Insom-nom–nomnia

Another sleepless night. I toss, I turn, I try to make my mind sit still long enough to sleep just a bit, but it seems to have run off and left me.

I wish I knew what was causing my sudden restlessness. I’m not more stressed than usual. I’m eating the same. Point is, nothing has really changed in the day to day life. So why is it that I am suddenly so awake and alert, despite having hardly slept over the course of a week and a half?

Is something coming? Is my subconscious trying to prepare me? Is there something I’m not seeing? What eats at my brain so? I just want to rest and relax. I want my mind at ease without taking drastic measures. Sigh.

My First Concert Experience

Let me simply begin by stating that I have horrible social anxiety. Horrible. The idea of being in a large crowd scares the crap out of me and makes my skin crawl. For example: I remember a specific event about a year and a half ago when I was attending my then husband’s birthday party. There were so many people in that house, and it was so loud everywhere I went, I finally ended up locking myself in my car for ten minutes just to recuperate. Later that evening when everything had calmed down, I felt like my skin was going to crawl off my body. And that particular event involved his family, people I’d known for quite some time and had been around on many separate occasions.

Needless to say, concerts were a biiiiig no no for me. Until now.

We discovered that Marilyn Manson and Alice Cooper were touring together back when the dates were first released, and immediately I wanted to go. But that socially anxious and awkward part of my brain said “OHGODNONONONO.” Even more heartbreaking was realizing they were coming nowhere close to me. As quickly as the feeling, the urge, to go washed over me, it left again.

My friend Joanna and I used to obsess over Manson when we were 15, and I’ve grown up listening to Cooper all my life. She contacted me with a plausible way for all of this to work out….All that was left was to convince my brain that I wanted to go.

We chose the cheapest tickets (Well into the nosebleed section), and my friends Joanna, Rachel, and I prepared. I guess my brain was still in denial, because I didn’t feel the usual anxiety. We left for Dallas (about 4 hours away from me), and the closer we got to the theater, the more nervous I became.

We arrived, bought a t-shirt, changed, and then headed up to our nosebleed section, only to find a guy waiting there for us.

“There are three of you, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well I have good news for you. Your section didn’t sell well so we’re moving you closer to the action.”
“No fucking way. Really?”
“Really. Here are your tickets, head back down and find your seats.”

The tickets we had were about 28 bucks a pop. The seats we ended up in were 65 dollars. I was about 8 rows back from the pits and had a beautiful shot at the stage. It was brilliant.

Marilyn Manson steps out onto the stage, and immediately all social anxieties disappear. I started moving and swaying with the crowd, just enjoying myself. I screamed and yelled like everyone around me, I sang along without worrying whether or not it sounded good. Manson began with a very…almost childlike and playful demeanor, dancing about the stage. Midway he slowed down, seeming almost groggy. At one point he ended up on the infamous stilts, and a stagehand kept getting in his way and he nearly hit him. Which is understandable because really, if he’d fallen he could have been severely hurt. Towards the end he was right back to playful and fun.

We had an intermission, and then Cooper took to the stage. I was a bit worried at first because I know a lot of his classics like… School’s Out, Poison, Hey Stoopid, etc, but other than that I’m not familiar with him. Let me just tell you this. Even if you are not familiar with Cooper’s stuff, you NEED to see him perform. He owns that stage and he is completely comfortable. His theatrics are phenomenal, and he definitely knows how to work a crowd. I lost my voice. In fact, two days later, I’m still a little croaky. THAT’S how amazing this experience was. He did the straight jacket, the snake, the guillotine, and Frankenstein.

But the best part about all of this was after. We walked out of the arena and realized we were way too flooded with adrenaline to try to drive, so we were going to sit on the curb to relax. I happened to glance back and saw a fence, and directly on the other side of it I saw tour buses. There were other people standing there, not many…probably about 20, and none of them were wearing VIP passes.

And that’s how I got to meet Alice Cooper.

Alice Cooper walked out, and I didn’t care about my shredded vocal chords, I screamed. He waved and held up a finger, and I thought “Crap he’s not coming back.” But he DID! And he took the time to go down the line and autograph all of our tickets. About midway down the line he steps back and starts laughing, then says “Have you guys ever seen that show The Walking Dead?” “Yes!” “You guys kind of remind me of the zombies.” We start laughing, and then I lean in and say “Well if you hire us, we’ll work your next set for you.” AND HE LAUGHED. HE FULL ON BELLY LAUGHED AT ME! I was like “OH MY GOD ALICE COOPER THINKS I’M FUNNY!” In hindsight he probably just thought I was stupid, but in that moment it was a truly magical experience.

