Double Two.

Other than the fact that I must now ban Lily Allen's song from my playlist so I don't dissolve into a heap of blues and angst, I am looking forward to a low key, chilled out birthday hanging out with the few individuals who are special and with no real plan in place on how the night will go/end. Midnight started with somewhat of a bang at least, taking a cinammon shot (with gold flakes for extra class) with my roommate followed by obligatory bothering of Pistache.

I am as much an old lady as I am a wild child at heart, and these days the former seems to be dominating. Honestly, my idea of a good night is drinking white wine while watching Jersey Shore with my cat.....yes, this may be as archetypal an image of Lonely Single Girl as you can get, but in the wise words of my pop hero Kelly Clarkson, it "doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone." Skyping with my mum earlier, she asked if I had a boyfriend and when I said I wasn't remotely interested in even finding one right now, she proceeded to extol the virtues of experimenting and getting experience at this stage in my life....which I found really rich coming from the same woman who used to feed me horror teenage pregnancy-suicide stories.

I did receive some good advice though, to her credit. She said between now and 30 is the best time of my life with few responsibilities and a million possibilities, and I should enjoy each day and smile each day. I agree and call bullshit on the myth that the University Years are the best years....they are phenomenal years in the right shade of hindsight sure, but where I am and what I'm doing right now? It feels great in the present. And so this former nostalgia tripper may just be converting into a now tripper with a complimentary side of bad decisions and no regrets.

Classical Shakespeare.

I was at the opening weekend concert of the Toronto Symphony's 90th season last night --is there anything quite like listening to classical music live? Add to that a Shakespeare theme that included Christopher Plummer as a guest reading from Henry V alongside Walton's score and you basically have an evening of epic proportions.

I'm pretty sure Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet is the favoured musical interpretation, but I may just have been won over by Tchaikovsky. Though my friend astutely pointed out that all he can think of when he hears the familiar love theme is Sims (sigh), the cliched association of cartoons or cheesy slow motion scenes of lovers running towards each other is overridden by the other theme representing the rivaling Montagues and Capulets. I've never heard the piece in its entirety and it gave me chills.

Adapt or Die.

Cannot wait to listen to this in the gym and pretend I'm on the run from German skinheads and CIA agents.

So.

Fucking.

Good.

Pure sex.

I went to my friend's big band jazz concert today. It was my first time hearing a baritone sax....and let me tell you, that sound and its rumbling vibration.....did things to me. Damn.

Lessons from Montreal.

I can successfully communicate in French with an old man Quebecer. Day made.

My friend and I communicate through song.

My friend and I haven't changed much since we were 14.

Every girls' sleepover should include a trashy makeover, fur coat, and photo shoot.

Pina coladas: a shortcut to summer when it's bitching cold outside.

Badass leather jacket: every girl needs one.

"Just put yourself in an uncomfortable position. That's yoga.": my friend introducing bed yoga, which is harder than you think.

Rediscovering old school Alicia Keys: an awesome nostalgia trip.

Want.

P.S. Merry Christmas

Too many levels of brilliance and love.

Positive visualisation.

Dear GRE,

You are going to get your ass kicked. I've had it with your soul-sucking. I've had it with you making me miserable and a depressive bitch all week. Who do you think you are, strutting around with your invisible magic elves judging how clever I am, giving me anxiety attacks. I don't fucking need this. I'm going to be heading your way tomorrow with an ego like Kanye West's to destroy you. I'm going to make you my bitch. And then I'm going to ingest a fuckload of alcohol and nicotine into my system to celebrate. I'd let you finish, except Imma finish you first. PREPARE TO DIE.

-V.

My love is rekindled.

Dear Ryan, or "Dr. Party Pants, DRA":

Why was I not aware of how amazing/ridiculous your Facebook page is? Why is your new site such a mind fuck/assault on the senses? Why do I keep caring so much?

Whatever. You know from my first letter that I'm not up this video-gamey-metal-screamy alley. So I'm somewhat appeased by the news that you'll be releasing a double-album with the good ol' Cardinals again. But like, I dunno, looking at the track list, should I be worried about songs like "Star Wars" and "Kill the Lights" (which I presume won't be a cover of Britney)?

I'm such a terrible fan. I don't mean to be condescending. I do have faith in you, on account of this gem:

Ryan, what is this nonsense about you being half-deaf?! It's utter bullshit. So here's my pep talk. After more than a year's hiatus, you obviously still have it. You don't need this electric futuristic experimental clowning around. You don't need to tack on some band to your name. You don't even need an audience. Just be that traveling hobo-country-prince you were born to be with Mandy as a sidekick. It is the way to go, trust.

