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Vita

Merry Christmas!

2

I felt like singing 🙂

What Child is This

Random Lyrics

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I like this.  I think I’ll put music to it eventually.


Chase Me 😉

I’m testing you
Do you like it?
Do you want to play the game with me?

I can’t read you
I think you like me
I won’t push, but I will pull
If you don’t come, I’ll set you free

I step to you
You step to me
I like the way that you feel

This is just a test, I won’t jump in if it’s too cold
I’ll stop playing this game if it seems to be getting old
But we’re not going anywhere unless you want to take it there
No more indecisive boys for me…
I’m gonna run, and run, and run, so chase me…

(Did I catch you looking or did you get something in your eye?)

I’m playing you
Because I want you to play with me
I don’t want to feel if it’s not real, but the curiosity is killing me.

This is just a test
I won’t jump in if it’s too cold
I’ll stop playing this game, if it feels like it’s getting old

But we’re not going anywhere, baby
Unless you take it there.

No more indecisive boys for me…
I’m gonna run, and run, and run, so chase me….

😉

Love is Never Wasted

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I just finished reading this very, VERY inspiring book.  It’s a Christian book, actually.  The first Christian book I’ve ever really read (aside from like… kids bible stories or something).  Anyway, it got me thinking about a topic that everyone thinks about, regardless of religious or spiritual beliefs.

Looooove…

Fear of rejection and fear of abandonment are quite possibly the most popular of all the phobias.  Everyone, at some point in time, experiences the pain that comes after opening your heart to someone only to have them slam it in the proverbial door.  Coping with this pain is where it gets difficult.

Have you ever been so heartbroken that you decide that the pain of losing your loved one, either by choice or circumstance, is not worth the joy if giving your heart away?  Have you ever felt like that person, after all, just didn’t deserve your love?

But who doesn’t deserve love?  And who are we to judge?

In 2003, I was married.  I thought that I was the luckiest woman in the world.  It was my first serious relationship and the only love that I’d ever had.  How many people do you know who can say they married and lived happily ever after with their first and only love?  Well, there’s a reason they’re considered “first” loves… if there was no 2nd, 3rd, or last, there would be no first, right?

In 2006, I was filing for divorce.  How did my fairytale beginning turn into a nightmare ending?  Without getting into the juicy details, which could lead us into a whole different topic, I will say this:  With my first love, I loved absolutely.  I loved sacrificially. This is the ultimate love.  Sure, there is “unconditional” love… but let’s face it; we are human beings.  We have faults.  We judge.  We are not capable of loving someone 100% unconditionally.  If we loved someone unconditionally, they could treat us like shit and we would take it with patience and our feelings would never waiver.  I do believe that you can love your family unconditionally, but not everyone does… but we’re talking about romantic love here.

My divorce left me broken (and broke!).  Scarred drastically and terribly jaded.  Here I had given my world to this relationship and it was destroyed.  I had given everything I could to my husband… he took it and threw it away.  It was the most painful experience I had ever gone through and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Unfortunately, it happens to almost everyone.   So what’s the sense in giving your heart away if people can throw it away so easily?  What’s the sense in getting so emotionally involved in a relationship when you never know how things are going to end up?  I had decided that I could not love again.  Not sacrificially.

When I speak of “sacrificial love”, I don’t mean slaughtering wild animals to appease your lover and I don’t mean giving up your life or individuality for someone else.  I mean when you are willing to love someone no matter what the circumstance… Sacrificially loving someone is loving them without any selfish reasons… In the simplest of terms, you would do anything to make them happy even if you gain no benefit from it yourself.

Selfishly loving someone is loving someone just to make yourself feel better. C’mon how many times have you stayed in a relationship with someone merely for what they can do for you, even if you didn’t realize it at the time?  If you haven’t done that, I know you know someone who has!  How many times have you craved someone’s affection just because you liked the attention and not because you really wanted to be with that person?

What happens then is that the moment they stop providing that feeling for you, you decide you no longer want to be in that relationship.  There may be reasons, like “he’s not there for me enough” or “he never takes me out to dinner” or “she doesn’t sleep with me as much as she used to” or “she spends too much time with her friends” but come on, those reasons are shallow!   And if you’re breaking up with someone simply because you don’t love them, well… You don’t love them, do you? So there is no question of whether or not that love was sacrificial!  And if you’re being broken up with because the person didn’t love you? Well… They’re doing you a favor.