Marilyn Manson didn’t come out, which was disappointing but hey. I did get to watch his tour bus leave. I waved at it and everything. I also saw Twiggy leave.

All in all, it was a magical experience and I am very glad to have rid myself of that anxiety long enough to experience this. I probably would have kicked myself if I hadn’t. Unfortunately, I have figured out a downside to concerts.

They are like a drug. You go to one, suddenly you want to turn around and do it again. It’s so hard to return to reality after going to a concert, especially one you get really into. In my mind, that concert wasn’t just a once in a lifetime thing. I’m still trying to convince myself that I cannot just turn around and go back to that, go back to see my heroes. Reality sucks in comparison sometimes, you know?

The other downside is….MAN I was sore. My vocal chords were so shredded I sounded like a mix between an old woman and a prepubescent boy. About an hour after we left the concert I realized “Oh crap. I have to prerecord my radio show tomorrow.”

I wore it all with pride, however. I even made it through the full hour of prerecording my show (though I probably won’t listen to the playback). Why did I torture myself like that? Because I was proud. I was proud of myself for pushing myself to do something I’d never done before, meeting someone I would have never met otherwise, and for getting over my fears. So thank you Alice Cooper and Marilyn Manson for not only helping me get over my fears, but for also popping my concert cherry. You guys are amazing! Thank you for giving me one of the most amazing moments of my life.

I was going to include a section of this blog where I discussed the downside to societies, and why I think people like Marilyn Manson, Alice Cooper, and Ozzy Osbourne aren’t so bad, but I have decided to wait for another day. So stick around!

Reasons Why I Hate Where I Live

I was born, and raised, in a small town in North Louisiana. As a child I was quite proud of that fact, and had no trouble boasting about it to anyone that would listen. I think back to those moments of childhood and shake my head. If only I knew then what I know now.

Living where I live adds many degrees of difficulty in my everyday life. For one, when I am having to fill out information on websites, and it asks what “county” I live in. Interesting fact for the day, Louisiana doesn’t have counties. We have parishes. There is no Bienville of Lincoln county.

When people hear about Louisiana, they automatically think of Cajuns, or more specifically, New Orleans. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been asked about New Orleans. “How far are you from New Orleans?” “How badly was your home damaged in Katrina?” “Ooh so-and-so is playing in New Orleans, are you going?” There is more to Louisiana than just New Orleans. In fact, it is impossible for the entire state of Louisiana to live in New Orleans. Yes, I am mentioning it over and over again so perhaps you can understand MY frustrations.

No I do not own an alligator, and no I do not live in a swamp.

I do, however, know where to find a swamp.

The town that I live in, and have lived in for my entire life, has nada in regards to entertainment for people my age. The only malls that have anything worth buying are about 45 minutes in either direction. There’s Bonnie and Clyde, but that only happens once a month, or I’m not a big fan of the events they have staged there.

That’s another thing I hate about where I live. Bonnie and Clyde WERE NOT KILLED HERE. STOP IT. -deep breath-

There are so many celebrities that I wish to meet in my lifetime, so many that I want to get autographs from before I die. So many people that I’d love to just… shake their hands. There are so many bands that I want to watch play JUST for the sake of saying I did it!

But guess where they all go.

That’s right. If these bands, or celebrities, even so much as bother looking at Louisiana, they usually end up in New Orleans. I realize this is not the fault of the celebrity in question, or the band, it’s all about supply and demand. And Louisiana isn’t going to demand a lot of people I like, because they have nothing to do with God, the Government, NASCAR, Football, or Drinking Beer. You know, the five main religions of the south. Which brings me to my next point.

I am smack in the middle of the Bible Belt. I wouldn’t say we’re the belt buckle, but we’re probably close. Which means I am in the center of racism, homophobia, and bible thumping. Being different is not okay here. You’re supposed to fit into a certain mold, and if you do not fit such a mold, the system works against you.

I’m not saying this is true for everyone who lives in this state, or any of the other southern states. Obviously I’m an exception to the rule, so there must be others.

