In our culture people are obsessed with having the perfect figure, losing weight, staying healthy. You would be pretty hard pressed to find a single woman's magazine cover that doesn't sport the phrase (pun completely intended) "2 minutes to flatter abs!" or "15 reasons you're not losing that weight (and what to do about it!)" or "Tasty recipes that won't ruin your waistline". Basically each of these articles recycles the same tips, exercises, facts and recipes and just re-polishes them with new headlines and glossy photos to make them seem new and exciting. Seriously, don't we all know by now that many small meals a day is better than 2 or 3 large ones? That eating too late at night contributes to weight gain? That strength training will not make you look like a bodybuilder so women shouldn't shy away from it? That many hidden calories are in what you drink rather than just what you eat? That there's no such thing as "spot reducing" by targeting a specific muscle when you exercise? That watching TV during meals encourages us to eat more? (Shall I add yet another example? I could keep going... don't worry, I'll resist the urge.) Yet they package all of this up as new information and send it our way. And of course we eat it up. Once again, pun intended.

Well, I just found a bit of "new" research that threw me a bit off track. The headline of this here article was "Laughter Affects Body Like Exercise". The fact that both exercise and laughter have similar effects isn't new news.... both can reduce stress, improve blood pressure & cholesterol, strengthen the immune system, and blah blah etc., etc... It's one of those facts that magazine editors like to throw in to a couple of issues each year. Like I said, nothing new. But what caught me off guard was a particular study that they talked about in this article that was done to further "prove" that the effects of laughter are similar to those of exercise. One of these shared effects, they say, is a healthy appetite. Fine. Sounds good, right? Who can argue that a healthy appetite is, well... unhealthy? Listen to this...

They took two groups of individuals and showed each group one of two different videos, one was upsetting and the other, funny. While these groups were watching said videos they monitored levels for two hormones that affect one's appetite. The distressing video was the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Can't argue that that's not distressing. Funny video was stand up comedy. Stand up may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it's certainly funnier than Saving Private Ryan. End result? The hormone levels of the people who watched the funny video changed as if they had participated in moderate exercise... translation: they were hungrier. So they're saying that one of the health benefits of laughing is that it makes you want to eat. Does this strike you as funny? Laughter is similar to exercise in that it makes you hungrier.... meaning you will probably eat more... and there's a good chance you're not going to reach for carrot sticks or soy nuts when taking in a funny movie.

Personally, while I know that yes, muscle weighs more than fat (another favorite fact of magazine folk), I think the main reason I gained weight rather than losing it when I was working out more regularly wasn't because I was gaining muscle... it was because I was starving after each time I exercised. And so I ate. Sure, I ate relatively healthy (after my gym trips I'd make my way to Subway to eat fresh, Jared style), but I ate SO much more food when I exercised often. I'm not arguing that exercising is a bad decision... just one that will probably lead to weight gain (so, naturally, it should be avoided at all costs. hah). But in all seriousness, isn't it slightly amusing that this study says a common benefit of laughter and exercise is that it makes you WANT TO EAT?

So, a closing word of advice... if you hate exercising, just try laughing 20 minutes a day rather than jogging. The benefits are the same. But when you take in this good dose of laughter beware of the salt and vinegar chip craving. I'd avoid Subway too. In fact, it might be easier to just avoid exercise and laughter altogether. Yeah, go with that.

 These women like to laugh between sets. After their exercise
they're going to Olive Garden for the bottomless pasta bowl.
That laughter cost their bodies at least 2 extra bread sticks.

I consider myself a lucky person. No, I'm not one of those people you'd look at and constantly think "man, why does she get all the luck?" and no, overly fantastical things do not seek me out or seemingly fall in my lap. As a matter of fact, they don't even make my acquaintance all that often. I have a pretty average life. When I say I consider myself a lucky person I merely imply that I have the necessities, and that in and of itself is lucky. I have people who care about me who I care about back. I know what I love and I'm able to make these things part of my life. That right there is luck.

When I was thinking about this earlier today I came across an odd realization. I owe a big thank you to Coin Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls and another big thank you to A Chorus Line. That may sound silly, but I am being completely sincere. Both have impacted my life in huge ways in the past 3 years alone... they have given me the two things I previously mentioned as being lucky for having. Still may sound silly. Relax, I'll explain. 

Let's do the Coin Boy reference first. If you don't know the song it's a sort of playful, dark cabaret sounding ordeal that one might say has overtones of loneliness and a desire for a relationship with lots of (physical) affection without the chance of getting hurt... but one is more likely to say it cleverly (though not subtly) talks about a sex toy. My college roommate introduced me to the song and I ended up choreographing to it my junior year. Choreographing a dance to such a musically creative song, in my mind, gave me permission to really play with the movement. Although I had done choreography before, this unique way of looking at dance and creating this piece made me absolutely fall in love with choreographing and helped me find my own style and choreographic voice. Today, anyone who knows me will probably tell you that musical theatre is my first love, but choreography is a close second. I credit that passion for choreography entirely to the process of having created a dance to Coin Boy. I affectionately call the dance "my baby" and know it's what ignited my passion. Without that experience, who knows if I would have ever developed this love for choreography, if I would have ever found my style. But the song did more than open me up to the joys of choreogrpahing. It completely, single-handedly changed my taste in music.

