I've gone through some changes these last few months. Some are good, some not so much. But all in all I'm pretty excited right now. Because I am entering a new chapter. In some pretentious way I always plot ahead what would go in my memoir, were I ever to write one. I don't think every little detail would make a good story, but I like to force myself to think about making it one anyway. As if someone was just begging to know "please, tell me about the time you saw a mouse and cried."
Incidentally, I did see another mouse the other night. Then a few nights later it walked across my foot while I was sitting at my computer. I screamed obscenities at it and dumped more poison all over my room. While it sucks and it did shake me up, I'm not losing sleep over it like I was months ago. Granted, I wake up at 5 in the morning anyway for no obvious reason, but I'm pretty sure it's not mouse-related.
Now the biggest news and therefore what really makes me feel like I'm starting a new page is this: I got a new day job. Now it's not a full-time job; there are no benefits or anything, and it's still in customer service. I've accepted customer service is now something I have to list as a "strength" to find work. But the change of scenery is nice. I've gone from working in a restaurant in a neighborhood I don't like to working in a bakery close to home, which I love.
I've often joked about my old job (how exciting to call it my "old" job) and about how much material it would leave me for comedy, stories, etc. I won't relay them all in this blog (so much sorting needs done), but if I were ending the chapter of working in that restaurant it would read something like this:
"I headed home from my last shift at the restaurant and, sentimentalist that I am, began to tear up a bit. Sure the place had caused me a good share of headaches, but I began to remember the good times and the friends I had made in the last 14 months. The weird nostalgia sadness began to sink in and I almost started to cry. But then I thought to myself, "You know, [the owner]didn't stand up to hug me or shake my hand or even thank me for the last fourteen months of service."
That thought went through my head loud and clear. I shook my head. "Bitch." I said aloud to the empty sidewalk. The tears went away immediately."
Now I don't know whether or not this bakery will bring better memories or more headaches. Possibly both. But I do know I will get more stories, with new characters and locations, and that is so exciting for me. Also there are doughnuts and chocolate-dipped rice krispie squares, so hot damn.
I have other new stories. Some will be shared in public, like my recent horseback-riding trip I went on (yeah, I know). Other things will stay closer to me, for my benefit and for others. Speaking of the "others", I am taking a undetermined amount of time off of social medias. Checking Facebook regularly on my phone has given me a warped view of what the world is like, so I'm eliminating it to see how things improve. I will still post blogs and reviews, but that's as personal as I'm getting.
This is nothing revolutionary, nor do I think I'm doing something brave. But I have learned that life (or "the world") never gets easy, people just get better at dealing with it. I don't dream of the day life gets easy anymore. I actually sort of hope it doesn't, because I worry I will get incredibly dull if it does. Would I have stories if I didn't have complaints? Probably, but they wouldn't be as funny. And I probably wouldn't have complaints if life were "easy" and everything was "great."
Forgive me if that seems cryptic, and don't be worried about me (I can read my family's texts already, "Honey, you feeling okay?"). I'm learning how to deal with things both bad and good, and I don't think I'll ever stop learning. I guess this new chapter comes with a new outlook on life. Or perhaps I'm being foolishly optimistic. Either way, I'm excited for it to start. There are cake pops involved.
These last few days I've been in a bad mood (ok, worse than usual). I've been cranky, I've snapped at friends, I've had bad attitudes for no reason. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but I can make a few guesses.
The job hunt is in full swing and for me that always brings the emotional ups and downs. Searching is tiring, waiting for people to respond can be stressful, getting an interview makes you sweat, and at the actual interview there's a good chance (if you're me) you're going to say something to mess the whole thing up.
Just yesterday I had two job search-related experiences. First I went to a temp agency in the morning and filled out a profile with them. I took a typing test (88, by the way and thank you) and discussed what jobs I did and didn't want. I'll be honest, I'm not holding my breath for anything but what the hell? I didn't pay for these services so no harm, no foul. Later that day I went to a job fair with my roommate. She managed to get herself a part-time evening job; I already have one that I like. I wanted to replace my day job, but this fair was just for events taking place at night time. So I just fumbled my way through an interview for a position I knew I wouldn't take. However I did get to respond to the questions the way I'd always wanted to. When asked "is there anything you struggle with?" I responded "No...I'm flawless."
So after a lukewarm/unsuccessful day of hunting (and wearing a tie and chafing my neck with dress shirts) I decided to relax the rest of the evening and go to a comedy open mic that night. And then without warning, like all bad news, I heard that Robin Williams had died. Now I won't make this one giant blog about his legacy and all the work he's done, nor about the struggles he was dealing with in his personal life (I'm sure you can find those blogs if you so desire).
But I will always be sad when a comedian I like passes away, no matter the circumstances. I remember watching one of Williams' specials (I can't remember which one, nor when exactly I watched it) and being amazed at his sheer energy. He never stopped moving, I think he drank four bottles of water that night and sweat all through his shirt. I laughed so hard, because that is what he was good at doing: making people laugh. I just finished watching The Birdcage on Netflix before writing this blog, and I laughed and cried for various reasons. He was a truly fantastic performer.