What I mean is, when I was in school I wore all black. I drew on my arm, and my clothes, I liked “gothic” stuff. As soon as I turned 18 I got my tongue pierced, and as soon as I turned 19 I got my lip pierced. I was dubbed the “trouble maker”, even if I was doing nothing more than sitting there reading a book. A lot of rules were made against the “gothic students”, whereas the cheerleaders or athletes could get away with whatever they chose.

I’ve had so many people come up to pray for me when I, again, was doing nothing more than sitting around reading a book. No kidding. I was actually in the mall, in the bookstore, just reading. I had Tripp pants on, my hair was dyed black, and I was reading a book. READING A BOOK. This woman walked up to me and asked for my name, and said she would pray for me in hopes that I would fix myself. Um. Excuse the fuck out of you, woman. Who the hell do you think you are, and since when did the “rules” not apply to you?

A really good friend of mine was once warned to stay away from me because I wore all black. That obviously makes me a devil worshiper. Again. Excuse the fuck out of you?

I am a nice, good person. I wear all black, and I’m quirky. Sometimes I misplace that filter between your mouth and brain that keeps you from saying things, and sometimes my shame is in the same hiding place. But I am a genuinely good person. I love helping people, and I love making others feel better. I’ve made mistakes, just like everyone else, but when you cut me I still bleed. It took a very VERY long time for me to get over worrying what people thought about me. Yes, I still wear all black. Mostly because I am TERRIBLE at matching clothes (ask my ex-husband if you don’t believe me), and black matches black every time!

Unless I’m killing your pets, or I’ve actually dragged you into the middle of a circle drawn in blood, do not accuse me of anything. I don’t even believe in the devil.

Anyway.

One thing I will say in defense of the south. Not everyone born here is an idiot. Our accents may make us talk a little slower, and our drawl might make us sound stupid, but I can guarantee you that is not the case. And seriously people, stop acting like you can do our accents better than us.

Stupid cast of True Blood. They sound like they’re from Alabama, not Louisiana. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE YOU KNOW.

-sigh-

The original point of all of this was pointing out the lack of celebrities and entertainment in this state, but with all things my brain decided it needed to rant. So back to my original point.

Neil Gaiman is doing a US Book Signing, the last one he’ll do. And guess what? I can’t go because there wasn’t enough of a demand.
I’ll never meet people like Jeaniene Frost, Laurell K. Hamilton, Tom Hiddleston, Matt Smith, Ville Valo etc.

I’ll never get to shake hands with Ozzy Osbourne.

And you know what? It sucks. All because I live in a backwoods little hick town.

Seriously. It sucks.

I know none of them will see this blog, and even if they did I’m sure this isn’t the first time they’ve heard this from a fan. But if I could meet these people face to face, I’d tell them simply this: You guys are a huge inspiration to me. I appreciate all the hard work and dedication that you do. You’ve all brought me out of a lot of hard, bad places, and you’ve made me realize that it’s okay to be different. Keep doing what you do, and I’ll keep loving you.

Now THAT is out of the way…What do you guys think of where you live? Is it better or worse?

Oh, and as a side note, I’ve been watching the views to see just how many people visit my blog, and I must say thank you to each and every one of you. I have to ask, though….Why am I so popular in Canada?

Not that I’m complaining, of course. Just curious!

Ways to Tell You are a Parent

Parenthood is a gloriously frustrating time period that is both rewarding and disgusting. We have our days and our bad, our ups and our downs. But nothing, and I mean nothing, can compare to having children.

In light of the fact that Mother’s Day just passed, and Father’s Day is right around the corner, I have decided to dedicate this blog to all the hard working mom’s, dad’s, stepparent’s, godparent’s, and grandparent’s out there.

How to tell you are a parent:

1). You appreciate your own parents more, and begin to realize maybe they weren’t as stupid as you used to think.

2). You’ve ever apologized to your parents/written a letter of apology because your child just did something you used to do.

3). You’ve muttered the phrase “I hope you have one just like you one day.”

4). You’ve tiptoed out of a room after tucking in every stuffed animal your child owns, and your child insists that you be quiet because said animals are sleeping.
5). It’s strange to you when you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve frequent interruptions like “get that out of your mouth”, “get down before you break something”, or “no, you cannot bring your sand into the house.”

