I’ve never been to Boston.

I have three connections to the city that made the news today:

1. I applied to Boston University my senior year of high school. (I didn’t get in.)
2. My Great Aunt Ruth swears Babe Ruth is a distant cousin on my mom’s side. (Although I know enough about Boston to know that’s nothing to brag about.)
3. When I was a kid, sometimes I would say things and according to my mom, I sounded like I had just arrived fresh from the East Coast. “You sound like you’re from Boston!” she often exclaimed. At the time, I didn’t even know what someone from Boston sounded like, but I liked the idea of being from somewhere different, somewhere far away from my hometown. (Later, as a teenager, I visited a psychic who, among other things, told me I had been a writer during the Revolutionary War in, you guessed it, Boston. When I told my mom this she nodded knowingly, as if this explained my “accent.”)

I don’t know much about Boston, but I do know what it feels like to be a runner. When I heard the news today of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, I immediately thought of all those runners–from Boston and the rest of the nation, and some from other countries. I didn’t know anyone running the marathon, but I instantly felt a connection. They were runners. They were my people.

I started my relationship with running a little over a year ago, and though we’ve had our good days (running my first 5K) and our bad days (tripping and banging my knee up all nice and ugly two days before said 5K), it’s a pretty happy relationship. I know how cathartic it can be to simply put one foot in front of the other, hitting the pavement to the rhythm of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born To Run.” (That’s my running anthem, but we all have our own.) I know even when we complain about running in the cold and the rain, we secretly love it; we get a slight thrill out of our sneakers splashing through a puddle, leaving our socks waterlogged. “If I can run in this weather,” we tell ourselves, “I can run any day.” And as someone who spent the greater part of her college career in and out of psychiatrists’ offices, on and off a rainbow of meds, I know often times running is the best form of therapy.

When I think of the runners today who were literally forced off their path, I feel so incredibly helpless. It’s easy to look at this situation and proclaim that you’ve lost faith in humanity. But the people in Boston today didn’t do what was easy; they did so much more. Like the runners who crossed the finish line and continued to run to Massachusetts General Hospital to donate blood to victims. (This evening, the Red Cross said there was currently enough blood donated to meet the high demand. Let that sink in.) Or the first responders who, when the first bomb went off, ran toward the explosion. Or the reporters and photographers from The Boston Globe who covered this terrible tragedy–literally in their backyard–with such grace and dignity. And the countless spectators who helped wounded strangers. As Connie Schultz so eloquently put it, “America, my faith in you is unshakeable.”

Some people are already wondering if the Boston Marathon will happen next year. Like I said, I don’t know a lot about Boston, but it sounds like it’s a city full of some tough people who have plenty of gumption to go around. If I was a betting lady, I’d say the marathon will go on next year.

Next month I’ll run my first 10K. After that, I’ll work up to a half marathon. And then the big one: the marathon. I always assumed I’d run my first marathon in Cleveland, but you know, I think Boston sounds like a great place for a first marathon.

Know this Boston: When you bounce back for your next marathon–whether it’s next year or not–I’ll be there. And I’ll see you at the finish line.

If you’re wondering where I’ve been hiding the answer is: under a pile of books. A little over two months ago, I made it my mission to read all the unread books on my bookshelf before buying anymore. I started with 32 books. So how much progress have I made? See for yourself:

• I got rid of two books. Cleaving by Julie Powell and Retromania by Simon Reynolds. After reading the back covers/online reviews I decided I wasn’t that interested in reading them. (When you’re dealing with more than two dozen books, you don’t have time for ones that don’t catch your fancy.
• Which makes my new total 30.
• Since I started the challenge, I’ve ready five books. Here they are:

L-R: Jane’s Fame: How Jane Austen Conquered The World; Lots Of Candles, Plenty Of Cake; Saga Of The Swamp Thing; Miniature Sulk; The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time

• I’m currently reading Hillary Clinton’s autobiography, Living History.

So now that the numbers are out of the way, let’s talk books.

I was surprised by how much I liked the two comic books I read. Miniature Sulk was so weird and trippy, but the drawings were great. I read Saga Of The Swamp Thing in one sitting, and it tweaked my interest in the genre. I’m gonna hit up  Carol and John’s this week and see what other books catch my interest. (Thinking Batman or The Walking Dead. Suggestions?) (And it doesn’t count if I buy comic books. I just said I couldn’t buy books. That’s my theory, and I’m sticking to it.)

