One weekend my sophomore year of college, my sister-ish (Nicole) and the closest thing I'll ever have to a mother (Wendy)and I all went shopping. We were in a department store looking at shoes when we came across the ugliest pair of shoes I had ever seen. They were a pair of Nike athletic shoes that had a separate big toe holder. They were similar to the pair in the picture, but with an even uglier color scheme.
I jokingly held one up and showed Wendy. I QUIETLY made a joke about them being camel toe shoes. Wendy, completely oblivious to camel toe meaning anything other than the hoof on the animal with the humps, holds one over her head and yells at Nicole to "Look at the Camel Toe Shoe!" Immediately embarrassed I grabbed her by the arm and told her she couldn't yell that in public. She was so confused. By this time Nicole had come to the same side of the rack as us and we were both laughing so hard that we couldn't breathe, so much as speak.
Wendy just looked at us bewildered and and kept saying "What is a camel toe?" You would think that she would pick up on the fact that it was something inappropriate just by our reactions, but she kept going. Finally she said, "If you girls don't tell me what a camel toe is, I'm going to ask someone." Nicole and I did our best to try to contain her to our side of the isle while laughing so hard we were doubling over. Unfortunately, Wendy was very determined and walked to the end of the aisle to this poor man who was probably in his mid-twenties. She says to him, "Excuse me, could you possibly tell me what a camel toe is?"
The look on his face was priceless. He was doing his best to not die of laughter (like Nicole and I who were hiding behind the other side of the rack pretending not to know her.) The way she asked him was like she was asking him the time or for directions. He had this huge smile and just said, "I'm sorry I don't know what you are talking about." Clearly the poor man didn't want to explain to a 46 year-old woman that it was when a woman wore her pants too tight.
Nicole and I managed to put ourselves back togther, more out of the fear of her asking someone else, than out of the situation not still being funny and tell her what a camel toe was. She was so pissed at us. She couldn't believe that we let her ask that guy what it was.
That year on Wendy's birthday, Nicole and I happened to come across a pair on sale and we bought them for her. The look on her face when she opened the box was almost as good as when she first realized what she had asked a complete stranger.
Music is a means by which our culture communicates. The use of music allows us to relate within our culture and identify with subcultures. Mass media has changed and amplified the ways in which we experience music. With Internet access, we have exponentially increased our exposure and accessibility to all types and genres of music. In essence, music changes with culture, and culture with music. We even build communities around music, make assumptions about people with certain musical preferences, and evolve our musical repertoire as we evolve as people. Music is so ingrained in culture, that the two are impossible to separate. This means that as mass media creates one mass culture, music and the ways in which we experience it change in parallel.
Each individual's experience within culture is unique. There is no way to quantitatively explain how the internet has changed how my generation or any individual within that subgroup, has experienced music. We all have distinctive, but interconnected experiences with music. The best I can do is to explain the experience in the context of the ways in which I have been exposed to music in mass media, as I am a part of mass culture.
Most of us go through music evolutions in our lifetimes. We often start off listening to whatever our parents expose us to and then move on to what our older siblings tell us is cool. Eventually we develop a musical taste of our own. Before mass media, music was much more regionalized. There was a distinct sound to each genre based on locale. While that still exists, to some extent, it is not to the same degree due to the increased ability to find influence without geographical barriers (Peterson, 1974). The ways in which we are exposed to music have also progress with time. It was only about 120 years ago that the first sounds were recorded. My generation (born in the mid to late '80s) started leaps and bounds ahead with cassettes and moved to CDs and now we get most of our music from the Internet. The Internet and MP3 players are exceedingly more convenient and portable than any device we have had in the past for listening to music. Not only is the technology revolutionary, so is the way that we gain access to new or previously unknown artists. There is yet to be a better way than the Internet to discover new artists and increase exposure to unfamiliar genres. The Internet is a tool that music lovers, including myself, use to expand our musical knowledge and inflate our music libraries. The Internet has become an integral part of how my generation buys music, decides whom we will listen to, and where we go to see live music.
As a youngster, I had mixed exposure to music. My first concert was Robert Cray when I was four. Unfortunately, I would have rather been at a New Kids on the Block concert. I was a little obsessed, owning way more New Kids on the Block memorabilia than any one child should ever, ever own. Even now I will fess up to having “Hang Tough” on my itunes. It is funny how the Internet has even allowed me to keep up with my guilty pleasures in music. Now I would not even buy a New Kids on the Block CD from the bargain bin, but the dollar seemed worth the laugh that I get every time it shows up on shuffle.
