Seoul Searching in the Mirror

This summer my sister came home for a visit from Seoul, Korea, where she has been living for the past three years. It was so very good to see her again. During her stay she helped me take care of my Self and simultaneously forget my Self. With her and my other younger sister, we automatically, and perhaps systematically, fell into group self-nurturing behaviors and traditions, essentially what you could call The Unwinding Process. Because we all get wound up from Life, right?! My sister gets wound up in her Korean life, assimilating amazingly into their culture, and she likes to come home and binge on her comforts for a short time in order to go be her bad ass Self once again for an extended time. She came home for a whole month this time. This time her visit, as usual, was essential and timely, a real gift. She also gave me another gift that, I think, of course, is a metaphor. 

The Unwinding Process traditionally consists of consumption, including but not limited to varying and mostly excessive amounts of alcohol, food stuff, and multimedia intake, balanced with bouts of emotional release, via tears and laughter. Why? Serotonin. But more importantly, oxytocin. The bonding hormone unites and only heavily bonded and blended sisters can understand how essential this mutual process of The Unwind is. Individual Unwind is essential as well, but group Unwind...that's where it's at. It's mutual, a symbiosis. It's a take-a-load-off-Fanny, kind of necessary weighted shit. And, so, the Unwind began. The Twizzlers were bought. The boxed wine was drank, the movies were watched. Take out and take in; The Gilmore Girls and The Golden Girls. The nights were late and the days were sleepy; a haze settled. We had some healing times together; we had missed the rhythm of our mutual coping mechanisms and the comfort of each other's presence. The progeny patchwork quilt all blanketed back together. All together; three sisters. It completes the girl circuit. In a world full of every kind of girl but me, my sisters are the closest thing to me that there is, and the feeling is mutual. Nobody gets you like your See-Star! Together we are the feminine whole of our family's genes, the closest thing to ourselves out there, DNA-wise. There is strength in that, a bond like no other, unstoppable love and acceptance. 

Within the comfort of our sisterly union, there is also a tremendous chance for reflection, which is a blessing. A lot of families don't have siblings that get along as well as we do, and believe me, it hasn't been easy, but sibling love is more solid than rivalry. We are each so different and complete, our own distinct note alone...but we blend into one stellar organic triad when we play together. Connections like that are what life is all about...harmonizing. Resonating and harmonizing. 

My sister is what I would consider a feminist. She has, what I tell her, ovaries of solid rock. You would have to, wouldn't you? To move to the other end of the Earth from your family, to live in one of the largest cities in the world by herself, as a woman, to have done all of the world traveling she has done and to have received all of the accolades and achievements in academia that she has is truly impressive. She is one of the most applied and driven women I know. It takes balls...it takes something bigger than balls. Drive. My sister is in gear most of the time. But on the opposite side of the world from her Drive lies Neutral. You want to keep it in drive if you ever want to make it where you intend to go, but you also need to savor the stops; it's okay to sit still and take some time to get your bearings before you drive on. We taught each other a beautiful lesson. The Unwind is essential for The Gear Up. 

I reminded my sister that she can be gentle with herself and cherish neutral stops, and she reminded me that I can be driven, and courageous. My sister gave me a gift, a small mirror...made in Korea, of course. Isn't that a beautiful metaphor? Just when I needed it, my sister showed me another one of my faces, one from the other side of my world. I am in a stage of great neutral motion, I feel I am going farther inward than ahead, but I am also driven. In my own way, I am also a feminist. 

It was incredibly hard this time to let her go; another year will go by before we will see her again. It was a tearful farewell, we didn't want to let go or say goodbye. The truth is, my sister and I have codependent parts that tend to each other. I'm the 12 year old that cares for her and lets her be her zany self, slopping up my house as much as necessary to get to that state of comfort and care; she is the 6 year old joker, hiding under my bed, luring me out of my depression with her nonsense and goofing, reminding me of my responsibility and influence. These parts grew to be this way out of necessity, and these parts still miss each other desperately. However dysfunctional or trapped in the past these pieces are, they are a part of us. The truth is, though, that so are the feminist parts, the driven parts, the achievers in us. We are mighty achievers, we just need some recovery time. Your manager parts can do bad ass things if you don't forget to occasionally spend some time with the exiles. 

A sister is a mirror, and in her resides a reflection of our exiled inner child. Our parts find comfort in their self-nurturing rituals together. We also see our True Selves and our full potentials in the other's eyes through the malaise. I am grateful for the mirrors I have been given. I look to them when I have forgotten who I really am. Thank you for the mirror, Sister. Drive on. 

Give Me Some Sugar: Saturday Night on the Town

Pure Cane Sugar
@
Zeno's
State College, PA
February 15, 2014

Truth be told, I had never been to Zeno's until last night.  Embarrassingly enough, I never made it into this local hotspot.  Heard great things.  Frequented by friends.  Never had the honor.  I had, however, seen Pure Cane Sugar @ Aldo's in Altoona for the Harlots and Halos Festival. At least, I saw a fraction of Pure Cane Sugar, they were completely acoustic and also without Molly, who was home with a sick baby that night.  Last night was a new experience as I was witness to the full sound of the band and the tremendous vibration of the three part harmonies those lovely ladies make.  A mighty chord was struck as I saw Pure Cane Sugar perform in all of their harmonious glory at Zenos.

