A repost from a few years ago but I still think it’s interesting. 🙂
Yes, I just love this song and Carlos Santana IS Mexican so it works, right? Rob Thomas’ wife (the lady in the window) is Puerto Rican. Close enough…
Cinco de Mayo!!! For many people, May 5th has something to do with a Mexican battle and is a perfect excuse to gorge on chips and salsa, inhale tacos and drink a lot of (if not too many) Corona’s, Mexican Martinis and margaritas. Traditionally for me, Cinco de Mayo celebrations are about finding the most colorful dress you have and preparing to drink to oblivion (or most often in my case watching other people drink to oblivion). There’s been very little history or real knowledge associated with the date. But a few years ago I learned something new about the holiday. Who knew Cinco de Mayo had a (near) direct relationship to the emancipation of slavery?
“During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade. The Mexicans had won a great victory that kept Napoleon III from supplying the confederate rebels for another year, allowing the United States to build the greatest army the world had ever seen.”
While there’s a lot more to it, the success of the Mexicans over the French aided in the Yankees over the Confederates. Viva la Mexico!
Sadly no video from a duet for the ages from the Royals Class of 2002. 😉
Last year, I attended my 10 year high school reunion. While I didn’t expect any real drama, it was still largely/sadly uneventful. Despite the efforts of our two organizers, only about a third of our class showed up for one part or another. But the truly disappointing thing was the near lack of surprises. For the most part, all you needed was a Facebook account and a little time on your hands to “catch-up” via legal cyber stalking.
Apparently foregoing potentially awkward, inconvenient and/or costly reunions in favor of social media is not limited to the Royals class of 2002. School reunion attendance is on the downturn… New York Times story “Remember Me From Yesterday?”
As the graduating class of 2002, my classmates and I were among the early adopters of Facebook. The site, which launched in February 2004 at Harvard but quickly spread across U.S. college campuses, was new, novel and a seemingly better option than MySpace or BlackPlanet. (Remember that? Haha.) In addition, in the beginning you had to have a college/university email address. That alone gave you the impression of exclusivity (and hopefully fewer high school kids and creepy old men lying about…well everything).
After a few months of gentle prodding from an early adopter friend, I signed up near the end of the first semester of my junior year and joined the Facebook “revolution”.
For better or worse, Facebook has been a part of my (near) daily life for 8 years now. Much like iPods perfected/cemented what mp3 players “should be”, Facebook redefined social media. Millions of people cannot go a day – or an hour really… – without making sure they’re not missing out on life as defined by updates, photos and likes.
I both love and hate Facebook for its “magical” connective properties. Facebook, Twitter, instant messaging and texting have made it possible for us both to connect with people we would not normally get to see or talk to and also avoid real, meaningful interactions. Technology has opened the door for the socially awkward and passive aggressive to connect. You never have (or should want) to be more than one click or swipe away from EVERYONE! and their business. (While I recognize Skype and like video conferencing are among similar advances, I see it as more connective than passive. Sometimes it’s simply nice to see the people you’re talking to even if you can’t touch them.)
I’m not going to bemoan the death of our culture. But there have been significant changes, some I like, others I don’t. In the case of my high school reunion, your curiosity could be satisfied on your couch with a smart phone, denying people like me the opportunity to see it in real life. Come on, let’s be honest, people only post the most flattering or hilarious photos of themselves on Facebook. I want to see the trainwrecks and the still-beautiful-10-years-later-so-I-continue-to-hate-yous in person, under harsh lighting. Is that so wrong?
Oh, and of course, I loved seeing my more than Facebook friends (you know the ones whose birthdays I know BEFORE Facebook reminds me) in person. Our small group essentially used a reunion as an excuse to all be home at the same time. Everyone else was just extra. Facebook had already informed us of everything we thought we needed to know about you and your life.
Wondering if we’ll even have a physical 20 year reunion? Perhaps just Skype or FaceTime?
For anyone who’s ever been to a black beautician, time is not on your side. You perfect the fine art of waiting. Waiting your turn (appointments are just a guideline). Waiting for your relaxer, color, roller set, etc. Waiting under the dryer. Waiting once the dryer shuts off. Waiting to be “finished” is the chair. A basic relaxer for not-quite-shoulder-length-hair can take anywhere from 2 1/2 to 4 1/2 hours. Since I only have to go every two months, I guess it’s not so bad.
And let’s not even talk about the costs. Just refer to Chris Rock’s amazing documentary on black women and their hair “Good Hair“.