While I still have musical skeletons in my closet (like most people), I cannot quantitatively explain how much the Internet has changed my repertoire of music or even the genres I chose to listen to. I can say that it has enlightened me in many ways and contributed to my love of music. The best example is how I fell in love with the blues. I used to think that blues was for old people and that it was the same ‘done me wrong’ lyrics with a different mix of words. Then I saw my dad watching a video of Johnny Lang online. Johnny Lang was in his mid-teens when his first album came out. It gave me a new perspective on what the blues was. Now I cannot get enough. My love of the blues spread to different artists and even different generation of musicians. I discovered a truth and vulnerability that, for me, is lacking in so many other genres.
While blues might not resonate the same way for everyone else, the capability of musical exploration gives each one of us a chance to find that song, artist, or genre that makes us look at life with a new perspective. The Internet allows us to be our own DJ. There is no one who limits our musical exploration. At the click of a mouse, you can hear music from all over the world. The Internet has made the world seem smaller in a way. This availability has even assumed a new role in the way that my generation experiences music. We experience it together in the form of fan sites, reading blogs from our favorite artists, watching youtube videos, downloading mp3s, and even though the use of places like myspace and facebook. Before the Internet, the limits of musical exposure were the radio, TV, the contents of your pocketbook, and the time to takes to dig through record store bins.
I find most of the new music that I fall in love with by perusing through favorite musicians that my friends list on myspace or facebook. Many of my friends send me links to videos or myspace pages dedicated to different musicians. If the link comes from someone that I mesh with musically, I will always listen to a few songs.
I am frequently added by bands on myspace. Sometimes they are just local bands that are looking for people to come out to their shows; sometimes they are growing national acts. In terms of advertising, it is perfect because the viewer has the chance to decide whether they are the target audience and it allows the band to spread their music. This is a great example of how the Internet allows for mutually beneficial music sharing.
Sometimes people magnetize to certain genres. You don’t have to be eclectic to benefit from the ease of the Internet. We can all culturally identify with the genres we love. In some ways, music is a means to relate or even pretend to be someone were not. My best friend and I grew up on a large horse farm out in the country. Growing up in the situation that we did, with country music on in the barn everyday, it is almost impossible to not love Country even just for nostalgic reasons. We have not gone to a single country concert where we could not pick out a whole mass of people pretending to be “country.” The pristine cowboy boots that have never seen a stirrup or a puddle of mud, the cheap cowboy hat and the mini-skirts gave it away. We always found it amusing that all of these people were there listening to the music that is not about anything that they had ever lived. They were frontin. They did not understand what it meant to be out in the barn at 6:00 am everyday or how much work it was to put up hay or fix fence. So what was the draw? Is it this “increasing cultural homogeneity”? Country, much like other genres (Blues, Rap, etc.) has spread beyond its once regionality and even once present class associations (Peterson, 1974).
So what drives the city kid to a go to a country concert or a suburban kid to a rap show? The answer is simple. The exposure to the culture somehow makes us feel like we want to be part of the subculture. In essence, with each computer with Internet access, the cultural lines get closer and closer. It is exceedingly common to enjoy what may have once seemed like completely opposing types of music. In a way these online communities that have spawned real-life communities, are blending the lines and dissembling the groups core. At one time music spoke about where you came from and what your ideals were. With the addition of members to a community with a different background, diversity is increased within the group, but homogeneity is increase amongst the entire population. Alan Jackson pokes fun at the phenomenon in his song “Gone Country.” The song is about how these “Country” singers decide to become country when they see the prospect of money, not because they relate to the music or the subculture.
She's been playin' in a room on the Strip For ten years in Vegas Every night she looks in the mirror And she only ages She's been readin' about Nashville and all The records that everybody's buyin' Says 'I'm a simple girl myself Grew up on Long Island' So she packs her bags to try to her hand Says this might be my last chance (Alan Jackson, 1994)
Not only has music allowed us to relate to others, it has given us the chance to experiment with our own identity. The information available on the musical communities and what each genre is rooted in, is endless on the Internet.
This leads me to the next way that the Internet has helped my generation expand our musical outlook. The Internet is a convenient way to track when your favorite artists are going to be in your vicinity. I use online resources to track the Madison and Milwaukee music scenes. Recently I have become dependant on a Facebook application which alerts me when one of my favorite musicians is playing locally. I’m sure there are multiple applications with similar functions, but the one I use is called ilike. This application’s use is two fold. Not only does it tell me when my favorite musicians are coming to town, it will tell me who else on my friends list is interested or planning on going to the show. It is easy to drop a message or a comment to any of my friends and arrange to meet up for the show. Concerts are always more fun with someone to share it with. . The Internet is a convenient way to track when your favorite artists are going to be in your vicinity. I use online resources to track the Madison and Milwaukee music scenes. Recently I have become dependant on a Facebook application, which alerts me when one of my favorite musicians is playing locally. I’m sure there are multiple applications with similar functions, but the one I use is called ilike. This application’s use is two fold. Not only does it tell me when my favorite musicians are coming to town, it will tell me who else on my friends list is interested or planning on going to the show. It is easy to drop a message or a comment to any of my friends and arrange to meet up for the show.
