Midwest Hicksville Literary

Local fashion at IMA this Friday!

2010-10-18T06:15:00.000-07:00

Clickety for wearable art

40 designers, mostly local, will present at a runway show Friday evening, 7 pm, at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Well, color me excited!

Via Indystar:

Project IMA: Fashion Unbound
» When: 7 p.m. Friday.

» Where: Indianapolis Museum of Art, 4000 Michigan Road.

» Tickets: $7 for IMA members and $12 for the public; includes live entertainment and a cash bar.

» Special event: Mingle with models and designers at the "Behind the Seams" after-party presented from 8 to 10 p.m. by the Fashion Arts Society, with support from the American Surety Company. Tickets are $50 and include fashion show admission, live music and light hors d'oeuvres.

» Information: (317) 923-1331 or www.imamuseum.org.

Opportunity knocks! I've just been getting more interested in networking and learning more within the Indy fashion and style community. Talk about serendipitous timing!

Somehow it seemed appropriate

2010-10-12T20:49:00.001-07:00

We're all, around the world, sharing a victory dance as the Chilean miners finally emerge from the underground, 69 days after they were first trapped. My heart is with their families. My faith is restored. I can't see this as anything less than a miracle.

For some reason I have this song in my head, and it seems appropriate. We're one people in celebration. This is much too rare an occurrence. Let's share it and rejoice in every way we can.

Crossposted to leahsgotit.blogspot.com

Dolly Kei = Dressing with Joy

2010-09-30T20:13:00.000-07:00

Hey boys and girls, let's play dress-up! (Grimoire party June 2010)

Thus begins the first post in my new series. You could say it's cheating, because what I intend to do is take pictures of Indianapolis street-style examples. This first post, though, is something I desperately want to import.

I was looking around a little bit ago, and I found this Japanese fashion subgenre called Dolly Kei. It's only been around for a couple of years. So, being NOT a total Japanophile, I am a little late to the party. But it is one SERIOUSLY fun party!!

Dolly Kei might just be the coolest thing, the best example of dressing with joy, that I have ever seen. It's a little bit antique babydoll, a little bit Japanese lolita, a little bit boho-vintage. It's whimsy plus refinement. It reminds me of every pre-Raphaelite painting I've ever fallen in love with, mixed with my old (HUGE, naturally) collection of dress-up clothes from my childhood. And I had a really hard time narrowing down my favorite pictures, so I chose quite a few.

What I really love is the diversity even within this small niche. So many subcultural styles I've fallen in love with over the years were co-opted and Hot Topic-ized before I even had a chance to really appreciate them. But this is fresh. This is something that, for all appearances, you have no choice but to make your own if you're going to do it right. Know what, I'm gonna shut up and post pictures now. All pics were found on JapaneseStreets.com and dollykei.tumblr.com. Click on any of the pics to embiggen.

You see what I mean?! I love the color. I love the goofy little touches, a stuffed animal here, a costume-mask accessory there. The mixing of sumptuous fabrics. The amount of variety. The fact that it's SO hard to incorporate so many little complex details without cluttering up the whole thing. I love the purses. They're all perfectly adorable. I LOVE the one girl who managed to incorporate a KISS tee-shirt into the mix. It's enough to make me want to run to the thrift store, overhaul everything in my wardrobe, and just dress like this all the time.

What the hey, I'll throw in one gothic lolita girl since I love them so much!

This is what I'm talking about! Doesn't it get your noggin going in a million creative directions, all at once, just being inspired by a few of these pictures? Don't you want to take in every nuance, every texture and thread, and feel the joy that went into putting it all together?

I had to pick out just a few more, from Grimoire's second-anniversary party that took place just a few months ago. Grimoire is the where-it's-at shop for everyone in Tokyo who's into dolly kei, so that's your info on that front. It is to dolly kei as Baby, the Stars Shine Bright is to Lolita fashion. And you've got to look at every single snapshot in this photoset, right here, or you are missing out. SO badly. Here's a preview:

THE WATCH, THE WATCH! CUTEST THING EVER!

So, who wants to hit the nearest thrift store and play dress-up? Get crafty, get creative, get this fashion crackin' around here because it is amazing!

Monday night LOLZ

2010-09-27T17:57:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to my beautiful roommate Jessica, without whom I would have missed this piece of comedic GOLD from Indy Craigslist's "Missed Connections" Personals:

Keep it classy there, loverboy.

I can't sleep, so...

2010-09-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

Here is "our" video.

This song was my special ringtone for Zach for a long time. Isn't it the most perfect and beautiful video you've ever seen?

I need to get a couple ideas out while I'm thinking about them. Three new blog sections inspired by -- well, the stuff relevant in life right now.

First, based on how darn much fun it was to write about fashion and style and all the fun therein, I'm going to start a new semi-regular segment, "Dressing with Joy." Mostly I'm planning on it being street-style related. We Midwest denizens do exhibit some style now and then, believe it or not.

Second, and this MAY or may not just become its own blog... I'm starting a segment called "The long journey home," which is all things related to me and Zach and our disgustingly-cute distance romance. I'll have made it home on the day we finally get married. Not only is it a long-distance engagement, it's also long-haul. We promised his parents, and mine, that we wouldn't tie the knot until he's out of school. There are about 2 years left to go on that one. Yay... er wait, no, not really. That just sucks, actually. But it will be fun to throw around ideas for the awesome pirates-vs-ninjas wedding that will ensue once we've done our time.

Third, a series of mini-features on awesome people who have come out of the Midwest. We have SO MANY! This really excites me.

OK. It's almost 2. I really should try sleeping again. Have a lovely evening and a blessed start to the new week, everyone.

A coming-out, of sorts (Or, why fashion is freaking AMAZING)

2010-09-14T17:24:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make.

I go on and on about social causes this, and not being shallow that, but the truth is that I am really heavy into something that many consider the epitome of shallow bullcrap.

If you use the word "gay" as a derogatory, and you consider fashion to be gay, then you'd best clear out of the room, honey, because I'm about to crap more rainbows than a Care Bear on acid. (Also, SCREW you, go find a less-bigoted derogatory term.)

Here goes. I love fashion. I. Freaking. Love. It!

Which is where the "coming-out" narrative fits in. I'm the LAST person to this party, much like many in the LGBT community. Everyone knew but me, and I was scared to admit it. But everyone I tell, shamefaced, because I had myself convinced it was this Big Bad Thing that people would look down on me for, just says "Well, DUH, have you SEEN yourself over the course of your life?"