While most people (women in particular) are sensitive about their hair and who they all touch it. I would venture to say it’s even more of an issue for black women. I can’t just walk into the neighborhood Sharp Cuts or the most expensive salon in town. Not everyone knows how to do black – or more politically correct “ethnic” – hair. My “perm” is actually a “relaxer”, bleach should NEVER touch my hair, there’s no such thing as a “quick dry”, a bad cut doesn’t last for a few months, more like years (if not decades), and more and more. Let’s just say it’s more different than not.
With the wait times, costs and difficulty to find trained hairdressers, why further inconvenience yourself when it comes to getting your hair done?
When I moved to Austin, I knew it would not be a “Chocolate City”. Like with most things (including attending Iowa State and studying abroad in Italy), I adjusted. People are just people but beauticians are not just beauticians. I needed a black beautician or at least someone very familiar with “my people’s hair”.
Google and Yelp were of no help. Eventually, I found a lady who could do the job but it didn’t seem very well. There was no confidence. I was coming off of 4+ years with piece-meal care and sporadic salon visits. I needed someone to help/teach me more than I needed a perm every 8 weeks.
Six months into my Austin experience, our office manager with the most gorgeous, thick, curly long hair became my hair savior and sent me to her hair dresser. [Cue heavenly chimes] Teena is awesome, a young expert interested in always learning more. Easy to talk to, relate to and trust. Since my first/virgin relaxer 15 years ago (whew, that’s a long time ago), my hair has never been healthier. While I recognize a lot of that is due to my maturity in caring for my hair and ability to go whenever necessary. I also credit much of that “hair health” to Teena’s capable hands.
So where do loyalty issues come into play?
Well…her salon is so far away…
When I first started visiting Teena, here salon was 20 miles from my office but only a few miles from my home. Over the last few years, I have consistently moved further and further away. She’s now 20 miles from my office and 25 miles from my home. Understanding the appointment times, distance and traffic, there are simply no convenient times to go. Every two months, I’m dedicating up to 6 hours just to get a relaxer, i.e. chemically straighten whatever has grown in since the last time, typically 1/2 – 3/4 inch worth.
How do I make this easier? Easy – Find a closer beautician. My mom was really good at this. She hates driving, waiting and paying. Every 6-9 months (it seemed), she’d find a new faster/cheaper/closer hairdresser. While there’s nothing wrong with “moving on”, I’m partial to consistency. However, every time I move further away, I struggle with my mother’s “choose convenience over loyalty” motto.
This latest move unfortunately coincided with Teena’s maternity leave. My hair was in desperate need of professional attention and she was busy attending to a new baby. How selfish… [Sigh] After an internal struggle trumped by external vanity, I tried a new person two miles from my apartment.
While I felt a little guilty, I decided to try it. It was a small, well-kept salon and the beautician pleasant and open. The shop is owned by her sister, another beautician. The appointment went well and all was gravy…until she made me feel guilty unintentionally.
As part of standard new client inquiries, she asked about why I’d come to her. I explained that my current/old beautician’s shop was too far away. “Oh okay” A few minutes later, she told me about her clients who had driven close to 100 miles to her shop. (Strangely enough from a very large city to a tiny one.)
While that trip is extreme (and probably only taken by one person a few times), this woman, a stranger, is telling me about her client willing to make that trip. Yes, that’s crazy. But this lady obviously appreciates this client’s loyalty and trust. So what’s every 8 weeks to continue with someone I trust and believe appreciates it?
While I’m thankful to have a more convenient back-up, I’ll head back to Teena when it’s time for another service. I curse my loyalty issues during the 4-5 hours but praise them 4 weeks later when someone tells me how good my hair looks or Teena comments on how much it’s grown since we started together.
I thought I was being a clever wordsmith but, alas, a Google search has proven me wrong.
UrbanDictionary.com describes blacknowledgement as “the process by which a Black person acknowledges another black person’s presence in a social environment where black people are scarce or otherwise absent. These environments include places and events like: lacrosse parties, ice hockey games, early morning classes, Russia and The Ku Klux Clan Annual General Meeting. Blacknowledgement is a show of solidarity and support indicating to another black person that you understand their social anxiety and feel their inner torment.”
Stuff-About.com goes further with “A blacknowledgement can be executed using anything from a simple nod to a well executed six part, click and snap, integrated handshake. In less friendly situations, a blacknowledgement may be used as a territorial gesture. It can be used to signal to another black person that you are the resident black person in that environment and that they should cower off and find non-black friends of their own. Many black people feel that their novelty wears thin when they find out that they are not the “token black person” anymore.”
Whether I agree with these definitions 100% or not, they are the basis and blacknowledgement exists and is prevalent.