As useful as the ilike application is, myspace still has a place in keeping up to date with musicians as well. Many bands will use myspace bulletins to announce upcoming CD releases, shows, and any other important news. On myspace, unlike the ilike application, the contact between fan and artist is bidirectional. At least once every couple of days I will receive a friend request from a band. I am always on the lookout for new music, so I will give every musician a chance. Most often, they are local bands, which give me a chance to listen to them before I drive somewhere and pay a cover fee to see them. Either the national acts that have added me usually do so by adding people from the friend lists of bands that have a similar sound or from a band they are touring with. In most circumstances, it is mutually beneficial. It is a marketing tool for the band and I usually only get added by bands that are at least within the realm of my musical affinities.
Each of us finds our own way of relating to the music we love. Sometimes it is a means of therapy to which we turn if we have a bad day, been stuck in a bad situation, or even just to cheer ourselves up. Even when life is going well, music can serve as a way to keep it that way (Aigen, 2005). At the touch of a button, we can all go to the song that makes us smile. For me, it is “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison. Sometimes we need to relieve a little stress by singing our favorite angry song on the top of our lungs (or maybe that is just me.)
Whatever the motivation for the music we listen to, there is no doubt that the Internet has changed our social interaction when it comes to music. The limits on musical exploration have been lifted. With this freedom we have developed communities that are becoming increasingly diverse. The Internet allows us to span generations, genres, artists, and even communities. Each expansion and diversification of these communities changes mass culture. There is no question that music changes in much the same manner.
Sources:
Aigen, Kenneth. Music Centered Music Therapy. Gilsum, NH: Barcelona Publishers, 2005.
Firth, Simon. "Questions of Cultural Identity." Music and Identity (1997) 108-127. 15Apr2008 FCAC&oi=fnd&pg=PA108&dq=experience+music+genre&ots=zPE4D_ObGN&sig=6p7k4VyOjvbdnkxIG6B7_3Bf4BU#PPP7,M1>.
Gossburg, Lawrence. Mediamaking: Mass Media in a Popular Culture. 2nd. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publishers, 2005.
Jones, Steve. "Music and the Internet." Popular Music 1911Dec2000 217-230. 15Apr2008
Peterson, Richard A., Paul DiMaggio, and "From Region to Class, the Changing Locus of Country Music: A Test of the Massification Hypothesis." Social Locus of Country Music (1974): 498-516.
Peterson, Richard A.. "Popular Music Is Plural." Popular Music and Society Vol. 21(1997): 57-85
Wilensky, Harold L.. "• Mass Society and Mass Culture: Interdependence or Independence?." • American Sociological Review Vol. 29, No. 2(1964) 173-197. 13Apr2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
So I was going to blog about a classic story, but I'll save it for next week. I just gave myself some damn good material. My class ended about an hour ago and as soon as I got upstairs to my apartment, I decided to open a second window because my apartment was roasting. Our apartment is really cute, but in a really old building that I think was built in 1919. Anyway, I open the fist window and then try to open the second storm window thing. The whole thing falls out...screen, glass, frame...I mean the whole thing. Somehow I managed to catch it with one hand. Then it took me another couple of minutes to swing it back aroud to rest it on the window sill. This thing was heavy. I stood there for 15 mins just holding onto my window. Knowing that none of my roomates were supposed to be home for several hours, I decided to try and get my phone. After a few contortionist moves I managed to grab my purse with my foot and get my cell phone, all while not killing any pedestrians on the sidewalk two stories below. I called Chey, a guy I've gone on a few dates with, and he came over to help me. He ended up busting the screen out of the other window and hanging outside of my apartment. I was really scared that he was going to splat onto the sidewalk. He didn't and he fixed the window too. Major brownie points. And unlike my roommate who came home unexpectedly just before Chey got there, he didn't really laugh at me too much. My roommate thought it was hysterical and took pictures. (I'll post one when she puts them on facebook, which I know she will.) Maybe he's a keeper.
At the risk of sounding sappy, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed everyone in the class. I normally don't get the chance to know all of my classmates, but this semester I'll walk out knowing everyone's name. It was really cool that we all came from different backgrounds. It really made perspectives and even the blogs more interesting to read.
As you might have noticed, I could probably stand to be a little more shy, so don't be surprised if the semester ends and I still say hi to you if I'm walking down the street or just about anywhere else I might happen to run into one of you. In fact, last Friday I thought that I saw Colby at the City and was about to go say hi even though he was in the middle of a whole bunch of people. I realize at the last second that it wasn't Colby and I almost made an ass out of myself, but at least I am friendly.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The semester is winding down and most of my friends are a little stressed, but excited about graduating. I'm going to be here for an extra semester and I am dreading the end of the summer. I know I will still have people to hang out with and I'm not going to spend a semester of Friday nights sitting at home alone, but I am really going to miss my two best friends. I met them both my first week of freshman year. One of them will be moving back to Texas and the other one is volunteering in Peru/Argentina for a year. The whole college experience will be different without them. I knew this was going to happen, but I can't believe how fast these four years have gone. I don't feel old enough to be graduating from college.