Now last night after hearing the news I went to the comedy open mic. It went how it usually goes: I ended up being dead last and the rest of the comics I'd sat through had all gone home, leaving me to shout my set at a crowd of two. It's about as un-Robin Williams as you can get. But, hey...I made those two people laugh. A small thing, sure, but it made me feel better and I had some genuine compliments. So I'm going to keep doing it and trucking through, no matter how many nights I go last or how small the crowd is.
I guess my point of this blog (besides just getting this crap off my mind) is that the world can be an ugly place, for those of you who weren't already aware. It can be things like finding a job or it can be tragedies like the riots unfolding in Ferguson, Missouri. Being the pessimist I am I tend to dwell on negativity and sometimes it takes its toll. But I know I have to grasp at the good things, like making people laugh or just seeing a good movie, to slowly but surely shift my mood into a better one.
I feel I need to insert a sort of disclaimer here and just say that I'm not casually writing off depression. I'm aware it's not as simple as "think happy thoughts and you'll feel better". I'm just saying this as someone who doesn't have depression but feels beaten down by life at times, this is what I do to cope. If you have depression you should seek professional help and do what they tell you to do.
So I'm going to go into the back half of this week with a (comparatively) positive attitude (even though today I had about two hours where I thought I might actually get fired, but that's another over-dramatic story for another over-dramatic time). I encourage everyone else to have a good week, and if you need cheering up pop in your favorite Robin Williams flick. Not just in memory of him, but because I believe there is something for everyone amongst his work. My personal fave is Mrs. Doubtfire and I'm not ashamed. My dad loves RV and he's not ashamed. Just do something to make yourself laugh. It sounds simple, but it helps.
I was going to share the following in a podcast, however my throat is a little sore and I wasn't up to talking for that long. So I'm going back to the old writing ways. All the fun of the story without my voice reading it for you.
It's been a very active week for me, and not in the whiny "I work all the time" way. I've actually been doing things for fun that also happen to take place outside the house (shocking, isn't it?). It's been an eventful week so let's get into it.
I freakin' love elephants.
On Sunday I spent my morning at the Pittsburgh Zoo. My cousin and her family (husband and three kids) came up to go to the zoo and invited me along. It was a fun time, mostly because I hadn't seen the kids in a while. They are getting big: one of them is nine, another is seven, and the baby is...I wanna say two. If it's not obvious, I don't see them that often. But I love 'em. They're getting into that fun age where they talk and say funny stuff. I mean babies are cute and all but I prefer little smartasses I can trade jokes with. Even the two-year old (I'm committing to two) cracks me up: when I got in the car I said to him "How you doin, Kabe?" and he blew a raspberry at me. Precious.
I'm really not a big "zoo" person. It's a fine time, don't get me wrong, but it's one of many things I think I'd enjoy more if there weren't so many people around. Now this isn't a general "crowd" issue because it never feels too overwhelming. It's more like you just know you're going to encounter a lot of people who walk too slow or crowd around you or say dumb things. For example when we were entering there was a sign that said "Giraffes not on display today." and I heard a man ask the girl at the gate "Why are the giraffes not out, they sick?" Yes, sir, they all have strep throat. It's pretty ugly.
A flamingo enjoying a soda...
I'm very torn on how I feel about zoos. On one hand it is nice to see these animals most people would never get the chance to otherwise. I personally could look at elephants for hours and there were a lot of very interesting looking fish in that big aquarium of theirs. But then I also wondered about how unpleasant the world must be for animals in zoos. They don't have the most space to run around in and most of them are quite far from their natural habitats. They spend every day walking around eating and shitting while group after group of people stand and point at them. We personally wouldn't like it as human beings, but who can say if the animals feel imprisoned or not? Maybe they're happy being somewhere where they get fed daily and don't have to worry about predators.
But you can argue moral problems with zoos in your own time (side note: fuck circuses). On Monday I went bowling with some co-workers and we had a great time. I enjoy bowling: it's one sport you can play if you're in no shape whatsoever and you don't have to touch anybody. Plus, there's drinking. Out of the four people on our lane I didn't do too bad. Ok I lost the first game and there was a three-way tie in the last game. But on the second game I came in second by one point, and I broke one hundred points for the first time to my knowledge (which is nothing to people who bowl regularly, but I was please). I'd like to go bowling more often than every three years or however long I wait. It's a good release: I like knocking things over.
My score is 113.
On Tuesday I saw a screening of the indie film Coherence, which star and Buffy alumni Nicholas Brednon attended and did a Q&A afterwards. It's my third time seeing him in person (we've been to a few cons here and there) and he was lovely as usual. I'll talk more about the film in a review I'll write later.
Wednesday I went to my first ever bar trivia night, once again with some coworkers and some new folks. I didn't have a whole lot to contribute. There were categories like "Country by last three letters of the name" and "20th century quotes" that I just didn't know anything in. One category was movies by the first screencap and I sucked at that one as well. I was beginning to think it wasn't my night, but then in round 2 there was the "TV shows by last line of their theme song" category, and I got us four points there easily. Luckily my team was full of intimidatingly smart trivia people so our group won (mostly because of them, but hey four points is four points.).
