Thursday, September 13, 2012

Fucking Hipsters.

All applicable to the following story^^

My first interaction with a hipster, as I understand the species, was when I was 19. His name was Matt Chandley. No, I have no idea what happened to him. I met him, predictably, at an indie music store. I was buying some Jimmy Eat World rarites and he was the cashier at said store. He struck up a conversation with me:

"These guys are amazing live."
"Oh, I've never seen them live. I've never really been to a concert..."
"Oh you HAVE to go to seen them live. You haven't heard music until you've heard it live, firsthand."
"Hey, I kind of have an indie band; can I give you my email address and phone number? You might want to check it out."
"Uh. Sure."

Somehow I ended up giving him my number. Fucking hipsters. They're masters of slight-of-hand.

One night, he calls me up and asks me to meet him at Waffle House in Jonesborough. If anything, he had a more embarrassing car than me: his mother's old Ford Taurus estate. At that time, I drove my Pontiac estate, but it was badass. Anyway, he got a grilled cheese sandwich at Waffle House.

At Waffle House.

I didn't have any money, so I just ate his pickles.

He was also an "artist," and told me he wanted to paint me. Whatever. We drove back to his (mom's) house. We decided to leave my car at Waffle House and take his car in case I got lost. Understandable. Commendable, perhaps.

He put in a CD of some uber hipster band that I definitely had never heard of before or since. The album started with one long (like, 45 seconds or so) of an unbroken, high-pitched hell-scream note. Then the music started. Immediately, Matt asked me if I liked it.

"Most people can't stand prolonged annoying noises," he smirked, "This band is smart. They get rid of the people who can't appreciate their unique sound right off the bat."
"They're brilliant. I wish I had thought of that."

"That's really fucking dumb," I thought, "How pompous."

Believe it or not, I kept my mouth shut. I used to be quite shy around boys, and I found Matt rather attractive. he steadily became less so over time. Ladies, this is why you should never go for looks alone.

So, he painted me. Nothing sexy about it at all; he was actually kind of rude and demanding. First, I had no sense of fashion (I was wearing a white A-tank top [aka a wife-beater] and a red bra [Avril Lavinge, man] and a pair of pale jeans). My clothes gave no sense of movement in the piece. He made me put on one of his red flannel plaid shirts. What hipster doesn't have one of those lying around?

It took a few hours and I kept moving around, apparently. I can't remember anything remarkable about the piece, except he made my tits WAY bigger than they were at the time (barely an A-cup. Sigh). Then he drove me back to my car.

Later, he introduced me to his friends, Patrick and Patrick's brother. According to Matt, his initial intentions for me were, and I quote, "to shag [me] senseless." But, Patrick decided he liked me and Matt stepped aside to let Patrick have a chance at me. Like I was a doll to be passed around. Fucking hipsters man. Girls don't grow on trees, you know! Not to mention that those of us sitting around aren't always DTF.

I was a dumb kid, let me tell you. I just let anyone pick me up. I probably would have hitchhiked if the opportunity ever presented itself. I was also a very lucky kid- nothing bad really ever happened to me. I put faith and trust in bad people, but (so far) it never bit me in the ass in a lasting way.

So, I don't remember why I stopped hanging out with them, really. I think I just got busy being a real adult and then moved to Radford.

We were in a band together for a VERY short time, though. I wrote one song, called "My Anita." There's a long story behind that. But at least Matt didn't laugh at my poetry and gave good, constructive input on how to make my poems into songs. Matt had a 4-track recorder (what hipster doesn't have one of those lying around?) and some rudimentary instruments. I played bass... on a 6 string guitar... Patrick played drums... on a table and a kid's cymbal set. Matt played guitar. We all sang. Matt insisted upon this.

"It'll be really good for band morale if we all sing."
"I can't really sing," sez I.
"Nonsense. Sing. Now."
"A. Aaah..."
"See, you can sing. let's get started," he said with absolute finality.

I even have a pin somewhere promoting our band. I just remember the word "Red" was in our band name, that's all.

Looking back on it, I realise what a fucking hipster Matt was. I damn near fell into the trap.

Anyway, I got to thinking about this because I've been listening to a lot of Fun. "Stars" is a really fucking obnoxious song, though:

Towards the end, it gets a little too... free. If I'm in the right mood, I can defend the odd whale noises the lead singer is making: He is feeling so much emotion. It sounds like someone sobbing and gasping for air. Sort of.

But really, it's kind of an obnoxious song.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

I'm a delicate flower

Once, someone I considered a friend told me I was too sensitive. While I didn't have a witty retort at the time, I later thought that I would much rather be over-sensitive than a raging bitch that seems to take pleasure in putting others down.

Now I'm not so sure.

It takes the tiniest thing to set me off, and it keeps getting worse as I get older. I am sensitive. Most people don't expect it because of my public persona. I'm too complex-- and not in the deep old-soul way. This isn't a "No one understands me!" post. I promise.

What set me off this evening was a seemingly tiny thing, but I considered it to be a severe blow. A former student of mine posted their political views, which do not match mine, on their instagram. It killed me. This student... While I can't fault them for having different views from me, I just felt so sorry for them. And now I can't get it out of my mind. Then I got to thinking that maybe it wasn't okay that they had different views than me. Do they not value their freedoms?! Do they not value choice or rights?! Surely, I thought, they must have been raised in a certain type of household and they never made the decision to look at other political options. I began to pity this student.