What was everyone's favorite upper level college class so far? (I have some credits to fill and only upper level as the requirements.) I would love to have everyone's suggestions.
Earlier this week, in a lecture hall of around 400 students, one of my professors did something really inappropriate. He was having trouble zooming in on one of his slides and the class as a whole was trying to direct him to the magnifying glass button. A girl in the front row (who actually annoys the crap out of me) jumped up to help him on stage. She didn't hit the zoom button, and the class all yelled "No" at her in unison. Right after we did that, the prof motioned like he was pretending to shoot her in the back of the head with his hand.
Even though I laughed because the girl is on her own level of obnoxious, it really was wrong of him. She was just trying to help him.
On Monday, the same prof threatened us as a whole class. He was mad at us for packing up our things before the bell rang and for just generally not paying attention. (I try to listen, but the man is kind of monotone and I have a limited amount of focus). He said, "I haven't finished writing your exam for Thursday and I can't decide if I am mad at you guys, or really mad at you guys." After taking the exam, I think I can assess that he is moderately angry with us. Still, I think he should stick to his research. I'm sure he is intelligent, but having a lot of knowledge in an area, doesn't mean you have the ability to teach it to others and it certainly doesn't mean you have people skills.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Please answer my poll, it will help me determine what song I am going to use for my open media project. Also if anyone knows of a song that is used in random places and remade by artist of different genres, I would love some suggestions.
I stumbled upon this unfinished title to an article that won't actually let me read the article, but the title itself is funny. In case you don't know who Royce Gracie is, he is one of the original heroes of Mixed Martial Arts and UFC. He is basically a master of submissions.
"Royce Gracie fight Obama or Mitt Romney may never set foot..."
I was distracting myself on facebook and stumbled upon a name that immediately made my stomach drop. It took me back to middle school and to one of my biggest regrets. I have never been more angry with myself for anything to this day.
It was 8th grade and I was friends with a kid I'll call Scott. Scott came to me one day, upset and angry. Apparently his dad beat him frequently and had hit him for what Scott said was going to be the last time. He told me that his dad has two grand hidden under his bed and that he was going to steal it and take a bus to Chicago.
Being way more rational and intuitive than most of my peers at the time, I immediately tried to brainstorm an alternative with him. I knew that $2,000 wasn't going to get him very far and that he couldn't get a real job, place to stay, or even rent a hotel room at the age of 13. That two grand wouldn't last him two weeks. The prospect of him running off to Chicago scared me almost as much as him staying with his father. I tried to come up with a place that he could go, like moving in with a relative. He vetoed all of my ideas saying that his dad would find him there and that things would just get worse for him. Then I asked him why he didn't just go to the cops or someone who could make the abuse stop. Once again he was convinced that his dad would just find this all the more reason to hit him. Scott was bound and determined to leave the next day for Chicago.
I spent the next three class periods trying to come up with someway to help him. I wanted him out of that house and I didn't want him to attempt to run away. After exhausting every possible idea I had and running out of time before the end of school for the day, I decided that I would go to our Dean. I told him that it was urgent and went into his office. I told him the story and left out Scott's name. I made him promise me that he would be able to help me get Scott out of the house and to a place where he would be safe. He promised and I gave him Scott's name.
When Scott was called to the office over the loudspeaker, I started to cry and was already shaking. I felt like I had betrayed him, but didn't know how else to help him.
The next day, I found out that Scott was staying with his grandmother and his father was being qustioned. Everything was looking like it was headed in the right direction.
A few days later, Scott's best friend and neighbor confronted me. Apparently after all of the questioning, they made Scott move back into his house with his parents. Not only that, but they were going to homeschool him. I immediately went back to the Dean's office. I was furious. I asked him what he was going to do to help Scott. All he said was that he had turned it over to child services and that child services had made their decision. He thought there was nothing else he could do.
The day that I tried to help Scott was the last day that I ever saw him. I never heard an update, or even that he was still in my hometown. Even now, knowing how running away to Chicago wouldn't have been easy, I wish I would have let him go.
I still don't know anything about how his life turned out or whether he continued to be abused. The only thing I now know about him is that he has a facebook pic of two beautiful little girls with pigtails next to his name.
I wish I could have the chance to say sorry, but how do you even apologize for something like that? Sorry is way too insignificant for the deep regret that I have always felt about how things turned out. I'm sure he has just as much regret about telling me his plans in the first place.