I started “realizing” blacknowledgement a few years ago but it’s been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. When I am in public and see another black person across the room, across the street, in the boardroom or behind the counter, I acknowledge my recognition of their permanent tan. It’s generally subtle, typically eye contact and a nod will suffice. But it’s there. Since I recognize I’m doing it, I’ll try not to go out of my way. Some people will make it a POINT to go out of their way to reach out to you, especially in professional or large group social settings. Even though, I may not make giant strides across a room to shake your hand, if you do not at least make eye contact, I feel slighted. Ridiculous or not.
As I came to “realize” my unconscious blacknowledgement, I tried to figure out how I’d explain it, especially to non-black people. Why do it? Who taught me to do it? Consequences of not doing it? Really I don’t know. I imagine it’s truly (good or bad) just acknowledging someone somewhat like you. Sure you could have different backgrounds and experiences but in whatever situation you’re currently in you’re both at least (if not only) black. As someone whose professional and social circles do not regularly include many chocolate-hued faces, it is somewhat comforting to see another black person in those groups. And it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in. I’ve experienced blacknowledgement in Tennessee, Texas, New York City, Chicago, San Francisco and Ames, IA.
How did I learn? I have absolutely no idea. No one ever told me to do it or even discussed the phenomenon with me. I think I just learned by watching the adults in my family and recognizing other people were doing it to me. Either way, I am a well-established participant in regular blacknowledgement.
I’m not aware of any consequences. But I’d imagine some people may feel slighted. For whatever reason, I do at times. Brown faces in a sea of beige and pink stick out. No one’s truly THAT race/color-blind. I know you saw me…
So what are we to learn about/from blacknowledgement? I’m really not sure. I don’t see anything intrinsically wrong with acknowledging the other black people around me. I don’t ignore all non-black people in the same situations. It’s just an extra. I imagine I do the same thing when in situations with only one or two more women. However, for whatever reason, 1.) I’m more often the only African-American than woman, 2.) I’m less uncomfortable as the only woman, and 3.) There is a sense of potential competition with the “other woman” that I can’t say I feel with the “other black”.
I imagine I’ll go on acknowledging my brothers and sisters and laughing a little when I realize I’m doing it. To further overuse a corporate crutch word, I’m just acknowledging diversity (one type, but diversity just the same).
Is this unique to African-Americans? Do other ethnicities and/or groups do this?
Words have power. Of course, I’ve never been able to fully recognize the actual power of the words I use but the potential’s undeniable. I remember things strangers told me (positive and negative) from age 7 and have been confronted with the impact of things I’d told people (positive and negative) 5 years earlier. Let’s be honest the negative things have a tendency to stick with you longer…
I began my career as a “creative” in the mid-90s. (Haha. I sound so old.) My middle school song writing evolved into high school poetry, college performances of both and blogging in my twenties. I can’t exactly claim that anything I’ve ever created/written has been good – especially pre-2004 – but I’ve found increasing pleasure in “composing” and finding “acceptance” in “performing” my “pieces”. All of that is in quotations because I would like to avoid coming off as a prententious poet but either way it’s pretty cool to see friends and strangers alike react (positively) to carefully chosen words expressing some part of yourself.
You don’t have to call yourself a songwriter or a poet in order to be one. Anyone willing to share a piece of themself and essentially letting it go deserves some level of recognition. While all art is relative, I understand thtat some things are good and others just bad. But I try to respect the effort (except that of Souljah Boy and Heidi Montag, ugh)
As someone who has “created” for years (15 years makes me a veteran, right?), I began to notice over the last 2+ years that I had less motivation – or maybe just less to say. My writing has slowly evolved from broad (simple songwriting) to personal (poetry) to borderline narcissistic (blogging). And while there are still plenty of things I’d like to say, I haven’t found the drive to do so. I get lazy and wonder who cares anyway?
“Who cares?” That is probably the most troublesome question any “creative” can ask themselves. Not that everything that every/anyone could create is amazing but not knowing your audience immediately isn’t such a bad thing. Unless you’re writing on deadlines or with retainers chasing you, most “creatives” create on their own time, on their own terms.
