Last Laugh

I was about to go to bed when I saw this photo and had to share it. I mean seriously. Hilarious. Bush looks strangely like Howdy-Doody.
(I do not own this photo)

Title IX

Way back in November my dear friend Emilie (unintentionally) began a discussion that kind of evolved into one on women in music. It started with a comment about being disappointed in what came out of the artists of Lilith Fair since the tour ended, and concluded on the status of women in music today.
(now pause that thought)
This evening I saw the headline that Mia Hamm and Julie Foudy had been elected into the US Soccer Hall of Fame in their first year of eligibility. Of course Hamm now holds the record for highest number of votes cast and highest winning percentage, of which she is completely deserving. Anyway, reading the highlights of their monumental careers suddenly got me thinking about that discussion about music months ago. And not just because Emilie is a kick ass athlete with tons of heart, skill and guts (I first accidentally wrote asslete. I almost left it). There was something special about that time.
In hindsight, the late 90s were a good time to be a young woman. We had role models in places where none were a few years prior. Role models make doors in sheer cement walls. I think about the rise of Lilith Fair, the famous Women's World Cup where Brandi Chastain ripped off her jersey after winning the shootout in front of 90,000 fans...hell, even the Ya-Ya Sisterhood came out in those same few years. We had the first woman to play NCAA Divison I football kick a field goal, for cryin' out loud. If that wasn't empowering...
And then there was Claire Danes! Who didn't want to be Claire Danes!?

What saddens me is that the wave of role models hasn't really been followed by anything else. Lilith lead to, what? The Spice Girls? Britney? Avril? Hells no. What do we have that could ever compare or continue? Truly the only musician with the appeal and chops to even consider such an endeavor would be Norah Jones, who just doesn't inspire an all-day concert tour event. Maybe some chai tea in a overstuffed chair, yes, but not outdoor pavilion music.

Will we ever have a female asslete (giggle) whose influence could ever touch the width and breadth of Mia Hamm's? Venus and Serena Williams have appeal, but not at all in the same way. They are too Hollywood. And they play tennis. La de friggin' da.

I want there to be women for my nieces and my little sister to see who prove that the world is possible. Not just because you show off your body, or are a whore, or because you are beautiful. Do ya'll know of anyone I'm missing here? Role Models of that caliber?

Mosaic

I've been busy lately with things outside of work and I love it. Last week I spent Monday with friends who came out to camp to enjoy the nice weather with kids and dogs and then back to their house for a big dinner and games, then Tuesday I missed a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese b/c my nap turned into the previous post titled "Could", Wednesday was a impromptu trip to Greenville, SC for some BBQ at a place that ended up being closed (BAH!), Thursday was watching "Lost" online at Caroline's house before racing back to catch "Grey's" at Eva's. Friday was another big dinner night in West Asheville and talking with friends about nerdy topics and a sleepover. Saturday was a big breakfast, a great hike just off the Blue Ridge Parkway, a late lunch at the Bakery and "Waiting for Guffman" over freshly made pizza. Sunday church was such a refreshing experience and the lunch afterward went right along with the community. Sunday afternoon was time to rest, read and...wait, I have no recollection of yesterday. None. What did I do yesterday afternoon? Last night? I feel like the guy from "Memento" all of a sudden...

There are days when my life has the feeling of a mosaic; a collection of overlapping stories and punchlines: the poignant and the pugnacious, the preposterous and the petty. Sometimes I feel like all I am are stories. I simply tell them because they are mine, not because they free me or offer others any insight. I give them in place of me. Does that make sense? Instead of giving who I am I present stories.
I guess I'm thinking on how I define myself to others, both consciously and unconsciously, and how I'd ever learn to go about it differently.

Work in Progress

This afternoon I checked my email to find I had a new myspace comment from an old friend from college. He'd posted it at close to 3am, so I'm assuming (hoping?) he was drunk when he wrote it. The jist of the comment was, "Christian!? Not when you..." and it went on to list, in salacious detail, some of those things in my life that I am least proud of.
Things that also occurred, oh, 8 years ago.
I'm reeling, honestly. I kind of want to cry. I can't believe how much that has stung.
This is someone who I was close to the first two years of college, then we grew apart as our habits and circles of friends changed. We are myspace friends by approximation; it's not as if we've communicated in any detail in the past 6 years so this comment was not only unsolicited, it was out of left field.
I can't figure out where his anger comes from, to leave a comment like that. I don't know why my statement of Christianity was so offensive to him, he's normally a pretty chill guy. It's not like my myspace page has a large picture of Blond Swedish Jesus on it, with my hobbies being "the stations of the cross" and "judging sinners". It simply says, at the bottom, "Religion: Christian-other". Doesn't sound too holier-than-thou to me, Church Lady.