Then on Thursday the great Elaine Stritch died and that was sad. I went home after work and watched the fabulous documentary on her life Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me. It was a beautiful look at her life and I loved watching it and enjoy what little work of hers I've seen. I mostly know her from the show Company, but she also played Jack's mother on 30 Rock and Mary's mother on 3rd Rock from the Sun. She was a hilarious woman and she'll be missed.
So that was my week. Next weekend I'm going to a family reunion which will probably supply me with some good stories for y'all. I'll leave you with Stritch and the Ladies Who Lunch.
The Oscars are 2 days away and while I usually don't care much, this is the first year I've seen all the movies before the awards. Therefore I feel I should put in my two cents. I'm going to say who I want to win and then also who I think will win (I never could pick a winner anyway).
NOW UPDATED WITH THE WINNERS
Best Picture (Links are to all my own reviews) American Hustle Captain Phillips Dallas Buyers Club Her Gravity Nebraska Philomena 12 Years a Slave The Wolf of Wall Street Who I Want to Win: I enjoy so many of these. Gun to my head, though, I have to say Her struck me as most enjoyable, based on it's unique concept and all around great execution. Who I Think Will Win: I'm leaning towards 12 Years a Slave taking it, or possibly Wolf of Wall Street simply because it got a lot of buzz upon release. Who Won: 12 Years a Slave
Best Director
David O. Russell (American Hustle)
Alfonso Cuaron (Gravity)
Alexander Payne (Nebraska)
Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave)
Martin Scorsese (The Wolf of Wall Street) Who I Want to Win: Each of these films is so radically different, I'm having trouble picking one. I guess since Gravity was such a thrilling ride I'll say Alfonso Cuaron. Who I Think Will Win: I also suspect the Academy will say Alfonso Cuaron. Who Won: Alfonso Cuaron
Best Actor
Christian Bale (American Hustle)
Bruce Dern (Nebraska)
Leonardo DiCaprio (The Wolf of Wall Street)
Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave)
Matthew McConaughey (Dallas Buyers Club) Who I Want to Win: Another tough one but I kinda think Chiwetel Ejoifor should take this one, although I love me my crazy ol' Bruce Dern in Nebraska (choices!) Who I Think Will Win: Probably Matthew McConaughey. It's some of the best work he's done and a lot of people were surprised by that. Sometimes that helps. Who Won: Matthew McConaughey
Best Actress
Amy Adams (American Hustle)
Cate Blanchett (Blue Jasmine)
Sandra Bullock (Gravity)
Judi Dench (Philomena)
Meryl Streep (August: Osage County) Who I Want to Win: I love all these women, but I think Cate Blanchett will win for her awesome work in Blue Jasmine (I have a review of that I'll publish soon). Who I Think Will Win: Cate Blanchett: she's already won most things and frankly her character is the most complicated. Who Won: Cate Blanchett
Best Supporting Actor
Barkhad Abdi (Captain Phillips)
Bradley Cooper (American Hustle)
Michael Fassbender (12 Years a Slave)
Jonah Hill (The Wolf of Wall Street)
Jared Leto (Dallas Buyers Club) Who I Want to Win: Jared Leto for breaking my heart. Or Barkhad Abdi for scaring me senseless. Who I Think Will Win: Jared Leto. Who Won: Jared Leto
Best Supporting Actress
Sally Hawkins (Blue Jasmine)
Jennifer Lawrence (American Hustle)
Lupita Nyong'o (12 Years a Slave)
Julia Roberts (August: Osage County)
June Squibb (Nebraska) Who I Want to Win: For this one I'm going to go with a long shot and say June Squibb. She made me laugh hard and I love her for that. Lupita Nyong'o made me cry hard, so I'd be happy if she won too. Who I Think Will Win: Sigh...Jennifer Lawrence. And she was good and I love her, don't get me wrong. She just wasn't my favorite out of these five. But everyone loves her so we'll see how this one goes. Who Won: Lupita Nyong'o
Best Writing- Original Screenplay
American Hustle- Eric Warren Singer and David O. Russell
Blue Jasmine- Woody Allen
Dallas Buyers Club- Craig Borten and Melisa Wallack
Her- Spike Jonze
Nebraska- Bob Nelson Who I Want to Win: Gotta go with Spike Jonze for creating a whole awesome world for us to look at and really make the audience think. Who I Think Will Win: Spike Jonze. That's right, I'm backing my decision. Who Won: Spike Jonze
Best Writing- Adapted Screenplay
Before Midnight- Richard Linklater, Julie Delpy, and Ethan Hawke
Captain Phillips- Billy Ray
Philomena- Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope
12 Years a Slave- John Ridley
The Wolf of Wall Street- Terence Winter Who I Want to Win: Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope. This one's pretty selfish, I just love Steve Coogan and want him to have an Oscar. Who I Think Will Win: Terence Winter. No explanation, just a hunch. Who Won: John Ridley
I know there are a ton more categories but unfortunately I haven't seen the documentaries, short films, etc. I also don't know the qualifications for sound or camera categories. So to keep it simple I'll stick to these 7 categories. We'll see how I did come Sunday. UPDATE: I got 6 out of 8. Getting myself some ice cream.
