Fear Itself: Frets Over the B String

Every time I am tuning or changing strings on my guitar, I have flashbacks of that movie, is it the House on Haunted Hill remake or The Haunting, I can't remember which right now and I'm on my phone. Anyway, the girl is freaking out saying the spirits are in this and that all the while touching all of these things, then she says it's in THIS, and touches the piano or a harp? (Man, now I'm realizing how unfounded this fear is if I can't even remember the details of the scene.) Regardless, a string snaps at that moment and comes back and slashes her across the face. Bloody face skin laid open by musical instrument. Now, without the assistance of spirits, this kind of thing rarely happens while tuning up a guitar, but, hey, let's face it...it's possible. The anticipation is usually the most unnerving part though.
I was never fully afraid that the same fate would befall me, but I have always been a bit jumpy while working with my strings. Maybe I just understand you should respect things that are wound that tight and at such great tension? Luckily no mutilation has ever occurred while working with my guitar, though.
Last night my friend was on me to play some guitar so I picked up my Alvarez. It was fairly off, so I was tuning it up. Upon reaching the B string, I gave the tuning peg a slight turn and SNAP!! It violently came to its end, grazing my hand when it flew.
I was very surprised to see that it actually happened; not even a wound in the weakest of definitions but the string had in fact drew actual blood, a tiny tiny dot of glistening blood. Not enough for a meal or anything, but it was there. I'll be damned; it DOES happen.
It occurred to me how this is a metaphor for guitar play in itself or even life in general.  Like most fears, even if it DOES one day happen...the fear itself is much worse than the actual wound. The anticipation does much more damage than the event. Our fears are warranted, perhaps, but still ridiculous. Most things worried about never happen anyway, so you need to just brace yourself and tighten that string!! It could either draw blood or music out of you, but aren't they really one and the same?
"Do not die with your music still inside of you." - Wayne Dyer

Sandy in the Mountains

Yesterday we spent most of the day watching CNN following the path of hurricane Sandy. It's projected path took it right to our central Pennsylvania. This kind of scare was unprecedented in my life. It was only a category 1/2 but the possibility was frightening.

We left our chunk of pretty on the hill for shelter from the storm. I felt that we would be safer at my parents' home, in the valley. I feared the winds of Sandy would send our trees toppling over which could be potentially fatal in a trailer shell. I had never anticipated the winds of a hurricane on my home before. We did end up losing some trees, but no more than we have from a Nor'easter. We didn't even lose power, which was incredibly surprising because the lines of our cooperative run mostly in wooded areas. People not far from us lost power and were out several days even. All in all, we were prepared with our generators and lanterns and prepared meals, but we were incredibly lucky during this storm. Our mountains sheltered us from the worst of Sandy's winds.

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

What's Been Happening?

What’s happening? What’s happening?  A lot has been and nothing, all the same.  My husband is home because he had an accident recently at work; one of the scariest days of my life, last Wednesday.  Celie’s 2^nd birthday is approaching insanely fast.  I can’t get my house together; story of my life.  I need to focus more on Drifting Sun and Musing Through.  I haven’t painted in months.  I haven’t played the guitar in weeks.  There is definitely dust on my guitar, you fuck (The Murmurs - You Suck), but it’s all my fault.  I had a family reunion in July.  That month came and went.  The 4thof July, our 5th wedding anniversary, the Biannual Wilson Family Reunion, and then at the end of it my husband almost dies.  It was a HELL of a month, to say the least, with an excellent ending, actually.  I am happy to have him home.  I’m going to try to document some things quickly in the blog.  I guess I use it as a sort of timeline of my experiences also…although, not properly because I still have to blog yet about Stevie Nicks who I saw perform June 29.  Geez.  Get WITH it, Missie Sue!  I think I’m doing well considering I spent a good part of July thinking that I was losing my mind.  Depressed and so explosively low, and having head pain and taking ibuprofen daily.  Discovered I had a blockage in the sinus.  Neti potted with peroxide, there’s a blog right there!  Cleared it up and I was hungry and thirsty for the first time in 3 weeks.  Yes.  Busy month.  Blogs to come.  I’ll try to tag this with tons of them.  I’ll just post them when they occurred?  Sure, why the hell not.  This is my blog. 