We lucked into a table up front thanks to the determined efforts of my girl, Melissa! We got ourselves a pitcher and prepared ourselves as the band set up. It was a full house on this night and the ladies were fantastic. They opened, to my delight, with a beautiful rendition of Bob Dylan's A Hard Rain. Kate comes out ready for the show. They share verses, each one bringing her own timber and shine, working their way through the cerebral tale of a song. What an epic way to open! Throughout the night we enjoyed many of their originals which induced bopping and dancing; it became contagious. They have an impressive selection of covers they play and excellent musical taste, bringing their own jolly rock to everything they do. We heard covers of Bruce Springsteen's I'm on Fire, Big Hard World by Eddie Vedder, Come Together by the Beatles. They played Old Man and Southern Man, which I heard at Aldo's, but were so much fuller with Molly's vocals and the backing band this time.

Molly beat on the bongos in perfect rhythm. Natalie crooned out her sultry sound while working a tambourine like a pro. Kate's ferociously fast on acoustic guitar, switching between her 12 string and 6. On this night, they were backed by a lead guitarist, bassist, and drummer. It was interesting to see them initially without the full band so I had the ability to compare. I was ecstatic to hear Mr. Soul this time!!! They also did a solid performance of Dolly Parton's Jolene and a great take of The Civil Wars' Barton Holler. Excellent taste in music!

Kate is impressive on acoustic guitar; her pocket is flawless. Molly is a sight on the bongos, wildly drumming, her hair flying as she is lost in the rhythm. Natalie is like a beautiful gypsy, singing and dancing. It's impressive when people can create such a signature sound from their harmonies the way that Pure Cane Sugar can do. Nuances are incredibly important and there is something to be said about a good harmony backing or shaker. I haven't seen such rhythmic tambourine and phenomenal femininity since I saw Steve Nicks in 2012. These local girls rock. Pure Cane Sugar, every Saturday at Zenos bar. It's a time!

Following the Gypsy Highway: Stevie Nicks at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theatre

STEVIE NICKS

Friday, June 29, 2012

Nikon at Jones Beach Theater

Wantagh, NY

THE TRUTH

I have been a Stevie Nicks fan since my early adolescence; I can’t exactly remember when I fell for her, but it was many moons ago, when her warm spiced drink of a voice first vibrated the bones and cartilage of my ears into submission.  I really got into Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks in my early teen years.  I was at a peak in my Fleetwood Mac craze in 1997 when their live album The Dance was released.  If that CD were a record, I would have worn through the vinyl; I listened to it so many times.  I greatly love Fleetwood Mac, but was also drawn into Stevie’s solo career, having always found a sort of solace in her voice and poetic imagery as well as her enigmatic and witchy iconography.  I remember listening to her Timespace album over and over in my room during high school, it was the first way I introduced myself to the majority of her work.  Luckily around that time her music was featured in Practical Magic and she was having a bit of a comeback of sorts.  I found Bella Donna, and so on and so forth until she was tied to my heart in a tight hormonal knot.  So for all of these reasons Stevie (Fleetwood Mac) was on my Bucket List.  I had to see her before I died!  Or she died!  I had to see her!  So in early 2012 when I heard that she was touring, I freaked.  I saw that she was touring with Rod Stewart for the Heart and Soul Tour, but I wanted to see Stevie alone.  I didn’t want to share her with anyone.  If she was sharing her stage time with anybody, I wanted it to be with Fleetwood Mac!  So I panicked, looking at the tour dates, and I found a couple of shows before she joined him where she was alone.  None all too close; I think I found three that were doable.  The beginning of the tour started in New York.  The Nikon at Jones Beach.  I could do that!  I franticly purchased tickets for my best friend, Hilary, and I for an epic drive and concert.  I realized it was 6 hours away...and right on the beach...and in LONG ISLAND!  At least, I THINK I realized these things at the time?  I purchased the tickets months beforehand and sat on the idea of having to drive that far and through the traffic I would have to in order to see Stevie.  I tried my best to remain Zen.    “Oh, I’m doing it.”  Finally, the day came.  It would be a journey of decently sized proportions to finally witness the live performance and essence of the woman whose music has been an emotional salve for me throughout much of my life.  In June of this year I traveled to see Stevie Nicks at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theater with my best good friend and it was “Bucket List Epic” in SO many ways! 

THE DRIVE

The drive to Long Island was basically insane and great, in a road-schooled, fight-or-flight, nervous-cool kind of way.  I had never driven through traffic like that in my life; I had never been on a 6 lane expressway as the driver in a vehicle before.  This entire trip was very symbolic of my growth and personal ability.  We were just a pair of best girls on an epic adventure, like Thelma and Louise, only hopefully not even remotely like Thelma and Louise, other than the car ride, and an added concert.  Maybe more like Gypsy 84?  Yeah, probably NOTHING like Gypsy 84, other than we were heading to see Stevie Nicks.  (Crazy movie; watch it if you haven’t.)  Best good pals...on a road trip to the big city beach venue to see a female rock and roll icon and put our feet in the water.  Instead of driving off of a cliff we were going to stand head to head with the ocean and look Stevie Nicks straight in the eyes.  Well, at least into her large sized eyes on the teleprompter.  This wasn’t just a concert; this was a journey of a lifetime.  No big deal. 