It's been pretty much a fact of my life since I was a wee girl of about 3, stealing my big brother's hair-spiking gel in an effort to make my hair all crazy-shaggy like Jem. (Sadly, I could not make my hair pink, which I lament to this day.) Then, there were my elementary-school days of purposely mismatching my socks because purple and pink were BOTH the best color ever, and why should I be forced to choose? Then, there was freshman year of high school, when EVERYTHING had to be neon, or glittery, or velvety, or have feathers or fur on it. Then there was my goth phase. (Hey, let's not get judgy. I TOTALLY made the black hair and burgundy lips my own.) I was forever cutting up my clothes, awkwardly hand-sewing them back together in new and interesting ways, tearing stuff off them, gluing pretty things on, making hair-barrettes or jewelry, and so on.

Basically, whatever it took to outwardly convey the mood I was in, whether it be "I feel FABULOUS!" or "stay the hell away from me" or "Let's go play!"

But I HATED. FASHION. At least, I hated what it tends to come off as, which is a bunch of hoity-toity idiots telling people what they can and can't wear, and how much they should weigh.

Oh, my Goodness, but how truly was I lying to myself!

But I mean, it's a perfect time to de-closet myself, seeing how we're right in the middle of New York Fashion Week, which last time I checked, is a pretty big freakin' deal.

And, I mean, look. LOOK at this perfect piece of awesomeness from Diane Von Fursternburg's Spring 2011 collection. Couldn't you just die? The simplicity, the tasty colors, the jaunty little belt? THE BELT! Her whole collection is freakin' gold. Just go click through it. I can't say I'm on board with the fanny-packs or the fugly Gladiator sandals, but whatever. I'm sold. I'm also broke, so maybe I'm not SO sold, but fashion is about inspiration to me, not about grabbing at whatever's on the runway. I might just call Ms. Von Furstenburg my newest muse.

I must say, what started my awareness that I'm not only a fashion-freak, but also that it's OK, was the RIDICULOUS pair of Alexander McQueen shoes (God rest him) that Lady Gaga wore in that bathtub in Bad Romance. I was in insta-love. Then, there's my guilty-pleasure, Project Runway, where I fell hard for Jay McCarroll and Christian Siriano. I'd TOTALLY ask Jay to design my wedding dress, if only I had the money.

I've been an occasional lurker on Scott Schuman's blog, a.k.a. The Sartorialist, for oh, probably close to 3 years now. (HAH! You were wondering where the Midwest connection was going to come in, weren't you? Well, this delectably style-conscious man is from Indiana! He's an IU grad. True story.) The guy's a genius. And he is, of course, rocking it out at NYC Fashion Week right now. Bless you, Mr. Sartorialist!

Even my fascination with geek-conventions is part of my style-obsessed hardwiring. There are two main reasons I go to things like Anime Central, GenCon, et cetera: To people-watch and take in the glorious costumery, and to bask in the knowledge I can wear whatever I want, and nobody who matters will give me a weird look.

However, up until this year, I remained blissfully unaware of any "official" fashion-y shindig type things. Avoidance of those annoying hoity-toities, you know. But I have a confession to make. This year, I peeked.

AAH! Elie Tahari!

AAAAAH! Nicole Miller!

AAAAAAAAH! CAROLINA HERRERA! *head explodey*

I realized, clicking through, that the reasons I've always been in love with statement-y clothing are perfectly OK. The stick-up-the-butt types (I'm looking at you, Anna Wintour and Tommy Hilfiger) don't have a monopoly on this stuff. It's SUPPOSED to be fun. I realized I can probably never be a fashion designer, mostly because it'd be too hard not to be Betsey Johnson Junior. Seriously, I love this woman SO much:

Sure, I want to make the world a better place. But it's not wrong to want to make the world a prettier place while I'm at it. Whether it's Betsey making a Technicolor splash of things and then biking down the runway, or Ellen DeGeneres mugging with Richie Rich, what is there NOT to love about this stuff? Well, other than the frightening emaciation present on several of the models this year. Love your bodies enough to nourish them, ladies! Chubby women have better boobs, anyway!

If you're a style-freak like me, and stuck in the Midwest, like me, check out Midwest Fashion Week. Next show is, sadly, not on until March of 2011, but we can occupy ourselves just fine 'til then, right?

What Would Jesus Sell?

2010-09-05T19:02:00.000-07:00

Living in Indiana my whole life, I’ve had a lot of religion thrown my way. It’s only natural in the Bible Belt. Going to church was just something we took for granted as children. But, at the age of 15, the Word “sank in,” and I was baptized as a Christian.

A lot has happened in the ten years since. Few of my beliefs have really changed much, but my senses for reason, truth, social justice, et cetera and so on have grown by leaps and bounds. For various reasons, though I still think Jesus is awesome, I’m loath to call myself by the Christian label anymore. Too many very ugly things have been done, under the guise of Christian, which probably have the Big Guy well and truly pissed off at best.

Yesterday, I received a text message that took me straight back to what was probably my first truly traumatic experience as a fairly new Christian. My ex-fiance texted me from his (third) honeymoon to tell me he’d just heard that Pastor Steve, from his old church, had died that morning of a heart attack.

We were engaged at age 18 and 19, in keeping with what a friend from New York calls “The Midwestern Cliché.” If you’re not married, engaged, pregnant, or all of the above by age 20, you’re in the minority around here. I didn’t even know this was unusual until an outsider who’d moved to the Midwest told me that it was.
Anyway, we would alternate between going to his parents’ church, and my parents’. The event happened about seven years ago, but it’s still burned into my mind. The church ushers passed around the communion plate. But right along with it, there circulated a clipboard of T-shirt order forms.

All I could think about was Jesus getting super-pissed at the merchants in his temple in the book of John, chapter 2:

13When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 14In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. 15So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. 16To those who sold doves he said, "Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father's house into a market!"

It may seem like a minor issue, but this was such a jolt from the paradigm I held for a Christian attitude and behavior, that even though I've seen far worse things since, this was the first to truly disturb me.

I hope it doesn’t fall under the category of violating “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” but my first thought upon hearing that Pastor Steve had passed was, “I wonder if the first thing God will ask him is why he allowed that violation of a house of prayer to happen.”

