I want a DJ logo

It's finally summer in these parts, and that means a few things: that I no longer wear actual pants, I take my coffee iced, and I spend a hell of a lot of time on music festival websites. Even if I don't plan on actually going to said festivals, I still, for some reason, spend a lot of time reading about them. Even I don't fully understand why I do this but let's just accept it.

There are 2 main types of music festivals that I go to: all-genre festivals (Lollapalooza, Governor's Ball, etc) and EDM festivals (Electric Daisy Carnival, Electric Zoo, you get it). After spending so much time on different festival websites, I've noticed something interesting. Here's the lineup site for Governor's Ball: 

And here's the lineup site for Moonrise, an electronic music festival that I have no intention of attending yet seriously why am I at this website like twice a week?

Do you see the difference? One has the artist names listed in the same font, and the other has actual logos!

This isn't the case 100% of the time, but what I realized was that I almost never see a non-EDM artist listed using their logo, but this happens a lot more often when it involves DJs. Why? I have no idea. And frankly I don't care. Because the point of this discussion is that I've decided that I want a logo. For me. Not for my DJ alter ego (though I wish I had one), just for the name "Arielle."

That would be awesome, right? To have your own badass logo and any time you signed an email or really put your name anywhere you could just have that logo appear instead. Why have I never thought of this before as something totally logical that I really want in life? It's probably the second best idea I ever had, right after making it a goal to marry someone with my last name.

If any of you are so graphic-designly inclined, I would like to request that when I turn 31 this October you create for me a sweet DJ logo. In return you will have my eternal gratitude. I can also throw in a hug and a lollipop. And a beer! 

Until then, I suppose just a regular font will have to do. For now, peace out!

-Boring Font Arielle

I went to a sound bath so you don't have to

I was on one of those sprees where you click a link that leads to another link that leads to another link and you find yourself falling down an internet black hole that often ends in instagram photos of men wearing cat slippers or reading impassioned blog posts about Lena Dunham's boobs. This time, though, I was reading about sound baths. It sounded like an interesting concept, and I took to Google to see if we had them in New York.

Whether you live in New York or not, you know as well as I do that if you read about a weird thing, it exists here. I knew I had to try it.

A sound bath is, according to the sound healer I saw, an opportunity for "deep listening." Both of sounds that are there, and of sounds that aren't (I don't understand that last part either).

I walked into the entryway, removed my coat and shoes, and took a seat in the sound bath room. It had carpeted floors with pillows strewn around and a whole set of differently sized bowls in the middle. I made a comment to the girl on the pillow next to me about how we were wearing essentially the same outfit - fuschia pants with black and gray striped shirts. Besties! We kept talking, and her friend and his dad - or, I suppose, it could have just been a much older male friend - joined in when I mentioned my Jewish place of employment. Because if there's one thing Jews like to talk about, it's Jew stuff.

Before we began, our leader passed around a bottle of lavender essential oil, which is supposedly good for relaxation. She said to massage it into the soles of our feet, and also to just smell it from our hands.

I massaged that shit into my feet and it felt amazing because, hello, fragrant foot massage! And then I put my hands up to my face and I got a big ol' whiff of lavender and feet stank because I had been walking around in my smelly TOMS all day. So that was pleasant.

Finally it was time to get started. We were told that this would be a special sound bath because they had a reiki...person (?) there to work with us. To be honest, I have no idea what reiki is, even now, after having it done to me.

We all stretched out on the floor, and our sound bath specialist started making all sorts of crazy noises using the bowls, which were made of rose quartz. Going into this experience I had this idea like, "So she's going to clang the bowls and there's going to be a BING BONG kind of deal and what is even the point of this?" But let me tell you, friends. The sounds that those bowls created were the weirdest things I have ever heard in my life.

For the first ten minutes I had to keep my eyes open because the bowls' sound vibrations felt like they were coming from INSIDE MY BRAIN and it was incredibly disorienting. I thought that something had gone horribly wrong and that the first 5 seconds of the sound bath had fucked up my ears so much that my brain was buzzing and I was going to hear alien hum noises for the rest of my life. SPOILER ALERT: this did not happen and I got used to it.

So the buzzing continued, along with the very melodic BING BONGs that I had predicted (high five, self). Then the reiki person started going around. She would put her hands very gently on your head for about a minute, and it was supposed to do something with your energy and the energy in the room.

Can anyone tell me what the deal is with energy in rooms and how I'm supposed to feel it? Serious question. I don't know what it is about energy that I don't get but I have no idea how to tap into that. I would like to learn though because maybe then I would care about feng shui, or whatever. Anyway. When the reiki lady put her hands on my head, I felt my muscles relax a lot. It is entirely possible (nay, likely) that I was doing this on purpose because what is the purpose of an old lady quietly resting her hands on you if not to feel something?