I know that everyone seems to have family members that are a little crazy or a little off kilter. Everyone has at least one black sheep. I come from the whole herd of black sheep. I swear to god that my family should really be offered a sitcom deal. My mom is one of six kids, three girls and three boys. They are sort of like the George Carlin meets the Brady Bunch. Even though my mother doesnt' interact with her family anymore, my dad fills the spot just perfectly. Every member has their own ridiculus quirks and the most normal of my relatives all married into the family (my father not included). I'm not really sure what this says about me, but at least I can blame it on genetics.
After listening to my uncles make fun of everyone present at our Easter get together and everyone not there to defend themselves, I commented to my aunt that I would really have to be serious about somebody before I brought them to meet the whole crew. To say they are slightly overwhelming would be an understatment.I really love being around them because they always make me laugh at their innappropriate comments and quick comebacks. I have had a few friends over for various events. I am however very selective in which of my friends I bring along. They need to have a couple of qualities to survive: thick skin, a good sense of humor, and not be easily offended.
A couple of years back, I brought my best friend, Cat, to Easter with the fam because she didn't want to fly home to her home in Texas for just the weekend. At one point she was sitting between me and one of my uncles. We started watching a Charlize Theron movie about working in a mine. My uncle looks at her and says (And I wish this wasn't a direct dialogue):
uncle: I heard Charlize Theron shows her jibs in one of her new movies Cat: Jibs? uncle: What you don't know what they are? Cat: I'm pretty sure I can guess. uncle: Well, it isn't her clam.
Thank God Cat found my family charming in their own, crude, fun-loving way.
This year was just as humerous. Although at least not as embarrassing for me. My grandma asked my uncle where Grandpa had disappeared to and my uncle's response was "He went upstairs to look at porn on the internet." I'm not really sure why my grandma actually believed him, but the look on her face was priceless. It can only be described as utter disgust. My uncle and I were the only ones who saw her reaction and we both laughed so hard our faces hurt. To get the full effect you have to understand that my grandma is a tiny 5'1," 96 pound, 78 year-old woman with the remnants of a Polish accent and a wardrobe like Audrey Hepburn. When she realized that he made it up to get a rise out of her, she walked over and slugged him in the arm which just made the rest of the family join in on conversation.
You want me to trust you You want me to care You want me to believe that no body's there?
You tell me you've changed You've moved on from your past 1700 miles, you still think it will last?
I'm not jealous, or the kind to keep tabs I'd like to say your flattery sinks in Most of the time, I think you're bull-shitting again
You can call me a cynic, It'd probably be true I just don't know I ready to take that chance on you
You think were building from the ground up I think were starting from a hole Why are you so persistant? I don't even know.
It may not be fair to still hold it over your head Your adolescent mistakes were years ago Wishing you could change a few things now, Joe?
You've yet to hurt me or be anything but kind Yet I want to know exactly what is it you have in mind
You've always gotten what you wanted from girls in the past Intrigued by the one not pursuaded by your charms? All these months trying to convince me that I have you disarmed
I want to believe you, but I don't blindly trust Honesty is hard to prove Especially when back to Tuscon you'll move
For me to even contemplate the risk, there are a few things you ought to know not in time, money, or gifts, but I'll expect a lot I'll need to see every ounce of integrety you've got
You don't even realize that you are asking for everything You say all you want is me to know I can rely on you A whole series of events make that the hardest thing to do
Are you going to convince me? Am I convincing myself? Is there a resolution? I'm not sure I think I need to analyze this some more
Maybe I am just abnormally sensitive to them or something, but certain smells take me back to different places, different times, or just remind me of different people. Molasses reminds me of the feed room in our barn, Barbosol reminds me of my grandpa, and Victoria's Secret Heavenly reminds me of my best friend.
My worst association is anything Sweet Pea from Bath and Body Works. My first middle-school 'boyfriend' bought me a set of that for x-mas. To this day, even a faint whiff will test my gag reflexes. I guess we are all able to make poor decisions about people we date when we are in 7th grade. I know I definitely gave myself some room for improvement.
Another bone of contention that I have with scents is bad cologne. Bad cologne or excess quantities are a serious turnoff. Faint=good I don't want to feel like I have the sprayer shoved up my nostril. If it gives me a headache or I can smell you before I see you, you are wearing too much.
My little brother, Brett, has recently become obsessed with cologne. I'm pretty sure it is in an attempt to attract the attention of Samantha, the minx of the fourth grade. He used to just wear one of his many bottles of Axe or Tag or whatever the hell all the kids are wearing these days, until my cousin let him borrow his Armani. My cousin, Matthew, tried explaining how women were attracted to good cologne. Now Brett's taste in cologne has become vastly more expensive. When Brett's birthday rolled around he wanted two things: a Honda CR85R dirt bike and Armani cologne. He didn't get the dirt bike, but he did get the cologne.
