For awhile, everyone told me I would like The Decemberists. Even articles describing the band’s audience described, um, me: a former English major, someone from Portland, someone who likes stories and indie rock. But when I tried the band out, I didn’t like them at first. Every song seemed to be a guy singing along to acoustic guitar, which contrary to popular belief is not the kind of music I like.

But then last year, I heard their most recent album, “The Crane Wife.” It won me over. I liked the album so much, last Wednesday I dragged Kyle to see them at The Warfield in San Francisco.

The Decemberists sound every bit as good live as they do on their CDs. In fact, the slower songs may even have more energy live. Or maybe it’s that their songs make more sense when you see them performed. By watching, you not only hear how intricate the songs are, you see it. The band is known for using lots of instruments, and there were quite a few on the stage–different keyboards/pianos, an upright bass, a melodica, an accordion, etc.–that the musicians switched around throughout the performance, bringing out layers to the songs that I hadn’t noticed before.

The band has good showmanship, too. For the Shankill Butchers–a song about a serial-killer butcher–lead singer Colin Meloy had the lights go all red to set the mood. At other times, the lights were aqua and with the rippling keyboards and guitar, the audience in the pit looked like underworld creatures looking up at the sun. The band also had audience participation for 16 Military Wives, but Meloy handled it so casually you didn’t feel like you were being coerced into a sing-along–a pet peeve of mine–and so it was fun when the entire audience alternated for the La-de-das for the song. At the end, one by one, the band members went into the audience, and a 12-year-old kid jumped up on the empty stage to play the drums and the guitar. The stagehand ran out as if to chase him off the stage, but instead tightened the kid’s the guitar strap, which got a laugh from the audience. After the kid sang a song and jumped off the stage, the band got back on and did their final numbers.

And here’s the thing: As much as I love music, part of me has a hard time sitting through a concert. This is true in everything from a symphony to my very favorite bands–something about sitting and listening to music makes me antsy. So this is one of few concerts I have ever been to that held my attention all the way through. I was entertained and impressed. If you like The Decemberists, go see them live.

Here’s When The War Came off The Crane Wife, which you can buy here.

My new article in the North Bay Bohemian looks into how California is spending the money we give them for schools. Maybe the problem isn’t so much the amount of money in the system as how the money is being used. How much of it is really reaching the classrooms?

It’s not as though there isn’t any money. In California, 51 cents out of every tax dollar–including sales and income tax–goes to education. On top of that, voters last year approved a $3.5 billion bond for public schools. Nevertheless, the state has some of the lowest test scores in the country. In 2005, California ranked 47th for education, meaning that only three other states had students who scored worse on standardized tests.

However, the Department of Education believes we still aren’t spending enough. Per-pupil spending in California is 30 percent below the national average, according to DOE director of policy and evaluation Pat McCabe.

Still, others are suggesting that it isn’t so much the amount of money in the educational system as how the money is being used–primarily for inefficient and bloated programs that aren’t reaching the classrooms.

More here.

Check out my cover story in the Pacific Sun about Marin County poets. I really liked doing this one. Not only did I get to think about poetry for a month, I got to interview respected poets like Jane Hirshfield, Kay Ryan, and Robert Hass. I also discovered I really like Kay Ryan’s work–in fact, I bought her most recent book for my own enjoyment. So if nothing else, this article got one person reading more poetry: me.

I overworked earlier this week, so I had to force myself to stop and rest so my hands don’t get like this.

So I made a necklace:

Kurt Vonnegut died last night. This it sad. Until yesterday, he was one of the few living writers who had the legendary status of writers like Kafka or Fitzgerald in my mind. His work is the best bridge I know to get teenage boys who read nothing but science fiction to read literature. His books are funny, vivid, weird, imaginative, and deal with some of the biggest questions of our age–God and science, war, the destruction of the planet, etc.

Not too long ago, I read The Sirens of Titan and was impressed with the quality of Vonnegut’s imagination. Written in 1959, it has such vivid descriptions of Mars and Saturn and Titan that it made me wonder if we haven’t lost something with all our current technological understanding of the solar system.

I haven’t read all of Vonnegut’s books, but as luck would have it, I recently got a lot of them. I was going to read something post-20th century for once next, but I think I’m going to put that aside for a bit and read his work instead.

ETA: I was going to put up a recent Bookworm interview I heard with Vonnegut, but I got distracted by this YouTube video where he talks about getting started as a writer:

I had a family and I wasn’t making nearly enough money to support the family. So I started writing short stories on weekend. And there was an enormous magazine industry at that time which paid very high prices for stories and they needed lots of them. Saturday Evening Post published five a week, Collier’s published five a week, Liberty Post published five a week and they paid tons of money for them. And I began that way and I wrote one and the Saturday Evening Post bought it and paid me one-eighth what I was making at General Electric a year. And so I wrote another one and they paid me more. In a period of a few months, I had made more money than General Electric was prepared to pay me all year. I had money piled up.