So the bing bongs and the crazy "the call is coming from inside the house" head vibrations continued for awhile, and then our sound bath leader got up to go around to everyone with tuning forks. She had explained earlier that they were different tones, and holding them up to each ear would do interesting - but positive - things to our brains. And then she would wave the tuning forks around our bodies to - wait for it - clear our energy fields. So even with my eyes closed I could sense her waving her hands back and forth in front of my face, and I will not pretend that I understood what the hell my energy was doing at that moment. But I still enjoy the mental image of me lying on the ground in my fuschia pants and having someone wave tuning forks around my lifeless body like some kind of deranged air traffic controller.

At some point, multiple people fell asleep, so the snoring added a nice little addition to our sound bathing. Bing bong CHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SNORT buzzzzzzz. Something like that.

The last part of the bath was for us to work with vibrations from the inside. We sat up, and the leader played some kind of weird instrument while we all experimented with various vowel sounds. So I, along with everyone else, spent about 15 minutes sitting with closed eyes, crossed legs, and one hand over our hearts, going:

"AaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAyyyyyyyyyyyyIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII"

And then it was over.

We left the room, and in the foyer there was some tea that one of the participants had provided, so we sat around drinking tea and comparing experiences. My outfit twin and new Jew friends were super into the reiki and the tuning forks, so they are clearly both lightyears ahead of me as far as detecting energy is concerned. I will say though that the mood after the sound bath was super light and relaxed and happy and I could have sworn that maybe I was picking up on the energy in the room and not just my own mood. But who even knows.

I left the sound bath completely relaxed, which was more or less ruined by the fact that it was cold outside and I somehow managed to walk in the wrong direction for 10 minutes before even realizing what I was doing. But overall it was an interesting experience. I would be tempted to go back, mostly to see my sound bath besties again, who swore they would return each month. But I'm not 100% sure if I want to spend another twenty dollars for an hour and a half of bing bongs.

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

MoMA Rain Room

Dining dans le noir

On Friday night I went to one of the craziest dinners pretty much...ever.

Dans Le Noir is a restaurant where you eat a delicious 3 course meal completely and totally in the dark.

Yup. That happened. It was insane.

Eating without any light whatsoever makes you experience food in a completely different way - you don't fully know what you're eating because all you have is the guidance of the generic menu that you chose beforehand (meat, fish, vegetarian, or a surprise), so you use your hands and your tastebuds to try and figure it out (it isn't finger food and you have silverware available to you, but since you can't see anything you definitely need to use your hands at least somewhat).

I don't know if there's anyone who really enjoys being blindfolded or otherwise unable to see, but I definitely don't, so this was an interesting restaurant choice for me. When I was first seated at the table, I became completely disoriented by the fact that my eyes were open yet I could not see A DAMN THING. Usually your eyes adjust to the dark, but since there's no light in this restaurant at all, that never happens. My body went into full-on panic mode, and I felt eerily similar to the way I felt right before the only time I've ever fainted (which happened a few years ago). I was light-headed and dizzy and a little nauseous (which, FYI for anyone who might want to go to this restaurant, I'm pretty sure is not normal because no one else seemed to be anything other than a little freaked out by the darkness).

Thankfully, though, I realized that if I closed my eyes I calmed down immediately, since, you know, I'm used to not being able to see when my eyes are closed. And after a minute or two I was able to even keep my eyes open and enjoy the meal.

The experience ended up being completely awesome, and when they showed us the full menus after the meal I was surprised by how much I had guessed correctly. My dining buddy and I were also pretty impressed with ourselves for managing a system where we swapped the "surprise cocktails" that we had ordered so that we could try each others' drinks.

Another thing about the dark? It completely breaks down social boundaries. We sat at a table of 10, and even though we were 5 pairs of people that didn't know each other beforehand, conversations blended between pairs and groups because without visual cues, you often couldn't tell if the person next to you was addressing their friend, you, or everyone. At one point I definitely yelled across the table at someone a few people away from me because I overheard him talking about his food and it was clear he was eating from the same menu as I was (the meat menu, FYI) and I wanted to compare notes.

Good times. When I emerged from the room I was extremely grateful to have my vision back (unlike the waiters, who are actually blind).

 

And of course, here all the Stratejoy posts that you may have missed and that I forgot to link to:

- The time my attempt to not drink for a month went up in flames

- The big deal about beauty

- Sometimes you need to remind yourself to just keep swimming

- On the desire to push my own boundaries by letting go

- Defining my own version of freedom

- The time I did a crazy Bikram yoga class in the middle of Times Square

- Another one about what I learned from not drinking

The odd woman out

I am now going to write about a very important topic. I hope you're ready.