You may have been in love with them… you may have even loved them sacrificially.  So why did they not accept your love? Why didn’t they bask in it and proclaim how wonderful it was to the world?! Why didn’t they return it with full force?!  Who knows?!  Dating is basically a matter of trial and error anyway.  You see someone, you’re attracted to them and they’re attracted to you… you test the waters to see if you’re a match then break up if you’re not.  That’s how it works.  Simple, right? No!  It’s absolutely maddening how unsure love is!  So why bother?  After awhile I began to feel that, if not returned completely and perfectly by the other person; love was an absolute waste of energy.

What happened next was that with every dating relationship I got into, every crush I had, and every rejection I suffered; in the end I felt that it didn’t work out because I wasn’t worth their affection and that I “waste” my affections on people who don’t value me.  So to sum it up; I waste my time loving people who don’t value me and that’s how things are because I’m incapable of being loved in return, so that’s how things will always be.

How fucked up is that?! lol!

Anyway, the point of this blog is not to gripe about my failed relationships or almost-relationships.  The point of this blog is to highlight this question:

When the decision is either to love or not to love… Shouldn’t the answer always be to love?

I know to some of you “Negative Nancy’s” (yeah, I went there) this sounds ridiculous; but let’s think about this openly for a moment.

I don’t mean to ignore the obvious and force your affections on someone else.  If you ARE in love with someone who doesn’t love you back, you should certainly move on.  Set the binoculars down and stop driving past their houses at night to see if their car is there.  Stalking is illegal and rude… and creepy.

I mean that when you’re in a position where you love someone and that love is unrequited or for some reason or another they are unavailable, you can’t always force yourself to ignore your own feelings.  This leads us to beat ourselves up at times… Sometimes we punish ourselves with thoughts like “What the fuck is wrong with me?” or believe that for some reason we are unlovable or just unlucky.  So we find ourselves searching for negative things about the other person… That’s when we try to force our perception to change about the object of our affections and we start to pick them apart simply because things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to.

I came across this issue with my ex-boyfriend after he broke up with me.  I felt that it was an ego booster for myself when I laughed with my friends about how I should have told him I thought his brother was hotter than he was… simply because I knew it would piss him off… Or we pick apart their looks or other aspects of them that may be lacking.  Why couldn’t I just shrug it off, accept that things didn’t work out and that’s okay, and not punish myself for falling in love with someone that wasn’t right for me?  It took months, but I finally came to that conclusion.

It may not have been “true love”, but I was in love with my ex-boyfriend when he broke up with me.  In the end, I’m thankful he cut me loose because I had absolutely no idea that he felt he was wrong for me; a fact that is blatantly obvious to me now.

So from now on, obviously there would be a sting if I fell in love with someone and those affections were not returned, but I will never beat myself up for falling in love.  In fact, falling in love is something everyone should do as often as possible.  Just like you should never feel like you wasted time studying for an exam simply because you didn’t get an A… You should never feel like you wasted love on someone who did not return it.

Think of it as practice for when you find the one that does 🙂

Ramblings of an Overstimulated Musician

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Please don’t take a damn thing I say seriously.

Sometimes it seems all these “brilliant” lyrics really are just vocalizations of a tortured population.

Is it really “so deep” and “so easy to relate to” or is it just an example of how crazy we all truly are?

For example, “The Last Goodbye” by Jeff Buckley.  Sounds so beautiful… and I don’t pretend to know what it’s really about, but to my interpretation? To me? It’s a beautifully written way of “It’s not you, it’s me.  I love you, I’m just not IN love with you.”  So why is it when Buckley sings it we swoon but when we hear it straight forward it’s bullshit?  I mean, I could be totally wrong here (I probably am) but… as a song, it’s beautiful and everyone loves it, but those words said outright… aren’t quite so pretty.

Okay, how about “Creep” from Radiohead?  People LOVE this song.  Does everyone really relate to it? Really? …Really?

Or do they just think they should because everyone loves this song?  It’s a fucking depressing song!  Just because a song is depressing doesn’t automatically qualify it as being “brilliant”.  The world is full of depressing, “woe is me” songs.  Why do you like this one so much?  Can you really relate to it?  Can you? If you couldn’t, would you want to??

This isn’t about Radiohead or Jeff Buckley, both of which I enjoy listening to immensely… this is just my mind wandering.

