I am a very Month-oriented person. Don't ask me why. Perhaps it's because I like to put things into categories and lists and columns and this makes me a very Type-A person sometimes. Did you know that I used to organize my CD collection into months? A good friend of mine used to do this and I think I might've made fun of her at first ("Oh, no, we can't listen to this CD, this is an April CD. . .") but then the idea seemed kinda cool and neatly fit into my categorizing-type-A-personality so well that I fell into the habit. Can I confess that it is still a habit I somewhat keep?
Currently, Jered and I are at home and we're listening to the Sigur Ros album titled "Ágætis byrjun" and I've had this disk for maybe the better part of 12 years and I admit I've listened to this album every February for 12 years and refuse to listen to it at any other time of the year. This is one of my favorite albums of all time. Do I know what the lyrics mean? No. Why? Because they're all in Icelandic.
Please don't laugh.
But I have no idea what this album is about or what the titles of any of the songs are or what they mean.
But this is probably in my top 5 of all-time favorite albums.
That is the power of music.
I am the first to say that lyrics are nearly essential to great song-writing but this album is what puts the "nearly" in the above remark. The vocals of this album is merely another instrument in the great orchestration of what is Ágætis byrjun. Yes, I've heard Sigur Ros's other albums and maybe it's just because I loved this one first and first loves last the longest. . . whatever the reason, this is the album I go to.
This album reminds me of everything I like about February. It reminds me of college Freshman year when I fell in love with Webster U's campus. It was so. . . old. and beautiful. and unique. I took pictures in the snow that year of Webster Hall and of various statues and of Pierson House where I would take my poetry classes and of the Tech building where I virtually lived for 3 years. . .
It reminds me of working at Java Jive. It reminds me of standing behind that long, wooden bar with the glass and syrup bottles behind me. It reminds me of opening on snowy mornings and experimenting with filo dough and puff pastry in the kitchen because there wasn't a single. soul. on any of the streets at 8 in the morning.
It reminds me of doing yoga in Grandpa's living room when we first moved back to KC and I was so worried because our house in Hannibal was being lived in by strangers and we couldn't find jobs and I thought to myself, 'everything is going to be all right. . .'
I hope today sticks in my memory.
I hope being at home with Jered and making jalapeno/mozzarella/mushroom omelets and drinking coffee and editing completely gorgeous February photographs that I had the incredible fortune to take (I mean, really! I cannot even believe I am so lucky as to have the ability and chance to get paid to go out with wonderful people and take their pictures all over town. . . to create such soul-inspiring moments and immortalize them for these people. . . to capture images they will display in their homes and show their children and grandchildren. . . makes me want to cry sometimes. . .).
I digress.
This music makes me want to drive with the windows down through the deserted streets of St Louis at two O'clock in the morning and just. . .
drive.
Ever feel like that? Ever feel like words are so inadequate to describe what you want to?
Perhaps that's why I take pictures.
A picture of Sigur Ros would be the view down De Mun Ave at night. Snow on the ground. Kaldis lit up ahead.
Those of you who know what I'm talking about, let's get an Amen.
amen
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