Now there’s nothing wrong with wanting to create a piece for a particular audience. If you have it (or need it), go for it. But if you only have an idea, chase it. The human brain is an amazing “thing”. Your entire life’s experience and observations can be revealed in the subtle connections our minds make to things. I’d imagine it’s rare an artist’s initial vision is the final outcome. We often learn as we go along. A genuine idea can be the hardest thing to find. When you do, run with it. Unlike an architect or hairstylist, if a creative has an idea (they’re not being commissioned to develop), that turns out bad or ill-formed, nothing’s been spent but time. No one else has to know. No one else really has to judge. Chalk it up to “not right now” and move on. I’ve started pieces or ideas that I’ve quit/grown tired/gotten distracted and come back to/been reminded of weeks/months/years later with renewed interest/new perspectives. The human mind and life experiences and all…
Recently, I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve “lost” my voice. I think I’d just quit/grown tired/gotten distracted from my entire creative side. I used to write about my recent drama’s, undiscovered loves and exaggerated heartbreaks. However, about the time my creative side quieted, life simply got more real. Layoffs, lost friendships, work struggles and successes, romantic failures and learning real love. I’m in a good place which can be fodder for great new pieces or unspoken contentment. But who really wants to be unspoken?
The spark’s been reignited. With my ashes for lent, I’ll just roll with this momentum, wherever it leads me.
Glenn Eichler developed and served as executive producer for the MTV series “Daria.”
As told to Glenn Eichler…
I always just assumed that when the inevitable happened and The Huffington Post finally begged me to write for them, I’d take a cue from my fellow celebrities and blog about an international humanitarian issue dear to my heart. Golf Clubs for Orphans, that sort of thing. And yet here I am being asked to write about Valentine’s Day, I suppose because they thought my somewhat low tolerance for sentimentality would make it amusing. You know, like having a bond trader write about basic human decency. And it’s true that sappiness leaves me cold. I remember being invited to a birthday party as a child, watching a video of the movie E.T., and being the only five-year-old in the room who booed when the bug-eyed little freak’s heart started back up. Come to think of it, that’s the only birthday party I remember being invited to as a child.
But Valentine’s Day is by no means my least favorite holiday. For instance, just five weeks ago on January 6th, we had the Christian feast day of Epiphany. I can’t stand Epiphany, because the whole day I feel like I should be having one. Yet when it’s all over and the sun goes down, my sister makes no more sense than she did when it came up. Some mysteries are too big for epiphanies, and Rosetta Stone doesn’t make a Gibberish edition.
At least Epiphany is a real holiday, though, and not one of those phony ones Hallmark came up with to sell cards, like Administrative Professionals Day or Friendship Day or Clergy Appreciation Day or my mother’s birthday. Hey, Hallmark, I’ve got an idea for a new card-sending occasion: “National Hallmark Comes Up With A Card Whose Insipidness Doesn’t Make You Retch Day.” We can celebrate it every year on the 33rd of Nevruary.
As a kid, by the way, my favorite holiday was May Day. Not because of the crocuses peeping their heads up or any of that crap, but because I would wake before dawn, tiptoe down the hall to my parents’ bedroom, throw the door open so it banged against the wall and yell, “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” Then I’d consult my watch to see how many seconds it took my father to realize the bed hadn’t been hit by a German torpedo and it was okay to crawl out from under it. Man, that never got old. Unlike my father, who for some reason seems to be aging prematurely.
Anyway, my point is that I don’t have anything against Valentine’s Day. In fact, I think it’s kind of cute. If couples want to surprise each other with flowers and chocolates and dinners and jewelry and pharmaceutical-grade ecstasy, accompanied by heart-shaped cards reading “I love you more than life itself and [your transgression here] will never happen again,” more power to them. Some say the day just forces us into a spiral of anxiety; unable to articulate our feelings, we try to compensate with cards and gifts and uncomfortable new positions that, honestly, don’t show either one of you in your best light. I say it can’t hurt for Americans to be reminded once a year of their basic lack of eloquence. Then maybe they’ll shut up when they’re sitting behind me at the movies.
Besides, Valentine’s Day always precedes one of my absolute favorite holidays, February 15th, “National Half-Off Every Piece of Red-Foil-Wrapped Sugary Crap in CVS Day,” the day I really get out there and do my bit for America’s economy. (And before you fire off your angry tweetmails, I’m well aware that February 15th is also Susan B. Anthony Day, when schoolkids learn about women’s suffrage, except in Texas where they learn about America’s proud heritage of uncirculated dollar coins).
And I myself am not utterly without romance. I am seeing someone right now — I’d rather not give any details, except to say proudly that he does not wear a house-arrest anklet — and he and I are planning a traditional holiday celebration. Tonight we’re going door to door in Santa hats, caroling “Good King Wenceslas” at the top of our lungs.
One of my favorite groups performing one of my favorite songs live. I miss talent being a pre-requisite. (And they were pretty nice to look at too. Let’s just be honest. That helped a lot.)