Do the masses that made these songs popular really, whole heartedly relate to them?  Does everyone that sings along and says “Oh! This song is amazing!” truly feel so inwardly tortured and self loathing?  Or do they just like the pretty noise….?

My American Idol Experience

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Well hullo tharr…

I figured for my first post I would give the much anticipated American Idol recap.  To be honest, I wrote this a few weeks ago and was saving it for the Betties site so… I apologize for the lack of editing on my part but I don’t feel like reading through it again ;D !

I think I cover everything! So here ya go!

My American Idol Experience


When American Idol first came onto the scene, I thought it was brilliant.  “See?!  If those people can do it, so can I!” You know, all that jazz.  I watched the first season with the rest of America and I fell in love with Kelly Clarkson and Justin Whatshisface.  Funny thing about that last sentence is I actually like Justin more than Kelly but I don’t remember his last name at this very moment and I don’t have the internet connected to–Oh wait!

ADD moment.

Justin Guarini.  Hah!

Okay, back to the story.

So for years I would jokingly say, “I just wanna go on American Idol once.  I don’t expect to win, I would just love to make it to Hollywood and that’d be fine with me.  Just make it past the first round.  Just impress Simon!”  That was my idea.  Mind you, it was never a fully fledged goal, just an idea.  SO anyway… fast forward to 2008.

In May of 2008, after a long hiatus from my music, I was itching to play live again.  What better motivation than a singing contest?  As I was listening to my favorite radio station, 93.3 WMMR, I heard Preston and Steve were going to be hosting the “Montana West Idol” contest at Montana West in Quakertown, PA.  Sounds fun, right?!  It was!  Every Friday for a few weeks they had contestants get up, sing a full acapella song and the judges would vote.  Well, I made it to the final round and I won tickets to the Philly Soul game, which was terribly fun.  Ethan and I had a lovely time.

I made it to the final round and my song of choice, after much deliberation, was Queen’s “Somebody to Love”.  Why?  Because WMMR is a classic rock station I’m a classic rock loving female.  I would have done Aerosmith, but I thought Somebody to Love would be fun and everyone I sang it to beforehand LOVED it (plus I kept visualizing the audience as penguins like in “Happy Feet”).

So it’s the final round.

The first few singers were duds.

The two ladies before me?

AMAZING.

…Finally it was my turn.

I took the stage and I ROCKED that shit!  Had the crowed singing and clapping and dancing along.  I knocked the SOCKS off of my friends that had never seen me perform like that before … and blew the judges away.

Did I win?

Fuck no! I didn’t even make the top 4!  Though one of the ladies did tell me that I was #5.  Yey (can you feel my enthusiasm?).

At least I got to ride the mechanical bull.

Anyway, apparently one of the judges went overboard and scored the country western dude WAY high because he likes country. Big ups for unfair judging. yey.

OKAY – So thats what got me back into performing after a ten year hiatus!  After that, I couldn’t stay away from the mic!  Open mic night here I come!  I won another contest which got me my very first solo gig that same Summer at a little place in Wilmington called Stoney’s and then I started booking elsewhere.  So naturally when time came to sign up for American Idol… I figured why the hell not?

On a beautiful weekend in August of 2008, I played hookie from my temp job for three days, drove up to East Orange, NJ (ever hear my song “East Orange Blues?”) and booked a hotel about 30 minutes away from The Izod Center where try-outs were taking place.

I got my wrist band which took all of 30 minutes more… grabbed my rules, waivers and such… and spent the next 48 hours practicing lyrics to “Get Ready” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” over… and over… and over… and over… and over… and over… You get the point. Not only that, I’d narrowed down my song choices for my own audition to “Ain’t Never Loved a Man”, “The Right Man”, “Somebody to Love” (I’m now seeing a recurring theme here that was SO not intended), and “Walk This Way”.

Naturally,  I was practicing those too.

When you go the first day to get your wrist band, generally there are two or three audition days.  They sign you up on wrist band day and tell you which day is your audition day… My audition day was the second day, so I had an extra day to hang around.  I spent THAT day resting my voice and meandering about NYC, getting lost and listening to my iPod… and taking the wrong subway train.  Good times 😀

Audition Day.

The moment you’ve been waiting for.

I went to bed at 9pm the night before (extremely early for me) because I had to get up at 4am to get ready and go.  I would be checking out, going to the Izod Center and leaving straight from auditions… so I packed all my shit, said my goodbyes to my cheap hotel room and wished myself luck out the door.  All contestants must arrive at 5am sharp.  Why?  How else are the going to get those ginormous crowd shots?