Ok, now I really am depressed.

• Let’s see how long I can go without going to the grocery store (usually until I run out of coffee or nonfat milk).
• Let’s see if getting free samples has any impact whatsoever on my budget. (It doesn’t, but it does help me more successfully play game number one. A free coffee sample? Great, I don’t have to go to the grocery store today.)
• Let’s see how long I can make a garbage bag last before I have to change it. (Nine days is the record.)
• Let’s see how many people I can get to eat a piece of strawberry cake before it goes bad. (So far, four.)
• Instead of hanging up my clothes, let’s do it slowly by hanging up one piece of clothing every time I go into the bedroom.
• If I root a potato and put it in the ground, will it really grow? Even if it is a weird purple hybrid potato?
• If I take a dollar out of Kyle’s wallet every time I see it, will I squirrel away a big store of cash that we can suddenly use to do something fabulous? (The answer is no. This is a stupid game when you are an adult with a savings account.)
• If I leave the junk mail in the mailbox with the flag up, will the mailman get confused and take it back with him? (No! Alas.)
• Will I like an audiobook of the Hardy Boys mystery The Case of the Missing Chums simply because I like the word “chum”? Let’s see!

Kyle’s newest TechTarget article is up: Data center consolidation, virtualization: Ultra-dense server deployments.

I have no idea what that means. Still, proud!

ETA: Also, this one: Lights out management: How to administer servers from the Bahamas. As far as I know, Kyle has never been to the Bahamas.

My husband has started referring to me as a happy person. I don’t think of myself that way because I used to be sort of unhappy, but I suppose these days, it’s true. Especially lately. Things are going well with my career and personal life and it fills me with joy (no pun intended).

As far as emotions go, they don’t get much better than joy. It is an extremely deep emotion, unlike happiness, which can be more fleeting and shallow. But joy is the counter-balance of depression, a combination of contentment and peace and happiness all at once. I believe it comes from God. It rocks.

One thing that is making me so happy is a steady flow of new projects that I’m interested in–articles about poetry, articles about writing, book reviews, and even a book contest that I have been asked to judge. I’ve never judged a contest before. Meanwhile, there are my own projects: My never ending novel, other possible book projects, short stories, essays, Word Pirate stuff, etc. Even my rejection letters are nicer than they’ve ever been with editors commenting to me personally about the quality of my work or idea and their regret at not being able to use it.

On top of that, I’ve been much more focused as a writer lately. Something happened to me about two weeks ago and I had a day where I was filled with a calm euphoria of concentration that kind of blew my mind. Although the feeling went away, it’s like I learned something from it and have been able to focus ever since. I’m not so jittery and inclined to goof off. I’m getting things done, and that makes me feel accomplished.

I’m starting to think that I was right in January when I decided that 2007 would be different from 2006. I allowed a lot of things to weigh me down last year without realizing it, and in December, I cut some things away and changed some bad habits. It is great to be reaping the fruit of the seeds I sowed back then.

Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass
This life can be.
Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass,
Not beautiful
Because common, beautiful because beautiful;
Noble because common, because free.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay

(Photo taken by Smicksy, who also made this awesome corset.)

Happy Easter!

On Friday, my landlord butchered the fabulous quinces outside my office, turning them into nubs. Why? I don’t know. But he reminded me why I need my own house and my own yard.

Nevertheless, I gardened this weekend. I planted spinach and red poppies and chives and cilantro. I hung a hummingbird feeder on the window in the hopes of watching some hummingbirds while I write (so far no luck). I dug up half of the soil in my garden and turned it over so it would be ready when I plant the rest of my garden next week.

I also continued my battle against the swarm of aphids already taking up residence in the rose bushes. A couple of sources said that aphids don’t like the oil in citrus skins, so I boiled lemon skins in water and put the concoction in a spray bottle. It seemed to work–when I sprayed the lemon water on the roses, the aphids fell right off, and haven’t come back so far. And it smells kind of nice.

Despite the quince debacle, at least some nature is left in my yard. I turned over a bag I’d left out and discovered a reddish salamander underneath. I haven’t seen a salamander since I was a kid, so I was excited and had Kyle take a picture.

Salamanders are a lot more like baby snakes than I remember. They are also kind of slow-witted. He didn’t even try to get away. I put him in back in a moist place.