First-World Problems and Pleasures

Writing a blog can, apparently, make me almost painfully self-aware, conscious of myself thinking of people thinking of me.  How will people perceive me?  (Albeit "people" indicates a group of about 4 right now, mostly blood relatives).   Have I already come across as too serious, too opinionated, too proud?  How much should I use this blog to process the real me, the one currently wearing mismatched pajamas, eating cheese cake, and feeling vaguely lonely (while listening to the constant chatter of college students outside my door because, yes, I live in a freshmen dorm)?  Existential angst, we might call it.  Ah, first-world problems.

So before I explore more about compassion, immigration, and spiritual pilgrimage (stay tuned - later this week), I think it's time to get off my social justice high-horse and share some of the beautiful, simple, silly, and honest things in life that I love.  Normally, I spend about 1% of my week thinking about compassionate justice, and 99% thinking about...

The Avett Brothers, who I am determined to make just as popular on the West Coast as on the East for the simple and selfish reason that I insist on seeing them in concert annually.  Perhaps if I convince enough of my California friends to listen to them, they will come to San Diego and once again make me fall heartbreakingly in love with them.  I deny the rumor that they are married men.

Or this silly little video that, at least to true Harry fans, never gets old.  Am I right, or am I right?

Or the latest Glee episode, about Christianity and homosexuality - the blend of pop culture and faith is so fascinating to me.  As is any musical.  Period.

Or a lovely book titled The Elegance of the Hedgehog (best name ever), in which author Muriel Barbery writes: "Those who feel inspired, as I do, by the greatness of small things will pursue them to the very heart of the inessential where, cloaked in everyday attire, this greatness will emerge from within a certain ordering of ordinary things and from the certainty that all is as it should be, the conviction that it is fine this way."  It reminds me of Julian of Norwich.  Or when Mother Teresa talks about doing small things with great love.

And, if you are in your 20s or 30s, who can deny the glorious hilarity that is New Girl?  I'm not sure if it's good or bad that I identify with Jess, the main character, because I unnecessarily make situations awkward, "rock a lot of polka dots," and find myself singing accidentally.  The other day at work, a student started humming along with me for a good minute before I noticed that I had been awkwardly and loudly humming some pretty sweet elevator music.  Awesome.

And finally, I'm sure everyone and their sister has already heard of Grooveshark, used it, and moved on to something bigger and better, but these past few weeks have been auditory overload of free music - checking out new bands like The Civil Wars (everyone awesome lives in Nashville), and mixing myself a playlist of "Independant Woman," "I'm Every Woman," and "Single Ladies" just in time for Valentine's Day.

So that's me 99% of the time (or the 99% of my non-working hours).  And in an effort to avoid existentialism, I'm not going to analyze, moralize, demonize, or idolize my love of music, TV shows, literature, or youtube.  I will simply share it and, for once in my life, let it be.  It is fine this way.