People get there ass early in the morning because they can’t camp out, thinking “Oh if I’m the first in line I’ll be first to audition.”  Well, they’re wrong.  Turns out the order that you arrive has absolutely NOTHING to do with the order you audition.  More on that later.

The place was buzzing with excitement.  Musicians from all walks of life were there.  People brought their guitars, keyboards, and other such portable instruments.  It started out quiet, but after awhile (and I assume after everyone got some coffee in them) people would start practicing.  While we were outside (from 5-9 am), it felt like I was at friggin’ Woodstock or some shit.  Acoustic guitars EVERYWHERE and people singing in large groups.  It was fantastic.  Cameras were out and about, they asked us to shout silly things and act out and be crazy… which some people were happy to oblige while I and my new Line Friend (that’s what I’ll call her…) giggled and enjoyed watching the crazy.

No, I did not meet Ryan Seacrest.  Yes, he was there, but he was on the other side of the building apparently.  I did see him inside and I have to say, he looks like a douche on TV but in reality he’s kinda cute.

Anyway, back to the show.

So FINALLYl we’re allowed inside.  We get seated and get comfortable.  Now it’s time for the auditions to begin… but BEFORE all that… We have the biggest fucking sing along I’ve ever seen in my LIFE.  Those songs I had been practicing?  18000 people were singing them too.  One of the producers guided us through this sing along that was recorded but I don’t think it was ever aired… if it was, I was in the third row from the front in my black cherry heidi dress!  😀

Now, you would think at this point we would have some idea of when we would be auditioning, yes?  No.  There were 18000  people waiting to audition.  You get 15 seconds (if that…) to impress the judges.  The judges in this case are not Randy, Paula and Simon.  The judges are set up at several tables in the arena separated by curtains.  Two judges to a table.  The judges are producers of the show, the behind the scene guys and gals that get the whole party started.  These individuals are the ones that choose who out of these 18000 hopefuls will actually get to be contestants.  If you make it past these casting auditions you go on to another set of producers… if you make it past them, THEN you get to be cast for the auditions in front of the star judges.  So you think all those people you actually see on TV are just random people from the crowd that day?  Nope.  They were each selected by a set of producers.  Yep.  They let pants on the floor through. America’s got taaalent. hah.

They do things differently each time, apparently.  This time they went section by section.  As a contestant, you’re job is to stay within earshot so that you know when your section gets called up and depending on how the day goes, you have no idea when that might be.  I got to know the girl sitting next to me a bit, she was a beautiful young woman whose name has gotten away from me.  She was sixteen years old and her dad had brought her to try out for the show.  What impressed me about the girl was her choice of song for the audition, “Hellelujah” the Jeff Buckley version.  Excellent!

After chatting for a bit, it was time for me to calm my nerves…  Before any performance, I like to be alone.  I don’t like having people around when I do vocal warm ups or when I’m getting the jitters out.  Apparently, MANY of the other contestants had the same idea… As I was walking around the concession area there were people huddled in corners, hiding behind things.  You go in the bathroom and there are people closed in the bathroom stalls.  What were they doing?  Singing! Not everyone was hiding.  Some people were walking… some were standing in the middle of the room.. some in groups… Some were going all out, full voice, top of their lungs..while others were quietly reciting lyrics.  I felt like I was in a musical.

So I found myself a little corner and I popped  in my iPod and start to sing along with the few songs I’d chosen.  It was… liberating.  In a hall filled with hundreds of other people singing at the top of their longs (or hushed in their corner), I pushed my voice out and warmed up, imagining how I was going to perform for the judges… and it made me feel good to see people actually turned and listened.  These people ranged in experience from seasoned musicians to those like my young friend who’d never performed before, mind you.

A man came up to me with a camera and asked me my name, where I was from and what I did for a living.  I told him I was a martial arts instructor.  Well, it just so happens there was another guy there who had dressed up like a ninja.  He asked me if I wouldn’t mind critiquing some of the “ninja’s” techniques… I said “Sure!” and well… I don’t think it was all that entertaining for them.  The ninja did throw a kick.. and it was a terrible version of a roundhouse kick.  I gave him a quick pointer, but didn’t demonstrate.  Why?  Because I was in high heels and a FREAKIN DRESS.  Srsly?  I’m not throwing a roundhouse kick in a dress and heels with a camera crew watching.  Eff that.