The Boss, While Only Here,

Missie Sue

"The Phone Call" or "The Scariest Day of My Life!"

July 25, 2012 will go down as the scariest day of my life…SO far.  I am sure there will be many more, after all, I only JUST became a mother, but I suppose it was probably the scariest I have had to date, pushing into Second Place that time in Puerto Rico when before my eyes a killer hurricane-inspired wave almost knocked my husband and my father into the ocean to be beaten against the aggressively sharp rocks we were ignorantly standing out on the edge of.  In retrospect, had I not received “The Phone Call” from my husband himself, I would have spiraled into a frenzy that day that would have seriously changed the course of events, I’m sure. 

It was basically like any other Wednesday, home with a toddler, just trying to survive.  She was napping, it was around 2:30 and I received a call from my husband.  There was a heightened tone to his voice, but he was fairly calm, and even though it was serious, it was reassuring I could hear he was okay.  He said he was in an accident and a 30 foot rebar wall he was attaching into place had fallen with him on it and it had landed on him.  He said he was okay, but he was hurt pretty bad and that they were calling an ambulance for him.  I told him to let me know what was going on and call me as soon as was possible.  I then hung up the phone to sit and worry with vomit ready to spew out of my face. 

I felt nauseous.  I couldn’t believe it, or was in a state of shock or something?   I had heard his voice, I talked to him myself, he was okay, but there was still an incredibly possibility that he had internal bleeding from the fall, or had something broken that he was not aware of because of the adrenaline, or his head injuries were worse than he thought.  This is what rattled through my head while I sat and waited. 

I was in the middle of paying bills but I stopped.  I let Celie sleep and with my mind going I started text family and friends.  My friends Hilary and Dave came to sit with me and hang out while I waited.  Meanwhile, I had received a reassuring call from a man my husband works with.  After that, however, I got a call from the hospital and it was a stranger and they gave me the whole “are you Mrs. Hoover…” blab la shpeal.   My head dropped.  “Why is a stranger calling me?!!”  Finally the man on the other end of the line got out the information he meant to convey to me.  He was one of EMTs on the Life Flight and had a conversation with Joey; my husband had given him my name and number and asked him to call me and let me know he had arrived at the hospital.  Phew!  Good news, because if he is having conversations with people he must be pretty aware and not out of it, thus the head injury must be superficial (lack of better word). 

This was the last call I got, so then I was just waiting for them to run all their tests at the hospital.  I was waiting for the call to tell me that my husband didn’t have a serious head injury or internal bleeding.  Finally he called me from his cell phone and I got to talk to him.  He was obviously medicated at this point, given the sound of his voice.  He amazingly had no broken bones other than two of his transverse process, which they determined later was only one place.  After a CATscan and tons of X-rays they determined he was the luckiest man ever. 

Joey fell approximately thirty feet with a rebar wall weighing approximately 900 pounds.  He rode it down to the ground and at the end it almost whipped his body to the ground, he said.  It ended up on him; two workers had to lift it off.  His new hard hat that he had just purchased was thrown from his head.  SO THANKFUL that we had just paid 85 bucks for it!  The wall actually fell onto another rebar mat, also.  The size 6 bars that it was made out of were tied on approximate 6 inch centers.  Had they been farther apart, he could have had serious lacerations.  The mat also gave a little, as it sat just above the concrete below, so he didn’t land directly onto the concrete the surrounds them.  He also was tied off with a standard harness and not a retractable one, which would have pulled back and snapped him into the wall, possibly injuring him worse.  He said for a split second he thought about unhooking his harness and jumping from the wall, but then he saw the rebar dowels below and fearing probable impalement he decided to hang on and ride the wall down.  CRAZY!

My husband is now resting on our recliner chair, where he has also been sleeping for the past week because he can’t get into bed.  He is still in a bit of pain moving certain ways, but he is doing well and recovering quickly, although it is unclear how long it will be before he is cleared for work.  We are enjoying the time together while he is home.  It’s horrible he had to throw a wall on himself for a vacation, but hey, I’m grateful.  I’m grateful for my amazing man of steel!  He took a nasty hard fall/beating.  He says he feels like he got his ribs kicked in, but I have never been so grateful in my life that he didn’t end up impaled, paralyzed, broken, or dead.  There, I said it; he almost died.  I try to block out how terrifying his line of work is because if I focused on that every day I would be locked up.  But I still have worried about just such a thing in the back of my mind since we got together, only with a worse outcome. 