Here is the thing: I know what I've done; I don't have to be reminded. I haven't forgotten, and frankly I don't hide it or gloss over it, as most who've met me in the years since can attest. I am disconnected from it, however, because it was long ago and I've been changed out of that. I am different; that is not who I am. I am not the worst of me, just as I am not my greatest successes. This knowledge has cemented me today.

Needless to say I immediately deleted his comment; my little sister checks my page and that isn't something for anyone to read. I sent him a response that simply said, "What can I say? People change. Especially after 8 years have passed." Part of me wants to see healing in that friendship, as some is obviously needed but part of me says to leave it be. Some people cannot let others be anyone but who they were at a specific point in time.

After all this I did add something to my page:
"It is by the grace of God that I am a work in progress and my mistakes don't define me. Simple as that."

I have never been more thankful that such a statement is true.

Oldies and Irish Drinking Songs

I woke up this morning with "Charlie on the MTA" by the Kingston Trio in my head. I haven't heard the song in at least a year, so it was a surprise to find its barres running across my brain, but all day it was a still quiet voice singing "...but will he ever return? No he never return and his fate is still unlearned...."
What?
I am bat shit insane.
"Charlie on the MTA" is one of those songs where I know all the words to it and have no idea why. It's like oldies songs, where you know all the words to these really odd songs and you have absolutely no idea why you know them. It's not like you seek out the oldies. You don't scan the stations hoping to catch that classic hit by Jan and Dean. You don't say, "Oh boy! It's the Beach Boys!" But when they come on, you just sing along like a little kid. Are we born knowing the basic words to "Leader of the Pack" or "Rockin' Robin"? Is it part of our duty as Americans? Can we find a way to use this brain power for something else?

And then there's my weird Irish thing, where I subconsciously turn songs into Irish drinking tunes, like "Charlie on the MTA" which is, let's face it, not an Irish song. At all. And then Bob Dylan's "Times They Are A-Changin'" makes me want to hold a frosty pint and swing my arm, singing it like, "Da tiiiiiimmmeees dey arrrr a chaaaaannngin'" for no apparent reason.

Apparently the only way I've found to communicate lately is through music. Seriously. It's a very strange place to be.

Could

You ever get to that place where you are hungry but don't really feel like making anything, or you know you could go out and meet up with people, but that would first require a shower, you greasy, greasy thing and that just doesn't seem worth the effort at this point?
Yup.

Pass part II

When I got back from the fateful Gillian Welch show where I passed out I felt the need to send Gillian a myspace message to apologize for stealing her juice. I just got a response from her:

"I used to pass out at dead shows all the time... just glad you were ok... your welcome to our juice any old time you need it. Love, g "


HA! That rules.
A fun ending to a rather crazy story.

Kitchen/Floation Devices

Ah...my last weekend in the kitchen. Sad, but I'm ready. Friday morning I tried an experiment and made bagels from scratch for the staff, and they were met with enthusiasm. It really is an insultingly easy thing to make and people are so impressed. And fresh bagels are like a little bit o' heaven. It's like a big ring of carb happiness. And then you add the cream cheese...

The kitchen staff took me out for Indian food for lunch and I think I ate my weight in chicken marsala and Naan. Got giant starbucks on the ride back to camp, with a stop at Mt. Sheeba, a very odd consignment project at a dilapidated school farther down Flat Creek. Mt. Sheeba is only open two days a week and it run by little old ladies and is somewhat overwhelming. It is labyrinthine, dusty, kitschy and absolutely wonderful. I found what could be the the steal of a century: a brand new Lotus Designs Rio PFD (basically the model before the Rio Serrano) for one dollar.
One.
That's a $124 discount.
Of course I do have to buy new foam for it so maybe it'll be a $100 discount total, but I mean, I'll take a $25 PFD anyday. Not that I need a new PFD but I could use a flatwater designed one. I can rationalize a $1 purchase anyday. Except maybe a $1 tattoo. Or haircut. Or botox. That I wouldn't trust. Mine is very old, faded, smelly and well loved (see photo with my dear Elena, before yet another paddling adventure down the Comptons section of the Shenandoah with the yearly HRA program). It used to be bright red; not so much anymore. It has a hole in the pocket from when I lived in a tent and a mouse wanted to get to a granola wrapper I'd left in it.
Most of the stuff I owned when living in a tent has holes in it from mice...I hate mice.


This is too long; I'll post another about Urban weekend here at the Gap. For a skinny white girl from cornfed VA it was a new and delightful experience.