At some point during business school, over the many weekends that I stayed with various friends in NYC, I realized something very strange. I noticed that one of my friends puts her bras on upside down and backwards. She clasps it in the front, then turns it around and flips it up and puts it on.

I saw this go on (without seeing any boobs, for those of you who are wondering, hello any men reading this) and was all, "Are you 13 years old? Put your bra on like an adult." I thought it was totally crazy that a grown woman would still do this. I put my bra on the way it's supposed to go on. I clasp it behind my back and it takes me all of 3 seconds.

The next time I was out at dinner with the girls, I took an informal poll as to how people put their bras on. And you know what I found out?

EVERYONE PUTS THEIR BRAS ON UPSIDE DOWN AND BACKWARDS.

Further polling has given me similar results.

I mean, what the fuck?

I was flabbergasted. Everyone was all, "wah wah it's easier, it's so hard to do it when you can't see." PEOPLE! Do men not take bras off without seeing? I mean sure maybe it's easier to open than to close but some guys can do it with one hand and my friends, I most certainly cannot clasp my bra with one hand so I'd say we're about even. Me and the men, that is.

Also, I do this every day. Most men probably don't deal with bras every day. And if they do, well, lucky them.

For realsies, though. Am I the only woman out there who took the time to struggle through putting a bra on PROPERLY, much in the same way we struggle to learn to tie our shoes? Sure, at first it's a little slow but after doing it like, 10 times you get the hang of it. I swear, I will race any chick out there who puts her bra on backwards like a 12 year old and I'll win. Even with one of those bras with 3 clasps.

Okay, the idea of this race is pretty weird, so feel free to not hold me to it. But you get the idea.

What is this world coming to when women refuse to learn a simple task? Dear women out there: if you have an itch on your back, let's say, right around the spot where your bra usually is, can you reach back and scratch it? Can you write legibly between the lines on a sheet of ruled paper? If you answered "yes" to both of these, congratulations! You are both flexible enough and have strong enough fine motor skills to be able to put your bra on without all the twisting and whatever else. Try it out sometime.

Is anyone with me on this?

Pretty but stupid

Chad Ochocinco is a sexy, sexy man.

The thing is, his last name is OCHOCINCO. ON PURPOSE.

I'm sorry, but among the many good reasons that exist for changing your last name, mainly if you get married or your last name just happens to suck, the desire to reflect the numbers on the back of your jersey is not one of them.

Changing your last name to your football number is about as stupid as getting a tattoo. Yes, I realize many of you have tattoos. And yes, I think you're a fool for getting one. And no, I don't care how much those song lyrics or some cryptic symbol that most people don't understand reflects who you are or who you used to be or reminds you of someone who passed away. But it's okay, I'll still be your friend. But only the kind of friends who don't get matching tattoos.

Chad, even though you also did a sort of foolish thing by making a kinda-sorta-permanent life change in order to reflect something that's really only temporary, I will still be your friend. Mostly because you're hot. If you and Cheryl Burke break up (are they even together? Does anyone know? Why is she wearing his "thank you" diamond ring on her ring finger?), call me.

Nicole Scherzinger, you can call me too. You are also hot and I would like to be in the Pussycat Dolls. Let's discuss.

Now that Buzz Aldrin is gone, there are some seriously sexy people left on Dancing With the Stars.

I love television.

Seriously, do this

Okay, I had heard here and there about the Nestle Crunch hotline before, but when I read about it through a friend's Facebook status, I had to finally try it.

Seriously, do this. It's kind of adorable.

1) Call the Nestle Crunch hotline at 1-800-295-0051
2) When asked if you want to continue in English or Spanish, don't press anything but wait a little bit.
3) Smile at the awesome
4) Press option 4
5) You can then go with any of the options. I personally went with option 7 (hilarious), and am too lazy to call back and try the other ones, but I bet they're all amazing. If you try them, let me know how it goes.

I love it when corporate people have a sense of humor =)

The nose knows

In the spring of my junior year of college, my sorority went on a weekend retreat, as we do every semester. We broke off into small groups and played that game where everyone writes a question on a piece of paper and puts it in a bowl, and then one by one people pick out a question and answer it for the group. If it was a particularly good question we always insisted that everyone answer it instead of just the person who picked it.

Someone drew the question, "Name one smell that you associate with a specific memory, and tell us about the memory." My sisters decided it was a great question and wanted everyone to answer. I, as the eternal cynic and not-giver-of-a-shit-about-lame-things-in-people's-lives, groaned. I did my best to not pay attention as everyone else answered, and when it was my turn, I couldn't come up with anything. Smells, memories, what? People are weird.