I sincerely hope that in the years since, the climate in that church improved and that Pastor Steve left a better legacy than that. I hope that he’s found good things on the other side. I hope his family is as OK as they can be, at such a difficult time. I feel for them, and I wish him peace. He was only 53, just a few years older than my parents.

I know, this is not even the beginning of a great number of cases where the church has been turned into a marketplace. I have since seen giant megachurches who pride themselves on their bookstores, coffee shops, catalogues of cross-emblazoned merchandise, my goodness. You name it. There is a whole, giant industry in which all you need do is take any common object, slap a cross on it, and profit, in a faith-world where I recall prophets were supposed to favor lacking any possessions but the clothes on their back and the fires of faith within their hearts. I wonder what the Christ they claim to follow would say.

Poetry! Please be kind -- I didn't write for a while, and the rust shows.

2010-06-27T16:45:00.000-07:00

I hesitated before posting this, because it was written on a downer day, and I try to keep things upbeat around here. But y'know what? Not all things worth saying are upbeat. I had another round with this depression of mine recently. It lasted almost the whole month, and it was horrible. It is a horrible and all too common malady. But you know what? It was a blessing in disguise this time, because it helped my jumps and starts at getting back into creative writing. And it can kick, it can temporarily injure, but it will never keep me down. I ALWAYS win. The disease will never win. If you're a fellow sufferer, seize victory.

Here are the recent musings. It's still very loving toward our city, so it's relevant:

We pray for sanctuary, but

Do we find it or does it find us?

Why do we hunt for our whole lives,

Like clutching at a vapor in the wind?

Some seek it at the bottom of a bottle,

Or in the bed of a stranger.

In solitude on the sea, or crushed

In nameless crowds, they ruminate,

They wait for peace, within a spirit-war.

Some believe it lies beneath a steeple,

But for others, commerce is their church.

Still, the peace they seek eludes them all,

In austerity and plenty, its whisper is missed

By the roaring crowds, lost in their silent screams.

My strange city, an island of chrome in corn and wheat,

Were you always such a lonely place?

You seem to have lost your way, just like me.

We try to comfort one another in your night lights,

Absent sanctuary, but not quite so alone.

My current favorite song, for my favorite person.

2010-06-16T18:50:00.000-07:00

I've been listening over and over to "My Favorite Book" by Stars lately. I can't even excerpt a line from this song, because every syllable comes as close as I've ever been able to describing why every pore of me can't wait to start the rest of my life with this guy. The closest I'd come before was "Querer" from Cirque Du Soleil.

It's like, from the moment we met during my senior year at USI, we've been connected in a way I thought only happened in movies. It never really even crossed my mind to start this blog without adding him on as a contributor. We just make sense to each other. We've rescued each other in so many ways and from so many things. He's everything I never knew I wanted. A rough and tumble city boy with a small-town Midwestern girl who's still fragile in too many ways. It's not an anniversary or anything like that, no reason to be any mushier than usual. The four-hour drive between us has just been a more painful span lately, something I didn't even know was possible. There are few things I have a great abundance of passion for, but my biggest longing is for him to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night, and the first thing I see in the morning. Thanks, baby. Thanks for every moment we've had and all those to come. Thanks for being my best friend.

When the days are long, and the thunder with the storm,
can always get me crying
you can make my bed, I'll fall into it,
shattered but not lonely
'Cause I never knew a home, until I found your hands
when I'm weathered, you come to me you're my best friend

and that is why we'll always make it,
how I know your face, all the ways you move,
you come in, I can read you, you're my favorite book
all the things you say, the way you shift your eyes
I never knew there was someone to make me come alive

It's much more than just the food.

2010-05-24T17:34:00.000-07:00

So I'm feeling kind of bad, because I promised Joe, the owner of Yats, that I'd write a blog post about his restaurant. I made that promise about a year ago.

Well, y'know. Life happened. And there's a reason it's only just now come up again. It's more than just the fact this restaurant is a fixture in Indy. It's more than just my fiancé's and my favorite food-stop in the whole city. It's a whole different level.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get back to just dealing with today.

This was one of those monstrous bad days. I mean, few days in the past year and a half have been truly, gut-splittingly good. Every day's pretty much an existential crisis.

I mean, how bad's it gotta be before you'll move half a day's drive from the one person you love most in the world?

Not to discount all the good things -- it's great to develop professionally, actually be able to pay most of my bills, etc. But it's hard to have to be reminded, every day, that I'm here because my economic reality got so bad, I had to choose between being near the people I love, and having true stability and opportunity.

You get through it. Heck, it's a growth experience. Everything I do, every choice I make daily, is for Zach's and my future. But some days, like today when it's been weeks since I got to see his face or touch his hands, it still weighs like a ton of bricks.

Add that to a busier-than-average day at work, and some miserable phone conversations with callers who got very nasty at me for nothing I did to them. Plus the banality of the job in general, which often gets me down. I stay as upbeat as I can, it's a means to an end, and my efforts to advance are paying great big dividends. The difficulty isn't at all in knowing I can and will do better. It's keeping it together and keeping the strength to fight like hell for as long as it takes, as hard as it takes, to get there. Our future is a great motivator like that. And besides -- I really 100% know I am good enough.

Anyway. That perpetually existentially-messy bit of me was so bad today that after I left work, sought the peaceful solitude of a nice willow at Crown Hill Cemetery, and sobbed my eyes out for right around the next half-hour. Talked to Zach on the phone when what I really needed was for him to just hold me and tell me it was going to be OK until I believed it. You'll take what you can get, but the profound absence of him never stops burning. That empty spot never goes away until that precious moment when I can clutch him close to me again.

What the crap has this got to do with a restaurant in Broad Ripple?

It's simple. I still kind of felt like hell even after I was able to quit whining around. The desire was like an instinct. Like, I KNEW if I went to the Broad Ripple Yats and had some of that awesome succotash and saw Joe for a minute, he'd make it all better.

And that's what this place does. It kinda feels like the cozy family table of Indianapolis sometimes. You know it's more than the ugly-but-tasty culinary joys.

UGLY-ugly! I mean seriously. Looks like somebody horked over a bed of rice. It's won some award from a local magazine for "best ugly meal in town." I'm totally not kidding. But holy sweet Lord, is it ever delicious.

Joe asked me how I was doing, 'cause he goes around and does that. Asks, and really listens. So I told him. He turns to the cashier and says, "Hey, this girl had a crappy day. Let's feed her and make it better."

How many patriarchs and matriarchs of families show their love through food? How much, then, must Joe love all of us? To want to make something wonderfully tasty and then share it with the whole city?