Jane Austen wasn’t nearly as exciting or popular as her books. Let me rephrase: I’m sure Ms. Austen had a quite nice life and was very content, but that’s just it: It was pretty normal. We’d like to believe she experienced great love and found her own Mr. Darcy, but in reality, she was just a single lady with an amazing talent.

I love Anna Quindlen, and I’ve read all her novels and several of her nonfiction books. Her memoir, Lots Of Candles, Plenty Of Cake offered insight into one of my favorite writers, along with her thoughts on marriage, friends, growing older and raising kids. I plan to revisit the book when I’m a bit older, and I have a feeling I’ll appreciate it even more then.

The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-time: If you like Room by Emma Donoghue, I suggest you read this book. It’s a quick read, and after you read it you’ll realize just how how powerful it is. It’s one of those books that just sneaks up on you.

I’ve got 25 more to go. So until my next update, happy reading.

if it’s here when we get back it’s ours.

On Friday, February 15 I saw Texas Is The Reason play the Black Cat in Washington, D.C. It was the third date of their farewell tour. As soon as I made it back to Cleveland Sunday evening, I wanted to write a blog about how amazing the show was. But I didn’t. I told myself I would write it sometime during the week. Again, I didn’t. Two weeks and two days later, I’m finally writing about it. I think I needed some time to let it soak in. I don’t think I could have written it before this because then I would have to admit that they really were finished. Texas Is The Reason aren’t going to keep playing shows well into their sixties like the Rolling Stone and they won’t have multiple “farewell” tours a la Cher. This time would be the last time.

would you know what to say? would you know how to feel?

I first heard about Texas Is The Reason while reading Andy Greenwald’s Nothing Feels Good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, and Emo. I was 15, just beginning to delve deeper into this world of “alternative” music, and Greenwald’s book was my text. Although I knew about Dashboard Confessional and Jimmy Eat World, there were other bands he wrote about that I had never heard of: Lifetime, the Promise Ring, Braid and of course, Texas Is The Reason. I listened to all the bands, but I fell in love with Texas Is The Reason.

To say I was late to the Texas band-wagon, is an understatement. When the band got together in 1994, I was six. Two years later they released Do You Know Who You Are?, one of the most influential albums of the ’90s post-hardcore/emo scene. (Of course at the time, I was in third grade.) But eventually, I did catch up, and today they’re one of my favorite bands. When I found out they were back together and were doing a small tour, I was excited. When I learned they were playing a show in D.C., which also happens to be where my best friend lives, I was buying a ticket and booking a flight.

but it’s days like this that keep me alive.

I think another reason I put this post off for a bit is because I didn’t know how to describe the show. It was the best show I’ve ever been to, no question. When they took the stage, I was overcome with such an intense feeling–I don’t even know what to call it. For a minute, I thought I would start crying. Not an “OMG IT’s TITR!!” crying but an “Oh my god. It’s Texas Is The Reason. I’m finally seeing them live–and it will never happen again.” It was a feeling of pure excitement mixed with a tinge of sadness. Seeing as I missed the golden era of Texas Is The Reason, I didn’t expect to be so overcome with emotion. But it doesn’t matter when you discover a band; that feeling never goes away.

Texas Is The Reason are, most likely, never getting back together. They’ll play their final U.S. show March 30. The members have mended their relationships and have moved on to successful careers and families. They’re the perfect example of how to lead a successful life after music. And yet, I’m still not sure I’ll ever fully accept that they’re done. I’m happy for them, and I’m thrilled I got to see them. But this band was a starting off point for me. Before them, I hadn’t even heard the term “post-hardcore” and I still thought emo meant skinny boys and swoopy hair. They taught me that the music I like means something to a lot of people. For a 15-year-old girl who went to high school with a bunch of kids who thought Kenny Chesney was the best music had to offer, that notion was groundbreaking.

no we don’t even make a sound. just let the room spin us around.