Happy Monday internet people! I've been loving Mondays lately. I don't have to be at work til noon, I work a five hour shift, I always have my evenings free (Teen Wolf is on you know). Most people hate Monday for being the start of the work week but I am excited for them because I usually work all weekend.
But not this past weekend: this past weekend I went home to West Virginia for my birthday. The fact that I'm telling you this is uncharacteristic because normally I don't care about my birthday. I'm not being a grump or a scrooge, I just don't get festive or excited about it.
It's not like I've had really sad or tragic birthdays as a child, I just never seemed to get into it as much as everyone else did. Now that I'm in my mid twenties (I'm twenty-five, I'm not saying 'late twenties' til next year) I really don't care much for them. And yes, I know I'm in the minority. I know people that celebrate their birthday the whole week of the date and I just don't understand it. There are approximately 7.146 billion people on this planet. Divide that by 365 days a year and on any given day an average of 19,500,000 are having a birthday (yeah I looked this up). So I don't feel like I'm particularly special on that day What if everyone just took the week off for their birthday? Society would crumble!
However this year was a pretty solid birthday time, especially when compared to last year when I had a very bad cold and a bedbug infestation. There were no big plans to any unique locations or a big party. But nothing bad happened and in my experience qualifies as a good birthday.
First, after working my final shift for Companyat the theater me and the rest of the staff were treated to leftover cakes from an event the theater held before the show. My mini cake (I think provided by Oakmont Bakery) had chocolate mousse on top, then a layer of chocolate cake, a more fudge-like layer under that, and the bottom layer was cheesecake. We all went into a diabetic coma that night, and it was a nice accidental birthday cake for me.
I took this pic mostly to show my Ma and say "And what are YOU making for me?"
Then after the show I returned home. Saturday was the day of the "party". It was a simple plan; family would come over for pizza and to play cards. And that's exactly what happened. All my relatives came, I got to see my little cousins, I drank most of a bottle of wine, and pigged out on local favorite DiCarlo's pizza. Although fun fact for you West Virginians: DiCarlo's also makes bread-sticks and they're terrible. Just an FYI if you're ever wondering.
Eventually the kids went home and the older people (I'm one of them now, you know) sat around and played cards and shot the shit. I love playing cards because in addition to the actual card game you also get to talking and sharing stories. A highlight story from my birthday night was listening to my aunts discuss how the plumbing was bad in their home growing up and they had to "flush" the toilet by using a bucket of water. "If you were nice you'd fill the bucket up for the next person." My aunt said. "We usually didn't do that."
I should also mention that we played I think four games of Pinochle on my birthday and, in the spirit of it being my birthday, I lost every one I played. I wish I could blame some of the loss on my sister but honestly I was just dealt shitty cards. Anyone my age even know what Pinochle is?
I told my family "no gifts" when I invited them over, which I think means I'm an adult now. Of course they brought cash anyway, which is perfect for me because I usually buy things I want the moment it's financially reasonable to do so. But I don't wanna seem ungrateful for all the presents I did get, so let's name them.
From my current and future roommates Mara and Gailyn I got a new computer desk (featured in the picture at the top). I'm quite thrilled with it, all though it has that "new desk smell" that makes one woozy. We also signed a lease together, but I'll talk about that in the future.
My mother got me a beanbag chair, to replace another chair I got at Christmas and broke (I can't have anything). It's comfortable and I'm gonna do lots of sitting it in, although I thought when you got older people stopped giving you things that are difficult to get out of.
Peanuts in coke. Don't knock it. (This isn't my photo).
Nana got me a six-pack bottles of Coke and some peanuts to put in it, in honor of my Granddad who put peanuts in his Coke. I saw him do it once and thought it was so bizarre. Then I tried it and holy crap it's delicious. Puts a little salty flavoring into your drink and the peanuts are still crunchy after the soaking. Nana also funded a gift that hasn't gotten to me yet, and when it does it will be changing things up a bit on the ol' blog.
My aunts and cousins got me money mostly (and a Books a Million gift card that went towards Dance With Dragons and some comics). My cousin Lisa supplied the alcohol for the evening, shout out for that.
Oh! And my mom made a Butterfinger cake. It's a cake mix chocolate cake with a Butterfinger glaze and then a cream cheese/cool whip frosting with Butterfinger pieces on top. Impressive for a woman who doesn't cook, no?
Was that interesting? See I don't know, I don't find anyone's birthday interesting so I don't know what qualifies as a good one. But that's the rundown of my weekend. It was a fine birthday and I'm excited for February to be over, not just for the weather but because I'm looking forward to a lot of things in March.
I'll leave you with a celebrity I share a birthday with: Ellen Greene, actress best known for playing Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. I love a distinctive voice that annoys people. Makes me feel less self-conscious. Til next time!
I just got back from an awesome concert in South Side (not to brag). This weekend the City Theater is hosting four performances by the fantastic musical duo, The Skivvies. Composed of musical theater actors Lauren Molina and Nick Cearley, the Skivvies perform stripped-down covers and medleys of all sorts of tunes, while clad in only their underwear.