I ate every bit of that succotash, even though I usually do fine on a half-order. I watched the comfortable groups and couples around me, and I wasn't lonely, even though I always feel lonely and awful when I have to eat alone. In this one place, it's always been OK. That feeling is part of the reason I always have to bring visiting friends or family to Yats before they leave the city. I've got to share this.

I wobbled out of that restaurant today, tummy full to bursting, and heart re-filled.

I started this blog as a sort of love-letter to the Midwest. This day, the way a restaurant here in this place can kinda make you feel like family even when your family is half a day away... that is enough for a chapter in itself.

O Computer, My Computer!

2010-03-20T18:03:00.000-07:00

Folks, these past few months have been ROUGH! My computer got well and truly sick, and I couldn't fix it! So I dutifully sent it to get some repairs... and the part I needed had to be backordered!

Horrors! I have soooo many ideas running in my head, too many to even get written down in my notebook. I need to be able to type! And obviously I'm not going to get this out of my system while I'm at work. That time needs to be spent... well, working! Duh!

So I have had to sit on all the great plans I have for my two blogs. And it's excruciating, because they're great plans. My energy levels, joie de vivre, and creativity have shot through the roof. Good thing I only need to wait a little longer before I can get to work.

That's right, my lovelies. The part FINALLY came in, my computer is FINALLY fixed, and I am getting it back tomorrow. Oh, bliss! I won't be able to jump in at full-swing right away, because I'm also in the midst of moving to a new place. So I'm basically living out of boxes and I have to get them transported and unpacked. Boy, when it rains it pours!

Here's a preview of what's to come:

- Theme posts! Street fashion, local event reviews, general online love-ins maybe?

- A series on my quest to restore and increase my joie de vivre.

- Fitness stuff. 'Cause folks, we really frikkin' need it. Let's just face that fact.

- Photos!

- Videos!

- Maybe a little poetry!

- Love letters to this big-little-city I call home!

- And most definitely more rants and raves of what rocks and what sucks about being a dyed-in-the-wool midwesterner.

Crikey, it's great to be almost-back!

EDIT 04/17/2010: Well, THAT was a wrong piece of information. It still isn't fixed. This is driving me NUTS, I'm DONE waiting, and I'm taking proactive steps to resolve this. Because I needed this computer back, like, yesterday. I'll let you know when that really does happen. Can't wait!

The Kat to my Starbuck.

2009-12-23T16:27:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I handle emotionally-devastating circumstances better when I put them into sci-fi terms.

I need to tell you a story about an amazing girl, who I almost missed the pleasure of being friends with.

For those uninitiated to the greatness that was Battlestar Galactica's most recent series incarnation: Louanne "Kat" Katraine and Kara "Starbuck" Thrace were possibly the two best Viper pilots in the series. Two strong, eccentric, and indisputably damaged women who were similar in many ways. And who bickered up until the day before Kat died.

Kim and I are similar to that, right down to the sleazebag ex-boyfriend storyline.

OK, so Kim and I never flew anything. And Kat and Kara didn't both date the same guy. Loser ex-boyfriend parallel is only somewhat similar.

We hated each other, it's hard to overstate how much. Could. Not. Stand. Even the mere thought of each other. Mostly because we both had crappy taste in boyfriends. She dated the loser right after I did. The most infuriating thing was that even when I hated her so much, there were still things I admired about her. She was so cute it hurt. Not even I could deny that. And she was always so creative and so vivacious. Even at our most hateful times, I couldn't deny that.

After they broke up, I think it was around June of this year... I don't know why I suddenly was compelled to do it, but I sent her an apology for all the terrible things I'd done and said, to and about her.

Apparently, the reluctant admiration was mutual. She accepted and returned the apologies. We bonded over war-stories. The creep had put both of us through some bad times, and it was strangely unifying. We were fast friends after that. I'd only recently moved up here to Indianapolis, and money was beyond tight, so I couldn't really afford to go see her. She had a heart condition, which recently required surgery, so she was too weak to come up and see me. We had a strong connection in a very short time, and looked forward to hanging out once she recovered. Maybe we'd go clubbing, since she'd turned 21 not long ago. Our birthdays are only six days apart. We wanted to do some way of celebrating the next one together. We encouraged each other through trials, cheered happy moments, and consoled in sad ones. It was so clear that we'd have been besties ages ago, if things had been different.

And then in July, I didn't hear from her anymore. I'd call and get no answer. We were never on Facebook or instant-messenger at the same time. I did send her excited congratulations in August, when I saw that she'd become engaged to a guy who was actually good enough to deserve her.

I didn't hear from her because she'd wound up back in the hospital. Her heart wasn't getting better, it was getting worse. She didn't mention it to me and well, neither of us were very accessible online at that time.

She was so determined, so excited about her future and so hell-bent on recovery. She described herself in her Twitter bio as "Small but fierce." And God, it was so true. It honestly never crossed my mind, even for a split-second, that she might not get better. But in the fall, she had a second surgery which didn't help anything. She declined quickly after that. We lost her on November 22. The worst part is that I was so bogged-down in work, I didn't even hear about it until yesterday. She's been gone for a month.

I'm so grateful for the short time I got to be her friend. I need to take some time away from here to mourn. I'll post some updates on my brother's apartment-fire, but I honestly don't have the energy right now. His blog is at absolutionrevolution.com, so if you want to help, follow that site for the info.

This is my third major emotional trauma in less than two weeks, and it's really taking all the energy I have right now just to hold it together. If you pray, I would appreciate prayers for Kim's family, and for the man she was married to in spirit though they didn't have the time to make it legal. They're about to have their first Christmas without their little girl. And believe me, she may never have even cleared 5 feet tall, but her presence was a huge one. There is a lot to miss.

Tell the people you love how much you love them. If you have bridges to mend, do it. Do it now, while you know you can. There is nothing I want to do more right at this moment, than give this girl that big hug we were saving for "after you get better." Better never came.

I have to link to the Kat/Starbuck video I found, because embedding is disabled:

This one's for you, kid.

Thanks for everything. I'll see you on the other side.

A love note to end out a rough weekend.

2009-12-20T20:19:00.000-08:00

This song is so lovely, I can't stop listening to it this weekend. This, and "Planetarium" by Ai Otsuka, have been my soundtrack pretty much since hearing about Jason and Gretchen's apartment fire. There is so much love in them both. In the stresses of what's happened, I find myself so thankful that, at least, they're safe and they have each other.

