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Color me 2012

January 10, 2012

Lately I’ve had a love affair with the color gray.

It’s like black but more interesting. It’s wolves, whales and windy days. It’s skyscrapers and storms, newsprint and concrete, sweatpants and sacks of thunder. It’s the color of Charlotte Bronte’s eyes and Morrissey’s soul. It’s a tone in transition, darkness striving to be light.

It is an Ansel Adams photo.

This has been driving my best friend crazy. “What is it with you and stupid, gloomy gray everywhere?”

“I think gray is cozy.”

“It is cozy — but for a mushroom soup, not for you,” she said. “Now stop it.”

I’m not sure if color dictates one’s mood or if it’s the other way around, but there has to be something to it. Because I’ve been feeling sulky and a little overcast lately, which is either the cause or the effect of all this gray.

Maybe that’s why Pantone — the authority on color — annually makes a hue forecast for the coming year. Because color is supposed to motivate, inspire, inject energy into your days.

For 2012, they chose Tangerine Tango. They suggest buying tangerine clothes, painting an accent wall tangerine or pulling together some tangerine accessories.

This is what Leatrice Eiseman, executive director of the Pantone Color Institute, said about the color in a press release: “Reminiscent of the radiant shadings of a sunset, Tangerine Tango marries the vivaciousness and adrenaline rush of red with the friendliness and warmth of yellow, to form a high-visibility, magnetic hue that emanates heat and energy.”

Oh, please. I think it looks like a blushing construction barrel, an overripe pumpkin, a forgotten pair of stripper panties. It is for people who can’t quite commit to either red or orange.

But, then again, I’m not the authority on color. I wear gray, remember?

My best friend, on the other hand, is totally a chartreuse person.

She was completely swayed to the chartreuse side after seeing Angelina Jolie’s interview on “60 Minutes.”

At that point, my friend declared chartreuse to be a way of life.

“This color is perfection,” she said. “It’s like dollar bills dipped in gold. It’s unconventional. It startles. It’s murky. It is a sticky swamp. It is a city bathed in dirty lights. I love it.”

So my best friend gave me some homework. My task now is to come up with a new color for 2012. Not gray. And not beige either — I already tried that. (“Beige is so 2005,” my friend said. “Somebody needs to alert the desert tortoise.”)

I definitely can’t choose tangerine tango. (Honestly, I don’t know if I could ever be tangerine tango.)

Yellow is too sunny and cloying.

Red is too stoplight.

Teal looks like every Palm Springs pool.

Purple is for unicorns.

But maybe, just maybe, I could step out of my gray shell and get comfortable settling into a deep, satisfying green.

It’s the essence of growth. The color of emeralds and unraveling leaves and mossy hillsides after a rain. The color of go, go, go and full speed ahead — exactly what I anticipate for the year in front of me.

So what’s your color of 2012?

Top 14 songs of 2011

December 31, 2011

Do you remember Tom Cruise in “The Firm,” how he was constantly running? That’s how I feel about 2011.

I spent the first seven months of this year traveling overseas. Then I returned to California, where I moved to a new apartment, started a new job, began grad school and made some new friends. It was a year of movement, of being in flux, of constant motion.

It’s no wonder I could barely catch up with pop culture this year. Until August, I was more familiar with Thai karaoke tunes than anything on Pitchfork. My friends had to sit me down and explain Nicki Minaj. And I still have no idea what a Bruno Mars is, nor do I care.

So it was actually a struggle to compile this year’s list of 14 favorites. (Why 14 songs? Because 11 wasn’t enough, 12 is stupid, and I’m too superstitious to do 13.) The list is a little disjointed and disconnected, but hey — that reflects my 2011 just fine.

Alabama Shakes “I Found You”

Take everything I love about the Black Keys and dip it in sweet tea. And then add a woman with a super-powered set of pipes. That’s Alabama Shakes. They’re still a really young and uneven band, but this song is a true standout.

Alexander “Truth”

You know that guy who fronts Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes? Did you think his name was Edward Sharpe? Me too. Well, we were wrong. His name is Alexander, and this is his hip hop-inspired jam.

Beirut “Santa Fe”

His voice sounds like crying. And sometimes that makes me happy.

Blood Orange “Sutphin Blvd.”

Dev Hynes creates music that is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It’s layered, cinematic, complicated … I don’t even know how to really describe it. This song takes me by the hand and leads me into a place I thought I forgot a long time ago.

Booker T. Jones ft. Yim Yames “Progress”

Pure magic. Classic R&B underneath the golden voice of My Morning Jacket’s vocalist. I just want to preserve this sound in a little glass case forever.

The Cave Singers “Swim Club”

I remember being 16 in a humid Ohio summer. Driving back roads with my friends on starless nights full of potential. Laughing until I choked. Feeling like I would never get old. This song sounds like that.

Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. “Simple Girl”

They come really close to being the modern Beach Boys. The harmonies just kill me.

Friends “I’m His Girl”

This song does the 80s better than the 80s ever did.

Gotye “Somebody That I Used to Know”

Oh, how this song wounds me. It’s a slow lead-up to a powerful payoff. Love it. I’m pretty sure I’ve cried more than once while listening to this.

Los Campesinos! “By Your Hand”

I saw this Welch band play a few years ago at Coachella. They were so sweet and self-deprecating, I was utterly charmed by them. They’re not the strongest or most solid band, but I appreciate their energy and exuberance. They get better every year.