SO… after that (which I’m sure never aired)… I went back to practicing and went back to my seat.  I watched as row after row after row of contestants filed down onto the arena floor… did their 15 second for the judges and were either given the green light or shown the door.  Ladies and gents, only about 200 people out of those 18000 made it past round one in NJ that year.  From a spectators point of view?  About 90% of those people did not deserve to get that far.  There were SO many talented vocalists in that crowd!  One woman stepped up and BLEW THE STADIUM AWAY!  Her voice carried throughout the entire hall and she sounded BETTER than Whitney Houston…  Did she make it?  No.

A group of women stepped up and did a group song,they were gorgeous, had beatiful voices and a sweet routine!  Did they make it?  No.

One guy got up… and stripped his clothing off.  Was he funny?  Yes.  Could he sing?  No.  Did he make it?  Yes.

Another guy, CUTE as hell with an acoustic guitar (that he could play very well) got up and sang like an angel.  Did he make it?  Nooope.

Me and the girl who sat next to me were trying to find a pattern… anything… anything that linked the contestants that were making it through together somehow… and we couldn’t find anything.  They were so varied… It had to come down to the numbers.  That’s the way I saw it anyway… let a few pass.. say no to the next… couple.  Let a few more pass… etc.  Ask the judges and they all give you the same generic answer.

“We’re looking for someone who really stands out.  Someone original.  Someone who has that “it factor.”

Oh yeah, totally, got it. Yep.

Before it was our sections turn to go, a few of us got up and went into the hall again to get the jitters out… What happened was one of the coolest things ever.  We had like… a sing off.  So, everyone got into a huge circle and one person would just get in, sing their 15 seconds and get out, tag another person to go in and go on from there.  It was AMAZING!  SOOO MUCH TALENT!  I was SO pumped!  Beautiful people singing beautiful songs!  We were on FIRE!

When it was my turn, I had kind of fashioned together the lyrics to get to the good part quick… I started low and built it up… By the time I got to the chorus I had the entire group clapping and singing “Somebody… Somebody… Can anybody find me somebody to love!”

Ah it was amazing.

Alright.  So it’s our turn.  We walk down to the assembly line, as I will call it.  They separate us into groups an set us in the line before our prospective judges.  It’s the moment of truth.  Your 15 seconds that could lead to fame…  I wished the 16 year old luck.  I wished the other guy next to me luck… and recited the lyrics over and over and over again in my head…

The group of four contestants go before us.  One of the ladies sang a beautiful version of a Christina Aguilera song.. the problem was she was wearing a pink sweatshirt, pink jeans and a pink tiara… and she placed some kind of present on the judges table.  They told her no, she couldn’t bribe the judges…but when she got on her knees and begged, they gave her another chance and she made it through.  And when I say got on her knees and begged?  I MEAN GOT ON HER KNEES AND B E G G E D. …. They let the next chick move on to the next audition and she sucked.  The guy that went before me went… and it kinda hurt to watch.

He had called his mom and had her on speakerphone.. it was his mothers birthay.  He sang a Boys II Men song that I don’t remember the name of, but he did it horribly and he was turned down.  Then it was my turn.

You get 15 seconds.  No introduction, no talking to the judges, just get up and do it.  I stepped to the center, cleared my throat and let it go.  I had that judge rockin’ in his seat.  I could feel it! I was TOTALLy going on!  The other judge leaned in and smiled and they were dancing and clapping along!  I SO had it!  …I stepped back in line and waited for the next girl to go so they could tell us after who all would pass and who would leave.  She sang wonderfully!  Beautiful voice!  We were so gonna make it to the next round!

The last girl out of our group of 4?  Eh.  I don’t even remember.  So the four of us step up to the judges table…

“I’m sorry but unfortunately none of you made it through to the next round.”

……….Really?

One of the producers gave me a forelorn look… I *know* they enjoyed my song… but for some reason I didn’t make it.  They clipped off our wrist bands and sent us on our merry way.

I wasn’t too upset though.  I told my section neighbor not to let this one audition stop her.  I wasn’t going to.  This was just one audition.  And that’s just it.  American Idol is *not* a contest.  At least, not until you get past the initial casting.  It’s a casting call.  A casting call with producers that have to narrow it down from millions of hopefuls to just a handful of contestants. God forbid you wear the wrong thing, pick the wrong song or just audition at the wrong time.  You get 15 seconds.  Unless  you beg on your hands and knees, but fuck that.