And, like he has so many times when life has overwhelmed me too much to deal with on my own, Zach has been there.

A steadfast support, no matter what the circumstances. Nothing's more precious than that.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog post to ask for a Christmas miracle.

2009-12-19T12:08:00.000-08:00

So, if you follow my Twitter, you know that this has been a pretty awful day for my big brother.

He and his new wife, Gretchen, recently moved 8 hours from the rest of our family so he can attend Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary in South Bend. This weekend, we all came out to my grandparents' house near Milan, Indiana to celebrate Christmas. Like we have every year since... well, before I existed.

This morning is when they got the call. Just in time for Christmas, they've lost pretty much everything. Their apartment building has burned. Since the fire was on the lower level and they live upstairs, their stuff is *technically* intact. But the firefighters consider it a total loss anyway, as the structural integrity of the building is gone. They probably won't be able to safely get up there to salvage anything.

Their two cats were visiting at Mom's house in Petersburg, so they're safe. The downstairs neighbor's bulldog was not so lucky. He didn't get out of the building.

Jason stands to lose thousands of dollars worth of musical instruments and books. More importantly, they need some temporary lodging for themselves and the cats. It looks like some friends they've made up there are going to step in to help out in the housing department.

The only clothes, shoes, etc. they have are what they brought with them to Milan. If you or someone you know lives in the South Bend area and have something to give, Jason wears men's 40-inch jeans and XL shirts. Gretchen's a 14/16, L shirt size.

I was thinking more in terms of covering their material needs i.e. clothing, food, etc. but people have expressed interest in giving money. We're still looking into options as far as monetary donations. He doesn't prefer to go with Paypal, so I'll take alternate suggestions. I will update with a link for donation once that's squared away.

I believe in the good of people, even total strangers, especially around this time of year. Obviously, I really care a lot about my brother and his wife and I'd love nothing more than for some stability to be returned to them. We'll do as much as we can for them, but my parents live as far south as you can be and still live in Indiana, and my Jason and Gretchen are way up in South Bend. I'm in the middle, and I can give a little, but I'm still recovering from my own financial hardships myself. Though I'd love to give him the world, I'm not able right now.

Please lend your support in this time, even if all you can provide is well-wishing. If you'd like to give money or materials, I can hook you up with the info you'll need for that.

Sorry this isn't particularly articulate. We're still pretty much in shock. I know it'll be OK, but we just... aren't there yet.

Update: Here's my brother's post on the subject. Since they're down here, they haven't yet seen how bad the damage is. However, they did just get a call from a neighbor who says it looks, from the outside, like the bedroom and everything in it is most likely unsalvageable. Don't know about the rest of the apartment yet. They probably won't know until Monday.

UPDATE: Apparently he caved and got a PayPal. Too many people requesting a place to send aid. Here's his blog post with the PayPal info.

From the post:

Due to a large volume of requests, you can now make donations via PayPal. PayPal accepts all major credit cards, as well as direct transfers from bank accounts. All donations will go for two purposes:

1) Helping us secure a new living space, this includes costs for housing deposit, utility deposit, and any upfront rent requirements; and,

2) Costs that will go towards helping us replace our things. This includes essentials like clothes, kitchen items, linens, basic furniture needs, and the like, as well as things we need but aren’t immediately essential. This includes replacing my musical gear (which is how I make most of my living via performing and lessons), library (which I need for continuing my studies), my wife’s rather substantial yarn collection (which she uses to make and occasionally sell items to provide an additional income stream for us), and other things that we need to replace, but aren’t necessarily immediate priority.

I know I can get another tenor sax eventually. What I can’t do is get another antique Beuscher with which I’ve become so intimately familiar I know every intonation quirk and trick needed to make things like altissimo notes work properly. But thank God we’re ok and even though some things will be difficult to replace, the truth is that stuff is just stuff – again, thank God no one was injured or worse.

Paypal link

I'll get up the church address as soon as we've cleared it with the church. Thanks again, everyone.

C'mon, get happy!

2009-12-05T15:11:00.000-08:00

LiveScience study: Indiana ranks #45 out of 50 on happiness.

Rentfrow and his colleagues came to their conclusions by analyzing data collected from more than 350,000 individuals who were interviewed between Jan. 2 and Dec. 30, 2008 as part of the Gallup Organization's Well-Being Index. The index includes six types of well-being: overall evaluation of their lives, emotional health, physical health, healthy behaviors (such as whether a person smokes or exercises), and job satisfaction.

Yeowch. Folks, a lot of these factors are things well within our control. I smell a worthwhile resolution for the upcoming New Year. Let's brainstorm and share ways to bring up our happy-score -- one Hoosier at a time. 'Cause I don't know about you, but saying "Well, at least we beat Kentucky" isn't raising the bar high enough for me.

More: 5 keys to happiness

Trendy #Indiana

2009-12-02T19:11:00.000-08:00

(cross-posted to my professional blog)

So here's a cool little effort that won't take more than a moment of your time.

Well, *two* moments if you're one of the few cave-dwellers who doesn't have a Twitter account yet. Sign up and then get back to us.

Ready? OK, here we go.

Fellow Indianapolis resident, social-media addict and all-around cool person Amy Stark has mounted an initiative to get Indiana to trend on Twitter. The idea is, we have more to offer here in Flyover Country than we tend to get credit for. It could be a little silly, but what the hey. There are enough good things to offer around here, and if a little exposure will help, then by any and all means, it's worth a shot.

It's all in fun -- and there really isn't any downside.

When words or phrases start to trend on twitter there is a snowball effect as tweeters begin to ask, “why is Indiana trending?” Among social media platforms twitter is unique in that virtually all tweeters participate on at least one other social networking platform, so when messages spread virally on twitter they quickly appear on other platforms. If “#Indiana” trends it will increase name recognition globally, it will provide favorable exposure to existing Indiana businesses and possibly attract future business. It will also raise awareness of social media among Hoosiers and encourage them to lend their voice to the global dialog happening round-the-clock on twitter.

The time: 12:30 Eastern time. The place: Wherever you are, as long as you have Twitter access. It's as simple as using the tag #Indiana in your tweet at that moment. It can be a link to a post from one of your favorite Indiana bloggers, a vacay spot, news story, fave local business -- it's all good!

So, say #Indiana tomorrow at noon-thirty. Say it loud, say it proud. I mean... why not? How often do you get to make ripples when you live in a landlocked state?