6). You’ve said phrases you swore you would never say because they annoyed you as a kid. I.E: Because I said so.

7). The idea of being pooped on, peed on, or vomited on doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

8). It looks like you’re packing for a week long vacation just to make a simple trip.

9). You make for a great jungle gym, which is a skill you didn’t realize you possessed.

10). You judge what you listen to/watch based on what you want to hear repeated back to you later. “Oh yes, she has the entire bible memorized!”

11). You do the strangest things in public without even thinking about the fact that you are surrounded by people thinking you belong in a but house. Such as: sniffing your child’s butt, dancing, singing, making silly noises, etc.

12). You’ve cheered about bodily functions like you were at a sports event.

13). Partying every weekend is a thing of the past. In fact, the real party is if you can have a shower/eat/do chores in one day.

14). You have at least one kid’s book memorized.

15). You have the theme, characters, and catch phrases of at least three kid’s shows memorized.

16). You’ve cut down on your sugar intake on the basis of “if I open this, I’ll have to give it to the kid too…..”

17). You realized that the whole “poisoned candy” thing at Halloween was a way for your parents to eat your candy, and you have since used it.

18). Instead of being awake 24+ hours because of partying, you’ve been up for 24+ hours because of baby.

19). You’ve picked your child’s nose, pulled out a huge booger, and it didn’t phase you.

20). You’ve had to stop at least once in the course of reading this blog to say something to said child.

21). You’ve ever watched kid’s shows, and you were all alone.

22). You buy toys with the thought in mind “How bad is this going to hurt when I step on it?”

23). Most of your conversations with friends or family involve something your little one did.

24). You’ve said very strange things that you never thought belonged in a sentence together, let alone would ever come out of your mouth. Example: No, you may not shove a crayon up the dog’s butt,that’s rude.

25). You can now communicate efficiently with a single look or gesture.

26). Peeing alone, and with the door shut, is a luxury, not a right.

27). Your bathroom has looked like someone tried to wash a whale with the amount of water on the floor.

28). The flowers in your yard are segregated by which ones you don’t mind your child picking.

29). You despise the word “why?” and feel pieces of your sanity slip away each time you hear it.

30). You can relate to this list in any way, shape, or form.

Being a parent is challenging, but nothing is more reading than baby kisses and hugs. I’m sure there are thousands more items that could be added to this list, but I must try to convince my child that running around outside with no clothes on is indecent. I hope you’ve enjoyed this!

Why my Daughter doesn’t Care that I’m Fat

In the age we live in, it’s hard to be a fat person. We’re taught early on that we’re not as good as our skinnier, more attractive classmates, we’re judged by the clothes we can, or can’t, fit into, and so forth. Though this sounds like normal school antics, they don’t stop once you graduate. We’re pumped full of diet commercials, modeling catalogs, as if the media is just screaming “Look what you’ll never be.” Most of the times if you see a fat person in a movie, they are the butt of the joke.

It’s not always been this way, however. Back in the 50’s and 60’s they pushed advertisements stating how horrible of an insult it was to be called “skinny”. Skinny meant poor, unhealthy, etc. All the things you did not want to be in the 50’s.

Don’t believe me?

We see so many beautiful women from that particular era, it makes you almost miss it. Especially if you’re a fat person.

Sometimes it still bothers me that I’m not thin, and I never will be. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and think “Wow… No wonder everyone thinks I’m ugly.” And believe me, you can call a fat person whatever you’d like, but no one can insult us like ourselves. We’ve called ourselves every name in the book.

I’m so envious of these bigger women that are so comfortable in their own skin. They believe they are the most beautiful, and sexiest, women to ever grace the earth, and they are sometimes upwards of 300 lbs or better. I wish I had that confidence, that high self esteem. I don’t think I ever will. I’m always conscious about how I walk, how I breathe, and–sadly–people’s opinions of me.

I’ve always been a big girl, and when I became pregnant with my daughter I got even bigger. Like most moms, I’m struggling to get the weight back off and it seems like no matter what I do I cannot make it go away.

Today, however, is mother’s day. I was outside pushing my daughter on her swing and she was just laughing and having a great time. In the midst of her giggles, I started thinking to myself…You know…. My daughter has never judged me. In her eyes, I am her mother, and to quote a well known saying “Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” She doesn’t know such prejudices, she doesn’t understand the differences between fat and skinny. She sees me for me.