There really is no telling what can happen on a road trip adventure, so I kissed my child goodbye that morning and hoped to face this travel demon bravely and wisely.  I had a copy of printed directions and a Tom Tom, as well as a copilot; this would be fine!  It was only Hilary and I on this trip, the fate of the evening rested in our hands.  We were 6 hours away from the Nikon.  Would we see Stevie Nicks that night, or would our car plummet off of the George Washington Bridge?  There was no doubt in my mind that we would roll onto the beach, stand in the surf, and then view a momentous performance by Ms. Stevie Nicks as the sun sank into the sand.  Let’s went! 

Behind the wheel, I was on fire.  When faced with wild traffic and the expressways, I immediately went into the survival mode needed in order to traverse the roads with the city folk.  I had ridden into New York City and large cities before, although I had never driven into such an area myself until this point.  I wasn’t going INTO the city, but I was driving through the Bronx and heading at NYC and through it, on to the historical Long Island shore.  I made myself proud, real proud.  There were moments during this trip where I looked out at what I was driving through or past and I was taken back by the fact that I was commanding the vehicle.  “I’ll ride anywhere with you,” Hilary said upon our return.  We had survived tolls, city merges, The Bronx Expressway, a loop dee loop designed on acid.  I gained a lot of driving knowledge and experience on this trip.  It has prepared me for great things.  We arrived at Jones Beach on schedule.  We pulled into the Nikon elated with “GOAL” practically beaming out of my pupils and asked about gas, forgetting there were no service stations in the park.  We drove back into Long Island and got some gas for our home trip and bought lunch at an authentic Long Island deli before heading into Jones Beach for the evening of evenings.  I even made myself proud there, and we even talked to an authentic Long Islander that gave us directions to an excellent deli to eat at.  A sandwich and a drink and it’s back to the beach.

THE BEACH

The beach was centering; it was the calm before the storm, or afterwards, or the eye?  I’m not sure, it was something.  It seemingly took us forever to trudge through the sand, our shoes in hand, my camera dangling from my neck snapping pictures along the way.  It was a real in-the-moment moment.  The drive was the first leg of our journey, the first “battle”, our second was the ocean.  We were on a mission.  We had to get to that water.  It was the symbolic end of the drive.  GOAL!  Hilary had never touched the ocean before; she had seen it and been in the sand, although she had never submerged her feet into its lapping surf.  Its vastness is somewhat unnerving to her.  Understandably so, it’s as deep as the void, the metaphor is strong, but that’s another story and battle all together.  The prize was to sink our feet into that sand and let the tide pull away, burying our feet slowly; one of the best sensations in life.  I remember doing this as a child during our trips to the beach.  How could I describe to her how momentous this feeling was?  She simply had to experience it for herself.

Jones Beach was really neat.  You could see the Nikon across the Ocean Parkway in the distance while standing on the beach.  The sand felt amazing and we stood for what seemed like hours watching people swim and play, watching the waves come in and roll out, listening to the birds in the moment.  A part of the goal was accomplished.  We had made it there, at least!  We stood recharging ourselves in the wind of the waves for awhile.  Let’s roll on. 

THE NIKON

The Nikon is an impressive venue, a circus of sorts behind the gates.  There were booths and venders everywhere.  We purchased Zippo lighters from the Zippo booth; ironic, we travel all the way to New York and we buy Pennsylvania made Zippo lighters as souvenirs.  I also later got a Stevie Nicks t-shirt and magnet as swag.  The Nikon is an amphitheatre alongside the bay, open to the heavens.  The nosebleed section surely would have a bird’s eye view of the ocean, in this way I wondered if they could charge more for worse seats?  Ha!  We got yummy fruity drinks and then got settled in our seats and awaited Stevie.  We missed the opening act completely, but the timing was ultimately perfect, so who cares.  We were there for Stevie Nicks.   

THE STEVIE

Stevie is some kind of a musical goddess.  Ms. Nicks is truly everything she seems to be.  Not that I am biased but seriously if any one of you talks bad about Ms. Nicks I will backhand you with a vinyl copy of Bella Donna and choke you with a flowing scarf.  She was so very intimate with the audience and so emotional during her performance.  She had nice personal chats in between songs, talking to us like we were old friends.  She even started crying at the end during her “goodbye”.  She was conveying how important this night was to her, being the first night on her newly starting stretch of tour after weeks of battling voice problems.  The unconditional love and acceptance from her fans touched her in a way that we were able to experience first hand that night.  She honestly loves us.  

THE SETLIST

I was prepared for the setlist somewhat because I had familiarized myself with her 2011 setlist.  This was still the same tour, basically, promoting In Your Dreams, so I was so glad that I had done so because I was basically aware of every song that she would play for us that night, aside from their order and a few surprise covers.  I think she opened with Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll, followed by Enchanted, I believe.  We heard everything from Dreams, Gold Dust Woman, Landslide, Leather and Lace, Stand Back, Edge of Seventeen.  From her In Your Dreams album she played For What It’s Worth, which brought me to tears.  I had been waiting to hear that song and in a weird way, that's what this trip was all about, and I had a moment during its play under the moon light at the Nikon, 6+ hours from home...just me and my best good pal.  She also played from In Your Dreams: Soldier’s Angel, Secret Love, and Annabel Lee.  So many new songs, so many classics; so many songs that were so incredibly moving to experience live were performed beneath a gorgeous moon in a gentle wind.  This concert was the most emotional one I have ever been to in my life.  It was a triumphant, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar kind of feeling!  I cried and my heart pumped and I smiled and bounced.  Gold Dust Woman literally made my nipples hard.  Stevie Nicks totally gave me hard nips! Bless her darling heart!