M83 “Midnight City”

My choice for song of the year. I don’t understand it — usually electronic synth pop leaves me more than a little cold — but this song is melancholy in a good way, the way that makes me ache for something unknown. It climbs right into that hollow space underneath my breastbone, settles in and stretches its legs.

Papa “I am the Lion King”

How fun is this band? They are everything fizzy and California.

Toro Y Moi “Still Sound”

It’s weird how this song sounds simultaneously like 1981 and 2011. It’s like watching “3-2-1 Contact” on my iPhone.

tUnE-yArDs “Bizness”

This one is just here for the video, which is awesome.

Wishlist

December 12, 2011

Are you a wealthy, benevolent benefactor? Excellent! I happen to be a happy, willing recipient of goods.

Let me present you with my Christmas list.

1. The Paris Review sports pen. For active, on-the-go literati.

Because you never know where you’re gonna be when you need to write shit down. With a fountain pen.

2. Fancy, lace-up boots.

My theory is that completely illogical boots draw attention away from my enormous nose.

3. Purity ring.

Back when I was a teen, virginity wasn’t really a trend. So now I feel like I was cheated out of some awesome chastity jewelry.

4. Leica X1.

As far as cameras go, this is the equivalent of Ryan Gosling. And it too has incredible core muscles.

5. Donation to the Landmine Relief Fund.

At the risk of going all Sarah McLachlan and bumming you out with something super serious, this NGO does incredibly important work in Cambodia.

Basically, Cambodians live on land that is KILLING THEM. Literally. There are millions of explosives still buried throughout the country, on farms, in villages, all over fields and forests, and they are wildly efficient. So the Landmine Relief Fund sends in trained professionals, who risk their own lives to save their neighbors.

I mean, I’m not going to dig up a landmine, right? So I might as well support the people who do.

6. A rainbow machine.

Does this really need explanation? IT’S A RAINBOW MACHINE.

7. High Falls stunt class.

This course will be an essential part of my ninja training.

8. Morse code bracelet.

It’s not really a curse word if it’s spelled out in delicate, gold Morse code, is it?

9. Go Pro camera.

You wouldn’t believe how often I could use a helmet cam.

10. Coffee mug from The Rumpus.

Because I do.

My flips went flop

November 13, 2011

R.I.P. old, navy, Old Navy flip-flops.

I try to avoid getting too attached to objects, but losing this pair of shoes actually snags my heart a little. This $2 pair of flip-flops is what propelled me around the world.

You guys, if these shoes could talk … well, first they would say some pretty filthy stuff. But then then would tell you all about their extraordinary adventures.

These shoes have been up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, on safari in South Africa, through rice fields in Uganda, around temples in Cambodia, inside pyramids in Giza. They took me down the beaches of Goa and to the top of Mt. Sinai. I inappropriately wore them to a nightclub in Argentina. One flop got washed away down a gutter in Chiang Mai during Songkran; I chased it down in the murky moat water.

They have stepped over fish heads, garbage and cow dung. They have been across insect-encrusted floors, inside countless nasty bathrooms and showers, over layers of filth I still refuse to acknowledge. There’s a good chance they are infected with typhoid.

When I befriended tigers in Thailand, I was warned to keep my shoes on, “in case you have to run for your life.” Not that I was ever going anywhere fast in my flip-flops.

My flip-flops have been called many names by new friends all over the globe. They are “thongs” to Aussies, “jandals” to Kiwis and “ship-ships” in Egypt — because that’s the sound you make as you walk through the sand. “Ship … ship … ship …”

These flip-flops were a part of me for so long, you can still see the imprint of my foot in them.

After I returned from my trip, The Husband begged me to throw them away.

“You can’t just wear flip-flops every day for the rest of your life. Also, they smell,” he said. “Let me buy you some new shoes.”

“These are all the shoes I need!” I snapped, and I continued to wear them.

Until one day I didn’t. I was lured out of the house without my trusty flip-flops, betraying them with a sultry pair of Nikes. And of course, that was the day my dog decided to get her chew on.

So it’s all my fault. I left my flip-flops alone and vulnerable, instead of on my feet where they belonged. Now I have to pay the price.

Just know how much I’ll miss you, Shoes. You were a trusty and loyal companion. You were sturdy and reliable. You flip-flopped my heart, and I’ll never be the same.

The ethics of what you share

November 3, 2011

This morning there were five images of starving Africans in my Facebook news feed, and it really bugged me.

I realize that the people who shared these images had the best intentions. I know they’re trying to put things in perspective. I even agree with a lot of the sentiment. This isn’t a personal attack on any of my friends.

I just don’t like it when people are used to further a political agenda. It dehumanizes them. It exploits them. And it’s irresponsible, because such photos often misrepresent the entirety of the population. Africa is not all distended bellies and children covered in flies.

Most importantly, it does nothing to help the very complex issue of hunger in developing countries. Why not use a different kind of image to achieve the same goal and serve that community? Why not show a farmer who achieved success thanks to a microloan? Why not depict a family getting fed? (Along those lines, when’s the last time you saw a photo of a successful African, besides a dictator or Charlize Theron?)

I’d like to think images of suffering aren’t the only things that motivate us to help others.

Also, it still nags at me, this idea of sharing an image of someone because it makes you feel better about your own life. It’s like saying, “At least I’m not THAT guy.” It’s misery porn.

These photos also perpetuate the myths that all Africans are starving, all poor people are black, and all poor people are miserable. And that’s simply not the case.

Just as a gentle reminder, there’s a lot of happiness out there in this world.