Hell, in her mind, she probably prefers me fat. And here’s why:

Way more mommy to snuggle:

I’m soft, cuddly, and squishy. Just what all babies adore!

When she’s swinging, she can kick a very soft belly instead of a pair of hands to help her learn how to swing properly

When she blows raspberries on my tummy, she gets more pffbbfbgbfbfbffbfbft for her buck!
She’ll always be able to outrun me. Lol!

My daughter loves me for who I am, and what I do for her, not the size of my trousers. I think I draw more strength from that than I do anything else. It’s time for me to push the negativity that surrounds me from the people who do not know me, or hardly know me, and focus purely on her opinion. At least, for the time being.

As a side note, I’d like to wish all the mothers out there a Happy Mother’s Day!!

A Walk Down Memory Lane

For the first half of the week, nothing exciting happened in the least. Middle of the week, I began nurturing a sick child. End of the week, still nurturing said child, but I am also being thrown down memory lane.

I spent the beginning part of the day (after tucking sick child into bed for a nap) reading a blog a friend of mine had started writing ages ago. I felt bad for not having seen it earlier, but reminded myself that everything happens for a reason. I wasn’t meant to see this then. Hell, maybe I wasn’t even meant to see it now. But I did.

Reading through his blog made me remember a lot of good memories, and a lot of sad ones. It reminded me of good times, when things were far easier and, seemingly, better. I remembered friendships that once held so much value that I swore I would die if I lost them. Look at me now. I did not die, but I think a part of me did, because now I feel like a hallowed shell of what I once was. They say hindsight is 20/20, and I am reminded now how true that is.

I’ve made plenty of mistakes, I jumped to a lot of conclusions then, and now, and that has cost me quite a bit. I’ve questioned loyalties, I’ve questioned my decisions, and I’ve questioned myself more often than I care to admit to the general public.

I wish I could go back to those good memories, and change them slightly to make them great. I wish I could say things, do things, but the opportunity for such has passed. The value that I have for certain people is, more than likely, one sided and it hurts knowing that it will never be reciprocated.

I miss my friends, I miss the laughter. I miss feeling like I belonged in a huge, unbreakable family. At the time, I thought, there was no way this family could end but I guess I was the first one to break it apart. Everything happens for a reason, I realize that, but in all honesty I’m really beginning to question those reasons.

Maybe I’m where I need to be right now? Maybe I things will change for the better. I claim to have no hope, but if that was the case would I really be here still? When all hope is lost, what is left? Obviously some hope remains, it’s just hard to see. I’ve lost so much, is there some “grand comeback” planned in the cosmos that I don’t know about?

I realize this post does not have much of a point, and the words are just as scattered as my mind. My thought process is here, there, drifting between sadness and contentment.

I miss my friends.
I miss belonging.
I miss being happy.
I want to make things better, but I do not know how.
I want someone to help me feel better, but I don’t know how to do that either.
I want to be as important as I make people in my life.

I want to matter like I felt like I used to….

Perhaps it was all just a fantasy, and this is reality finally catching up to me?

But hope remains, like it or not. Just as certain as the dreamcatcher that still hangs in my window, some things do not die. Some things just need the right fuel to rekindle a flame.

We wait, we see, and we hope.

Death, Dying, Dead

What is it about the paranormal that frightens us, and why are we so afraid of death, dying, and the dead?

I was watching an episode of Ghost Adventures, mostly to laugh at them, when all of a sudden I start hearing bangs and creaks on my end. It sort of startled me, as things had been relatively at ease only moments before. Now, as I have stated in previous posts, my house is haunted and I am used to it. I am not used to, however, going from sudden stillness, to suddenly being surrounded.

The experience did, however, get my mind twisting and turning. What is it that actually frightens us? If we stop and think about it, a ghost is just the memory of our former consciousness trapped in an ethereal like body. I realize it is more complicated than that, but essentially what I am trying to say is…they are people, just with no bodies.

I’ve sat down and mapped it out in my brain, and each one comes back to one common factor: Control–or lack thereof. I’ll explain my thought process here.