Shallow Indiana

2009-11-25T20:04:00.000-08:00

One of these days. ONE of these days, I will surely learn to stop looking at the comments-section when I read the Indianapolis Star or the Evansville Courier and Press.

Take, for example, a fairly matter-of-fact article on Indianapolis' apparent status as a draw for young single professionals. Single people in their 20's, especially women, are gravitating toward this humble city for a variety of reasons:

"I do think what we've been doing for a number of years has attracted people. Indianapolis is perceived as up-and-coming. It has been redefining itself for a number of years now."
The city's cultural offerings, nightlife and professional sporting events all attract the younger crowd.

"I do think there is a young-person vibe," Maher said, referencing Mass Ave., Broad Ripple and Downtown. "So there are generally places you can go meet somebody if that's what you're into."

No problem, until the land-trolls in this region started wharrgarbling in the comments-section. Insecure folks 'round here, methinks. Lookie at these gems:

Indy has the most "never been married" people simply because Indiana has the most unattractive female population in the country. Luckily, people in Indiana drink,... a lot,... so a few women still make it to the alter.

Given the misandry of American women, the wise decision is to avoid them. If you are a young man, you will be pleased to learn that women in other countries do not treat men as if manhood were a disease.

Men, come on!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't play yourselves. Keep care of yourselves and stay in shape. 90% of the women in Indiana at the age of 30, are washed up or has beens. When, women start getting close to that 30 mark, TRADE THEM IN. Come on guys, you can see it. Treat them how the are begging to get treated. Women, when they are looking good. They think they have the upper hand, so they should be held to that. When they start to put on those extra pounds, and become big nagging problems. GET RID OF THEM, Trade down to the next younger one. and keep the cycle going.

Wow, wow, WOW. Is it any wonder that the man of my dreams is from out of state?

And don't even get me started on the Courier. Go ahead. Pick a story. Any news story. Find one that has a string of two or more comments where it hasn't fallen into racist diatribe, or a badly-misspelled, incoherent political tirade that one can't call conservative because it'd insult the conservatives. Or something bashing poor people. It does not matter how unrelated the story. It doesn't matter if you were to report on the most positive thing possible. Somebody's going to pee on the parade.

Internet anonymity feeds cruel and stupid behavior pretty much everywhere, it's true. Around here, it magnifies the culture of negativity and apathy that often seems to embody this region of the United States. You know. The part of this area's culture that is the reason Zach says Evansville eats people's souls.

Oh, and then there's this.

I love you. You're my home. But... REALLY?

Two years, two months, nine days.

2009-11-18T18:44:00.000-08:00

Don't mind us, just a couple of 50's geeks in the wrong time.

This pic from Halloween, taken by my lovely friend Savannah, is my new favorite picture of us.

Sure, I'm somewhat enamored with Indianapolis, but there's never a moment I don't realize how much better it'd be if he was here to share it with. I've had quite a few really great dreams, these past nights, of showing him around all my favorite parts of the city. Radio Radio in Fountain Square. Futureshock, Hot Box Pizza, and the tiny but mighty-awesome Gyros Joint in Broad Ripple. The Children's Museum. The Eiteljorg. The rainbow bridge. Yats. Locals Only. Mass Ave. The Canal. I want to take him people-watching in the Circle and out for the city's best karaoke -- at Metro, of course. And oh yeah, we've gotta have Thai at Sawasdee and Chinese at Hong Kong. God, do I love this city.

I'm not sure if it's going to be quite the same as the way his eyes lit up the last time we were in St. Louis. He had a lot more years to get attached. Myself, I've never really felt like I actually belonged anywhere. Ever. But Indy's the closest I've come. I'm almost nervous about it, like when you introduce someone you love to your parents, or your favorite band, or a childhood friend. Or your prized exotic-mitten collection or... whatever. I'm giggly and nervous any time I think about bringing Zach to this place. We go around and around about what's going to happen when he gets out of school. Whether he'll come up here, or I'll go with him to St. Louis, or we'll strike out for somewhere entirely new.

I just want him to see this place. He's lived so close his whole life, but he's never been to Indy. And I do so love it here. It isn't home, though. Maybe it would feel that way if he were here.

You can see it in that picture though, can't you? Right there, in that moment, some place finally feels like a home. I am exactly where I belong.

I want your ugly, I want your disease

2009-11-17T21:58:00.000-08:00

This post is going to stray from the usual fare... but only a bit, really, depending on how you look at it. Could be seen as a natural progression, a curiosity for those born and raised outside my whitebread Midwestern upbringing.

It's also not going to earn a PG rating, unlike I usually strive to do around here. Sometimes things get a little heavier than that. It's just... stuff that I've found that I need to talk about.

So consider this your warning if you don't want to talk about Lady Gaga, partial nudity, and/or traumatic life events.

Lady Gaga is one of those performers it's really easy to underestimate. She's ridiculous. She's constantly... well, attention-whoring. At first glance, she's another shallow pop-tart a la Britney et al.

Except, uh, she's kind of a freaking genius. Sure, you'll never appreciate it if you absolutely hate europop or 80's pop or any throwbacks to these directions. But she has gone from someone I'd only vaguely heard of, to guilty pleasure, to someone I really admire. (minus the drug habit she's talked about in the past.) Maybe some of my fascination has to do with her upbringing in New York, her uber-fashions, the contrast with how bland the Midwest sometimes seems. I know my feelings go past enjoying her music, these days. I full-on fell in love with her during her speech at the National Equality March:

Take her new video, "Bad Romance," which has pre-released online to giddy rave reviews. One of the many things that gets to me is how immaculately clear it is that she put her entire heart into this production. It's not a guilty pleasure anymore. I'm in love with this video. She put SO much thought, design, and triumph into it. It's a sensory overload, but it feels personal. (NSFW warning for partial nudity, language, and simulated masturbation):

Where to even begin? It's poppy and mainstream-friendly enough to fly in under the radar, catchy enough to get loads of airtime, but also subversive. I challenge you to not get the music stuck in your head. You thought "Just Dance" was an earworm? Kid stuff.

And the subject matter is anything but bubblegum. She somehow managed to completely, exactly portray the sick, intoxicating, addictive, poisonous experience of such a horrible relationship. Like so many women, I've been there. Stephani Germanotta, a.k.a. Lady Gaga, has turned that trauma into pop-infused high art. At the risk of pulling a Hoekstra, it feels somewhat like Robert Downey Jr's famous description of his drug addiction. The kind of relationship "Bad Romance" describes is in itself a loaded weapon, delicious but sure to kill you if you don't let go.