THE ATMOSPHERE

It was a clear evening with crisp air and was slightly windy along the waterside.  The night air from the bay kept blowing up across the crowd, blowing up across Stevie Nicks.  Her hair and scarves and black flowing dress danced in its gusts like magic.  No hat for her on this night, for she surely would have lost it.  The wind blew her golden hair into her face continuously throughout the show, a shimmering air-made pyrotechnics show, making her all the more glorious and captivating.  The moon was ghostly and blanketed under a shroud of clouds.  We floated back to the car on a high that could never be relived, refelt, or recreated. 

THE VOICE

Her voice was like literal butter, melting down my ear canals and over my ear drum and inner bits like they were freshly popped corn kernels.  I couldn’t believe that I was hearing her voice in real time and not on a recording or on television.  I reflected on that fact and immediately my eyes welled up.  I had been listening to Stevie Nicks for so long.  It was a real life goal seeing her perform live, and she lived up to everything I made her out to be. It was amazing that she was having such problems with her voice because other than a few places, you couldn’t even detect flaw.  You wouldn’t even be able to tell she had no voice a few weeks prior.  She was obviously a little worried about it but carried on and she was marvelous.  I commend her for being so open and frank about her plight with the crowd and her love for everyone just seems so genuine and heartfelt.  She sounds just like herself, she sounds just like Stevie Nicks.  This, unfortunately, can not be said about everyone that you see live.  

THE DRESS

She dressed like a night gypsy, in her traditional flowing black shawls and scarves, with corsets and boots.  Toward the end of the performance she changed into a beautiful white ensemble.  During her performance of Stand Back she did the traditional spin, somehow managing not to fall in her huge platform boots.  She later said that the shawl was the original “Stand Back Shawl” from the video, I believe she meant.  I had been listening to this song hardcore for a week or more at the time and had hoped I would be able to hear it.  Later on the drive home it would be playing as I was speeding along the Bronx Expressway flowing with the night traffic. I was empowered in that moment.  Smiling to myself, I knew we would get home fine.  There were no worries in that moment.  I was driving home on the high of a major goal accomplished with my artistic vein pumping.  I was high on experience.

THE CONVERSATION

She carried on a conversation with the crowd like we were old friends, talking of things from years ago or preparing for this tour.  She was very emotional because of the height of the night; this was the first night of her new tour and her voice had given out a few weeks earlier.  She discussed her obstacles and her accomplishments, all in a tone that let you believe you could really be her pal.  She seemed like such an honestly cool woman, and she even commented on how she is remarkably like how she used to be before she became famous.  Her guitarist knew her back in the day before these days, and he plays with her now.  She said he can verify it.  Imagine, being friends with someone and then touring with them after they are a famous music icon. 

THE BAND

Her backup singers are made up of her sister-in-law and other women she has known for years.  Her guitarist she has known since before she was famous.  They all have a really good stage relationship.  The guitar is really great and the drummer was very enthusiastic.  They did an excellent job recreating her songs, especially considering the Fleetwood Mac ones were done without Lindsay Buckingham and her solo stuff was heavy on the synthesizer.  Stand Back was a good version and very fun, it sounded good, though obviously not like the original.  She spoke of how Prince came into the studio while they were recording it on her AXS Concert and laid down the synthesizer track and then disappeared.  Now two keyboardists can’t recreate what Prince did on that record.  But it was still a great attempt at recreation of the classics, and a wonderful show of the new stuff. 

THE GRACE

She was incredibly gracious with the audience, exiting the stage after the encore and the bow, but then coming back out to shake hands and greet all of the audience members in the front rows which is something that I had never seen before in a performance.  She was touching children and taking flowers.  There was a man by her side with his arm around her waste, lest she be swept away by a fan or the wind or fragility.  (Perhaps insurance against those boots?)  She was wonderful.  She was a lady and a true entertainer. 

THE LESSON

The drive home was rough, being that I left New York around 11PM and didn't get into native terrain until heading on 5:30.  After my copilot fell asleep I blasted Old Crow Medicine Show and sang to myself to keep myself awake.  There were some blurry eyed moments on the interstate but we rolled into town just as the sun was coming up.  I dropped off Hilary and went the long way home, stopping at the crossroads view to watch the freshly risen sun over the rolling hills of home.  I gathered myself and let what just transpired settle a little, and then headed on down the grove to put myself to sleep, a new woman.  This ride and concert brought out my inner feminine strength and was just what I needed at that moment in 2012!  "See, we don't need the guys.  We can go ANYWHERE!" Hilary stated.  True that!  It gave me an energetic burst that got me through more days of that year, and released a lot of emotion while giving some areas in my life a crystalline piece of closure.  It was kismet.  