And yet, having said all that and despite my nostalgia, I must end with this: Ryan Adams, never change your crazy ways.

Sincerely,

Victoria

Sex on legs.

She doesn't need Paris.

Fuck November.

My friend is having a "Fuck November" party on Friday.....god do we need one. We have a mini "fall break" this long weekend where we get Monday and Tuesday off. In an alternate universe, I would be spending that time in Sydney. But it's not happening. I have a grand total of $300 in my bank account.

I hate how November just kicks me in the face like that, 3 days after my birthday.

I hate how November is when it starts getting dark at 5pm.

I hate how November is when it starts getting cold.

I hate how November is when the onslaught of deadlines begin.

I hate how November is the month of withdrawal after the fall play.

I hate how November is just one long, agonising wait for Christmas and winter break.

Is there anything good about November? Maybe this song, which is about how soul-sucking November is anyway:

Soultastic.

Mood booster.

Rarely do I ever repeat the living daylight out of a track.

She don't want a sweetheart.

source

An open letter to Ryan Adams

Dear Ryan,

Let me begin by saying I really, really like your music. I will never tire of listening to Gold, I love what you did with the Cardinals, and I love Easy Tiger even though it was a bit of a whore for Starbucks. I love your endearing douchiness and pretensions in interviews, and I can put up with those hipster glasses and the bad blonde dye job you had and Mandy Moore because when you're on the ball with those lyrics and guitar, you are on. And when you dress well along with all that, you can be kind of hot.

See?

Needless to say, I was mildly devastated to learn that you were calling it quits for a while because of hearing problems -I haven't even had the chance to go to a concert yet. So to find out just today that you are coming out with a new album that was recorded back in 2006 should be incredibly joyous news right?

Except. WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE THIS.

Ryan, what are you doing? This is even more confusing than Halloweenhead. Why, WHY are you singing like that? Is this a tragic side-effect of being deaf in one ear? And did I just hear you scream "Metal, metaaal!" And can you explain to me what a "Sci-fi metal concept album" even is??!

Ryan, I need to tell you that only someone like Bob Dylan can get away with doing whatever the fuck he wants like put out a crazy, kind of terrifying and unlistenable Christmas album because well, he's Bob Dylan. But you, you can legit sing and play the guitar! Why pull a Joaquin Phoenix? Go back to country. Go back to harmonica intros. Go back to sweet female harmonies. Go back to lines like "Everybody wants to go forever/I just wanna burn up hard and bright." Just don't, you know, actually self-destruct like this.

Love,

Victoria

We all got mommy problems -celebrate them badass style.

I am listening to the soundtrack of this:

Whilst writing a paper about this:

It's fitting.

More on my love and obsession with these later.

Pure gold.

Music makes the trip.

I have been playing this horrid piece of catchy trash (and loving it) non-stop since I got back. The romantic in me didn't have any control over the soundtrack that would accompany and define my time in Taiwan. I didn't bring my mp3 player (yes I am one of the few who still don't own an iPod) because my only pair of earphones broke ages ago and I didn't have time to buy new ones. Basically, this left the door open to Other People's Music and well....spawns of garbage like the above.

Tik Tok became somewhat of an inside joke due to one guy's obsession with it. Funny thing is we didn't even listen to it all that much during our laptop parties in the hotel. All we knew and kept quoting was the first line, "Wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy." No kidding, I woke up with that line in my head a number of mornings. Wishful thinking perhaps. We went clubbing our last night in the city, and of course requested the song. It didn't come on until the very moment we were leaving. It was one of those great coincidences and needless to say we danced our way out the exit.

This other girl on the trip was really into Japanese and Korean pop, and we were all familiar with this song....of course, it comes up in the club accompanied by a live act of pretty girls with bobs and mod dresses, and much singing along and clapping ensued. Next day on the bus after Wong Professor said bye to us we spontaneously burst into the chorus as a tribute to him. Classic moment. P.S, the guys are so fruity they could be a spinoff Wonderboys band.

Picture this: seven of us drunk off vodka in a karaoke lounge, singing in faux French accents and swaying in time to the music. Sure, there were other classic moments with Lady Gaga and the Backstreet Boys -Summer Nights was a highlight as well. But this cheeseball of a song was what we were stuck with when they cut us off at the one hour limit. And in a way, it was a perfect ending to a night of camaraderie and camp. I don't think I will ever hear this song and not think of Taiwan and for that, it holds a special place in my cold heart.