It's important to play fun things along with the pieces you're studying to keep burnout at bay, and reading through easy songs is good practice in itself. I found one the other day I like enough to share:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojIOLuS1ZU0
Just. Wow. Seriously? Word has it that's footage from her campaign last year. I adore Fox news. They need to add "factual" to "fair and balanced".
I'm skipping the last paragraph. Self-censorship, maybe.
SEATTLE – The Seattle Fire Department said two people died after a fire swept through the Johnson Lofts building downtown. Firefighters arrived shortly after 4:45 PM after receiving a call from a resident who then evacuated safely.
Witnesses said they saw a woman on the fifth floor attempt to escape from the window but disappear shortly afterward. “It was pretty intense,” said witness John Smith. “The smoke was so thick you couldn’t see much. But we knew that lady was in there. There was nothing any of us could do but watch.”
Firefighters confirmed the two deaths and said it appears the victims were attempting to escape. One was the resident of the apartment were the fire began, and the other could not be identified.
The building, which had been recently renovated for residential use, has been a landmark in the city for over fifty years.
Investigators determined the cause of the fire to be accidental.
When he approached the scene, it was clear he wasn’t going to get in. That was his, though, thick black smoke billowing from the half-open window. Christ. He tried to get some information from an officer on the scene, but the officer brushed him off. There was no distracting him from that window. Everybody was staring. Then he saw it, too, a towel almost draped out the window. Like somebody had tried to wave it for help. The firefighters were raising a ladder now.
Sam took off around the building since the police hadn’t had time to set up any sort of perimeter. When he got to the back door, the smoker’s door (fat lot of good banning smoking indoors did), he yanked it open and took off up the stairs. Why were they going for the window? Why hadn’t she used the fire escape like a normal person? Like an animal, she was, faced with fire, fixating on the nearest thing to “away,” even though it was fifty feet up. He should have shown her what to do.
When he got to his floor, winded, he could feel the heat. He could see the heat, even in the floodlit landing, making the door shimmer. He took off his shirt to protect his hands, but as he was looking down the stairwell hoping desperately for somebody to come running, the door fell on its own. It just tipped over into the hall, landing with a crash. The hinges had melted.
As Sam looked down the hall, he was amazed at how dark it was. The heat poured from the open door now, and he could see nearly invisible flames licking at the brick in the hall, blue where they appeared and heat shimmer where they didn’t. He charged in screaming for her, though he could hardly hear himself over what reminded him of the deep, rumbling sound the furnace at his childhood home made when he listened closely to it. It didn’t crackle. It nearly growled.
On the way home, Sam watched the helicopters, three of them, hovering around downtown. He’d always been amazed by flying machines, even now into his thirties. He couldn’t tell what sort of helicopters they were, but it wasn’t the police. Theirs was a smaller one that looked a bit like a bumblebee.
He was about halfway home when he saw the smoke. The helicopters were for that – a fire. It looked like it might be even be near the lofts. He picked up his pace. Perhaps there’d be some action tonight, after all. And he’d have a great view if it was on his side of the building.
A bit nearer, as truth started to dawn, Sam started to run. He didn’t want a view of this scene. Watching a drama unfold as he looked on from his loft window was one thing, but he was kicking himself for the thought now. Karma will have her own way. How about a drama actually unfolding from your window, Sam? He didn’t wish for this.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Mmgh.” She shrugged, noncommittal.
She’d gotten a job at the grocery at the end of the block, but he didn’t hear her talk much about it.
“Heh. Mine, too. I have a feeling I’ll still be cleaning up yesterday’s mess. That was a disaster. Of course, I took the fall. I always do. I wish they’d quit using me as an excuse when things go wrong.”
“Why do you go if it makes you so miserable?” she asked. “You really don’t have any right to complain. You’ve put yourself in that mess.”
“It’s true. It pays the bills, though. I need to have a job, and I don’t want to work retail. If I could afford to, I sure would. It’d surely be easier than this. No offense, of course.”
At this, she was silent and nodded.
“I’ve got to get going. See ya this evening.”
“Yeah. Thanks again for all this,” she said. “I’ve never lived like this before.”
“What? No need to thank me. You thank me just by being around. I’m glad to have you.” Sam hugged her then he held her at arm’s length. “You really are lovely,” he said, smiling again.
She only lowered her head.
After Sam left, she opened the fridge and checked the date on the eggs. They were still good. Cereal wasn’t nearly as tasty as it used to be. Eggs are real food.
Sam stretched his chin out in front of the mirror, running his fingers down his neck, inspecting his shaving job. Shaving was his own time, and for all the five minutes it took, he had his mind to himself. Morning grogginess made his mind a funny place, with random words repeating themselves for just their sound (he was stuck on Timbuktu this morning) and simple, basic thoughts forming the foundation of his meditation. In the last six months, he’d learned to savor the time he spent shrouded in his morning stupor. He knew she’d be waiting to get in when he left the bathroom. He took his own toothbrush from the rack that now held two and ran the tap. He cupped some water in his hand, splashed his face, and Timbuktu disappeared for the day.
As he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall, she was, indeed, waiting. She looked almost domestic these days, now that she had more or less regular meals and slept indoors. Her face was still a bit rough, and she insisted on wearing a mess of randomly kempt, hacked short hair, but at least it was clean. He touched her arm, and she accepted it with a small smile. He smiled, too, knowing how much that meant, and passed her. He’d found out the hard way a couple weeks after their turkey dinner that a friendly hug was not that at all to a girl from the street. He ended up with a black eye, and she didn’t reappear at the side of the building for a few days.
These days, though, their relationship had developed into one of relative comfort. Over a standing breakfast of boxed cereal, Sam looked over her with approval. She’d come a long way, indeed. He didn’t rescue her, per se. But he’d sure helped her get back on her feet. And now he had a friend.