It's visually stunning. It's fun. REALLY fun. It's raw, resonant, stylized and surreal, like a dream or nightmare you can't wake up from. It's crawling with grotesque but strangely erotic monsters. She's violated, stripped naked and humiliated, trapped naked in a literal cage in some parts. She's dragged about seemingly powerless to rescue herself. In some shots, you can see her makeup run and stick her eyelashes together as she weeps in isolation. Looked upon as an object to be won or purchased by a perfectly nasty man. Gilded up and forced to do this drunken dance-and-crawl routine.

But, throughout, you see her little acts of defiance. She won't just lie back and drink whatever poison is forced onto her. Even when forced to dance, even in her subjugation, her eyes bore right through him. She stands up on her own, breaks into his personal space, reclaims her body as her own, and turns her dance into a swagger of defiance.

And when the musical narrative reaches its climax, she BURNS IT ALL TO HELL. She stands in exultation beside a wall of flame. There's literally almost nothing left of the man, or the scene of her captivity, once she's done with all of it.

It was genuinely cathartic to watch this. Beautiful and terrible. Pulls at you. I almost sorta want to hug her because... I doubt it's possible to GET this feeling, on this level, if you haven't had it. And I feel so much for those who've shared in it, and those who have endured even worse. It brings back things I thought I'd dealt with.

Like the boy who I let do his sexual things to me because I was so scared. I'd seen him put his fist through a window and I didn't want to be next. I patched him up, I kept quiet, I didn't risk incensing him with my refusals again.

Like the boy I stayed with, when I was wrecked, who seemed like heaven in comparison even as he lied again and again, and cheated and then lied some more. Ridiculous lies that I pretended to believe because he wouldn't love me if I didn't. Because I felt like I didn't deserve even that. Because I was ugly and worthless and lucky to have anyone at all. Because somehow the pain was delicious because at least I was feeling something. It got a lot worse, but that's as much as I care to get into.

Like the day I finally burned through it. Told him to go f- himself and go to hell. Like the triumph, the gift, of every day since. The fire that leads to growth and creation.

You nailed it, Lady. Thank you.

Where have YOU been, young lady?!

2009-11-17T20:20:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the looooooong absence, folks.

Around the time I got back from enjoying Rocky Horror with my friends in Evansville, work got pretty darn hectic. And it's most likely going to stay that way until January. I work at a health insurance carrier. Translation: Many people have met their deductible and want to cram in as many procedures as possible while they're guaranteed to be paid in full or nearly-so. (can't blame 'em.) Also, it's open-enrollment time. Oh, also, January is reportedly the busiest month of the year in our business. So it looks to be a little sparse round here until February.

(She says after not updating for a month and a half.)

OK, OK. I'll do my best to put in a post a week, at least. I do actually enjoy writing, after all. I've just felt so sapped of energy lately.

I'll do the best I can, but I spend darn-near 9 hours a day in front of a computer, so lately getting back on for even longer once I'm on my own time doesn't spring to the front of my interest. I still love y'all, honest. Let's just see how it rides out.

Weirdos in fishnets!

2009-10-02T06:59:00.000-07:00

OK. It's officially been eight weeks since I started this new job of mine (One which will hopefully stick around for a while, unlike any of the jobs I had in... well, the sucktacular entirety of 2008!)

This entire eight weeks has consisted of tedious classroom training, made worse by gossipy classmates who I don't relate with or trust, but better by a fantastic trainer, and various instances of awesome hilarity that you'd just have to have been there to laugh at.

Nothing has been so tedious as these first two hours of our last training day. Every day, Awesome-Trainer-Lady has put up our lesson plans for the day on the giant presentation-size paper at the front of the room. Today, said pad is empty. We're here for the sake of attendance.

I suggested we play Pictionary. Trainer-Lady suggested Hangman. We're doing neither. And there are going to be 5 more hours of doing neither. Feh. At least there'll be free pizza in another couple of hours. And next week I get to, uh, do my actual job. LOL yays!

...And that is SO not the point of this post. But it's slightly related because all this tedium actually seems even MORE long-winded, since I have something to look forward to once 4:30 rolls around and we blow this candy stand. I get to drive for four hours. Feh. Except NOT! Because, at the end of my journey, Rocky Horror awaits! Oh, sweet fishnet-laden Transsexual Transylvanian bliss! Oh, the festivity! Oh, the fantasticness of a movie so bad it's good!

It's an annual tradition at Mesker that I've never yet experienced. Last year was going to be THE YEAR, and I was so ridiculously excited, but then I got the flu or something and went from feeling perfectly fine in the afternoon, to thinking I might die by the evening's end. (OK, not really. But I did feel crappier than I have in a long time, and yay melodrama!) I was so put out that I had to miss it last year because, really, what sounds more fun than sitting in the freezing-cold October night, in your underwear, hurling toast all over with perfect abandon? NOTHING, that's what!!

And I TOTALLY get to go this year. And then, the next day, I TOTALLY get to go tromp in the woods or something with my Zach and help take pictures for the photography blog.

So it's perfectly clear to me how OK these next few boring hours are. They must be necessary for me to truly understand the SHEER AWESOME that this weekend will be. Er... something philosophical like that.

BAHAHAHAHA!

2009-10-01T11:17:00.001-07:00

Join me in evil mirth, my fellow Bloggerites, for we have corrupted another.

Zach Felstead, a.k.a. the official Ultimate Love of My Life™, has wandered over to the dark side. (Good Lord, look at the picture in that link. Isn't he beautiful?)

Yes, he's opted to become a semi-regular contributor to this humble forum, and to his dad's photography blog.

You may have noticed his first submission 'round here yesterday. Brace yourself, kiddos, his tone's bound to be a little more abrasive than mine. It's to be expected, considering he grew up telling Hoosier jokes the same way we tell Kentuckian jokes. Go ahead and take the St. Louis city kid down a notch or two from time to time, if you feel he's askin' for it. He can take it.

But keep it FAMILY FRIENDLY, y'all! And remember, it's all in fun. Last time I checked, all of us Midwestern states were part of Flyover Country. And solidarity's underrated.

Thanks Indiana, for keeping us safe from grannies with sick kids!