I did have my second American Idol experience in 2009… which was a lot more fun..

TBC…

My thoughts on the “Punk Scene”

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When I was a kid I never considered that I was “punk rock” in any way.  I always felt like if I implied that I identified myself as a “punk” I would in fact be a “poser.”  It isn’t until now… now when I’m all grown up… (well, more grown up than before) that I really see what the term “punk rock” means to me.
Fuck conforming to stereotypical definition of the term because that in itself defeats the purpose.  Your opinion my vary from mine but the beauty of it is that I really don’t care.  It’s not that I wouldn’t consider it!  It’s not that I would be closed-minded.  It’s just that I don’t care.  Opinions are opinions and that is a fact.
So anyways, read on if you will if you’re interested in hearing my opinion of the so called punk “movement.”
First let me say that I think if anything is to be considered a “movement” it has to be moving in a general direction.  Or at least it has to be aimed to move in a general direction.
Looking back at the friends, foes and acquaintances that I’ve known over the years…. zeroing in and focusing on the select few that I consider to fit my own personal definition of punk… It’s easy to see the downside of things.
The punk (and often times “punk”) kids that I grew up with that had nowhere to go.  No direction.  Thirsty for knowledge, security and something bigger than what they had. They were angry because there voices were unheard.  They were angry because they couldn’t find answers.  They found comfort from the confusion of adolescence in grouping together, riding in cars and blaring punk music.  Belting unintelligible (unless you actually read them) lyrics at the top of their lungs and throwing themselves out into the world with that “I don’t give a fuck” attitude not just for attention (though we were kids, so of course we wanted attention —don’t deny it!) and not just for the thrill of it, but because we NEEDED that release.
Just like any other hormone-crazed teenagers – we yearned for that liberation.  We needed something to stand for.  We didn’t all dress in leather, spikes and piercings.  We didn’t all have hardcore attitudes and get in the pit at every show.  We were colorful.  We were dark, we were light, we were crazy, we were mellow!  We were “two-tone”!  We were rudies and hooligans!  In a time when we’re all trying to sort out whether we to act like grownups or to act like kids and we just couldn’t get it together… Punk music gave us stability in all of the insanity.
And then we grow up.
Here’s where it gets difficult.
When we’re kids it’s all about self expression, proving your individuality and feeling empowered… or just having someplace to go when you couldn’t be home and you felt noone else accepted you… but what happens when you grow up?
I think because I never fully embraced the “punk” image, always teetering on the edge with my love and admiration for it but my fear of committing to the “label”, it was a bit easier for me to let things go… Keep the good and shed the unnecessary.
I kept the music.  I kept the ideals.  I kept the unity I felt with my friends and family.  I kept the positive energy and the excitement.  I discarded the leather 😉  I discarded the drugs (which thankfully I never used).  I discarded the anger.
Unfortunately with the things that I’d left behind, I also lost some friends…
Some people couldn’t get past the drugs and alcohol.  Couldn’t get past the image.  Couldn’t get past the parties.  They never found that balance in themselves to keep the positive and step away from the negative.  You know those people… the ones that you’d love to reconnect with but you’re afraid to see what they’ve done with themselves.  Or maybe you heard some terrible rumors about how they’ve gone off the edge.  Maybe they’re in jail?  Maybe they’ve committed suicide… Maybe they shut you out because they know you’ll want them to do better for themselves.
I’ve lost friends and family to drugs, alcohol, suicide and even murder.
It’s not just the punk kids.
There are people like that in every genre.  People we love but we can’t reach.  They get stuck in their adolescent angst and their inability to grow and learn from the horrible things that may have happened to them or simply what they’ve done to themselves.
We love them.  We want them to grow, but sometimes there’s just nothing we can do.  Sometimes they have to learn for themselves…. or never learn at all.
Growing up, my punk ass friends were my family.  They still are.  We still get together on occasion and rock out to the same songs that we used to listen to when we were kids, talking about ideals and the crazy ass world we live in.  We may dress different, we may still dress the same, but we love each other because we grew together through those times and we’re happy that we still have each other.  Nobody knows me like they do.
So… yeah.  I may dress business casual Monday – Friday, get my trendy latte and tone down on the cursing, but I feel pretty damn comfortable saying that at heart I’m still that goofy little punk kid.
Long story short…
Punk to me has always been about unity.  I like it that way.