City Theatre's Lester Hamburg Studio gives the Skivvies a perfect cabaret-esque venue in which to wow their audiences. They have a wide variety of instruments they rapidly switch through, accompanied by Shannon Ford on drums. There are ukeleles, some guitars, that keyboard thing you play by blowing into a hose (I have no idea. I wanna say "Mouth Organ" but that's like crazy dirty, right?). Also Ms. Molina's skills with a cello are just an awesome thing to behold, and it's clear these guys are seasoned pros at what they do.
Both performers are gorgeous specimens with amazing sets of pipes. I mean, really, listening to them sing would be enough of a treat. The fact that they do it naked is just a bonus really (but, you know...don't stop). They have some awesome harmonies,the best arewhen Cearley goes into his beautiful falsetto. The medleys are fantastic, effortlessly mashing up song after song and putting their own spin on every one of them. One of my personal favorites was a great cover of "Pumped Up Kicks" that was interwoven with Molina busting out some opera skills from "Glitter and be Gay".
When they perform in New York City the Skivvies usually invite various Broadway performers to join them in song (in their underwear, obviously). Continuing that tradition, they've invited some local performers to help them out this weekend. Two of the guests were Hayley Nielsen and Bria Walker, both of whom were very funny and fit in nicely with the group. The third guest was Michael Campayno, who was in NBC's recent live production of The Sound of Music (can I get one more shoutout for dem knees?!?!?). Guests will rotate throughout the weekend (the Post Gazette has an informative article/interview here) and the Skivvies assured us no two shows would be the same.
I stumbled onto the Skivvies quite a while ago as part of an insomnia-induced Youtube session. I instantly loved them and when I learned they were coming to Pittsburgh I knew I had to see them. They actually showed up at the Public to see Companywhen I happened to be working. I recognized them in the audience and decided to tweet at them, because I'm a weird-ass and I don't know how to talk to humans. That combined with this blog probably has them thinking I'm a lunatic, but I swear I'm just a fan.
So bottom line: The Skivvies are in Pittsburgh through Saturday and if you're not doing anything, get over to South Side and see them. Go for Valentine's Day with a date, or go by yourself (fuck love!) because either way you'll have an awesome time. If you can't go this weekend, I say hit up their youtube videos or try to catch one of their concerts in New York City if you get the chance.They're an awesome group and I'd definitely see them again in the future (but I will stop tweeting at them Phantom of the Opera-style).
The Skivvies have 3 shows left (one on Feb 14th and two on the 15th) at The City Theatre in South Side. Information and ticket purchasing can be done here on their website.
The Super Bowl is coming up soon and ever since I started working for the theater I've been thankful for the excuse of "I have to work that day" when people ask me if I saw something specific. But as I mentioned in my recent marching band post, I don't care much for football. Of course I'm in the minority here. But I'm not going to talk about that again.
A few weeks ago Seahawks defensive back Richard Sherman gave a rather aggressive interview after his team won the game (I don't know what game it was, I don't care. What's a football?). It was deemed by many people to be unsportsmanlike and just plain rude. Of course I had no idea who this was, but I was filled in by the kitchen crew at my restaurant. They were listening to a sports talk radio program, where a table full of sports writers argued about the interview (separate issue: people get PAID to talk about sports).
Sherman's interview.
One writer made the point that Sherman is a role model to kids, whether or not he wants to be, and comments like that wouldn't do much to benefit kids and help them to "end bullying".
For one thing, I don't think it's smart to have a football player be a role model to anybody. Many players aren't very good students, a lot of them have multiple girlfriends, they make a career by slamming themselves into other people, and most of them stop working before age 30. I never understood the logic of making them seem like heroes. It is because they're bigger than us?
Before the sports lovers make this argument, allow me: the same is true for pop stars. Take Justin Bieber and his recent DUI. Everyone lost their minds when this 19 year old singer was caught driving drunk. It would be mildly scandalous if any 19 year old was driving drunk, but this boy is supposed to be a role model so the world flipped their lid.
Bieber's mug shot. I'll admit, smiling was a weird choice.
But think of the lives these people are living. Take Bieber: he's insanely famous and he'll probably be for the rest of his life, and he's not even twenty. He is loved by young girls all over the country, which has probably got to be annoying on some level even for him. People who own stadiums and concert halls want him to make tons of money. Advertisers know their sales will skyrocket if he endorses it. Everyone wants a piece of him and will do anything to get him. Imagine what kinds of things are getting shoved in his face: booze, drugs, women (did you see Wolf of Wall Street?) His life has to have an insane amount of pressure in it and he probably doesn't know how to deal with it.
Now I'm not totally defending him, driving drunk is incredibly stupid no matter who you are. But it's pitiful, the lives these people live are so outrageous and simply by living them they are given so many expectations. Sure he might have brought some stuff on himself with his "badass gangster" image he tries to project (or whatever he does, I really don't know what the appeal is) but overall who knows? He could be deeply unhappy with himself.
"Oh the poor millionaire pop singer, I feel so bad, boohoo." Yeah, I know guys. I'm not defending everything he does. My main issue is why do these people have to be the role models for children. Why can't it be a parent who works hard or something that makes sense? Why can't a parent say "it's nice that you love Justin, honey, but remember he's a flawed person like everyone else so don't try to imitate him." Or something like that, I don't have a parenting book.