Texas Is The Reason are done. And one day, all the bands I love will follow their path. Someday Say Anything and Against Me! and Touché Amoré and the Gaslight Anthem will all stop being bands. It’s not an easy fact to swallow, but it’s not impossible to accept. They’ll move on and maybe one day, they’ll get together and play a final show at the Black Cat. And you can bet I’ll be there.

To Garrett, Christopher, Norman and Scott: Thank you, one last time.

Okay, maybe the word “great” is a bit of an overstatement, but it is definitely an overdue challenge. I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just come out with it: I have a book problem. What is a book problem, you may ask? Well, simply put, I buy too many books, and I buy them too often. I’m a voracious reader, and there’s always a book on my nightstand, but even I can’t keep up with my habit. Last summer, I looked at my bookshelf and realized just how many books I had bought but not read. It was like an intervention, except I intervened into my own life and there was no camera crew around to document the pivotal moment.

As you might recall, last May, I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish before summer ended. One of the things on the list was “Read the 38 unread books on my bookshelf.” I read quite a few books, but not quite 38 (actually nowhere near 38). Since then, I’ve bought more books, borrowed some from two local libraries and basically ignored the unread books I already own.

But this year, that changes.

I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions, but this year I decided to finish all the unread books on my bookshelf. I also decided not to buy any more books or check any out from the library until I accomplish my goal. It’s a pretty lofty goal, but I think I can handle it. (Plus, I need the room on my bookshelf.) So what exactly am I dealing with in the Great Book Challenge?

• 32 books: 19 nonfiction + 13 fiction 
• The first book on the list (not pictured): Jane’s Fame: How Jane Austen Conquered The World by Claire Harman
  
• one of the books is a comic book and another is a tiny graphic novel (or maybe a mini comic book? I don’t know.)
• The book I’ve had the longest: The Rolling Stone Interviews which my best friend bought me one Christmas… six years ago.
• The books I can’t wait to read: Grace: A Memoir; Lots Of Candles, Plenty Of Cake; and my last Jane Austen book

Once I finish the monumental task in front of me, I already know what I’m going to make book #33: Beautiful Creatures. What can I say? I really like books.

I ran two 5Ks, and signed up for my first half-marathon. I lost 32.6 pounds, and counting. I got my dream job, saw my byline in an ACTUAL real-life magazine and attended a ton of great shows from Taking Back Sunday to Into It. Over It. I celebrated my one-year anniversary as a Cleveland resident. (I believe I’m now an official Clevelander.) I’m sure there are a bunch of other things I did this year that I’m forgetting, from great new restaurants I tried to awesome bands I discovered. I think I’ve covered the highlights though. Of course a year-in-review post wouldn’t be complete without some photos.

Left: Holding up my first article; Right: First issue with my name in the masthead

Levi Benton of Miss May I, Jack Barakat of All Time Low and Beau Bokan of Blessthefall at a signing in the AP tent during Warped Tour.

Birthday card from my best friend.

The golden ticket to see my favorite president (and some guy named Bruce).

Adam Lazzara at the Cleveland stop of the Tell All Your Friends 10th-anniversary tour

Left: First 5K in September; Right: Second 5K in October

Happy Holidays, from the AP staff!

Jacquie was my favorite college professor, but for once, I’m not sure I like what she has to say. To carry this story with me sounds like quite the heavy burden. But I know she’s right.

I’m a journalist. It’s our job to cover the news, even when it’s bad. Tragedy, death, sadness. I thought I could get away from the “bad news” by going into music journalism. Turns out, death and tragedy hit musicians too.

About a month ago, I spoke with Mitch Lucker, lead singer of the heavy metal band, Suicide Silence, for an article I was writing for the January issue of AP. The story was about musicians who ride Harley-Davidsons.

On the morning of November 1, I learned that Mitch had died from injuries he sustained in a motorcycle crash the night before. He was 28. The theme of my article now seemed cruelly ironic.

Because of the story I was working on, Suicide Silence’s record label contacted me immediately. I was one of the first in the media to find out. As awful as it was, I realized I had news that no one else did, and our readers would want to know. I had to push my shock to the back of my mind. There’s little time for shock in journalism.

The web editor and I spent the day following the story and updating the website. It was my first breaking news. AP’s website crashed after I posted the initial story, but we managed to get it running again. We kept going.