Seoul Sisters

I'm on my way back from New York City.  It was an awesome day outing, but not exactly for the happiest of reasons.  My sister has been living in Korea for the past year and a half teaching and came home for an almost month long visit over her summer break.  It was a great visit, the time went so incredibly fast.  It's sad that it is over, but at least we had an enjoyable road trip to the big apple. My friend and I drove her out to JFK International for her 2PM flight.  She is in the air as I write this now.  As per her wishes, we chose to have a little city fun before returning home. 

I spotted fedoras for sale on the street as we were driving up 5th Avenue, so we parked the Caliber on 39th Street and hoofed it.  Coincidentally we went past the NYC Public Library!  I've explored the cement jungle several times before, but I had NEVER visited the library.  I was super excited to climb the steps and pass through the threshold!  And what a threshold it was; I stepped through the largest, most ornate door I ever had in my life.  The beautiful textured details and giant gold lion head knocker were just foreplay.  It was like a giant marble orgasm inside!  They had a shop and we bought some books and trinkets. I got Where the Wild Things Are and Oh, The Places You'll Go for Celie; two classics that she doesn't yet have and it will be neat to know they came from the NYC Library. 

It was an excellent day.  We had a nice trip out with my sister, and after dropping her off we were able to make a day of it instead of just a delivery.  I'm sure she'd love that we visited the library.  I took this picture on one of the huge globes they had in the Mapping room where we stuck a pin in central Pennsylvania on a map of visitors.  Pennsylvania girls in the big apple jungle!  Seoul, Korea is like New York City...only bigger...and foreign...and on the other side of that globe.  My sister walks the streets of that concrete jungle on her own, with ovaries [balls] of solid rock.  She will  return to her foreign job and her foreign apartment and reunite with her foreign coworkers and foreign friends.  I remain native...and I won't be reunited with her for another year.  I wish her well.

13 Fedoras, My Painted Face, and Endless Assumptions

The 13th Fedora!

It has been about a year since I purchased my black and white checkerboard fedora for myself.  I have dug hats in general much of my life, my dad seemed to always be sporting some fun head wear with or without a feather in it when I was younger.  Actually, hats did always seem to be on his head, but one of the main reasons for this was that he had no hair on the top of it.  Combine this with all of the outside work he did and he never would have stayed warm in the winter without his staple hunter orange beanie cap.  I learned the importance of head gear for warmth through him and over 8 years ago started to wear winter hats to save my body heat.  It worked magically, perhaps because my hair isn't so thick itself.  I felt so cold whenever I was without my hat.  It's funny how used to something you can grow.  When I adopted the fedora, or rather, when it adopted me, my constant wear produced the same separation anxiety when I was without.  I feel naked without one now.  I have half of my collection stacked in the living room and it is the last thing I put on when I am getting ready to go, and the first thing I take off when I return.  I have quite a few now; last year I got one for different events or occasions and happened upon some at other times that simply couldn't be rejected.  I often waited until they were on clearance and for awhile only paid $3 on average for most of them.  Today, I think the average is up to $7.  A few of them I received as gifts.  My parents got me one for Christmas, and my sister brought me one back from Korea that I can't wait to rock out this summer!  In all I have collected about a dozen fedoras in the last year. That's roughly one a month; not too shabby!  Recently, my friend Christal gave me my thirteenth fedora for a just because gift just because she is awesome like that.  It was my first official animal print fedora, which I find quite fitting.  And it was lucky number thirteen as well!

It is actually a rather breathable warm-weather fedora made of a mesh paper blend; not quite as warm as my black felt that I was already wearing the night Christal presented me with it, but I put it on when I picked her up for our mild Sunday night out.  Snazzy zebra stripes! She said I looked like Bret Michaels, but at least it wasn't a turban. I obviously don't mind looking ridiculous, as per my own definition of the word, that is.  Sometimes in public I forget that I am wearing a fedora because I generally do and am puzzled when people stare more than usual.  The same happens with my lip stick.  I forget my lips are bright red so you'd swear I was dressed for Halloween or something? It's just a hat; it's just lip stick!  I'm not the only woman to wear a fedora, they sell them at Walmart for fuck sake!

I don't necessarily enjoy the attention but I like being different because I like being myself.  There is a difference.  I was applying my trusted long lasting lip stick for a night out a few weeks ago and a male friend said all girls who wear make up as such do it for attention.  I FEEL I NEED TO MAKE A POINT!  Perhaps, I told him, I enjoy the angles of my face, I find them aesthetically pleasing, even.  Perhaps I even enjoy the contrast of the bright color against my pale flesh.  Painting a face is much like painting a portrait, only 3D and in makeup.  It's a very personal ritual, face painting.  Just because I wear a fedora and red lip stick doesn't mean I want the attention of every Tom Dickin' Creeper at the bar.  My make up is self love, it's me enjoying my femininity.  I'm sorry, but ironically, that has absolutely nothing to do with men!  My fedora is a form of self expression.  So, I'm just another poor girl 'asking for it' if I brighten my lips or wear a shiny hat?  Because I could only possibly be doing it for some outward form of attention?  Well, some women do, I give you that.  They build themselves up by the amount of attention they get from others.  That is how they feel loved.  This doesn't hold true for every woman.  The fact is, you have no idea what a woman is "asking for" unless you ask her.   In most cases, she probably isn't asking for anything!! Maybe that's your problem, men.  You assume too much.  Far far too much.