Not a week later, I was in the sorority house kitchen, cooking myself dinner. I got a whiff of the chicken I was making, and all of a sudden I was transported back a few months earlier to my time in Sydney, where I had made this dish at least once a week. I could see my Aussie kitchen and townhouse clearly, and could almost hear the daily rantings of my Irish roommate, Michael. It was a trip.

I have since learned what many of you probably know already, which is that smell is the sense most strongly linked to memory.

Since that time about 5 years ago, I've experienced the crazy smell-memory sensation less than a handful of times.

Last night, I was washing my face with a lemongrass scented sample size face wash I had never used before. As soon as it hit my face, I was no longer in the bathroom of my brother's upper west side apartment. I was in my freshman dorm, surrounded by my hallmates, dressed in skimpy tanktops while dancing to Britney Spears and getting ready to go out to the hot frat party of the moment. The reason? My face wash smelled exactly like Bacardi Limon, my freshman year pregaming shot of choice. Overconsumption of the stuff led me to swear it off early in my sophomore year, and I haven't had it since (at least not straight).

I hope the next time I have a crazy smell-memory experience it conjures up something just as pleasant and just as powerful, only without the sudden onset of nausea.

What the cards have in store

As none of you probably recall, my sole New Year's resolution at the start of 2009 was to try things I was curious about. As such, with all my lovely free time this summer, I will be starting bartending classes on June 15th because I have wanted to do it FOREVERRRR. I am SO SO SO EXCITED to learn about all things alcohol. But that's not what this post is about.

You also probably do not recall that when, in ye olde blog, I talked about this New Year's resolution, I gave one specific example of something I wanted to try. And that, dear friends, was having my tarot cards read.

When I got a Groupon email about a pretty large discount to a psychic place in downtown Boston a few weeks ago, I couldn't resist. As soon as I got home I fiendishly wrote down everything the guy said so as to remember it all, so using my notes I will provide you all with the highlights. First, the generic.

My psychic man definitely told me some things that, while true, aren't terribly specific. For example, "You're still trying to figure out what you want to do with your life," (yup) "You're involved in business," (yes, I'm in business school but couldn't you sort of say this about anyone who has any kind of job?) "You really want to own your own home/apartment/condo one day," (I would kill to be able to buy an apartment in NYC but I mean...who doesn't want to own real estate?) and "You love traveling" (I had gotten back from Europe 2 days earlier but no mention of having just been on a trip).

Next, there was a bit about the future. Apparently I'm going to make a lot of money in a few years, I will definitely get my dream apartment in Manhattan (saweeeeet), and if I choose to start my own business I will be very successful at it. I will also make some money this summer ("some" being a pretty flexible word, I'm thinking) and I will also begin figuring out what the hell I'm doing with this crazy life of mine. I will also either meet a guy on August 5th, or meet a guy whose birthday is August 5th. He will be 5 foot 9 with brown hair, and his initials will be LJ or JL. We will meet at a party or a bar and there will be sparks from the get go (if this happens, updates forthcoming and also, the part of my life where I become totally convinced that these people are for real and I make appointments to get my tarot cards read for the rest of my life).

Then there's the stuff that was sort of freakishly spot on. He told me that I had some problems earlier this year that stemmed from an old relationship (true) and that they were being revisited (I had received an email that morning about months-old issues). He also said, "Moving at the end of the summer would be a positive thing for you." It just so happens that I'm moving to a new apartment on September 1. And finally, there was: "You have a girl friend who drinks like a fish." Though what I said to him was, "There's more than one!" I absolutely know who the ONE is.

Then there's the really weird part. Out of the blue, this happens:

Psychic man: I'm getting something about Tufts.
Arielle: WHAT?
PM: Something about past relationships having to do with Tufts. Anything about an ex-boyfriend have to do with Tufts?
A: Umm...my ex-boyfriend and I both went there. ~Stares at the tarot cards laid out on the table~ WHERE DO YOU SEE TUFTS IN THESE CARDS?
PM: Just got a sense somehow. You know, I've been doing this for years and sometimes I even amaze myself.

Keep in mind, folks, that I never mentioned the name of my college, the fact that I had gone to college in Boston or that I had ever lived in Boston before graduate school. I never mentioned anything about how I knew my ex or anything about him except to say "yup, uh huh" when the guy said something true. So yeah.

Overall, I would say that my first experience with a psychic was slightly above average. The Tufts comment really put it over the top for me and helped offset some of the garbage he said, such as that I might have children next year. SO HELP ME GOD I WILL NOT HAVE CHILDREN IN 2010. Anyway, I'm interested to see how much of the future prediction stuff actually comes true. I shall keep you lovelies posted.