En Vogue – “Free Your Mind”
Growing up, your parents raise/groom/train you to be certain ways. No, we’re not animals but we are guided by our parents, either by the things they do or don’t do, tell us or don’t tell us. There are plenty exceptions to the rules but the goal of most parents is to protect and “properly” raise their kids. Equip and encourage them with the tools and confidence they’ll need to achieve their goals. These are all noble aspirations.
Beyond the (hopeful) comfort of home, every person has certain things they feel are important to their child’s ability to effectively navigate the outside world. Some things are somewhat universal (i.e. traffic laws, waiting in line, “please” ,”Yes ma’am”/”No, sir”, etc). But for each parent, there are rules of life that are more specific to their life experiences, whether those experiences were shaped by gender, race, religion, class, etc. Whether your parent believes in the superiority (or inferiority) of one group over another, most will try to equip their child for other people’s view on the matter. For me growing up, while gender played a small role, my difference was my race. Being black meant a lot more than requiring the brown crayon instead of the peach or being less likely to sunburn. (Seriously, I was 21 before I had my first sunburn and I only noticed when I started to peel.)
As a brown baby, I was given a collection of “other” rules to make it easier to operate in world not designed or “run” by people who looked like me (or necessarily valued looking like me). Now, I was taught and understood that white people were not “the” or an enemy. They were just the people who could make my life especially difficult. Of course that understanding has evolved with age and experience but things were relatively simple for a nine-year-old black girl growing up in the not-so-reformed South in the 90s.
A few examples:
Persona: Stealing/Shoplifting is bad. And while I may not be doing anything wrong, I will be watched. Advice: Never open or mess around in your bag while in a store. Preferably zip/close it before you walk in.
Image: You should love yourself and how God made you. But we press/straighten our hair before we go see God in church on Sundays. Sunday Best meant straight hair (among other things…)
Image: Also “professional” women and beautiful little girls have straight hair. DON’T mess up your hair!
Language: Whatever slang you use at home cannot be used in public. It’s just not right and other/white people will think you’re not smart. (This was well before the ebonics as a language debate.)
Persona: Watch your temper. People will be afraid of you and be unable to explain why. You will have to be more patient, more forgiving and more resilient.
School/Professional: Grades will not speak for themselves. You may have to work twice as hard for people to consider you to be just as good. God forbid you ever be better/smarter…
School/Professional: Also, don’t ever give anyone the opportunity to accuse you of cheating (along the same lines as stealing). You’ll be a suspect before blond Suzy. Prove them wrong.
And many more…
There are a lot of little things that help black kids understand that while they may be equal according to God and an amended constitution, in the eyes of many people who hold the keys to their comfort and/or success, they may not be. More importantly, people invested in their success (and mental health) work to teach those kids how to navigate the waters and handle the less than choice situations. I’ve been called names, physically assaulted, ignored, picked on, offended and completely avoided because you can’t see my veins and I could pull off dreads. In elementary school, a teacher pulled me out of the gifted program because no black student had qualified. She felt I needed to be retested if I was to continue in it. I was asked by a little girl on the bus, “Who rolled you in the mud when you were born?” (Lovely, right?) A librarian in a small midwestern town I was visiting questioned if I was actually reading the books I was checking out or just carrying them. I’ve watched store owners watch me as I watched other less tan people happily slip objects into their bags. In college, I was attacked on campus because of two things: 1.) I was black and 2.) he was drunk. However with everything, I am very fortunate and thankful I was born black in the 80s rather than anytime sooner. We are evening out. Eventually everyone will be a little more tan. I apologize in advance to the sunscreen companies.
My point is not that life (at least mine) is terrible. It’s jut life. We all have prejudices and -isms we’re subject to. For me, black, female and middle class quickly sum it up. There are good and bad, defeating and empowering things about just about any label I could give myself. My point is that my parents, family, teachers, friends all worked to shape and prepare me for the status quo. I’ll never be thin, pale, blond or blue-eyed. BUT I can be molded in ways to make my differences less offensive to those fitting those descriptions. I’ve been packaged in a way that might make it easier for WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants) to accept.
Throughout my life, I’ve been described as an oreo – black on the outside, white on the inside. I’ve been told I’m the smartest (0r only smart) black person someone has met. Been described as being a very white black person (as if that’s a thing, let alone a good thing). Asked why I speak so well. Been told I am (surprisingly) respectful. Informed my neck doesn’t move nearly as much or my voice doesn’t get as loud as some (of my) people. Been seen as an “exception”.
As sad (or infuriating) as all of those things may be, they probably make all of the people who worked so hard to prepare me for the “real” world very proud on a private, painful, never-to-be-openly-discussed level. I was born in America, raised (mostly) in Black America and “Made” for White America.