Regardless, the fedora does get some attention, not me.  It's like a tail, it has a personality of its own.  It has a fan base, some good, some bad.  I had one man tell me once that his friend told him that you have to "embrace the fedora".  That has stuck with me and remains one of my favorite found quotes.  Some man approached me and asked to buy my new fedora that night.  He apparently was a Bret Michaels fan.  A different night another man took it off of my head and proceeded to louse it up for me.  How dare you!  Another time, some drunk offered me a dollar to trade my shiny faux denim fedora for his ratty ass ball cap?  The nerve, the gall and the assumption!  I haven't lost one yet, and I'm proud of that.  Lay off the hat, you crazy Bret Michaels fans.  I'm expressing myself, over here!

Would you believe I have already moved on to number 14?  

Fedorin',

Missie Sue

Motherhood Mishaps: When the Applebee Stings

“Why are people so bad to each other?”  This is a quote by Christopher McCandless, or from the movie Into the Wild at the very least.  It says a lot of society; it’s true as hell.  People can be damn nasty to each other.  My version of this quote is “Why are moms so mean to each other?”

My girlfriend and I took our toddlers to Kindermusik today, which is hectic enough.  Afterwards, every Tuesday, we have been having lunch at Applebee’s, which can prove to be equally challenging with two toddlers.  I am usually very ready to get Celie into her car seat and pray that she falls asleep on the way home by the time we are done.  She seldom is allowed down in the restaurant by herself.  Frankly, she is mostly never allowed down by herself, even though she is very capable of walking.  Today’s story is a great reminder as to why that is the way it is and has to be. 

We had our meal, I had taken Celie to be changed in the bathroom, and my friend left for the car with her daughter saying she would see us out there when we were done.  We returned to our table and I stood her down between my legs to put her coat on.  (I do the traditional knee hold on her.)  In gathering up her cup and diaper bag and my own items of wear, she slipped from my hold and ran up the isle toward the bathroom.  I, in retrospect, delayed 5 seconds longer than I should have.  It is these 5 seconds as well as the 5 to 10 words from the cook that led to me feeling like the absolute worst mother in existence for a brief amount of time.  Okay, it has officially ripped the scab off of that permanent wound of utter failure that is always living inside of every mother, even when dormant. 

I wanted one more sip of my ice water with lemon.  One more.  Is that too much to ask?  Actually, Missie, as a mother, yes it is.  Because she then slipped from my hold, ran up the isle, and hung a left at the bathrooms where I lost the sight of her head because of the divider.  I was for a brief moment unaware of which direction she took.  I was at full panic for a few seconds as I rounded the corner of the divider.  It was either to the left past the registers or to the right into the kitchen.  Stupid me hung left, telling the questioning server that I was looking for my kid with large deer in headlight border panic breakdown eyes.  I then heard a cough I recognized as my daughter’s from the place I had hoped she didn’t veer into---the kitchen. 

There are two open doorways into the kitchen at Applebee’s.  Here’s some foreshadowing: there isn’t even a door.  As I realized she had entered the kitchen I started to back step to head into the first doorway, at that moment a woman emerged from the left doorway with my child dangling from her arms, visibly distraught at this point (my kid, not the woman).

I don’t remember her exact words, as their meaning and my caring trailed off after it registered what her attitude and opinion was of.  The first words out of my mouth were “I’m sorry…”  The first words out of her mouth were “Do you realize all of the hot things that are back there and blah blah blah…” condescension.  No, please tell me what a kitchen is and what possible dangers lay in it, because we don’t have one and I have absolutely no idea.  I replied, calmly, “I’m sorry, but do you realize how quick a toddler is?”  “Yes, actually, I have two...” more blah blah, I’m a better mother than you, you 18-year-old fedora slut, attitude.  (I jest, but most times you REALLY CAN judge what people are meaning by the way they say things…the WAY you say something is very important. I knew what she was feeling, that was for sure.) 

Anyway, apparently she is either the best mother in the world or her toddlers have no posterior limbs, because doesn’t every mother of a toddler understand how they can be??  WHY ARE MOTHERS SO NASTY TO EACH OTHER!?!?  Cut me some slack.  YES, I realize I am greatly in the wrong for delaying my wrangling efforts that 5 seconds for one more sip of ice cold lemon water for my frazzled dehydrated tongue. I’m not being sarcastic, I realize that was wrong because you don’t get the privilege of random sips of refreshing drinks at will with motherhood, you just don’t, but it was only maybe 10 to 15 seconds that she was in the kitchen, and I would have had her out in like 3 to 5 had I taken the right turn and not hung a left toward the registers!!  Why didn’t any of the other servers who could stop to ask me what I needed, not stop her from heading in there, as they must have seen her round the corner?  It’s not like I sent her back to make me a steak of something? Come ON!  Apparently you are the best mother ever, Applebee’s worker, and your toddlers are made of gold, stationary gold. 