Worrying doesn’t help anything.  For a completely terrifying close call, everything seemed to go just right.  I got that call that I have ever been worrying about getting, but instead of a stranger on the end of the line it was my husband telling me about his accident.  I am grateful for that.  That is the only thing that saved me from being a complete emotional wreck during this entire ordeal; I heard his voice.  My husband was more concerned about us than he was about himself and knew that I would go insane if I heard about the accident so he called me before anyone else had the chance to.  I am grateful for that phone call and everything that I have.  I love my husband so much, I really don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to him, but we got close this time, and INCREDIBLY lucky.  Grateful for life and all of my many blessings!  I will inhale deeply every fart that comes out of his wonderful ass!  I love you, Joey Bear.  You’re my peaches, I’m your pear.  <3

Fire in the Sky

Feathers in their hair and lines on their faces,

Melting down the pot, battle of the races.

Heritage is lost, nothing left of the land.

Flags are burning all around the white man.

Fenced in the Rez, selling small trinkets.

Never was a real man, never let them think it.

Give the chief a bottle; get them all to drink it.

Firewater burning down their throats while they’re shriekin’. 

It’s the 4^th of July and the sky is burning,

Time will always know as the world keeps turning,

Fire in the sky and food on your plate.

For us it’s a party, for them it’s too late. 

Having us a party, but for them it’s too late.

Dirt in their hair and blood on their faces.
Take away their legacy, don't leave any traces.

Birds in the sky, the forests for the bear.

Nature's call echoing, crying bloody tears.

Lock away their customs, throw away the key.

Nothing worth being if you're not being free.  

Catching falling dreams right from the sky,

Didn't give no chances, we just watched them die.

Hoots & Hellmouth: February 4th, 2012

Hoots & Hellmouth

February 4^th, 2012

Elk Creek Cafe +Aleworks

Millheim, Pennsylvania

I only wished I had written of this experience while it was fresher in my memory.  This was the first concert of this year that I went to, taking place on February 4.  It was one of the best and most intimate concert experiences I have ever had.  I know that H&HM aren’t exactly a huge act that would draw an insanely large crowd, but I do believe that is why it was one of the best concert experiences of my life and I have come to really appreciate the small, intimate venue for concerts.    

For starters, the Elk Creek Café +Aleworks is a restaurant and ale house.  It is maybe 75 feet by 200 feet, and that is going by my horridly poor guestimated calculations.  It is essentially a restaurant, with a chimney in its center and a stage on the wall opposite the bar.  It is a very nicely lit and maintained establishment.  There was a logo for the cafe on the wall behind the stage.  The Alehouse is what it sounds like; it is a small microbrewery and restaurant.  We had the privilege of ordering and enjoying a wonderful meal prior to watching the show!

We ordered our meals and pitchers of ale and started the evening off.  I believe I had the bacon cheeseburger, if I remember correctly.  I think that a burger is a good menu item to try out at a new place to see how the food will be.  Though somewhat pricey for what we got, the food was definitely enjoyable.  The people I was with ordered a dozen wings, which they let me sample a few of as well as pitchers of ale for the evening.  The wings were some of the biggest I have ever eaten.  What I do remember the best is the delicious sauce that came with my burger.  I don’t know what it was for exactly, so I smeared some on my burger and proceeded to dip folded fries into it.  After a good full belly I started on some ale, which was a brown ale something or other that was on special in pitchers for the night.  The bar is also a microbrewery and they make all of their own beer.  The beer was quite delicious and I enjoyed a few foaming glasses throughout the evening.  On with the show!

The acoustics in this place were amazing.  The sound booth and man were right in front of our table so I watched intently as he and the guys messed with it earlier in the evening to get it just so.  I should mention that the place was so small, the band was hanging out the entire night at a table in the far corner to the right of the stage, which was probably about 20 to 30 feet away.  Pretty amazing.  Just wolfing down my burger checking out some musicians I find quite amazing.  A definite moment for the books (or blog)!  I wasn’t sure what to expect when the show started.  I had two of H&HM’s albums at the time and rather enjoyed both of them, though I had never seen them live.  I did not have their new album, Salt, which was only released a month or two prior to the concert.  Let the show begin.