When I found out that my dad was actually going to buy him the cologne (sort of ridiculous for a 10 year old), I asked that it just not be Aqua di Gio. What does my dad buy? ...Aqua di Gio. Ryan, a guy I used to date wore Aqua di Gio. I'm not all that fond of it in the first place, but I really resent that they smell the same. Ryan and I still get along and hang out occasionally. It isn't that the cologne is reminiscent of sad or angry memories, it is simply screwing with my associations.
Not only does my brother smell like Ryan, I am also having a little trouble teaching him the art of being subtle. When he walks into a room, he'll say, "Nikki, can you smell me?" If I say no, he scurries off to apply another squirt. I tried to explain that it isn't a good thing if I can smell him from 15 feet away, but he is adamant that everyone be able to tell that he is wearing cologne. I think he might need a male influence to make this concept stick. My dad makes fun of him when he smells like he just sat in a bathtub full of Aqua di Gio, but I'm not sure that he thinks dad is really an expert in the area of attracting the ladies with cologne.
If anyone has any ideas on how to convey this point to him, please let me know. The sooner, the better. If he rides in an elevator with someone, we are going to get sued because he is going to make someone pass out!
So my roommate and best friend went to NYC this last weekend. She was visiting one of our friends who has an internship with the Daily Show. My other roommate scared the crap out of my by sending me a link to an article about the bombing in Time Square. I didn't read nearly far enough to realize that there were no injuries, I was immediately on the phone making sure she was alright. As it turns out, she was at her hotel which was right across the street from where the bomb went off. She didn't even wake up. I was so glad to hear her voice. It was definitely a good way to end those few minutes of dread.
There was one upside of this weekend....We had a new addition at the farm. This foal was born about two minutes before I took the pictures. She is out of two world champions and the mare in the picture is Chime (not her biological mother--she was an embryo transfer baby.)
It is a good thing that I am equipped with a good sense of humor, because my life is Murphy's Law. Something always goes wrong at the most inopportune moments. I have had three flat tires in my entire life. The first time I had a flat tire I was 16 and was causing trouble. I was out later than I was supposed to be and I had lied about where I was. Not a good time for a flat, especially because I had never changed one and it is much harder in the dark. My second flat tire was when I was hanging out with my little brother. I took him to the arcade and played air hockey for much too long. It was cold and drizzling when we got back to my car. I thought it was supposed to be a decent day, so I was completely inappropriately dressed. I was furious, swearing, cold and wet, but I managed to change my tire in heels. Today was the third time I have had a flat tire. I noticed it right as I pulled into work. I had an exam right after work today, so I was a little worried about getting the flat fixed. Luckily things worked out, but seriously, can I ever catch a break or a little luck. I may not be Irish, but I look Irish. Doesn't that count for something?
I have been a huge boxing and MMA fan since before the UFC had weight classes or rounds. I know fights and I can typically tell you the outcome. Somehow this has transpired into other aspects of my life as well. I can see a fight brewing for months in advance. I even know how people are going to verbally spar and whether or not they'll fight fair.
In my life, I have learned to keep my hands up and block the shots or keep myself out of the ring all together. I thought my fights with my mother were done and over with. Our fights were never your typical teenage vs. mother drama that most people go through. Our fights were about me expecting her to be a responsible, reliable, respectable human being while my mom chose to ignore her children and relive her teen years. After years of disappointment, I knew I couldn't win this one and that I would be a better person if I just removed myself from the situation. I did just that. I made her obsolete and minimized contact. I thought she couldn't hurt me if I wasn't in the fight. I was wrong.
My mother delivered a blow that can only be analogous to a sucker punch to the back of the head after the 12th round bell had rung. She decided to take my dad back to court in an attempt to get more child support out of him. Shockingly she got enough neurons to fire at the same time to realize that the more she has my brother, the more money she can get out of my dad. So now the battle has even higher stakes. Not only does she want money, she wants my 10 year old brother.
Everyone is in their corner. It is my dad and me vs. mom and her new husband. My brother doesn't even understand the full magnitude of the situation. It is so evident in the questions he asks, like "Dad, can't I just stay with you?" It breaks my heart and I feel so powerless. The only thing that I could do, I have already done. I went and talked to the attorney which was court appointed for my brother. I told it like it was, but after years of dealing with my mother's bullshit, a half hour with the attorney didn't feel like near enough to explain the whole complexity of the situation. There is a chance that I will have to testify in court against my mother. I hope I get the chance to show her for what she is. The worry that I won't be able to show her for what she is or make it resonate with the judge absolutely terrifies me.
Last week my brother's attorney did home visits. I hoped that helped things. It only takes ten minutes with my dad and my brother to realize that my dad has his best interests at heart. The only downside is that my mother missed her calling in life. She should have been an actress. She has more personalities than Julia Roberts has ever played in her whole career. I know she slipped into Supermom mode the second the attorney entered the door. I even know that she dressed the part. That is what she does. It is kind of like 'rope a dope' and she is good at it.