I assume a lot of it was that I may come across as looking like I am 18 to 21 years old.  I may look like I’m completely green, but don’t let the fedora, feathers and nose ring fool you.  This lady was probably 5 to 10 years my senior and she had the attitude that I know absolutely nothing about child care and apparently kitchen ware.  Not that age really matters in motherhood, I realize I am a new mother, and I realize there is a lot I don’t know, but don’t talk down to me like a lot of mothers do IN GENERAL to young in age mothers because you think I am very young.  JUDGEMENT!  Tell me again what dangers lay in the Applebee’s kitchen?  If you’re going to be that way and act like things like this don’t happen in a place that allows children, then please…PLEASE…put a door on your kitchen and don’t have TWO very LARGE access points to it right beside the entrance to the bathroom.  Let’s face it, toddlers eat.  They’re going to be patronizing your restaurant.  They’re going to be entering that bathroom.  Things like this happen and I like to think I was filled with the proper amount of motherly dread and terror as I rounded that corner and didn’t see my daughter.  PLEASE do not use your superior parenting skills and advanced age and rank in the Applebee’s kitchen to purposely make life more stressful for a fellow mom.  Why are moms so mean to each other?  Because we’re BITCHES!  Because motherhood is hard!  Because motherhood is TERRIFYING and you don’t know at any point in time that you are making the right decision.  Because you are always on edge, waiting for someone to judge your way of parenting because deep down you are WORRIED THAT YOU ARE WRONG!!  Deep down there is a place inside of you where you are worried that you are a BAD MOTHER every second of your day!  Welcome to Motherhood. 

At the end of this experience I was left feeling like a shitty ass mother.  I felt so horrible for those 5 seconds, because when it comes down to it, I KNOW BETTER.  You can’t hold on to a spirited toddler’s hand enough to control them without breaking it; it’s like like trying to walk a terrier on a leash of cooked spaghetti.  I know how fast Celie is and I know why I don’t let her down in restaurants, but I find it hard to believe that no child has ever entered that kitchen on a pass through.  Hell, I’m pretty sure my mother has walked into a kitchen trying to find the bathroom.  SHIT HAPPENS!  I also find it hard to believe that lady has had a handle on her kids every second of their existence.  I simply walked away when she started the whole “Yes, actually, I have two and...” where she was then going to go into some other words of wisdom and advice and correction.  Well, lady, if that’s true, then why be such a bitch?  I understand that you are probably stressed out and tired from work, and you may even be generally concerned about the well being of my child, which was my primary concern as I was trying to fetch her.  Hey, life is hard.  But women are not going to advance themselves any farther by being so snippy and judgmental with each other.  Thank you for representing the part of my psyche that does completely agree with you and acknowledges that this was entirely my fault as a mother, but as a mother, please…could you develop some empathy?  Haven’t you had one of those days?  When you have chased for hours and just want a sip of lemon water?  Haven’t you had a few seconds when they just slipped away from your control?  I’m well aware of the dangers of a kitchen, thank you very much.  I have worked in the food industry; I have a small version of one at home as well.  Nobody was more terrified or concerned when my daughter entered that kitchen than I was.  Thank you for making it even harder as a mother to do the right thing.  Thank you for being that mother, “That Mother” that makes my girlfriend and I loathe and detest play groups and mother functions where they gather.  Thank you for judging me to be unfit in a matter of seconds with the tone of your voice.  And congratulations, because you are, therefore, better than I am.  You are “right”. Isn’t that the hopeful end result of meanie mom logic?

From a fellow mother, would it have been too much for that empathetic smile, and a word TO MY DAUGHTER about the dangers of the kitchen and not me?? In an age appropriate way??  So as to help be the village and learn HER of the dangers?  I would have even taken a “you should know better” look from you if you had done that.  I forgot all about correcting her behavior for running away from me in the first place because I was too busy calling you a bitch on my way out the door!  I was so worked up trying to find her, then I got Dr. Toddler jumped when I found her, I was a mess the whole drive home.  “Stop yelling at me!” my girlfriend says.  I was obviously heightened and complaining loudly, it was a miracle the girls fell asleep in the back seat. 

Really, Applebee’s?  Here’s a thought, put a swinging door on your kitchen if it’s like Louis III’s dungeon back there!  But, honestly, thank you for the condescending direction, because I don’t know about you, Applebee’s cook with two toddlers, but I am a reflective human being, and I will take this experience and try to learn from it.  Maybe you should do the same.  There really is a chance that you were unaware the way you approached things could have been different, and therein lays the problem with mothers connecting.  Instead of recognizing that part that is similar inside of us all you chose to go the ol’ yes I have kids therefore I know how to wrangle yours, do you even know what a kitchen is? route.  Thank you for mirroring my motherly doubts and further perpetuating the cycle of indifference and judgment among women.  You worked me up into a tizzy.  I’m going to go vomit and cry now.

Judging You,

Missie Sue

November Blog #20: "Experiencing Some Technical Difficulties"

It’s funny that in the 21^st century we are so reliant on computers.  Well, I suppose it’s not really funny per se, it makes sense, look around, the world is nuts.  But it is funny how accustomed we have become to having computers, so much so that when they go down, it is like our power has actually gone out or something. 

On Sunday night I decided to take the bull by the horns in a manner of speaking and take charge of my computer maintenance.  I have been frustrated with its poor performance and my internet service provider for years.  The ISP I can really do nothing about right now, but my computer, I thought, I can control this, can’t I?  At least somewhat?  I am woman.  Stay-at-home or not I’m a feminist; I decided I needed to be the one to figure this out because having someone else in charge of “maintaining” my computer just did not make sense to me. 