So the room quiets down a bit and the lighting changes and they finally start into their very first song, which is Roll, Brandywine, Roll, followed by The Good I Know You Know.  These were the two songs that my best good pal I had accompanied to the show had wished to hear above all!  Score!   I think I had my phone up and was recording throughout this.  Before they got into the next song after their opening, Rob (mandolin/etc) made a joke about making history here tonight and being sure to upload to your Facebook, commenting on the video taking that was going on around them in a positive way.  How delightful!  These are the only songs I remember a specific order for.  I do remember hearing Forks and Knives, and some others off of their first albums, but then the latter part of the performance seemed devoted mostly to their new album Salt.  I swear it almost seems as if they played the album in its entirety, and who knows, they may have.  I had heard their concerts described as “revivals” and as the night progressed I was soon to learn just what this meant. 

Dancers swarmed the stage, stomping in a line right in front of the boys.  During the intro of The Ache, I remember the sound of the bass completely filling the room, thick like smoke, and when he dragged the bow across those strings I swear that I felt it in the gray matter of my brain!  As the band moved through their sets, it was more and more evident what was meant by revival.  Slowly more and more people would migrate to the front of the room to stand before them and stomp, clap, dance, sway, or any combination of the aforementioned movements.  People were getting right up in front of them and taking pictures and video with their phones and cameras.  Meanwhile, they performed perfectly, like they were a framed piece of art or a living tourist attraction. 

During the break, I perused the items they had for sale on the back table they were sitting at earlier.  Among the items was the book Seeds of Discent by Nic Esposito, concerning self sustainable agriculture, as they were there having played the PASA convention that they frequent every year.  I was told the owner of the Aleworks was the man who started PASA.  I chitchatted with the guy they had selling the stuff for awhile, discussing the book and other things.  He gave me a business card with the books name, etc, on it so I could check into it later on.  Eventually the band came around and my friends and I were able to speak one on one with them.  I ended up purchasing two vinyl records while there, The Holy Open Secret and a copy of their new album Salt.  I was able to take the copy of THOS around to each of the band members and have them sign it.  They doodled on it, as the drummer, who I started with, told me they did if people didn’t mind.  Mind?  Yeah, I will “mind” big time if you doodle on a copy of your vinyl sleeve in front of me with a Sharpie while we chit chat like we’re pals.  This was epic. 

I remember high-fiving Mike Reilly, the drummer, who was very chill and layed back.  Rob Berliner (mandonlin/piano/banjo/organ/vocals) was actually the one who checked me out with his super technical phone swiping “device”,which we had problems with.  He said I would have to wait and apologized.  “Ohh no!!” Whatever will I do.  I guess just stand here and talk to you some more.  I believe he told me I had a nice name and we discussed where I hailed from.  He was a nice guy.  Todd “Bud” Erk, the bassist, was one of the shyest guys I have met and it was incredibly awkward getting his signature on the album.  He sort of stayed on the stage and wasn’t talking to folks as much, but I got him! 

This left only Mr. Sean Hoots. His glasses, beard, hair combo were drawing me in.  He had a presence that I had been marveling over the entire evening, that I couldn’t even explain if I tried.  He was great in person.  Up close and personal, his style of playing was a glorious thing to witness!  The way he passionately attacked the strings of the guitar and channeled Jesus on stage!  I had to tell him!  “…you have one of the most powerful stage presences that I have ever seen…”, there I was, kissing ass to underrated musicians.  “Aw, shucks.  Thank you.” he said to me.  I got Sean Hoots to say shucks?  What an honestly awesome guy!  Seriously. 

Their second set was even more stomptastic than the first.  Feet were flying and people were bouncing; you couldn’t NOT move to this music!  The sheer power that I felt in the room during each rise and fall during Why Would You Not Want To Go There? changed my life!  The song has a maddening pace combined with swaying lyrics, and an excellent use of absences.  Being such a closeup observer of the strumming pattern of Sean Hoots and his channeling performance was moving to say the absolute least and I ended up being obsessed with this song for a few months afterward. The wall of energy in front of them at that moment was phenomenal.  Everybody in the entire room was feeling and contributing to that song.  "That just comes right back to you!" Sean had told me, when I was commenting on the "wall of energy" to him.  It was a revival, alright.