Searching for the perfect song for this post I stumbled upon this jewel. You can decide for yourself if she’s honoring or poking fun…
Aretha Franklin impersonating Mavis Staples, Gladys Knight and Diana Ross
Last night, I had the good fortune (and nearly available funds) to see ARETHA FRANKLIN in concert! It/she/the band was awesome. Sure, she’s older (69) and possibly still ailing (unexplained surgery nearly a year ago) but she is an undeniable DIVA!!! Her voice is still a force to be reckoned with and she has no problem owning her stage. She brought us up, down, closer to the Lord, into bed with a lover and out of a tough situation all in an hour and a half. About to two-thirds of the way through, Aretha sat down at the piano. Shocking, I know. Like most from her era, singers were also expected to be musicians and/or songwriters. Basically, Aretha did what few “singers” today can do – actually PERFORM. There was no dancing or light shows, costume changes or theatrics. She sang, the band played and the audience cheered. So simple, so raw, such a lost art…
2011 has been the year of the diva in Austin. Gladys Knight (calm and smooth delivery on a stool), Diana Ross (5 costume stages and vocal flair) and Aretha Franklin (turn the AC off, okay now turn it back on and put my purse under the baby grand) have all stopped by. If you want to extend it to the men, Smokey Robinson and Stevie Wonder have also graced us with their presence. Sadly, Smokey’s ticket prices were beyond my financial capabilities but the other king and queens of classic R&B and soul were phenomenal. As a music fan/lover/obsessor, nothing’s better than seeing your idol(s) in their element – live. I think we often forgive our contemporary stars’ raw vocal talents (or more appropriately, lack of) for radio-friendly songs and eye-catching imagery. I believe we’re missing the point – Music is supposed to move you and singers are supposed to remind you why you should only sing in the shower…
As you may know, I am an amateur songstress. I would NEVER compare myself to the music giants mentioned above. Their talents are undeniable while mine are more subjective. BUT my baby skills have largely been influenced by these masters of their crafts. They influenced both me and my more contemporary influences. Despite cramped seats, late starts, no A/C at the request of the artist and menacing storm clouds at an outdoor concert, each simply delivered. I was in awe and so happy I didn’t miss the opportunities to see these music greats live.
At these and most concerts I attend, there’s an “Encore” period. Yes, this is pretty standard. (However, I’m secretly waiting for the show when the artist doesn’t come back out and we just hear the tour bus start up or the crowd agrees to remain silent just to see what happens…) I realize this extended applause and chanting for the artist to return to the stage is something everyone just expects now but I can’t imagine that not being the most fulfilling sound for an artist. (Sure, “I love you”, “I do”, and “Dada” are great but I mean professionally.) In my limited music career (ha, I wish I could really even call it that), applause is the sweetest sound imaginable. (Maybe ca-ching or “and the Grammy goes to” would sound better but…) I’ve never sung because I considered myself to be amazing but because I love creating (or interpreting) and sharing. It may not be good but it’s mine. And if you think it’s good, we can love each other. 🙂
I may be a bit strange (shocking) but I’m rarely nervous before I perform. I do my best to stay calm and indifferent. “Well, if I do well and they like it, that’s great. If not, oh well.” I imagine that attitude is both a result of trying to reassure myself and reminding myself this is not my career. While, I had fantasies as a child (teenager/20-something, let’s just be honest), I knew the chances were slim to none anything would come of it. So I never really pursued it and stayed “realistic”. I got a four-year degree in something (at least a little) more secure and entered the general workforce. The most creative thing I do now is… Actually, I’m at a loss in my current job but whatever. My job is a relatively standard desk job. I’m not really creating anything or connecting with anyone on a level beyond the 9 to 5.
But when I sing, I do. I can see people reacting to the music their hearing. If it’s a cover, you could hear “Oh yeah” and “I love this song”. They then listen to see if I do the song (or the original artist) justice. When it’s original, the connection is harder but not impossible. In the end, if they like it, they’ll let you know. It’s a simple, potentially brutal, process. If you like me, make noise. If you don’t….crickets.
I don’t think any manager, customer, colleague or attendee could thank me in a way so deeply impactful as cheering. (And I’m not hoping applause becomes a standard way to show appreciation in cubicles…) “Good jobs” are greatly appreciated and not to be shunned. But you applaud a musician because you appreciate their natural skill (sure it can be honed and perfected but it’s natural nonetheless) and want to thank them for sharing it with you. Maybe it’s counter-intuitive but there’s something about being thanked for a natural skill, as I see them to be more intimately connected to who you are, than for an ability, that’s been learned. That’s probably weird. Oh well.. That awkward moment between the start of you final note and possible applause is the exact moment my nerves come flooding back, minutes, hours or days worth. That final exhale could bring me to my knees if I let it. Thank God for standard, polite applause.
