No Such Thing, or, How I met Dave Nguyen and John Mayer

I met Dave my freshman year in high school and I was introduced to John Mayer's music by Dave. I'm still interested in one of those people and it's not John Mayer.

There's something just not good about John Mayer and I can't tell you exactly what it is about him that annoys me. It might be that thin disgusting mustache he wears. I can't stop looking at it, it always looks like his lip is dirty and I always feel like using my fist to remove it.

It might also be that his music is annoyingly catchy. It's not good is the thing, it's actually pretty terrible. It's predictable, it's boring, it's undaring, and a lot of times it just feels pretentious. His music, it just gives me this constant vibe of, "I'm better than you." But it's catchy, and he's not a horrible singer. Sometimes, his songs actually mean something.

Anyhow, I met Dave my freshman year in high school. I can't remember what class we had together. I just remember that we were seated in alphabetical order by last name so we sat right near to each other because we were both "Nguyen's."

Like John Mayer, Dave totally snubbed me. It was the first day of class and he was talking to this kid named Tri Bui. I don't remember what they were talking about but I tried to join the conversation. Without introducing myself, I just kinda interjected myself into the mix.

They both just looked at me like I had a booger on my forehead. Dave sat behind me so I just slowly turned back around and pretended like nothing happened.

I remember it distinctly because Dave is such a loyal friend. And, once you're in his inner-circle, you're set. It didn't take too long for Dave and I to become friends. We had a lot in common: tennis, Star Wars, technology, choir, pop music, movies.

We made a lot of memories together -- most of them while skipping school. 

You might be wondering what the hell John Mayer has to do with this post. Nothing really except that every time I hear the song, "No Such Thing," I think of Dave. In 2002, it was John Mayer's debut single and the chorus goes, "I wanna run through the halls of my high school, I wanna scream at the top of my lungs." I remember Dave was listening to that song over and over. In a way, I imagine it became a kind of anthem for him. I don't know, we've never talked about it. I just know that later that year, I left to serve a mission for my church, and a little bit after that, Dave moved his life to California.

When I came back two years later, he seemed happier. And, it wasn't as though I thought he was miserable, only that maybe he seemed more grounded and steady in life. He seemed less angsty and more "Zen." The last line of the chorus goes, "I just found out there's no such thing as the real world, just a lie you've got to rise above." Maybe by moving to California Dave was able to "rise above." I don't know, I just know I'm proud he's my friend.

Over the years, like so many other relationships, we've grown ever so slightly apart, but that was inevitable. We went from hanging out nearly every day to living half-a-world apart. When we get back together though, it's never uncomfortable for me. He has this humor about him that makes it so that it's easy to pick up where we left off. And, somehow, it's even meaningful. He can get to the heart of a friendship without making it seem rote. He can ask all of the normal, boring, catch-up questions like, "How have you been doing," and, "How's the family," and you'll want to answer sincerely. He's not asking just to ask, he's asking because he cares.  It's amazing to me.

I'm alone in Africa and I have too much time to think and reflect. My immediate thought is that I don't call him enough. I don't make enough of an effort. My second thought is that I'm really, very glad and happy he's a friend and that I'm going to make sure to go out of my way to catch-up with him when I get back to the U.S.

Right, so yeah, otherwise, John Mayer sucks.

Dan in Real Life or Baby, I Love Your Way

Nick Hornby made it pretty clear in High Fidelity that it's not cool to like the song "Baby, I Love Your Way." If you listen to the lyrics, it's nonsensical. It's not a ballad and there's not a story-line to the song. The guitar riff is popular because it's catchy and relatively easy to play, but, among pop aficionados, it's uninspired.

The thing is, I love it, which is to say that I'm exactly like 98 percent of the population.

That chorus line gets me every time. Anybody who's ever been in love knows what it means to "Love [someone's] way." It's intangible. It's that unknown element that never ceases to surprise. It's each and every indescribable piece of your lover that somehow makes them irresistible. And, though indescribable, you can probably break them down into the lovably mundane.

Like Jess' freckles. They just floor me. I can't get enough of them. Or, how she won't sleep without socks on. And, how she will give one cute little sneeze at the end of any chocolate eating session. She'll eat an entire bowl of chocolate ice-cream and only give one little sneeze when she's finished; she'll do the same thing even if it's just one itty-bitty Andes Mint. It drives me nuts, but I love it.