2009-10-01T05:28:00.001-07:00

Clinton, Ind. grandmother gets thrown in the slammer for buying cold meds for her husband and daughter

Harpold is a grandmother of triplets who bought one box of Zyrtec-D cold medicine for her husband at a Rockville pharmacy. Less than seven days later, she bought a box of Mucinex-D cold medicine for her adult daughter at a Clinton pharmacy, thereby purchasing 3.6 grams total of pseudoephedrine in a week’s time.

Those two purchases put her in violation of Indiana law 35-48-4-14.7, which restricts the sale of ephedrine and pseudoephedrine, or PSE, products to no more than 3.0 grams within any seven-day period.

I guess she should've just made the two share a one-week dosage meant for one person? I'm really glad this wasn't on the books when my brother and I were kids. Pretty sure my grandma'd have been in violation at least a couple of times while we were passing illnesses back and forth growing up. And I swear, if they locked MY grandma up, I'd have gone River Tam on 'em.

Not to make light of meth. I get the concerns. It's tearing my own home-county and many others in Indiana apart. Kids younger than me are wrecked, throwing their lives away and rotting their brains and teeth right out of their heads. But... really... a little common sense please? I'm not a brainiac or a detective, but I believe most of us can tell the difference between a tweaker, a meth cooker, and a concerned grandma.

A sweet treat brought to you from Hicksville.

2009-09-30T10:21:00.000-07:00

The Deep Fried Twinkie is a staple food of any Hicksville street festival. In a region overflowing the morbidly obese Wal-Mart Trolls, unnecessarily large pickup trucks and where Dive Bars are the only bars, the deep fried Twinkie stands as a beacon in the night. Not only will you be able to hear yourself getting fatter with every bite, you'll also gain a sense of pride when you start blending in with the local population.

The Deep Fried Twinkie: Contributing to the obesity of America one Midwestern street festival at a time.

So I'm 5 days behind.

2009-09-29T12:38:00.000-07:00

Congrats to my dear friend Maggie and her husband Josh on the birth of their first! Baby Arlo looks gorgeous and healthy as can be. And now he's 5 days into what I hope will be a long and wonderful life.

And only 3 days before your second wedding anniversary? That explains why the kid was late! He was just tryin' to hold out so your dates would be easier to keep straight! *lol*

Man, what a gorgeous family y'all are. Much love.

Revisiting Sesame Street (RIP)

2009-09-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

Flickr user Nailmaker took this picture of a Technicolor trio of buildings in downtown Evansville. Hard to believe it's been over 2 years already, since this was snapped. It seems that in this little pocket of the country, few unique things last.

It was hard not to rubberneck as you drove by this distracting palette on a street otherwise dominated by stony beige walls. Not pictured is the weird modern-art sculpture in the adjacent yard. You can see the boarded-up doors and windows -- someone had begun the process of breathing new life in, only to abandon it. The building was falling apart even as it still evoked a frolic of rainbow whimsy. So much more, it could have been. It's one example of why I often call Evansville "city of wasted potential."

Justin from It's Evansville got another lovely shot just a few weeks prior.

By June of '07, it was gone.

The only thing constant is change, folks.

Sometimes these things just write themselves.

2009-09-25T08:43:00.000-07:00

So, I was going to go into a brief treatise as to why my boyfriend is wrong. Why the word Hoosier is a term of pride, not a horrible insult. (Why yes, he IS from St. Louis! How ever didja know?)

And then Shane, a buddy from college, sent me this gem:

Yep. That, my friends is camo-printed beer. Just in time for huntin' season.

Uh, do I really need to *say* any more?

Fist-bumping the Dalai Lama

2009-09-24T11:18:00.001-07:00

And just that quickly, a co-worker sent me a link to exactly what I'm talking about!

I'm from Indiana, not Tennessee. But I SO related to this:

Memphis mayor has quite the informal greeting-style

Thank goodness His Holiness has a great sense of humor.

You know what they say.

2009-09-24T10:07:00.000-07:00

"You can take the girl out of hicksville, but you can't take the hicksville out of the girl."

Welcome to the tale of a girl in limbo between two very different worlds. I'm not really sure how to describe this ongoing venture concisely. It... probably can't be done, but here's a shot:

Take equal parts redneck, wannabe cosmopolitan, liberal nutter (if you live in the Bible-belt), conservative weirdo (if you live in California), ambitious young'un, budding sci-fi geek, and... hopeless head-in-the-clouds idealist lover. Add a dash of confusion, stir, lather, rinse repeat.

Well, that says a little more about me, but not about why in the world I'm writing this crap.

A couple of years ago, it'd probably just have been me making fun of where I grew up. There's still going to be plenty of that, but not in a mean way, because I've finally learned that whole lesson that if you hate where you came from, you're hating on yourself.

Those of us who've "gotten out" make fun of southern Indiana like family members make fun of each other's dopey (but mostly harmless) screw-ups. We'll poke fun at the place, but if you're not an insider and you start in on us the wrong way, you're lookin' to get your butt kicked. You know what I mean. Ever call your little sister an idiot but then beat the hell out of someone for saying the same thing? I could write VOLUMES of books in that tone regarding this weird frikkin' state.

But this blog is also...sort of a love letter.

I didn't realize how many awesome things there are about southern Indiana until I started dating a city boy. Suddenly, things I took for granted all through my childhood become cherished luxuries. I pity people who've grown up never experiencing the bliss of having gigantic swatches of grassy field, sweet-smelling woods, and a great big pond all available at the leisure of walking into your back yard.

They haven't known the joy of freezing your tail off during a night ice-skate over the pond your parents own. Of swimming in that same pond on a hot summer day, and the delightful "squish" of pelting your big brothers in an epic mud-ball fight. Of leaving your doors unlocked with gleeful abandon. Of going to a school so small that you literally know everyone, and the sheer lack of numbers makes clique-ing up into jocks and cheerleaders vs. band geeks/choir geeks/etc impossible, because the jocks and cheerleaders are also in choir and band.

There are people who've never gone camping, horseback riding, skating, or hiking without paying a rental fee. And THEY think WE haven't truly lived?

Sure, it's not easy being from a land where racism and homophobia are often unabashed, "Bubba caught a fish" is front-page news, and the majority of people fear science. I got a schmancy edumacation, and moved right out of there. Next goal is to get out of the Midwest altogether, but you've gotta start somewhere.

That's why I'm starting this blog. To try and reconcile the dissonance between my hicksville life, and my city life.