(PFD: Personal Flotation Device of the Type III classification as dictated by the US Coast Guard. Used mostly for open water travels, as in flatwater, swiftwater and whitewater. Like a "life jacket" only more comfortable, less intrusive and prettier)

Buying Power

Things I Hate to Buy But Need to as Dictated by Adulthood:

* Toiletpaper
* Socks
* Thank-you cards
* Pre-printed address labels
* Kitchen utensils
* Laundry baskets
* Face wash
* Vases
* Pot holders
* Vaccum bags
* Bathroom cleaners
* Coffee filters
* Light bulbs
* Sheets
* Clocks
* Razor refills
* Tax software


Things I Get to Buy, as I Am in Adulthood, Dammit:

* Beer
* Ringtones
* iTunes

Pass?

Here is an email I sent out to some of my friends earlier today about last night...

Last night I went out to the Gillian Welch concert with my friend Katherine. We got there early and walked down the street to this great Indian restaurant and simply had a grand time. We were very, very full when we left. Got to the concert and staked out our little standing room in the middle of the room, about 6 "rows" from the front. The Orange Peel is a standing room only venue with bars along the side walls, like the 9:30 Club in DC only smaller. We grabbed small beers (one each) and slowly finished them over the hour before the show started. Gillian and David Rawlings came on stage, and it's another wonderful show by the duo. Standing that long is painful for me, but I'll endure it for the sake of a great live show, but last night my right shoulder and back were just KILLING me. I couldn't get comfortable. Then, about 5 songs in, it happened. It felt like these hot fingers were rising from my torso into my head, wrapping it's spindly fingers around my brain and taking all the blood from it. I got very, very hot and my vision blacked out. I grabbed Katherine's arm and said, "I'm having a reaction" but over the sound of the crowd she thought I said something about the music and just nodded and smiled. About ten seconds later, I collapsed, out cold.
I woke up to Katherine shaking me and calling my name and she helped me out of the middle of the crowd. I don't remember this. As we got to the edge of the crowd a young woman came up and said, "I'm a nurse. Are you diabetic?" I told her no, I'm hypoglycemic and she said to a staffer, "Get her juice!" They got me to a bar stool over on the edge of the crowd where I got myself a glass of water before passing out again. I couldn't stay conscious. At least this time I just passed out with my head on the bar. No more falling needed, thank you.
The nurse got me juice and within three gulps I was wide awake again. I was still really, really hot and sweaty all over and shaking and weak, but at least I was conscious again. Katherine was in awe how three gulps of juice could turn me around, but that's how we hyper-hypos are.
Needless to say, Katherine and I only stayed through the first set. I was still having trouble standing and didn't want to risk sticking around. We got back to Katherine and Andy's and decided it'd be good for me to simply stay there for the night and not attempt the 20 minute drive home.
So that was my holy $#@% night. It was humiliating to say the least, and I kept telling people, "I've only had one drink! I'm not drunk at all!" because people kept looking at me that way. I was sad to miss the show that I was so looking forward to, but I was also scared. I mean, it's not normal for one's body to do that.
I talked to my mom on my drive home today and she helped shine some light on it. Turns out I also have extremely low blood pressure (never knew this) and so that, coupled with the lack of protein in my dinner and high amount of carbs probably caused me to pass out. With the low blood pressure I need high amounts of oxygen, so being crammed into a room of people I can't breathe properly and my hypoglycemia needs high amounts of protein and simple sugars and what I had eaten had been lots of carbs and some complex sugars. All that with the fatigue of long work days and I was down for the count.
I took the day off of work to rest and try to get my body back in order. The last two times this has happened I ended up with concussions, so at least this time the only thing I hurt was my knees (from falling on them) and my pride.
Poor Katherine, she was such a good sport about it all. I felt so bad for her. I'm sure I scared her.

The moral of the story is if we're at an event and I suddenly grab your arm, it means something. Hold on to me and get me a chair and some juice and do it quickly. Hopefully this is the last time this happens, but I didn't know I felt bad until 20 seconds before I collapsed. Yup, I should wear a helmet everywhere I go.

One perc is that the juice that was given to me was actually stolen from Gillian Welch's personal stash. That was a sort of high point. I didn't get to see the rest of her show, but I did get her juice, dammit.

Hypoglycemia has to do with the regulation of insulin in the body; it's essentially the opposite of diabetes in that diabetics can't produce or absorb enough insulin and people like me produce or absorb too much. I have watched my diet in the past, but recently I've become more lax about it; I thought I was doing fine. Whoops.

Rural Kids and the Military-Industrial Complex

I went to a high school that, during my freshman year, had 800 students.
Total.
9th-12th grade.
Our school district was over an hour drive from one end to the other north to south; over 15 miles east to west. Some of my friends had school bus rides that were almost two hours long. Needless to say, it was rural. We had three stoplights in that entire area.
Since then it's gone through some horrific development and looks nothing like the place where I grew up, but that depresses me so we won't talk about that any more.
So 800 kids in Valley back then.
Somehow, six of those Valley kids have ended up in the Asheville area.
Six.
Unplanned.
I have seen six people from my one-stoplight hometown, seven hours away, since I moved here. One I met the first day of kindergarten, and here he is, in West Asheville, owning Harvest Records. What? We all must have exceptionally good taste in places to move.