As the day wound down, and all the news was posted, it hit me: This guy who I literally talked to weeks ago is dead. His name doesn’t mean much to the average person, but to people in the music scene AP covers, it was huge news, website-crashing news. Mitch left behind a five-year-old daughter. He would always post pictures of her on Twitter, and in each one he looks so happy–this tattooed guy who wore all black and played heavy metal, holding this adorable blonde kid. It was all so fucking sad.

Something tells me this part of the job never gets easier.

Last week, we finished production on the January issue. We decided to keep the Harley-Davidson special in the issue, but instead of running my interview with Mitch, we made a memorial page for him. We had photographed Mitch on his motorcycle, and we ran one of the photos. In the picture, he’s casually sitting on his Harley with the California sun setting behind him. I think it’s one of my favorite photos AP has ever printed. I think Mitch would have liked it too.

“You’ll carry this with you now,” Jacquie said. “But it’s okay.”

You only live one life / For the rest of time / So make every second divine.

The golden ticket

This week has been crazy: three concerts, four interviews for work, one stay at a sleep clinic and a million little errands to do (plus a 5K later today). Yet even with all that, I still made time to see my favorite president, Bill Clinton, make a stop in Northeast Ohio with the man, the myth, the legend: Bruce “the Boss” Springsteen.”

The event was an Obama Rally at Cuyahoga Community College’s Parma campus. I’m still not sure how I managed to snag a ticket, seeing as I didn’t find out until hours after tickets were made available. Although I’ve seen Bill speak before, this was my first time seeing Bruce. I wasn’t sure if he was going to give a speech or sing, but I was hoping for the latter. Fortunately, Bruce didn’t disappoint; he played six songs and peppered the in-between moments with some well-placed jokes. Although I was too far away to get a decent photo, I did managed to get some pretty good video of Bruce performing one of his songs. Check it out, and enjoy your weekend!

Seeing as I spend my weekdays elbow deep in CDs and magazine copy, you would think the last thing I want to do during the weekend is write about music. Usually you would be correct, seeing as I prefer to blog about baking pies, Bill Clinton and cheeseburgers. But tonight, dear reader(s), is different. With the end of the year only three months away–and let’s be honest, very few albums worth mentioning come out between October and December–and because I just love lists, I bring you my Top 10 Albums Of 2012. Ranked from “really good” to “good, but not Japandroids good,” here’s what I’ve been rockin’ this year.

1. Celebration Rock Japandroids
Remember saying things like “We’ll sleep when we’re dead,” / and thinking this feeling was never gonna end?

2. A Flash Flood Of Colour Enter Shikari
Don’t be fooled into thinking that a small group of friends, can’t change the world.

3. Handwritten The Gaslight Anthem
I know there’s someone out there feeling just like I feel. / I know they’re waiting up, I know they’re waiting to heal.

4. In Currents The Early November
Once upon a time, we were meant to be.

5. Some Nights fun.
We’d stay up late, debate on how we’d find our way. / You’d say it’s all up in the stars.

6. Babel Mumford & Sons
So come down from your mountain and stand where we’ve been. / You know our breath is weak and our bodies thin.

7. Violent Waves Circa Survive
I’ll always want to carry it all. / I’ll find a way to carry it all for you.

8. Gossamer Passion Pit
It’s far from giving up. / Cowards never say enough is enough.

9. What We Saw From The Cheap Seats Regina Spektor
Today we’re younger than we ever gonna be.

10. Anarchy, My Dear Say Anything
You were listening to my band in 2004 / though you claim you were reared on the Stooges.

Besides the usual things–bright leaves, pumpkin patches, Halloween candy and football–here are a few of my favorite things about my favorite season.

A couple presents from my birthday, which I celebrated yesterday. (It’s not the only reason I love fall, but it definitely helps.)

Hot apple cider in an appropriately festive mug.

Although Thanksgiving is my all-time favorite holiday, I’ve got a soft spot for Halloween too. (P.S. that pumpkin bucket is as old as me.)

I could eat soup every day until December. This year, I froze a few (all homemade!) so I could keep my cravings satisfied. L-R: chicken noodle, apple squash and spaghetti sauce. (The last one isn’t a soup, but it’s saucy, warm and hearty which are the requirements for a good fall food.)