Occasionally, I find myself in strange situations where I have to defend my person tastes in music. It happened again yesterday. As is often the case, I found myself engaged in a conversation about bands with a person so so animated that she was in danger of creating a gravity well and sucking herself up inside a black hole of her own creation. “Don’t you just LOVE Arcade Fire? I hope they come back again this summer!” She did a little pirouette just to emphasize that she was ready to dance out into the street with the band one more time. There was an awkward pause while my brain chugged away, wondering what the reaction might be if I told her the truth of how I felt. After what felt like milliseconds, I decided to take a stand and speak the truth. “To be honest, I just don’t get the Arcade Fire. I mean, I’ve listened to their music over and over again, but for whatever reason, nothing they do really speaks to me.” Her reaction couldn’t have been more profound if I had served her up a piece of vomit pie. “What are you talking about? They’re AWESOME! I LOVE everything they do! EVERYONE does!” “Apparently not,” I replied, “I seem to be the odd person out.” “Philistine! Heretic! Unbeliever!” she hissed, her head spinning around on her shoulders, mucous spewing from her ears. “You don’t know ANYTHING about music.” With that, she stalked off, screaching flubbery about me being “unclean” and a “musical Neanderthal.” I did, however, find it amusing that her still spinning head lent a doppler effect to the whole tirade. It was like being shouted at by an old Hammond organ connected to a Leslie cabinet. On legs. This woman’s reaction to my lack of love for Arcade Fire did nothing to change my mind. I see that they’re a competent band who put on fine shows. I realize that critics from Pitchfork on down (or is that up?) have pronounced undying admiration for the group. And I’m fully aware that the Cool Kids believe in the group, body, heart and soul. I, however, Just. Don’t. Get. It. Maybe it speaks to my lack of taste or an insensitivity to great art. Or it could be that the noises the band makes doesn’t cause my brain to gush with dopamine, the “that-feels-SO- good-gimme-more” hormone at the root of our feelings of pleasure. I’m at a loss as to why the Arcade Fire does nothing for me yet sends others into paroxysms of orgasmic delight. And it’s not just Win and Co. Here is a list of bands that, for one reason or another, leave me cold DESPITE what the critics say. Wilco (or any Jeff Tweedy project) My Morning Jacket My Chemical Romance Ron Sexsmith (sorry, but I just don’t) The Dave Matthews Band (or anything involving pointless live jams) Anything REM did after 1991 Anything remotely labelled “emo” The aforementioned Arcade Fire I’m sure you found yourself in similar positions. When someone is moved by a band that leaves you cold, you immediately begin to question your taste, knowledge and coolness. “What am I missing?” you ask yourself. Maybe something. Maybe nothing. In fairness, though, sometimes I do come around. There were no words to describe how much I hated the Smiths. While I understood their importance and influence, they made me cringe more than Morrissey at a deli counter serving freshly clubbed Canadian baby seal fillets. But after a while, their music began to grow on me. At first, it felt like a fungus that only made me itch in strange places. But I’m now a fan. I’ve been assimilated into the Smiths Collective. So here’s my question to you: what are some of the critically-acclaimed bands that you just don’t get? And it’s okay to be honest.

I hate Arcade Fire too! I hate everything there is about Dave Matthews. Wilco escapes me. My Morning Jacket do nothing for me. At least I have Alan Cross to back me up when the masses start call for my burning at the stake.

I’ve finally contented myself with the world. I am the happiest I have been in years. YEARS. Some people may say I’m “glitterific”. But as much as I love working for the big bad corporation I know I can not keeping living life as a minimum wage Retail Wench. Dare I be so hopeful? Will I break my contentedness for the “now?”

The long line of women who cue up behind him everywhere he goes will turn an Aries girl who’s been a gentle lamb into a Dragon Lady, with fire flaming from her ears. Mars jealousy is often irrational, and it does tend to cramp his Venus style. Still, before he decides to leave her because she is spoiling all his fun, the Libra man might meditate on the word “love”

A quote from a random book I was reading at the bookstore. Too funny. Too true.

I’m still reeling weeks later from watching then reading Into The Wild. I can’t get Alexander Supertramp out of my head.

I still can’t stand to watch Hilary Swank. But this movie was awesome! I cried the whole way through it.

I was so instantly filled with rage that I started to rip the hideouts down to the ground. I scattered the branches in all directions. The physical exertion was calming. I felt better knowing they were gone. I carried on and finished my walk having internal arguments about how silly recreational hunting is. I don’t want to worry about some fool from the city trespassing on our property because he’s got a shiny new gun from Rednex ‘R Us and an itchy trigger finger that can’t wait to shoot dead anything that moves (including me or my dog) within his sight line. I brushed the dirt from jeans and went home feeling like my crusade was success.

Imagine my surprise when I found a re-built hideout this afternoon.

This time I made sure every twig was scattered. I took two of the biggest branches and made an X between the trees. Then as my final statement I took my pants down and pee’d right in the middle of the former hideout.

And so I go to war.

They all start to get their hopes up around Groundhog Day. Did the rodent see his shadow or not? Does it matter? It’s still six weeks either way. And who actually believes that spring magically appears in the middle of March?

Then it’s March 21st, the first day of spring according to the little square on the calendar. I watched them on the evening news counting down the hours to a glorious and instant transition. The poor fools were so disappointed when all their fairweather dreams didn’t come true.

But what I really love is to watch the poor fools suffer and moan when we get those inevitable last couple storms that really knock us down for a couple days. They cry themselves to sleep while asking God why we are made to suffer for an eternity in Hell frozen over.

I don’t fall for those false hopes. I refused to even think about summerizing my truck (read as removing the small elephant I keep to weigh down the back to stop my rear end for spinning out) until I had some hard evidence that winter had its last word. Even yesterday when I was out and about in flip flops I was hesitant to accept it as the end.

But today was different. I got my sign that spring has arrived.

Every day I take my dog for a walk around the perimeter of the farm. We walk along the fence rows. She finds sticks for me to throw. She knows our route so well that she runs ahead and sits to wait at our favourite trailside log for a little rest. All this time I’m keeping an eye out for spring and I didn’t find it until this morning.

The green has come back. Little shoots of grass were poking out from underneath the dead mass of last year’s growth. The hard little buds on the tree branches softened and released their tender leaf within. There is a perceivable hint of green as you gaze out across the undergrowth.

I will never understand why people put themselves through so much agony when their last hope falters. If only they knew to wait for the green to come back.

Trust is this early morning’s source of conflict. I’m trying to decide if it is ever possible to truly trust another person. I have kept myself so deeply hidden behind the walls I’ve built to protect myself that I wonder if it will ever be possible to remove the walls long enough to achieve total intimacy with another person. I want to be able to share and discuss inner thought processes that I keep tucked away for safe keeping. I may be the strong and silent type who maintains a calm and silent appearance, but underneath it all there is a maelstrom waiting to be unleashed. I want to stretch my legs and hit the ground running