In my previous post, I stated that politics have put me in a foul mood. Now, for this tiny reason, one in the hundreds of students I have taught, I am incredibly disappointed. I would give anything--anything-- to be in better control of my emotions. I take my medicine like a good girl. The only thing it really does is make me sleepy, but at least it tends to keep the racing thoughts at bay to a certain extent. A normal person would be able to brush this off. I do feel passionately about my political views, so maybe it's not such an over-reaction. But on the other hand, I taught this student. And hundreds of others. I am just so disappointed. I can't really phrase it any other way.

I'm trying to assuage my panic over this seemingly insignificant thing with music. "Carry On" is a song I just want to curl up next to and let it serenade me to sleep.

Pushing the upsetting thoughts out of my head is so difficult. Too difficult, I sometimes think. Sometimes, it's impossible. 

Friday, September 7, 2012

I fucking hate everything.

I am so cross with everything these days. I've just realised that a lot of it seems to be coming from the politically charged atmosphere around me. I was born in 84, when Reagan was president. Since then, I've been through 4 more presidents. Maybe I'm young, but I can't remember things being this shitty.

This happened. A 16 year old girl tweeted requesting that someone assassinate the president. The person covering the story goes on to say that, understandably, the 16 year old probably doesn't understand exactly what she was saying, nor does she understand what the election is about. ‎"And if you haven’t noticed, as the election draws nearer, we are being surrounded by hate, assaulted by it from all directions – hate aimed at gays, immigrants, women, minorities, union members, teachers, and more. The mainstream media like CNN condones this hate and their failure to even respond to it when it comes from their own pundits only sanctions it as acceptable."

Both sides have seem to have adopted the "fight dirty" attitude of politics. What the fuck is wrong with these people? How can they not see that the election is about more than the colour of our president's skin or their precious guns?

I'm terrified. If Romney wins, we will be tossed back into the dark ages. Basic human rights are currently being suppressed and even more will disappear come January if he wins.

I understand, at a basic level, how people are against abortion. I respect other's choices. I'm having to explain to my freshmen students why we are seeing the image of a coat hanger pop up in ads constantly. But we need to backtrack. Without women's health facilities, which will again disappear if Romney is elected, more women will be turning to extreme measures to avoid having a child. It isn't as simple as slut-shaming or telling a woman to practice abstinence. That's a basic human right that is being threatened. Something so primal and ingrained in us as the act of having sex. "Ladies, don't have sex or else." is basically what we're being told. And doctors agree that even the most careful of birth control methods are only 99% effective.

Then there is "gay rights." What in the hell? It shouldn't even be an issue! I often find myself wondering who the first person to discover they couldn't marry the person they loved because they shared the same sort of genitals. Humans are insanely complex by nature, and to put any sort of restriction on them in the way of something as unfathomable as love(see above: sex) is insanity. Yes, there are gay people that I know and love. But guess what? There are gay people I know and despise. But it has nothing to do, in both cases, with their sexual orientation. it has to do with the fact that they are human and they may or may not have personality traits or habits that I like or dislike. I would never imagine that I could just look at someone and say that I don't like them based on something that they can't control (yeah, I said it: born this way) like who they love or the color of their skin.

Some try to say that the argument it not the same. GLBT issues are not racial issues. Obviously they are not, but to not draw an even comparison between the two is blind. I absolutely believe that no one has govern over their gender preference in partners as much as no one can control their race. Now, people can choose to "come out" or not. There is a group on Facebook where people leave sometimes anonymous messages asking for support and help for coming out. All too often, they say they are frightened to death over what might happen to them, and those who have come out have had the people in their lives just brush it off as a phase. I have always held that if you are old enough to know you like one gender, you are old enough to know you like another. So, telling a 14 year old that they're just confused or just crying out for attention because they state that they like the same gender is among the most terrible things you could say to a child, in my opinion.

But why the hate? I can understand the frustration coming from the side of the oppressed. But the unguarded, unfiltered amount of animosity coming from those seeking to oppress is astounding. The interest in other people's sex lives is even more so. Why isn't it okay to just be human anymore?

This brings me back to my own sneaky hate spiral. The negativity is everywhere and seeps from every crack and crevice. It's so hard to rise above it or anything life-affirming like that. Instead, I am stuck here with my opinions, stewing until I can't take it anymore. Like now. I am just so angry at it all that I can barely see straight. Popular culture has taught us that it's cool and funny to hate everything. That you should be your own island. That no one else matters-- every man for himself.

Fuck that.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Random Bad Memory: Trivial shit

So, I'm upset about something completely different, but an odd thing keeps popping into my mind... Something I've been upset about for about 10 years. It's nothing really, very trivial. But it's something that has stuck with me.

For some reason, when I was in my late teens, my fathers thought they had control over me. I can understand my step-dad's feelings-- he raised me. But at that time, I was trying to foster a relationship with my bio father.

I wonder if anyone can remember a time before cell phones. Or at least, a time before everyone had one. At any rate, when I was 17 or 18, I changed my voicemail message to one of those fake celebrity answering the phone sort of things. I remember one was by the Barenaked Ladies. Just them answering the phone and being Canadian.

Both of my dads freaked out. I got the same reaction from both of them. It was strange-- almost as if they decided together that they were going to yell at me for having a "joke" voicemail message.

Like I said, it was trivial. But both of my fathers got worked up over the tiniest things. Both claimed that I was immature for having such a voicemail greeting. That they didn't call to hear some guys talk; they called to hear my voice. I still find this hard to wrap my head around, hence why it's classified as a bad memory. It still makes me mad that they got so upset over something that was so fucking inane and trivial.

I hate that now I get upset over trivial things. I know my mother does the same thing, and that I can't just blame my parents for my problems. But, as mentioned earlier, I am terribly upset over something completely unnecessary. And I can't talk to anyone about it because I don't want to admit weakness.

I hate being me.