Then there's the other thing that sportscaster said about ending bullying. Now bullying has recently become a big issue in this country and there are many organization out to stop it.
But they can't.
There's no way anyone can actually end bullying. You'd have to destroy the Internet first. Take Bieber again; how many people do you know on Facebook or Twitter that made a rude joke at his expense? Is that considered bullying or just mocking a celebrity? Rhetorical question, it doesn't matter. Because the internet has made it easy to lob insults at people. Hell, you can even do it anonymously so there's zero risk at all.
Obviously bullying leads to horrible things. Hearing about a bullied teen committing suicide is heartbreaking every time you hear it. It's awful to hear things like "you're fat", "you're ugly", "you're a fag", "go die", etc. No one should have to endure it, but mostly everyone will at some point in their life.
So what is the game plan? "End Bullying". Going to schools and explaining to kids that it's wrong to be mean to kids just because they're different. Which might seem like a good plan, but the thing about bullies is they usually know right from wrong but they don't care. Usually bullying is someone projecting something they dislike about their own life onto someone else, in an attempt to make themselves feel better.
Lots of comedians get called bullies for making fun of people. I'm sure I've been considered a bully before, because I tease people and make sarcastic comments. Usually I try to make sure people understand that I'm just teasing, but sometimes they don't always think I am. Because when I'm actually angry with someone, I'm not half as witty as I usually am.
My point is, you can't stop bullying from being a thing. The world is full of different people, and that leads to conflicts which can turn ugly. The goal I think we're aiming for is not to let them get ugly, but we don't have a surefire way of preventing that just yet. Now that we have organizations like One Million Moms who claim to want to make life better for their kids but are bullies themselves (said it, will say it again), it's clear the definition of Bullying is going to remain conflicted for some time.
I think that in addition to teaching kids not to be mean to each other it's also important to teach them how to deal with being a victim. I don't mean say "just tough it up!" I mean like rationally talk to them and help them overcome it. Even if we have to tell them to get off the Internet. The Internet can bring out the ugliest side in even the nicest of people, so if people are dicks to you on it when why do you even need it?
Anyway that's my PSA on idols and bullying. If this reaches any high school students that are getting bullied, here's some advice: just hang in there (I wish I could word that more originally). High school is nothing at all like real life and things usually improve once you graduate. You can do whatever you want after you leave; you can even move away and never see your bullies again. That's not called "running away", it's "making your life better".
WARNING: This blog contains a few pictures that may be viewed as graphic. I mean, they don't bother me or anything, but I don't usually post pictures of severed heads so I figure I'd warn y'all.
I mentioned last time that I was making some jerky for New Year's and today I thought I'd elaborate more on that story. See a few months ago, around Thanksgiving, my father shot a deer. My parents live on a farm in West Virginia and so hunters in our family (and friends of family) like to come to our property and hunt in our woods. For my whole life growing up I was accustomed to seeing strange vehicles being parked along our lane for days and donning an orange vest for when I went on my walks (the orange was to prevent getting accidentally shot).
Dad with his deer.
Now this isn't going to turn into a pro-hunting/anti-hunting post. I personally have never gone hunting or have had any interest in doing so. I'm sure my dad might've asked at one point, but I think after a while he realized I'd get bored and start chatting nonstop so I wasn't a good asset to have along. Hunting seems to contain a lot of waiting, keeping quiet, and staying focused and for a hyperactive kid with ADD that probably wouldn't have worked out well. Also I can't see myself killing something that large and walking away unscathed. I'm not saying killing animals will lead to becoming a serial killer, but I'm worried in my case that would happen.
So hunting is what it is. I'm used to not seeing deer as sympathetic creatures, so I don't feel too bad for them. When you think about it, compared to chickens or livestock that are bred and kept in tiny habitats for meat, deers sort of get the better end of the bargain. And that's really why I'm writing this: it's about the meat.
I was proud of Dad for getting his deer, but also excited when I knew we'd be getting deer meat. See December is a slower month for me work-wise, so I have more time to cook things. So I agreed when my mom (probably joking) offered to send me some deer meat. I had to wait a while because the deer in question has to be skinned and gutted and all that pretty stuff. So my dad gave the deer to my uncle for all that happiness.
We got to keep the head of course.
For a while there I thought I wasn't getting any meat, and I got cranky. Apparently the people that clean the deer keep the meat. "You shot it!" I told my dad, "why don't we get to eat it?" He told me that the point of hunting was more about the rack (it had an 8-point rack, fyi) and he lost me there. You can't eat the rack, it would hurt going in and coming out.
But when Christmas rolled around my uncle brought me some gifts: 2 lbs of deer roast and 1 lb of deer hamburger. Hooray!
The deer roast, nice and bloody.
My first order of business was that I wanted to make deer jerky. So I looked up two recipes on allrecipes.com and got to work collecting all the ingredients. I had two recipes; one was more of a "basic" thing while another called itself "sweet and spicy". I thawed out the roast and cut it into strips. My cutting skills are not great, especially with meat, so instead of strips of jerky I was making chunks of jerky (but really, who cares?). Holding the roast I felt like I had a heart in my hands, and the blood of it left gross red juice on my cutting board. Also it stinks.