I suppose this all started from me monitoring my computer’s CPU usage.  It has been spiking for no apparent reason probably for a few years now and I decided I wanted to get the bottom of it.  I had never really understood what these CPU spikes came from, but just learned to exist with them, even though their presence was somewhat of an annoyance, as they were usually accompanied by sub par computer performance, though in the grand scheme of problems my computer wasn’t THAT bad.  I suppose this is the reason it remains tolerable. 

I started tracking my CPU usage with a gadget and then decided that perhaps my registry needed cleaned and that would help or something was running in the background perhaps I wasn’t aware of.  I, not being a technical computer geek, only the sister of, know nothing of registry lingo and code; I could end up starting the self destruct sequence for all I know!   I decided to find a program that could clean my registry and what not and perhaps do a little bit more.  I found FixCleaner and did some soul searching beforehand then just bit the bullet and paid for a download of the full version, capable supposedly of many more maintenance options.  I was so frustrated with being frustrated that I decided I had nothing to lose other than the cost if it didn’t work, so I bought it. 

Upon installation, it found all sorts of errors which I corrected and of course it needed to restart after doing this.  I chose to do so and then after my computer shut down it became apparent to me again why I seldom shut down or restart.  It had done this before.   My computer refused to come back on.  It wouldn’t boot, just simply beeped at me six times over and over and over again.  I tried numerous times, but after a long sigh decided to let it sit over night to see if that helped, because it is what corrected the problem before.  Maybe it needed to cool down.  It was working fine before restarting and the cleaner seemed to improve the speed even!  Oiy!  What did I do?  All I wanted to do was improve my computer’s performance. 

The next morning I tried again, hoping it would just come on, and it didn’t.  Still the beeping.  Annoyed.  Why can’t anything ever work like it’s supposed to?  What is more discouraging is I’m still paying the last bit of this computer off!  I mean, come on!  I post a status to Facebook via my grade-school educated phone in hopes that one of my more technologically advanced friends could help me with the issue.  I could tell you what some of the parts in a computer are, but other than that, I’m lost.  I know more about mechanic work and the workings of cars than I do computers, and I’m no mechanic, let’s just put it that way. 

My one friend ended up responding right away and said about thinking it was a problem with the video card.  He suggested I pop the tower open and see if the card is loose and/or reinstall it.  I decided this was a great idea if he was willing to walk me through it.  I wasn’t exactly sure where it was and I have always been so terrified of the innards of computers.  Everything always seemed so delicate like a brain and if I touched it everything would be lost forever or I would mess something up some how!  I am far from a brain surgeon! 

Regardless, I was able to take the computer apart because I am familiar with this, as I clean it out occasionally, but after getting it open, it was apparently not enough.  It desperately needed cleaning, so I decided to do this first with my can of 3M Dust Remover.  I located the video card as described and found all of the fans, as well as the fan on the video card insanely clumped with chunks of dust rabbits (not bunnies, big rabbits).  I started into the cough-inducing task of blowing out the machine.  

After I got the computer all cleaned out, I was walked through the process of removing the card via text delivered Facebook comments.  (Thankfully for technology there is technology).  It is a little freaky handling static sensitive parts and I jokingly asked if I required a Hazmat suit or something to proceed, but luckily didn’t as mine was in the cleaners. Haah.  Anyway, I got the card out and reinstalled and everything.  I thought that perhaps simply cleaning it would help because the fan was SO clumped on the card that I could see if it wasn’t even working at all.  I hooked it all back up and plugged it in and…nothing.  Nothing to excite me accept the beep beep beep beep beep beep!  Rats. My “power” was out.  What am I going to do now?? It’s NaBloPoMo! 

Anyway, hanging out with my two friends and talking to others on Facebook while doing all of this we were able to come to the conclusion that it is my video card, because we had remembered that I have an on-board video card also on this computer, and I plugged the monitor into that and took the video card completely out and voila!  It worked.  Puzzle solved.  It was the video card. 

So then I ran the FixCleaner program again and finished up what I was doing on my PC.  I have been monitoring my CPU usage again after uninstalling some programs and things now and my computer seems to be running smoother because of the cleaning.  The spikes don’t seem as bad, but are still occurring occasionally.  I have at least added something to my bucket list with this whole ordeal.  I am a work(ish)-at-home-mom and my husband works takes him away all week.  Most of the duties of this household fall on me; I pride myself on being fairly self-reliant because I have to.  I do, though, require help from time to time.  Who doesn’t?  Super Mom, Wonder Woman, maybe?  Ch.  The lucky ones know those women aren’t real and help in some form is usually necessary. 

Thank Goodness I have knowledgeable friends that were able to help me get to the bottom of my problem this time, but the stay-at-home feminist in me was inspired to know my way around my computer better in order to be able to fix smaller problems such as this without assistance.  I’ve decided to add “Build My Own Computer” to my Bucket List.  There would be no better way to understand something than to build it from scratch.  I don’t know when I will do this, it might be next month or it might (and is more inclined to) be years from now, but I am going to do it, dammit.  I am building a computer for myself.  I am a capable woman.  I will take charge of my power.  I will empower myself with the sufficient amount of geektastic knowledge…and I will build.  It can be done.