More melodramatic than my sentiment. But then again isn’t that a requirement for most songs?
Vintage Brandy “Almost Doesn’t Count [Live]”
I am always concerned about the way people perceive me. I know it’s cliché and I should have more confidence in myself, blah, blah, blah. But it’s true and I doubt it’s something that’s going to ever completely go away. Rather than feel foolish about it, I just have to accept and recognize when it’s creating a ridiculous reaction/response.
Amongst other things, I have a problem dealing with disappointment. If/when a friend, family member or significant other lets me down, I take it hard. My heart sinks, lungs get heavy and in extreme cases if I’ve had enough time to think about it and be offended, I get a not-so-slight burning sensation in my chest. (I’m expecting an ulcer by 28. It’s truly unfortunate…) However, the physical is nothing in comparison to the mental and emotional. I can really take it personally.
If the situation/result is out of their control, I realize I have to choke back whatever my initial response is and be a grown-up about it. Shit happens. There’s not a person (currently) in my life that has the power to really hurt my feelings that I believe would do it intentionally. Most people have nothing but the best of intentions for the people they care about. I have to find comfort in that (at least…).
However, if the situation/result is completely within their control and they just made a decision, that’s a whole different story. While in the end I still have to suck it up and move on, choosing to change plans or not follow through with something you’d said makes a big difference to me. Running the risk of abusing the cliché, I have little patience for flakes.
Flakes are everywhere, nearly impossible to avoid. I just rarely choose to intimately associate with them. Therefore, I’m rarely affected by the things they fail to do. However, when someone I care about and trust lets me down, it takes everything within me to….let them know.
Not the general response, I know. Despite the intense personal reaction, it’s very difficult for me to unhappily express myself to those I care about. I’m often afraid to react verbally because I don’t want my message or true feelings to be lost in the emotional display. So rather than be fair to the person I’m mounting a mental attack against (or to myself), I swallow it and try to minimize the situation. “Sure, no problem. Things happen. I’ll figure something else out. Have fun. I don’t mind. Etc.”
Now I’m not the big punk I’m making myself out to be. It’s not that I don’t want to express myself or feel that my feelings are in some way invalid. It’s just that I want to do it as calmly and honestly as possible. Finding that balance generally means I have to take a step back. Despite my typicaly composed, some would say even “professional”, nature, there is always something going on behind scenes. And I know that when I start it can be difficult to stop. I just want to make sure that what I say is what I really mean, what’s appropriate for that particular situation.
However that desire to take a step back can often hurt more than it helps. By the time I’ve thought things over and calmed down, it may seem as if the moment has passed. What’s worse: overreacting at the moment or bringing up old things the other person thought had been resolved (if they were even aware there was a problem in the first place)?
Not everything’s going to go my way. But when something happens that leaves me sad, hurt, disappointed or offended, it’s probably not best to cover it up with a half-hearted PR smile and polite responses that completely betray my true feelings. It’s not all that realistic to believe those feelings will just poof go away. I may be able to bury them and move forward but there’s only so much one person can bury. If you’re anything like me, you’ll reach a boiling point and erupt. The cause of that eventual eruption is usually minor, making me look even more the overreacting drama queen I’d worked so hard to avoid.
Before you go off the deep end, it’s probably best to really evaluate the situation. What are you upset about and how upset are you? Had you really been looking forward to something or made some plans that are now null and void because of something someone else did? Did that person understand what this meant to you? True surprises aside, it’s often easy for someone to dismiss something you didn’t seem to really care about. There can be a fine line between complaining and explaining. But if you’re genuinely upset, I think it’s okay to risk it. Avoiding the conversation doesn’t give you the power to avoid disappointment. If nothing else, it just forces you to avoid a resolution. Sometimes some things cannot be fixed. But a sincere “I’m sorry” can go a long way.
Regardless of the reason/cause, it’s best for the ones you love to know something they’ve done has hurt you. If nothing else it’s a reminder that even the perpetually calm have feelings. Perceived indifference and lack of emotion (good or bad) comes off cold. If you’re hurting, the last thing you want is someone thinking you don’t care (or, worse, you couldn’t…).
It’s not fair to anyone to feel the need to judge their own, honest feelings for or about the people they want in their lives. And it’s not fair to the people you supposedly care about and trust to hide your true feelings. Relationships need to be uncomfortable at times. If they’re not, someone’s not being honest. It’s impossible to avoid disappointment. The best we can all do is pick our battles and not punk out for the sake of perception.