I marinated the chunks in each marinade overnight. Then, New Year's Eve, I stayed home to cook them. Now here's where things got shitty. We don't have a food dehydrator, which is the essential jerky-making thing. But the internet told me to keep the oven low and let it cook for hours, namely six. So I did. And after three, I had tiny black pieces of jerky sitting in my oven. "Shit." I said and took them out.
The raw drippy jerky going in...
...And the super well-done jerky that came out.
So, despite the overcooking and the misshapen pieces I was pretty proud of myself. First-time jerky all by myself with few necessary appliances? That ain't bad. This ain't a cooking blog anyway, bite me. We all ate the jerky and passed some around at the New Year's Eve party we attended. We all agreed it was too dry but the marinades made for some good flavor so everyone was happy enough.
But what to do with that hamburger? I thought about it for a while. Meat pie? Stew maybe? I couldn't decide. So I browsed some recipes and then found something awesome: Venison Meatloaf. And I already had the ingredients in the house. Score!
So I made that. It was a fun recipe, I got to put bacon on it which is always great. I forgot that bacon shrinks though so the effect wasn't totally great but I got to make a topping for it that was mostly barbeque sauce so, again, who cares?
Meatloaf pre-cooking.
Out of the oven, covered in sauce.
I'll admit it's not the most visually impressive sight, but it tasted delicious. I ate it with mashed potatoes (store bought, I usually make my own, but I was busy that night) and was in heaven.
These pictures look better in my mind.
So that was that: my first foray into cooking venison. Fun fact, though, "venison" used to refer to mostly any game meat (like boar or rabbit) but now we just associate with deer. It's kind of a snobby word though, I think. I told someone I made deer meatloaf and they said "Oh, venison?". As if "deer" was incorrect. Like "venison" means something that's dead and "deer" means I shoved a live animal into a meatloaf pan. But then jerky is always called "deer jerky", hardly anyone says "venison jerky" so what's up?
Anyway not sure how interesting this was, but I figured I'd share. Next time my father kills something and I get to cook it I'll probably share again.
When I was in elementary school I took up playing the saxophone. My parents encouraged me to do something extracurricular and, not being at all an athlete, I picked music. Why the sax? I guess I just thought it was cooler, jazzier. Cool people played the saxophone, right? Bill Clinton, Lisa Simpson, they all rocked out. I kept with it all through middle school and high school, were I was a band geek for four years.
Then it came time to go to college. I was going to WVU because, frankly, we couldn't afford much else and I was going to college because it seemed wise to do so (in retrospect, it was sort of a mistake). My family was very excited because it meant I would be joining the legendary Pride of West Virginia: The Mountaineer Marching Band!!! And me, thinking that this was apparently inevitable, agreed.
The punchline here is this: I hate marching band. Now don't me wrong, in high school we had fun times, I made great friends, really came out of my shell as a person thanks to being in band. But the actual act of marching band just sucked. For one thing, I don't care at all about football. SHOCKING isn't it? It's not because I'm stupid or snobby or whatever, I have sat in front of many a TV and watched football and tried to get into it and I just can't. Perhaps I'm too cynical, I'm not sure, not getting into that now. (although last night I went on a Twitter rant about football to cure my insomnia. Lots of hateful things I probably need to touch on.)
It's common when a child doesn't want to play football to get them into band, but that makes no sense because the entire purpose of band is to encourage football. Support the team, even though "the team" never talks to me at school and most of the rest of the school will call me a band fag for my trouble. That's not so much the case at WVU, where the band is over 300 people large and gets crazy amounts of love and respect from the students and players. Respect was no longer a problem; the problem was the sheer act of being in the Pride of West Virginia when you had little love for the Mountaineer.
But it seemed important to join this band, more so for my family than me, so I did it. I was used to doing things because people told me to, which is why when I learned I "had" to go to college I reluctantly selected theater as my major because I liked it in high school. I don't really have regrets, although the interest in theater would significantly wane by the time I graduated So there I was: a theater freshman in the marching band. Look out, world.
I experienced a few perks of being in the band. For starters I got to move in a week earlier than the rest of the campus so I avoided that mess of a process. Of course I moved in early because I had to go to band camp. And not funny American Pie sexualized band camp. This was "get ready to memorize all these songs/formations in the 80 degree heat for the next 12 hours" band camp. It was brutal. Admittedly I made friends during that time, and since there was no burden of class it was the only thing we had to worry about. But that was a damn long week.
Then it was time for the first home game, an important day for all band freshmen. If you've never been to a WVU football game, here is the legendary pre-show performance in a nutshell. The band hides out in the tunnels on one end of the field. The drumline marches out, plays a rocking intro (I wanna call it cadence, but I don't know if that's correct. Music people?), and then the band charges out onto the field. It's called "220" because that's how many beats per minute we're supposed to be marching at (but it's just running). Then we form the "Flying WV" and charge down the field. This leads to other songs and shapes, but youtube it yourself.
I'm technically in this video. Can you spot me? (I can't spot me.)