Being around the dead (as in corpses) makes a lot of people uncomfortable. I don’t mean the gruesome, morbid decay of flesh, or the horribly mangled bodies…Just… dead people. Like, in a funeral home. The idea of being near a body, touching a body, etc makes a lot of people nervous. I had a good talk with a friend of mine a few nights ago, and she stated the reason for her unease was she couldn’t “feel anything”. There was no life, there was no spark, no soul to animate the flesh. Just a body. Being around the dead acts as a constant reminder of our own humanity. Everyone knows they are going to die, but it is very hard, if not impossible, to imagine simply no longer existing. Because of this, I honestly believe it is one of the biggest reasons why people believe in heaven, hell, reincarnation, etc so strongly. It gives us something to look forward to, our minds can continue onward. But our death is something that we cannot control, and what happens after we die is out of our hands as well.

Watch any show about ghosts, and you’ll see it pretty quickly and easily that people are terrified of them. Why? Because it is part of the “unknown” factor. The idea of someone, or something, being around us that we cannot see is the ultimate paranoia, something that has been embedded in us from the start. To some, having a ghost or spirit around is similar to having someone break into your house. You’ve no idea what they’ve touched, what they’ve seen, what they’ve taken, etc. Our home is our safe spot, our fortress if you will. Others are not supposed to invade our safe zone, and yet, here is this being that floats around without our knowing. What are they watching us doing? What have they seen? What do they know? Not to mention the fact, how can we be sure it is a ghost? What if it is something worse, just pretending to be a ghost? It all leads back to the unknowns, and we cannot control the unknowns.

Even weird people like me get startled sometimes, as I’ve already explained. I find the human body to be a fascinating topic, and I find death and the afterlife to be equally as fascinating. I’m one of those people who wants to learn what is beyond the grave, so to speak.

Do you agree? Is it really as simple as being reminded of our humanity, and losing control of the situation?

Technology: Boosting or Killing Creativity?

There has always been a huge debate over technology in every aspect of life. Each day we see new and wonderful things being done with computers, and we are well on our way to those futuristic houses some of us dreamed about as children. Will we, one day, see entire buildings set up that look very similar to, say, Tony Stark’s house in Iron Man? Maybe one day we’ll even see a TARDIS type device like in Doctor Who?

One thing has me wondering, however. With as great as technology is, how helpful is it to the creative aspect of society?

On the one hand, you have many more outlets in which you can channel your creative side. Video games are seeing graphics upgrades that can fool the average on looker into believing they are watching real people rather than a game. Videos can be posted to Youtube that could make you the next big internet sensation. Musical instruments are seeing upgrades as well. This very blog I am writing is proof of modern technology at its finest, seeing as how I am typing on a laptop. Let’s not forget paint sets, pencils, pencil sharpeners, and cameras. .

It’s true that, in the world we live in, we can do more in shorter time periods with far less hassle. Instead of taking weeks to create you own paints, build your own brushes, and days to paint the perfect picture, we can simply walk to the nearest hobby store, or snap a picture with a digital DSLR camera.

In quite a number of ways, we are seeing more artistic flares than before. But has the modern era taken away some of the joy and passion?

For example: In ye olde dark times, a person had to be quite dedicated if they wanted to create something.. There was no photoshop option. Dedicated painters had to really stick to it in order to create a masterpiece. Not only did they have to stay dedicated to it, and determined, but they had to find a way to make their materials last. Think of how many beautiful paintings that are now lost to history. Think of how many great artists there were that we just don’t know about now. On top of building your own tools to use for the projects at hand, timing had to be perfect, etc. Even something as simple as weather patterns can be (somewhat) predicted ahead of schedule.

I bring you now to the point of movies and theatre. Growing up where I did, theatre was not a big aspect of society, but going to see the latest Blockbuster hit was. Movies are the modern day equivalent of a trip to the Globe in many cases. Even the beauty of CGI, and other special effects, can take away some of the talent of acting. Silent movies are often described as being very dramatic, and there is a reason for that. They could not speak, and they were forced to rely on merely their body language to convey the points they were trying to make, while still being entertaining to the viewers. We move later into the cheesy 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s with special effects that were, at times, just laughable. The blood was obviously fake, strings and wires were obvious. I will not lie, I still enjoy sitting down and watching a good black and white movie from time to time, and I REALLY enjoy a good Vincent Price movie. I’ve totally digressed, but I’m working my way back towards my point. The actors had to rely on pure talent, and had to really work to make you believe that a man had just turned into a bat before your eyes, or something such as. Now… Whatever the actors can’t do, they just add it in later via computer graphics. Actors do not have to do nearly as much work now as far as acting is concerned, but have now had to learn how to read lines while interacting with strange green screens.
Don’t get me wrong! I love a lot of movies that are heavy on the CGI! Um, hello? Thor? The Avengers? My favorite show is Doctor Who and that just SCREAMS CGI.