Every time that I listen to Being Borned Again, the last song on the Salt album, I am transported back to that night and I can remember the entire crowd/room being instructed toward stomping and clapping in perfect time and unison to the beat of the tune in that dimly and perfectly lit room.  Blue tinted lights illuminated the band, and I heard one of the best songs for the first time in my life and immediately fell in love with it.  Muscle memory will always connect that song for me to that stomp clap pattern and that room where the whole crowd was revealed to be one energetic organism moving together. 

I had one of the most intimate musical experiences of my life seeing Hoots and Hellmouth at the Elk Creek Cafe and Aleworks and I look very forward to seeing them perform again! 

Trayvon Martin: Candy in His Pockets

In a bag or in his pockets,

He carried the last treasure,

That he would possess.

The last booty.

The last success.

The last supper. 

Strolling or skipping away,

Was it night or day? 

Fear targeted his colored face.

The blackness of night was at prey.

Who was the victim?
Who was the criminal?

Who was the adult,

Versus the juvenile? 

In America we shoot first.

In America we don’t ask questions;

Later we dodge responsibility.

We dodge justice. 

We dodge peace of mind.

We dodge truth.

The 911 tapes reveal the most.

The man was on the phone,

As he chased down and encountered,

A 17 year old boy with candy in his pocket.

The gunman shot young Trayvon in the chest,

Killing him dead. 

No criminal charges against him.

If the authorities finally press him,

He will claim self defense,

But what kind of candy is loaded,

With bullets as deadly as his?

- March 19, 2012

I Try to Blog, I Turn To Shit

November Blog #17: "A Word Collage for the Crushed"

November 17, 2011 Prompt of the Day:  Make a list of everyone you've had a crush on, then choose one and describe him or her in detail.

[I suppose I ended up making a collage of sorts...and perhaps it's more figurative than detailed.  It is what it is.]

They’re warm and caring, but distantly drifting.

They’re busy yet empty; slowed but fast moving.

They’re soft and giving, yet hard and solid.

They’re unknowing, unaware, oblivious…pallid,

To the grave fact that all is not what it seems, 

To the haunting memory running through dreams.

They’re rough and prickly, steadied in ego. 

They’re the one that’s got a way to go.

They’re the one that broke me long ago.

They’re the one that fueled the complex fires.

They’re the ones whose actions prove they are liars. 

They’re the one whose heads are down most now. 

They’re the ones that know what I’m all about.

He’s street smart and savvy, but knavishly fun.

He’s a real knock down fella, a real son of a gun.

He’s seen miles and loose women, fought battles I’ve fought.

He pins down the lighthearted, for what they are not. 

Rough around the edges, sharper than a tack.

Got the weight of the world sittin’ on his back.

Shuffles as he walks; he nails the presentation. 

Takes the long road about every destination. 

He’s silently outspoken, too many words to give.

He’s humble yet fluffed by the years he has lived. 

He’s Butters from South Park meets Pig Pen from Peanuts. 

He’s ambitiously lazy, prefers candy to beer nuts. 

His edges are rough, but his background is rougher. 

He takes all I throw; I have found no man tougher. 

He’s patient and caring, he’s gentle and kind.

He knows when to get the hell out of my mind. 

The world’s full of crushes, and people that will creep in,

But I think this one’s special, so I think that I’ll keep him.  

November Blog #2: "Self Check-Me-Out!"

 So, I was at the grocery store today and all of the lines were full and I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.  I wasn’t in an incredible hurry, but the lines were annoying me and I decided to give the self check out line a try once again.  SIDENOTE:  SCO and I met for the first time one Christmas Eve, an excruciating encounter which left me questioning the exact practicality of such a service.  I have, though, since used it on occasion, usually when I only have a couple of items and want to check out quickly.  With such occasions I have found that when used with only a moderate amount of items, it does seem practical.  There is, however, really a spectrum of inconvenience vs. convenience when it comes to the Self Check-Out, it seems.  This begs the question:

IS the Self-Check-Out line at the grocery store REALLY quicker?

