There is no traffic on the weekends. With the exception of coming down 10th street through Philly Chinatown, it is smooth sailing. I've had great recent karma with traffic lights, probably to make up for all the shitty luck I've had with them before. As I pass swiftly through them, they shine down at me looking all green and generous. Each green light reminds me of a bouncer at a gay club. It is as if I am underage and have a horrible fake id, and the bouncer looks all scary and intimidating, but upon entry and i.d. inspection, he smiles like a big teddy bear, taps me on the back, and says, "go right ahead in doll". Sweet! Weird analogy, I know! But if you know me, you know that I lived my not-quite-21-yet years in the gayborhood. And you can't blame a girl for wanting to get funky and dance without getting awkwardly grinded upon by the creepy club guys that society apparently breeds at straight dance clubs.
ANYWAY...I enjoy the drive to jersey. Once I get past the eyesores of strip malls, real malls, shopping centers, and liquor stores, I sail onto 295. Today I was listening to a Sigur Ros cd (that I semi-stole but plan on returning once I burn it, cause someone left it in the cd player at my rehearsal last night). I forgot how lovely Sigur Ros is: the soothing piano, and the melodies, and the breath, and the patience and subtle persistence. They could be so corny, but they are not...especially when you are listening while driving on a highway. They take you away to a simple place and you don't have the urge to hear a funky beat or electric guitars squealing. I like that.
Tutoring went surprisingly well. I am realizing that all the headaches and disorganized Princeton Review scrambling, and all the attempts I've made to wrap my head around this Princeton Review job are paying off. It really wasn't easy at first...or literally for the first year that I was teaching and tutoring. I am not passionate about the SAT, but I wanted to still be genuine in my attempts to help kids out. The job felt very unnatural/inorganic. I felt like I should be more organized, more serious, and less idealistic and dreamy. I was semi-right, but lately I've been starting to settle into the job more. I love that its flexible schedule-wise, I love that it is a challenge, and I love that it has made me a bit more of a grammar nazi than I already was before. I like the two kids that I am tutoring right now too...which helps.
So driving home from tutoring, I was super inspired by the country-feel of Chesterfield. There are vast, snow-covered fields, and barns, and open spaces, and curving roads. The whole landscape felt nice. By that point the Sigur Ros cd was on the last couple tracks and was making a lovely soundtrack for the ride. The whole trip was seeming oddly cinematic and yes I hate to say this because I cringe at moments like this, but it seemed "sympathetic" or "romantic" or some kind of sappy shit. Hmm...are these the type feelings that start creeping into one's mind at age 23? Before I know it I'll be hanging up Norman Rockwell paintings ..and making scrapbooks...and saving locks of hair and ticket stubs.
So as I got closer to Philly, I thought "Enough of this. Maybe there will be some real loud crazy music playing on WKDU." I switched to FM. First I got stuck listening to a few amazing oldies tunes. Then when I switched to WKDU, they were playing LOTS of Bob Marley. The first song I heard was "redemption song". It had me thinking about artist's and lack of health insurance (from this meeting I attended earlier this week), problems that people have in their lives, blah blah. Thanks Bob Marley, you've got me right back to sappy. Faith in my own semi-coolness was redeemed when I heard and enjoyed, "Buffalo Soldier" and many other lovely hits. I appreciate this chill day, and I wonder what would happen if in heaven or something, Bob Marley met the Sigur Ros crew. Maybe in the next century, when we are all up there together with nothing to do, I'll arrange a potluck. Let me know now if you want to be on the guestlist and what you plan on bringing. Jerk chicken anyone? And who knows any Icelandic dishes? Not I.