Books! Oh how books have suffered. Call me old fashioned, but I still love the feeling of a book in my hands. I love the smell, the feel of the crisp pages flipping beneath my thumbs, etc. I do have an eReader though, for convenience. But how many times have you heard “Eh, who needs to read the book, the movie is coming out next month.” I want to slap everyone who says this. I truly do. There is something so different about being lost in the world of a book, and it is an experience you can only relate to if you’ve ever read a really good book.

Movies, and even eReaders, have killed books to a certain degree. Everything is turning digital now, and pretty soon hardcover books will be considered antiques (I do have a few old books, one of them is nearly a hundred years old. And I am SO proud of it. Unrelated, but I had to add it here).

Backing up for a moment to the theatre/movie point. Actors! Poor actors. Once upon a time you had to be a sensational actor to even be known in your own town. Thanks to television, you can know be a household name! Those this has many benefits, such as monetarily speaking, there are also a lot of downfalls. I once remember hearing an actor, when asked how he was adjusting to his new found fame, state “I quite like it, but simple things like going to the shops for milk are totally different experiences now.”

For my final point, I’ll discuss writing in general. First you had to make the paper/stone/etc you were going to write on. Then you had to make the utensil you were going to use to write with. Then we were upgraded to typewriters. For the record, I still own a typewriter. It’s an automatic one, so that is sort of depressing, but it is a typewriter nonetheless. I love it. But anyway, we saw typewriters give way to other things before finally: computers. Don’t like computers? You can pop down to your local store and purchase pens, pencils, sharpeners, etc. It is quite easy now.

But is easy best? That’s the real question. How much art floating about on the internet now would we see if we were all required to use the “old fashioned” way of creating? Would the caliber of what we see change? What I mean is….the quantity is up, but is the quality up to par?

One of the biggest issues I have is how much we have taken humanity out of the society. Instead of talking to humans, we are talking to robots when we call numbers. So much is automated now! We can hide behind our computer screens and say whatever we’d like, because we have the ability to hide behind anonymity. It is easy to forget that the person you are speaking to online is, in fact, a human being.

I don’t know. I have mixed emotions (as you can see) regarding technology and art in general.

Ironically what sparked this particular post was I was trying to log into WordPress to type out a blog for everyone. My computer was running incredibly slowly. By the time I battled with my computer to log in, then battled with the browser to open, and finally made it to WordPress, I had managed to forget what I wanted to write about due to frustration. Cue thinking back to the old days.

There is no doubt, when discussing the modern age, that many pros and cons exist. I suppose we should all be thankful, at least, that people are taking more of an interest in the workings that lie within the often times dark and twisted right brain.

We can only sit back, watch, and wait to see what the future holds.

It’s Just a Silly Fairy Tale.

I used to believe in fairy tales, when I was a child. Some might argue that this is time when we’re all “naive”. I beg to differ. I do not believe children are naive, I think they have the right idea. Of course, as children, we rarely appreciate what we have until we can no longer have it for whatever reason. “You can’t watch that television show, you’re an adult.” “Get off the playground equipment, you’re a grown woman!” “Hello! Quit daydreaming, you’ve got work to do.” And to think, when we were kids, all we wanted to do was grow up!

What was it about adulthood that seemed so brilliant to us as children? We didn’t have to listen to others, we could do whatever we wanted. We could go places, drive cars, Eat take out, candy, and ice cream whenever we so desired it. We wanted to be noticed, we wanted to make our own choices! But most importantly we wanted the freedom.

Growing up is a trap. It is the ultimate Bait and Switch. When you become an adult, you start listening to your parents even more. Unfortunately for some of us, by the time we are ready to listen, our parents aren’t around to give advice. You also have to listen to, and obey, whoever your employer is. Unlike your parents, however, they aren’t looking to make you better as a person. They’re looking to make you a better employee for that company. They don’t care about the day you’ve had, or the crap you have to put up with on a daily basis, as long as you get your work done.