Hoping to count to 3 and respond, rather than 3 million and blow up,
9-year-old Ice Skating to “Whip My Hair” By Willow Smith. Between the skater being adorable, the song being a late 2010 hit, it being one of the big songs during the bar New Year’s celebrations and the fact that it’s supposed to be about being comforatble with yourself, I couldn’t resist.
Another year has passed. The good, the bad and the ugly have all happened. But in the end (as always), I emerged victorious. I’ve loved. Hated. Feared. Cheered. Been praised and berated. Questioned my worth and counted my blessings. 2010 was a good year. Now enter 2011.
I wish I could be more philosophical. But I’m momentarily at a loss. I currently have almost everything I’ve ever wanted. (If I don’t have it, I’m on track to…) All things considered, there are six crucial components of my life. With each, there’s some definite work to be done but things are promising:
1.) Family: I jokingly complain about my large, very 90s family, especially around Christmas. Having ten people in your immediate family is no Christmas shopping joke. But I’m blessed to have all four of my parents and six of my siblings (and now my brother-in-law and niece, not to mention the grandmas…). We all look, sound, think and feel differently but there’s a spoken (and unspoken) bond: love. Over the years, I’ve learned to live only in my current “life”, allowing all other things from former or “other” lives to slip into the subconscious. I believe that probably came from toggling between homes, parents, siblings, bedrooms, parts of the country. However, it just takes that one trip home to remind me how unnecessary that coping mechanism is at this point in my life. As with every year, in 2011, I resolve to stay in better contact with the people who have to love me. For whatever awkwardness I ever felt about randomly reaching out, I can now cope out with Facebook. It’s better than nothing…
2.) Friends: Simply put I have wonderful friends. And as much as I may not like to admit and/or adapt to it, relationships change. The people I’ve grown to love and trust, I’ll always love and trust but we’re not always going to mean the same things to each other. Rather than fight that reality, I’m learning to be thankful for what I had and who I shared it with. When you stop working with someone or living with someone or regularly hanging out with someone, it can be difficult to “stay in touch”. I’ve always done what was easy. The people (emotionally) closest to me were often the people (physically) closest to me. As with my family, if I truly value the relationship, I have to 1.) accept things will change and 2.) not allow something to die just because it’s no longer convenient. In 2011, I resolve to be a good friend instead of sometimes just an easy one.
3.) Love: Most years, I don’t even mention this one. I’ve always wanted to be in a good relationship. But my track record was less than promising. I accepted if/when something was meant to happen, it would simply happen. I stopped hoping for it and, to be completely honest, being entirely open to it. My 2 1/2 break from everything was no joke. However, I can happily (and confidently) say, despite my best efforts, I’m in a good relationship now. I am with someone I respect, admire, am attracted to, amused by, comforted by, and am proud to be with. Even better, I believe he feels the same way about me. A healthy, honest boyfriend/girlfriend, meet your family and friends, entertain the word “we” relationship. A novel idea, I know. In 2011, I resolve to not sabotaging “us”.
4.) Career: 2009 forced major changes in my career path. From agency PR to unemployment to economic development in the last few months of the year. 2010 found me really understanding what that industry and my position meant. As with any job, not everything was perfect. But it was educational. I feel better informed and, more importantly, more confident in my skills, both technical and interpersonal. In 2011, I resolve to continue to move forward, whatever direction that might be.
5.) Faith: This one’s touchy for me. Growing up a “preacher’s daughter”, church was a big part of my life. The rules, the services, the songs, the process. But my personal faith has always been something tied to struggles. When things are well, I thank God out of obligation. But I can’t say that we really talk. When things are bad, I can’t stop talking. I know our relationship needs some work. As much as I’d like to argue that relationship could be repaired anywhere, I think I need the either the structure or the comfort of a church family. In 2011, I resolve to find my church home in Austin.
6.) Happiness: While the prior five components play a large part in defining my happiness, one big factor is simply being open to allowing it. For whatever reason(s), I’ve sought to prevent my own happiness. I don’t know if I didn’t feel I deserved or had earned it or if I was too pessimistic to trust it but I’ve been able to prevent a consistent, natural happiness with my own life. Momentary happiness is impossible to avoid. But that lasting, confident, easy contentment has often evaded me. People will always be smarter, richer, prettier, “luckier”, whatever other -er you want than me. But happier is all on me. I have family, friends, career, faith, health and an open future. Last year, I resolved to be happy. While I wasn’t perfect, I think I did pretty well. So in 2011, I resolve to be happy. Hopefully, I can follow my own trend.
The Truth: According to Jo'van 