Billy puts it another way: "She's got a way about her. I don't know what it is, but there doesn't have to be a reason anyway." Because, and for me this is the rub, "reasons" aren't enough to give yourself over to someone. They're important, but alone, they're not enough. It's the many little inexpressable somethings that kind of work as the emotional glue for all of the reasons why you're with someone. It's the way they wink, or the unique warmth of their hug -- it's that something that nobody else but you sees.

This isn't to be confused with teenage angst like in this clip from Dan in Real Life:



Dan can't be more right. For every one of the reasons you can find to love someone, you can probably find just as many reasons to not love them. "Love is an ability," he says. That teenage ball of emotions that his daughter portrays is a part of it too, but it's a small part, and it's unsustainable.

I don't know how to end this post. I'll probably come back later and change it. I miss Jess and her freckles. I mean, they're totally hoppin' and they just drive me up the wall.

Pitch Perfect: Who's Rihanna? Or, "How I'm going to give Miley Cyrus a chance."

First, is it okay that I really like the movie Pitch Perfect? I'm uncertain as to what the nonsensical male gender stereotypes allow these days.

So yeah, I'm watching Pitch Perfect and I'm like:

"Wow the covers of these songs are really good."

"I wonder who sings this?"

"Why have I never heard these songs or people?"

Like any good child of the information age, I took to Google to figure out the original singers of some of these songs. Here's what I found out about some of the songs:

1. "Don't Stop The Music" - Rihanna 2007.
2. "Party In The USA" - Miley Cyrus 2009.
3. "Titanium" - David Guetta ft. Sia 2011.
4. "Since U Been Gone" - Kelly Clarkson 2004.
5. "Keep Your Head Up" - Andy Grammer 2011.

As I saw the results, I looked-up from my computer and I'm like, "Oh my gosh, is this okay?" Basically, I'm feeling shame that I just watched a movie where I enjoyed the cover of a song originally performed by Miley Cyrus. At the same time I'm thinking, "Isn't Rihanna the girl who got the crap beat out of her by Chris Brown (I still don't know who Chris Brown is or why he's famous.)" 

Other than what I read on TMZ (Yes. I'm a self-proclaimed celebrity gossip whore. It's better than fiction), I don't know anything concerning the music of Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, or Kelly Clarkson -- only that I feel like I'm not supposed to like them. In fact, I'm pretty sure if the song was written and performed within the last decade I'll probably dismiss the song entirely as too trendy, or just simply label it as "garbage."

I'm also hopelessly stuck in the 80s. If it came down to a knife fight between 80s Madonna and millenium Madonna, 80s Madonna is going to be convicted for first-degree murder.

My actual knowledge of pop music actually drops off after 1997. Anyt songs I know after that year is incidental from movie watching and visiting friends who are much cooler than me (That's pretty much all of them.)

I'm starting to see, more and more, that I'm an unqualified elitist. What's there to get snobbish about when it comes to pop music? After all, it's intentionally two-dimensional and superficial -- that's what makes it so much fun. 99 percent of pop music wasn't made to change the musical world, it was made to get your toe tapping and your rump shaking.

So, yes, I'm going to give Miley Cyrus a chance. But not Maroon 5. No. Never again. They're terrible.

Don't Let me Down

This is one of the sexiest concerts in the history of music. When people think of The Beatles, they often think of "Yellow Submarine" or "Help!" It's really too bad because they really went on to make some meaningful stuff. The video linked to below is from the Beatle's famed Rooftop Concert which you can read about here.

My favorite song from the concert is called "Don't Let Me Down."  It's soulful, it's gritty, and its chorus, "Don't Let Me Down" hits at the core of what motivates me as a friend: loyalty. Ironically, unknown to John, Paul, George, and Ringo -- this will have been their last public performance together as a complete band.

Listen to the song. It's worth it.

High Fidelity Part II (or How Making a Mixtape is the Ultimate Show of Affection)

A good mixtape is incredibly difficult to make. I don't pretend to have a degree in the art of mixtape making, but by virtue of being an '80s child I feel I'm at least more qualified than the CD-ripping/Napster/iTunes generation. Before technology existed, making a mixtape was a labor of true love.

At worst making a mixtape meant having a lot of luck and a lot of time. First, you had to have a hand-held cassette tape recorder. Then you had to sit next to a radio with a decent speaker and just wait for the song you wanted to come on. If you were really lucky, the radio DJ just let the song play, but most of the time he would talk during the introduction to the song or over the ending. You took what you could get.

