work, whining to myself about the non-sales calls. Suddenly I glanced at one of my coworkers spinning herself in her chair. She was sitting on her shins so that she could spin more freely. This gave me a great view of her ass. I stared a little and then realized "hey, I'm not screamingly horny! I don't feel like the world will implode because I don't have someone to cuddle this evening! In fact, I haven't felt that way in several days but it hadn't struck me until then.
By the way, it's nice to be surrounded by people my age at work. Too bad it's reminding me I should get out of this job because they're all there because they have families while all I have is fear of striking out on my own. Are they too young to have kids or am I too old to be single? Never mind. The trend is to stay a teenager into one's thirties these days...
So I'm filing things. Now that I have an iPod, I like being able to choose a genre or artist while I'm driving. However, this is almost impossible when it turns out half of my MP3s have no such data. Since I got a lot of my MP3s from computers I've fixed, I have the problem of uncategorized material. I'd say I have 2000 songs with only a file name. Even when the file name has the band name and song title, it's all slammed together without spaces -- "TheArtist-TheDamnSongName.mp3".
There are programs that can create ID3 tags, but I'm still finding a smart one. I wish I knew what to look for in an ID3 tag so that I could write a script to handle the job. For now, I found one decent program but I still need to tweak the spaces and add in the album name from the holding folder when I've finished. Too much work. If I start to touch one file manually, I want to waste my time doing all of them. This is a temptation of the mundane, one that could kill.
More later. I finally found a restaurant supply store in Manchester on my way home from work, so I must get up early to get my seltzer supplies.
-a place for too many things and nothing in a place, Ps/d