My little brother was the one who showed the attorney around the house while he answered the attorney's questions. We found out that my little brother didn't even know that my mom was trying to pull him out of his school (one of the best in the area) to transfer him to a school district that is considered mediocre at best. That really seemed to resonate with him. He doesn't want to live with my mom, and I don't blame him. When my dad was doing his best to objectively explain to him what was going on and how the whole court thing worked, my brother asked one concerned question..."who is winning?"
It seems like a question that should have a clear cut answer, but it doesn't. Whether or not my brother would be better off with my dad doesn't mean anything. All of the cards are in the hands of people who don't know us or really the situation. I'm ready for this fight to be over with. I am sick of it consuming me. And as to who is winning....there is only one thing I know, its not my brother.
I am a country girl at heart. I grew up in the middle of nowhere on a horse farm, so you could say that moving to Madison was slightly eye opening for me. I just realized how desensitized I have become. When I first moved here, I frequently had to force myself not to gawk. Just now, on my walk home from my physiology exam I passed a girl and a guy on the sidewalk. It over a block for me to register that I had just seen something out of the ordinary. The guy was carrying the girl, who looked either wasted or comatose. I expect to see this at 2:30am on a Saturday. This is 8:00 pm on a Tuesday. That takes true ambition. What the hell was so exciting. Like woo hoo, I just voted lets do shots? Apparently she was taking full advantage of "Tanked Tuesday." Maybe this is sad, but I'm actually hoping she was drunk and not roofied or something.
Saturday night I had a similar occurrence. My good friend Molly and I were walking home (because the cab wouldn't come get us) in the rain on sheets of ice. We were both laughing at each other as we slid everywhere and frequently windmilled our arms in attempts not to biff it. There was this bizarre comradery amongst everyone who was just doing their best to stay upright. One of the people we passed was a man wearing a black and white floral print dress, combat boots, and the hairiest legs I have ever seen. Molly could not help but giggle as he wished us well. We spent the rest of the walk home talking about trying to be sensitive and open minded to what could be seen as socially abnormal. Talk about a conversation I would have never had on the farm.
I want to be an Optometrist. I currently work for one now, and couldn't see myself being happy doing anything else. Unfortunately, the price tag that comes with that education is around $150,000. I have been mulling this over for quite a while now, and I still haven't made up my mind, but I think I might join the military. The military will pay for me to go to optometry school, if I commit to being an optometrist for them for either 3 or 4 years. It is actually a great deal, probably a great life changing experience, and I would be doing what I love.
I am not a stranger to the military. I am a Navy brat. My Dad was in the Navy, his father was career Air Force, my other grandfather was in the Navy, my cousin is in the Army and two of my best friends are overseas currently with the Air Force. I know what I would be sacrificing. I'm not scared of the sacrifices that I would have to make, I am worried about two things: not being able to give the best care possible, and leaving my little brother.
Both of my good friends who are overseas (Iraq and Kuwait) wear glasses. Both of them are trying to make do with inadequate eyewear. My friend, Stephen, who is just north of Baghdad, can't wear sunglasses. He can't wear his contacts because of all of the dust and the military won't issue him prescription sunglasses or even glasses with a transitions lens. How stupid is that, he is in the middle of the desert. My friend Joe in Kuwait has some of the most poorly made glasses that I have ever seen. They use the cheapest materials possible. He is a non-destructive inspector, which I've gathered really means he makes sure that planes and helicopters are structurally soud for flight. I don't know about you, but I would want him to see to the best of his ability. I know having to issue things like that would frustrate the hell out of me.
My other resevation is my little brother. He is only 10 and he is the most important thing in my life. In many ways, I am more like his mom than a big sister. Quite honestly, the thought of leaving him terrifies me. I have been the main positive female influence in his life, and I don't want him to lose that. My mom's poor decision making already gives me enough to have to try and undo. Adding a geographical barrier between me and him, would only make things harder. For that alone, I would be willing to pay off much more than $150,000.
I still have a lot more thinking to do and I have plenty of time to do it. I haven't yet talked to a recruiter, or even narrowed down which branch I would be interested in. I guess this is me just thinking and typing about what could be one of the biggest decisions in my life.
I am one of those people that find it hard to write about nothing. I need something to strike me as interesting or hit me pretty personally, so please forgive me if I am too candid or occasionally too depressing. I'll try to avoid topics that are as sad as this one, but it was one of those situations where I would have written about it anyway, even if it wasn't keeping a blog.
I just got off the phone with my grandma. I've been trying to be better about calling her more often because my grandpa died the week before Thanksgiving this past semester and my grandma doesn't have any other relatives in Wichita where she lives. My grandma is one of the most incredible, intellectually curious, beautiful, amazing people that I have even known. Grams has two bachelor's degrees (anthropology,and botany with a minor in biology) and a master's in urban planning and development and graduated Magna Cum Laude. Did I mention she was also a model?...yeah, my grandma is pretty bad ass. Even with all of her education, when she was 40 and my grandpa's health started to decline, she went back to beauty school, built a salon onto her house and managed to take care of my grandpa and run the shop. I don't know too many people willing to make those kinds of sacrifices.