In that situation, you were lucky just to get the song at all. You can forget about arranging the songs on the tape in any kind of order, you're recording them as you hear them come on the radio. I mean, it was really dumb, you would sit for hours with the microphone of a cassette tape recorder pressed up against a radio speaker waiting for just the right moment to hit the "record" button. Oh, and goodness forbid someone in your house should walk up to you and start talking or making any kind of noise while you're recording a song -- whatever it is they did will be on that tape.

If you had some money, you could get fancy and use a double cassette tape recorder like the one in the picture below.

Getting one of these bad boys meant you could get serious about putting together a truly good compilation. It meant you could start trading tapes with friends and getting the songs you needed to really impress the person you're making the tape for.

And, that's the whole thing right there. Of course, there's always some satisfaction in putting together a mixtape for yourself. It's always exciting to hear how well one song moves into the next to create a message. I just found out that David Guetta's Titanium somehow sounds really good when it's preceded by Elton's Crocodile Rock. One song is hopeful sounding and the other is about being impenetrable -- together, they create this intangible feeling of fun and satisfaction.

There's no hardened set of rules when it comes to making a tape, but here are a few from High Fidelity. John Cusack does a great job of explaining how a mixtape is made (Here's the link):



The difference between a good tape and a great tape is whether you were making it for yourself or for someone you love. You almost never take the time and care to pick out just the right songs for yourself as you would for the person you want to hear the music. Like John said, you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel and it's a delicate thing.

You've got to be careful about the songs you choose. Music combined with lyrics can cause a major emotional event. Again, here's what John thinks about music and its potential impact on the psyche (link):


We're talking about some pretty powerful forces here. You can't just give someone a tape with "In Your Eyes" on it without expecting them to confront you and either accept you and your obvious confession of love or reject you and every ounce of emotion expressed in that song.

Is it worth it? It takes a lot of time and detail to make a compilation. Finding just the right songs and arranging them in a meticulous order to express an emotion is a significant commitment. And, you might never deliver the tape. If you're like I was, you probably have dozens of tapes you never delivered for fear of being rejected. And, it's a terrible thing to pour every drop of feeling you have into something only for it to sit on the desk in your bedroom as a daily reminder that you're a coward.

The most important mixtape I ever made was for my wife. I made it for her before we were even dating. I say that we weren't dating, but there's no question in my mind that despite our official status I had let myself fall right off a cliff in love with her. And, to add emotional weight behind the making of the tape, we had only known each other for about five months before I was to leave for two years as a missionary for my church.

Jessica held on to that CD for the 24 months that I was gone and she listened to it as a reminder of my love for her. This is how it is with mixtape. You let Whitney Houston and Billy Joel say what you can't say yourself and you hope it's enough.

Oh, and if you doubt the power or relevance of pop music, here you go. You're welcome (link):

High Fidelity

I don't think it's any coincidence that the movie High Fidelity came out the same month (March) as my birthday and the same year (2000) I graduated from high school.

I don't remember who introduced it to me and I don't remember the first time I saw it. The earliest memory I have of it was showing it to Lauren Stelzenmueller Ashmore. I think we were maybe a year out of high school at the time.

I'm pretty sure I was doing absolutely nothing with my life and Lauren was back visiting from college. I remember that night vividly because there's a sex scene involving Tim Robbins that is this weird psychedelic blur, and Lauren covered her eyes and blurted, "Oh, that's so gross!" More importantly, I remember feeling really happy. We weren't doing anything really special -- we were just eating popcorn and watching a movie at her parent's house -- but I was happy that, despite high school being over, she remained a great friend who I love.

The movie and book speak to me. I, of course, identify with the main character Rob, who is a loser. He uselessly over-thinks the mundane and he's horribly insecure. He constantly perceives things that don't exist and he's constantly pining about things that he has no intention of doing anything about. He's an emotional coward and so am I.

The crazy thing about Rob (me) is that there are times when he can be a complete elitist, undeservedly. To illustrate, here's an excerpt from the movie (Rated R for language). Here's the link in case the embedded video doesn't work.

Anyhow, I'm not really sure why I'm writing any of this except to admit that yes, my life is sadly too connected to pop culture, which, according to pop culture, is not cool.