Banded

It has been a while since I have posted anything of serious merit. All too often, I follow the same pattern of thinking about some witty topic, coming up with some bon mot and then I never get around to posting anything. The only things I post are short, blippy things that can be written up in mere minutes.

So here are some quickies that have built up in my mental inbox.

• There are some new musical artists that people should check out:
    Weevil - some delightful, light electronic music (think Postal Service). Here is the first song from their album. Unfortunately, I had to order it from the UK, but still, worth trying to hunt down.
    Sia - funky, Tori Amos sounding vocals. Interesting stuff. This is the first single, Breathe Me. I discovered her, hunting for anything by one of my chillout heroes Ulrich Schnauss, who did this remix of Breathe Me.
    The Trash Can Sinatras are coming out with a new album on Aug 31! Woot! only a decade later, but hey! I have pre-ordered mine, have you? Welcome Back indeed!

• HDTV. This is really a much, much longer post, but I did finally cave into my desires and picked up a new TV. It is indeed almost obscene (I am sure M. would remove the "almost" from the sentence). Now the real struggle is to get content. DirecTV is apallingly bad when it comes to having content, and there are such few alternatives, that in order to get local stations, we are adding an antenna to the top of our house, which just seems going the wrong direction. Suffice to say, that I love my HDTiVo and look forward to this fall when I will have the full range of content that we watch. Six Feet Under -- one of the few programs I get in HDTV -- really does rock my little world.

Now the main point of the post.

A few weeks ago, I rolled the odometer over to "30" -- it was a remarkably unpsychological event. I braced myself for self-inflicted drama, but *shrug* there was none. I had a great birthday, mostly responsible due to M.'s planning acumen. My birthday also happens to be our anniversary (8 years, or as he says, "8 fucking years.") and the birthday present was bands. Rings.

I had bugged him a little for this before, and he dimissed the idea, finding it a waste. "What does it matter what we have on our fingers? Does it change the nature of our relationship?" and when I answered, "Of course not" then he considered the topic closed. So as a surprise, he gave me a thin, titanium ring on the morning of my birthday. Aside from the meaning of the ring itself, the fact he finds wearing a ring as appealing as does a cat having tape on its paw, makes it all that much meaningful. (I have to admit, that for the first few days, it did feel like I had a bandaid on my hand.)

The day before I got my present, a friend of M's that knew he was going to give it to me, came up and said to M (out of my earshot) "I heard you got banded!" M. changed the topic of conversation, not wanting to spoil the surprise, but the phrase "got banded" (when he told me the story the next day) instantly made me think of migratory birds or humpback whales. Tagged, and now can be tracked via GPS.

Perhaps perversely, I have no desire to "get married" even though my parents would spring for the cost for the wedding like they did for my sister. The whole specticle of a wedding with sappy vows seems, well, maudlin. And neither of us are close to maudlin. So, that is enough for now. The symbolism does matter to me, even though I know it doesn't really change anything between us, it helps settle the demons of insecurity that live in my ribcage.