It is true that, as adults, we can do and go wherever we want. So long as the budget permits. Don’t have enough money to go to that party? Too bad. Maybe next time. Don’t have enough money to buy that new game? Too bad. Maybe next paycheck.

We can even drive cars if we want to! After we save up our money to buy it, buy the necessary insurance, keep the license, tags, and inspection up to date, fill it up with gas, etc. Once you have a car, and all the necessities, can you really afford to go anywhere other than work? It is true that many places do not have to worry about this sort of thing, they have public transportation. I commend you for that, but in small towns such as where I live, public transportation is a joke. Everyone drives.

Yes, you can eat take out, candy, and ice cream whenever you want it. However, you also have to go to the doctor. “That’s not healthy for you.” “Look at your teeth, we’re going to have to pull that one out.” “Your cholesterol is too high.” “My god how much weight are you going to gain?” Not to mention the toll it takes on your budget.

You want to be noticed? The chances of that happening are slim and none. You’ve got to work super hard at it and even then, your net may not stretch that far. Even if it does, there are people all over the internet who are ready to tear you back down and stomp you into the ground. Why? Because people just don’t care. Everyone is trying to be something, and it is truly a dog eat dog world filled with people ripping the competition apart.

Make your own choices? Ha! Don’t even get me started on that. Sure, you can make your own choices to a certain extent. But your bills, and your responsibilities, come first. If you have a child? Those aren’t your choices anymore. Everything you do is for them. If it isn’t that way, then it should be.

Freedom. It doesn’t exist, not really. Not when you’re an adult. In fact, we are most free when we are children. We have way more freedom than we truly realize. Why? Because everything you do as a child is great. Pooping in a potty? WOO HOO!!! Learning the alphabet? AMAZING!! You can count to five? WAY TO GO!!!

As a child, you’re learning. As an adult, you’re supposed to have all of this figured out already. Everything you do is supposed to have purpose and meaning. I remember when I first started this blog, and people would tell me “You’ve got to find something interesting to write about. It’s got to have purpose. What audience are you going to try to get the attention of? You need high numbers.” I want to touch as many as I can, I don’t want it singled down to a particular age group. I can’t create something and gear it towards a particular group at all. As a child, we learned color for a reason: Because the world is not black and white. There shouldn’t be a limit on our imaginations, there shouldn’t be a “what you can and can’t” list everywhere you go. This is YOUR WORLD, damn it, make the most of it. Life is too short for this.

I remember being younger and writing blogs on Myspace all the time. Yeah, they weren’t very serious, but I really thought I was making a difference. I didn’t care about the low numbers. If two people read my work, I was happy as a pig in mud. Two people! My words were read by two people! TWO PEOPLE were inspired by something that I wrote! I wasn’t worried about criteria, I wasn’t worried about “fitting in”. Now, however? “That’s good but.” Or my favorite. “That’s not good enough, you can do better.”

“You wrote a book? That’s good! You can do better though.”
“Awesome blog! You can do better though. It needs something else, something that will draw people in.”

Well I hate to break it to you guys, but I don’t stick to just one subject. As you may have noticed.

Then there is the subject of love. Ohh bloody hell. As a kid, we all believe that our prince charming will one day ride into town, sweep us off our feet, and we will have the perfect, fairy tale ending. We all, at some point, believe that our “special someone” is out there. After two failed marriages, I’m not sure I believe in that concept anymore. I think love is a confusing bundle of emotions that can be brought on–and satisfied!–by artificial means (chocolate, cocaine, etc). There is no such thing as perfect.

I miss being a child. I miss the freedom of expression, the joy, the mysteries…. I miss being able to be me, and not having to worry much about fitting in. I want the freedom of being able to ask for help and not being criticized for it, I want every little thing I do to be special again.

And I don’t want to be alone. I’m tired of being alone.

At least as a child, I could invent playmates and no one thought differently of me. Try that now and you’re automatically escorted to the nearest mental health facility. “But I’m not crazy, I’m just lonely!”

I used to believe in fairy tales. I used to believe in perfection. But now all I have are my dreams, my imagination, and the hope that one day I’ll be proven wrong.

Web Weavings

Where shadow and light dance

Category: Uncategorized