When I was a kid I never considered that I was “punk rock” in any way.  I always felt like if I implied that I identified myself as a “punk” I would in fact be a “poser.”  It isn’t until now… now when I’m all grown up… (well, more grown up than before) that I really see what the term “punk rock” means to me.Fuck conforming to stereotypical definition of the term because that in itself defeats the purpose.  Your opinion my vary from mine but the beauty of it is that I really don’t care.  It’s not that I wouldn’t consider it!  It’s not that I would be closed-minded.  It’s just that I don’t care.  Opinions are opinions and that is a fact.So anyways, read on if you will if you’re interested in hearing my opinion of the so called punk “movement.”First let me say that I think if anything is to be considered a “movement” it has to be moving in a general direction.  Or at least it has to be aimed to move in a general direction.Looking back at the friends, foes and acquaintances that I’ve known over the years…. zeroing in and focusing on the select few that I consider to fit my own personal definition of punk… It’s easy to see the downside of things.  The punk (and often times “punk”) kids that I grew up with that had nowhere to go.  No direction.  Thirsty for knowledge, security and something bigger than what they had. They were angry because there voices were unheard.  They were angry because they couldn’t find answers.  They found comfort from the confusion of adolescence in grouping together, riding in cars and blaring punk music.  Belting unintelligible (unless you actually read them) lyrics at the top of their lungs and throwing themselves out into the world with that “I don’t give a fuck” attitude not just for attention (though we were kids, so of course we wanted attention —don’t deny it!) and not just for the thrill of it, but because we NEEDED that release. Just like any other hormone-crazed teenagers – we yearned for that liberation.  We needed something to stand for.  We didn’t all dress in leather, spikes and piercings.  We didn’t all have hardcore attitudes and get in the pit at every show.  We were colorful.  We were dark, we were light, we were crazy, we were mellow!  We were “two-tone”!  We were rudies and hooligans!  In a time when we’re all trying to sort out whether we to act like grownups or to act like kids and we just couldn’t get it together… Punk music gave us stability in all of the insanity.And then we grow up.Here’s where it gets difficult.When we’re kids it’s all about self expression, proving your individuality and feeling empowered… or just having someplace to go when you couldn’t be home and you felt noone else accepted you… but what happens when you grow up?I think because I never fully embraced the “punk” image, always teetering on the edge with my love and admiration for it but my fear of committing to the “label”, it was a bit easier for me to let things go… Keep the good and shed the unnecessary.I kept the music.  I kept the ideals.  I kept the unity I felt with my friends and family.  I kept the positive energy and the excitement.  I discarded the leather 😉  I discarded the drugs (which thankfully I never used).  I discarded the anger. Unfortunately with the things that I’d left behind, I also lost some friends…Some people couldn’t get past the drugs and alcohol.  Couldn’t get past the image.  Couldn’t get past the parties.  They never found that balance in themselves to keep the positive and step away from the negative.  You know those people… the ones that you’d love to reconnect with but you’re afraid to see what they’ve done with themselves.  Or maybe you heard some terrible rumors about how they’ve gone off the edge.  Maybe they’re in jail?  Maybe they’ve committed suicide… Maybe they shut you out because they know you’ll want them to do better for themselves.I’ve lost friends and family to drugs, alcohol, suicide and even murder.It’s not just the punk kids. There are people like that in every genre.  People we love but we can’t reach.  They get stuck in their adolescent angst and their inability to grow and learn from the horrible things that may have happened to them or simply what they’ve done to themselves.We love them.  We want them to grow, but sometimes there’s just nothing we can do.  Sometimes they have to learn for themselves…. or never learn at all.Growing up, my punk ass friends were my family.  They still are.  We still get together on occasion and rock out to the same songs that we used to listen to when we were kids, talking about ideals and the crazy ass world we live in.  We may dress different, we may still dress the same, but we love each other because we grew together through those times and we’re happy that we still have each other.  Nobody knows me like they do.So… yeah.  I may dress business casual Monday – Friday, get my trendy latte and tone down on the cursing, but I feel pretty damn comfortable saying that at heart I’m still that goofy little punk kid.Long story short…Punk to me has always been about unity.  I like it that way.

Originally posted here http://evangelina.posterous.com/my-thoughts-on-the-punk-scene

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