I guess like everything it would depend on circumstances.  At times, its purpose can be put to proper use and you can buzz in and out with relative speed, having a ball playing cashier, because, let’s face it, it’s fun when you aren’t the one bagging and swiping all day.  It doesn’t seem, though, very practical when you have a large amount of items, especially ones that are unmarked or of the produce variety, because from personal experience, problems of patience can arise. 

Any mother can tell you that the act of shopping alone has the potential to be trying on your patience enough as it is.  (Unless, of course, you should happen to find yourself kid free on a spree with an unlimited credit card that is billed to someone else!)  At this point, my 14 month old daughter seems to enjoy shopping even more than I do, mind you, but she also chooses to spend most of our browsing and selecting time playing the pick up game.  I am usually able to successfully fend her off with odd items I approve of her playing with at the store that will be stimulating, safe, and unbreakable.  (Today she eyed up and I gave her a kiddy bowl with a pig head lid that resembles a pig plate she has at home).  After keeping her at bay and locating all of our needs, I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible like most moms on a mission.  On a whim, I opted for the self check out line.  The first two lanes were in use, but a cashier who was packing bags at lane 3 told me lane 4 was open.  Aha!  I’ll take it. 

Today I had a modestly full cart.  I needed just a “few things” as I told my sister, which was true; I was only planning on getting mainly the baby’s bananas, yogurt, and milk, but we ALL know where that leads, right?  (Which is exactly why in our home Wal-Mart is jokingly referred to as, among other more blatantly insulting names, “THE [hundred] DOLLAR STORE”).  But even after adding in a few impulse buys and some last minute memory-sparked necessities, I was still able to keep today’s purchase comfortably shy of $100. 

I starting scanning everything through and worked on bagging it simultaneously while my sister helped stimulate the baby with a viddy at the tabloids.   For the last part of the check out she was helping me scan items and I was bagging everything up.  We were down to the last two items: a small houseplant and a whole rotisserie chicken.  My sister scanned the plant and put it on the belt and the thing for some reason sent it back multiple times in a belt line dance I have never seen before.  Long story short, it ended up ringing up the plant 4 times.  The self check out assistant/bagger/cashier extraordinaire came over to assist us, putting her code in and all that good stuff.  I watched her punch into the system and go to remove the multiples.  She removed one, but it only voided single items at a time, so she had to remove the other 3 the same way.  She went to go through the process again and ended up accidentally choosing to void my entire transaction!  I could have crapped. 

It was immediately apparent how incredibly bad the cashier felt.  She put her hand over her mouth and literally gasped “I’m so sorry”.  I had no choice but to laugh about the situation.  I think the poor girl apologized to me possibly 38 times throughout the entire experience.   

There was, obviously, no other choice but to remove everything from the bagging area where I had already bagged everything, and scan it all over again.  I reassured her it was not a big deal and not to worry about it, but would appreciate some help with the matter.  We decided she would re-bag and I would re-scan.  It was nice I had my sister with me to occupy the baby while we went through it a first and second time, though.  Meanwhile, the cashier continued to apologize to me over and over again.  She said she was already having a bad day so I told her it was a good thing it happened with me then instead of someone that was in a real hurry and would give her a hard time about it.  “That’s a good way to look at it, I guess” I told her.  I meant it to make her feel better, because it was obvious she felt like an ass, but I’m afraid she may have taken it the wrong way. 

What the cashier and I both found odd about the mishap was that the system didn’t even ask the girl if she was sure that she wanted to void the entire transaction.  We’re continuously asked on most programs, “Are you sure you want to delete?”  I felt bad for her, because it really wasn’t a big deal to me, just one of those humorous pain in the ass kind of things that you can laugh (or blog) about later.  She felt worse than I did, I’m sure. 

All in all, this encounter with the inconveniently convenient Self Check-Out Line was definitely better than that first Christmas Eve’s.  The cashier wasn’t required for every other item scanned this time and I wasn’t in the rush and stress of the holiday season.  I wasn’t a mama yet at the time either.  That cashier girl is lucky; if all of those stressors were stacked together at the same time against her, this may have been a less passive blog. Haah. 

[ What has been your experience with the Self Check-Out Line?   ]