She didn't just take care of my grandpa, she waited on him hand and foot for at least 25 of their 55 year marriage. Grandpa would always stay just sick enough to have Grams dote on him. He knew he was lucky and adored my grandma, but it would be a lie to not say he exploited the situation.
We all miss my grandpa, and we would do anything to have him back, but he was becoming a lot of work for Grams. My grandpa fell several times and it was always my grandma who had to get him back up. At 76 years old, that is more than she should have been trying to do especially because my grandpa was not a small man. He had problems with his heart as well as type two diabetes which he could have controlled better. As much as we all hate to admit it, it was a extreme burden lifted off Grandma's shoulders.
Grandma has been getting all of her affairs in order and for the most part is in good spirits. We were talking about how she was doing and what she had been up to. What she indicated as her biggest adjustment struck me the most. She said she was having a hard time remembering that she was the only one she had to take care of. Yesterday she went grocery shopping and was in the cookie isle. She realized that half of the groceries in the cart, including the bag of cookies that she had just picked up, were not even things that she really liked. She was buying things that my grandpa loved or requested frequently. She is having to relearn how to take care of herself and readjust her life with herself as priority. I couldn't even imagine reteaching yourself how to live. At least if anyone is capable, she is.
***The pic is of my grandparents right after they were married at their first house in Ft. Worth, TX. I wish I could have make it a little lighter, but it is one of my favorite pics of all time. Grams is showing some slip and smoking a cigarette.
Normally I don't try to drag everyone out to see my favorite musicians, in fact it is much more enjoyable for me if there are less people. It seems like the kid who looks like a linebacker always stands front and center, smack dab in front of me and my best friend who is 5'0"? (If you are a man with a physique even remotely resembling Gilbert Brown or any Amazonian woman with Texas hair, please be considerate and stand at the back of the room.) This time is different. One of my favorite musicians is coming to town next week Thursday (Feb 7th). He isn't paying me to say this, but you should all come out to see him. I'll even welcome you with open arms if you choose to wear the biggest hat and or have a beehive hairdo. I really want everyone to come out for this show. Why, you might ask? Well, Will Hoge hasn't ever really gotten a great reception in Madison. He has bad timing. He either comes to visit during finals week when no one will come out or during a break when no one is around. At first I thought is was great, I didn't have to elbow anyone to be in the front row, or have any drunk guys singing in my ear. It was awesome seeing a performer of this caliber with only 50 or so other people, but then Will stopped coming to Madison. I've driven to Milwaukee to see him a few times, but I would rather have him stop in my vicinity. He told me specifically at two of his shows in Milwaukee that he didn't know if he would come back to Madison due to the poor turnouts. So basically I have, for my own selfish reasons, made it my unofficial job to promote this show. The only reason he is stopping in Madison this time is because he just signed to a new record label and is co-headlining a tour with one of the former lead singers of the Drive By Truckers. I think if I get a big enough turnout, he might actually continue to stop in Madison.
If you need a better reason to drag yourself out to the High Noon Saloon on Feb 7th around 8:30 ish, I have many. First of all Will Hoge will not be the only entertainment of the night. He has two acts opening for him, and the group of people I invited ought to be entertainment enough. I was excited enough (and desperate enough) that without thinking about it, I invited 3 guys that I have previously dated, the guy I am kind of currently dating....and my dad.
I love my father dearly, but not when he makes it his personal mission to embarrass me in front of my friends. And believe me, he will. Last time my dad was displaying his air guitar skills and at one point even referred to my friends as "hoochie bitches." (My friends aren't hoochie or bitches). So if it means you'll stop on by, feel free to laugh at the my genetic misfortune. (don't tell him I said that...he'll cut off funding to my tuition.)
I know it is a school night and for most of us our first class of Friday is this one. And now thanks to me if you show up tired or possibly hung over...Rik will know where you've been (don't blame me). But I still think it is relevant to class. We are supposed to see how blogs and online writing can influence us. This is my attempt to Jedi mind trick you into coming. I think this could be like an unofficial class field trip. Hell, Rik should come too.
Shit, now I just invited three guys I used to date, the guy I am kinda dating now, my dad, one of my entire classes, and...my prof. Not to mention, I swore three times in my first blog. What a way to start off the semester.
P.S. Don't worry if you aren't 21, it is an 18+ show.
I am a random mix of things that don't belong together. One of my friends described me as a redneck-hippie. I think country-liberal is a little more accurate, but that doesn't even start to account for the aspects of me that seem in opposition. Somehow it everything works together. I guess you'd really have to get to know me to understand the extent to which these traits have manifested themselves all in the form of me.