So we charge out onto the field and we're running and the crowd goes freaking wild! Somewhere amongst them my family is going just as wild, getting emotional and just so happy that I'm among this group I've been watching literally since I was 3. The world is a mess of yelling, clapping, and applause.
And I swear to you, I felt nothing standing on that field. I'm not a sociopath, it just didn't mean anything to me. I didn't have the Pride that the band was named after. I was a humble servant to the band and my saxophone was my tool. That stadium wasn't applauding for me, they were applauding for the band. They were applauding for the gold and the blue. They were applauding for football. And I don't give a fuck about football.
Looking back on those games I don't know how I got by, or didn't get thrown out. After doing the exhausting pregame show we would take our seats in the end zone. Fun fact about band uniforms: they're heavy enough to make fall games miserably hot but thin enough to not do anything against the chill of winter. We played many "stand tunes" during the games, and anytime we weren't playing we were supposed to watch the game but I would always try to see how much reception I could get on my phone (usually not much).
I wasn't an especially good band student either. Like I said, there are over 300 people in that band. The directors would encourage us all to memorize our music and play ouy because every voice was important. But if you're a cynic and a realist, then you know there are enough people there that half of them can phone 50% of it in and still be okay. Preshow was the same every game and I still never memorized all of it. Of course I was playing saxophone, and saxophone harmonies in marching band music usually give you the same four notes. Whenever I was unsure I would play G. No one said anything. I'm sure someone somewhere else was playing G.
Then there were these bus trips. Holy crap, how did Isaac do that? I do not travel well and we would have to go FAR away. On buses. With large groups of people. And then stay in hotels. Often with strangers because while I had friends, whenever there was pairing involved I tended to be the odd number. Which is fine, this is life, I was still kind of reserved, who cares?
Speaking of friends, I wasn't making many in the Theater department because band practices every evening. Which was problematic when you have to do things like work on a crew for a show. While I though I had a good schedule worked out with my crew assignment for my first show, it didn't turn out well. I actually failed my crew assignment and got a C in the class overall. The theater people hated me because I was "unreliable", I hated them because I thought they were being unreasonable, I hated the band for being such a time suck, and I hated football for being the cause of this mess.
I watched more football games in those four months than I have in my entire life and I still don't get it. It didn't help that WVU had a good year that year and we won almost every game by a landslide, which is so boring to watch. The game we lost I felt a feeling of happiness as everyone else around me angrily screamed at the outcome. I'm a sick person, I know. Judge away. I think I just hated being unhappy while everyone else is so I enjoyed those moments were everyone could be miserable for a while (oooh, emo. We can look up psychologists in the morning.)
The end of football season approached. The team (and the band) were going to Arizona for the Fiesta Bowl. Know what's in Arizona? I sure don't, because I resigned early from the band because there was no way in HELL I was flying (or busing, I forgot the options) across the country to watch yet another football game! So I turned in my uniform. But I had said I'd probably return next year.
In my spring semester I did some real thinking. I had time to do more theater things, actually made a few friends that semester, and did concert band which was great fun (once a week, awesome music, all I wanted). Then as that semester came to a close I realized there was no way I was going to return to that band next year. There were theater classes I really wanted to get into and I did not want to risk them hating me for my thousand band rehearsals and performances. So I decided to check out.
My family's group reaction was "Oh but whyyyyy?". I explained my very real fear that I wouldn't graduate on time, and didn't harp on the other "because I hate it" facts. I think someone even offered me money if I did it again. But I said no and broke a few hearts. Being an 18/19 year old, I went through a little fit and put the entire year behind me. Got rid of all the pics of me in the band (to an extent I can't find any for this blog), fell out of touch with all my band friends, and stopped playing the saxophone altogether (it's been about 6 years since I've touched one.) My ma (or maybe Nana) made a collage of the pictures she took of me in the band; it was on the wall for about a year and now resides in a corner in my bedroom at my parents' house.
The purpose of this story was not to shit on the band, mind you. They're great people and they do a great job. But it wasn't right for me and that was the problem the whole time. It was something I didn't wanna do that I somehow found myself doing and I just wanted to be angry about that.
My Nana loved to proudly tell her friends I was in the WVU Marching Band. "Oooh, I bet that's fun!" Little old ladies would say to me. "It's something," I'd said through my teeth. When I had finally officially quit Nana told me "I was disappointed when you said you weren't going to go back, but I'm proud of you for sticking with your guns and making that decision."
And that felt great to hear. It was my first post-high school big decision. It would be followed by many. Granted, some of these decisions might have been poor ones but they were mine to make. The band was a perfect representation of how I'd lived life before: suffering through things I didn't enjoy for the sake of pleasing others. I've since gotten over that and it's a good thing.
My one year in the band seemed to satisfy everyone. Technically I'm a marching band alumni (sounds better than "quitter"). Four years later my sister, who was majoring in MUSIC of all things, didn't join the marching band and no one really fought her about it. So "You're welcome" Sade, I took one for the team there. Every football game I've gone to since leaving the band has resulted in a loss for WVU; a clear sign that I'm a curse and a good excuse to never attend one again. Not that I need an excuse because, as we've learned from all this, I do what I want.