* * * * * * * * * *
Tonight I met up with my friends Katherine and Andy over at Nate's house (yup, all Valley grads) for an evening of great conversation, sushi, homebrewed beer and a documentary on the US military-industrial complex to cap it all off. Like ya do.
"Why We Fight" was depressing in all its cold facts with no solution, but a good watch nonetheless. Eisenhower: I never gave you enough credit. You knew your shit. Sorry for the dis.
And then I come home to find a new "The Pinky Show" episode waiting for me on Nuclear Bombs, which was also very good and highly recommended. If you've never seen any episodes of "The Pinky Show" I'd say it's worth your time. She does a great job of educating without pretense or preachiness. It's clear she learns the material along with the viewer, and her passion for the subject is infectious.

So now I'm fairly convinced the world is going to hell in a military-industrial handbasket of nuclear death. Or something fluffy and happy like that.

This morning I made something like 10 dozen pancakes. How's that for happy and fluffy?
Actually it was a fairly sweaty endeavor and quite an arm workout. My forearms hurt.

The $50 Question

Oh Liz...you had to post that comment didn't you.
This is what I got from just scrolling through the iPod and thinking for a little bit. It's by no means comprehensive, but all of it is worth a listen. There is some jazz, some old classics, some unexpected (read the 2Pac/Elton John duet, by way of Eminem production) and a lot inbetween. I didn't get genre specific but I can if you want me to...you know how I love to make lists...

Stuff to get with an extra $50 iTunes card that's just sitting around:

• The Shins whole album “Wincing the Night Away”
• Much Farther to Go—Rosie Thomas feat. Denison Whitmer and Sufjan Stevens
• The Mating Game—BitterSweet
• Paper Moon—Erin McKeown
• It Doesn't Matter To the Sun—Rosie Thomas
• Ghetto Gospel—2Pac feat. Elton John
• Hollywood—Jay-Z feat. Beyonce
• Canned Heat—Jamiroquai
• Wagon Wheel—OCMS
• Come Sail Away—Styx
• Attagirl—Bettie Serveert
• Ohio—Damien Jurardo
• London Calling—The Clash
• Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)--Kenny Rodgers and First Edition
• Lola—The Kinks
• A Thousand Tiny Pieces—Be Good Tanyas
• Today Has Been Okay—Emiliana Torrini
• I Hate Everyone—Get Set Go
• 's Wonderful—Ella Fitzgerald
• They it's Spring—Blossom Dearie
• Something's Gotta Give—Ella Fitzgerald
• Beyond the Sea—Bobby Darin
• Kiss To Build a Dream On—Louis Armstrong
• I Won't Dance—Blossom Dearie
• You Know I'm No Good—Amy Winehouse
• Everyday—Buddy Holly
• Cat Power's whole album “The Covers Record”
• Decemberist's whole album “The Crane Wife”
• Marry Me—Dolly Parton (actually the whole “Little Sparrow” album)
• Cheek to Cheek—Frank Sinatra
• Wrecking Ball—Gillian Welch
• One Monkey—Gillian Welch
• Roly Poly—The Little Willies
• Dance Me to the End of Love--Madeline Peyroux
• Fraud in the 80's—Mates of State
• Sitting on the Dock of the Bay—Otis Redding
• You Send Me—Sam Cooke
• World Spins Madly On—The Weepies

Choices, choices, choices

How can I have over 3,000 songs on my iPod and be sick of most of them?

Over 3,000 songs and I scroll it thinking there is nothing to listen to.

Right now I'm on a big band/jazz kick, as well as a classic rock kick. Can't figure this one out. The big band started with Erin McKeown's new album "Sing You Sinners" (specifically the song "Paper Moon". Highly recommeded purchase) as it is mostly a covers record of old standards that is just wonderful and then moved back onto the foundational Ella, Etta, Billie and Sarah Vaughn.
And then there's the classic rock thing, what with the Pink Floyd and Tom Petty and all.

Maybe it's just even that stuff that I love is starting to sound the same, sound stale, sound like I've heard it before. I haven't had any new "wow" music lately.

Patty Griffin's new album came out today. Haven't gotten it yet but I will.

Going to see Gillian Welch and David Rawlings at the Orange Peel on Monday night. She's a great show--quiet, subdued, emotional, wonderful.

Neither

From www.gapingvoid.com. It is a good representation of what's been stewing in my head lately.