Dresden Dolls in Coin Operated Boy

Pre-Coin Boy, as I like to call the phase (totally kidding) my musical listening included pretty much two things: 1) Broadway soundtracks, and 2) Turning on the radio, station flipping for 10 minutes, getting frustrated that nothing appealed to me, and turning off the radio. I always enjoyed music pretty much entirely because I enjoyed musicals and singing. I was not a "music fan". Coin Boy (as I have affectionately nicknamed the song) completely opened my eyes as to what music could be. The song has a completely inventive use of instruments (or ordinary objects as instruments) along with drastic changes in dynamics, melody, vocal tonality, etc. It made me eager to find as much music like it as possible. With the assistance of pandora and similar sites I soon found several other "dark cabaret" artists and eventually the list expanded to include folk artists, indie rock artists and singer/songwriter types with only one thing in common: they were all very different from what you normally hear. The one song opened me up to a whole world of creative musicians and artists with new, different sounds that often borrow from old influences (one of my favorite artists describes her sound as "modern ragtime"). I love two things especially in music: 1) When lots of different instruments are used. I'm big on heavy percussive beats and equally big on violins/classical piano used in unexpected ways. Though toy pianos, washboards and the sounds of paper being shredded work too. 2) When there are big changes in the song... from slow to uptempo, calm to frantic, major to minor, whatever it is, so long as it's drastic. I now have a solid musical preference and quality I look for in new artists, when before there was no type of music I claimed to be "my music". Now "new music searching" is somewhat of an obsession of mine. Coin Boy not only brought me to my love of choreography, it is the reason I was able to find music that I love.

On to Chorus Line. Where to begin. I'll premise by saying I don't even like the show all that much. Yet, it has managed to have a major impact on me and keeps creeping into my life. I've done the show three times. Read, still don't like the show all that much. Why do it three times then? First off, I like shows with lots of parts... lots of parts means I'm more likely to get one. Secondly, I like shows where some of the main people are dancers... only because I'm so often looked at as "just a dancer" and therefore given a part in the ensemble. I joke around and say I have "the dancer's curse"... once I was offered a dancing role after doing the dance part of an audition, before I had even sung. Even though I was hoping for one of the other roles I was immediately labeled "a dancer". Chorus Line was always the one show for me that I thought I have a decent shot of being something more. I mean, they all have to dance. The only time I was ever given legit parts in shows was after a director had worked with me and decided I was capable of more than just dancing. So even though I never liked the show all that much, I had a strong desire to be in it. Little did I know the opportunity would arise for me to do the show three times in two years. Nor did I know how much each time would impact me.

A Chorus Line

First time, senior year of college. Can't believe I actually have the chance to be in this show. Audition for Cassie, heart set on it. First time in my life I get the role I wanted, rather than my "other choice". I think it was the combination of achieving that, and with this particular show, that had such an effect on me. I became so attached to the role that it killed me to have the show end. I broke down on stage in the middle of my number. I still get this odd feeling whenever I see other women play Cassie. I said then, and I still believe, that I will never be as attached to a role as I was to Cassie. I believe I (somewhat stupidly, through tears) said at the time that that was my moment. That was it. Even if I were to some day "make it", nothing would ever compare to how I felt the first time I was Cassie. Sounds silly I'm sure. But I can't describe how strongly that role affected me.

Second time I did the show had a big impact in two ways. First and perhaps most importantly, it got me involved in theatre again. Before college I did one show a year, if that. During my four years of college I only did the one show. I had pretty much accepted that after college I probably wouldn't be performing again. Or if I did, it would not be happening on any sort of "normal" basis. Maybe every few years something would come up. That's pretty much all I expected. Well, a year or so after graduating I decided on a complete whim to type "Chorus Line CT audition" into google and see if anything came up. I was surprised to see an audition listed for a community theatre group that would be doing the show that summer. I took it as a sign and went to audition. From this experience I found out about all other theatre groups in the state and since that Chorus Line audition less than a year ago I have performed in 6 shows-- more than I had done ever done in my life combined prior, and all in one year. All because I decided to do a little google search on the show, and a group happened to be doing it that summer, I ended up immersed in performing again. Doing what I love. And a lot of it. Here comes other big impact of this particular production-- I found myself incredibly humbled. Like I said, it's the one show I always saw myself as having a chance in... a chance to be more than "just a dancer". Well, what happened? I was cast as Zach's assistant... arguably the only role in the show where you had to be a good dancer and that was it... zero singing, very few lines. Here it was, the one show that I always aspired to be in because I could avoid the dancers curse and I had managed to get a dancing only role. This, combined with the fact that I had so recently just finished playing Cassie, a role I was so attached to and was no longer associated with, took a huge emotional toll on me. Being in that production was incredibly difficult for me. I felt childish the entire time that I got so upset throughout the process of rehearsals. I felt awful and even worse, felt guilty for feeling that way. Yet by the end of it all I had come to terms with everything and I left the experience grateful for its effect on me and with how much I had learned about myself.

Third time I did the show was literally about a month later. I decided I would try to get one of the roles I had so desperately hoped for the previous time. This time I was successful and got to play Kristine. While performing it was a lot of fun, the real impact the show had on me this third time around was not the show itself but in who I met. We didn't really start talking until two months after the show closed, but the guy who played my husband and I are now dating and I'm happier than I've been in a very long time.

So look, Chorus Line gave me my ultimate performing dream role experience, a summer filled with major humbling slash learning and growing, brought theatre back into my life in a huge way and gave me a great guy. And Coin Boy ignited my love of choreography and helped me discover my musical taste. So like I said, a big thanks to Chorus Line and Coin Boy!

I am an academic at heart. Other people may choose to use a different word here (nerd comes to mind)... I don't shy away from using this myself. I did, after all, create the facebook group "Self Proclaimed Math Nerds". I may not be your stereotypical nerd, but I am a proud one none-the-less. What can I say? I'm a curious creature, always eager to learn more. I'm known to spew out bizarre facts and am a frequent visitor of wikipedia, looking up information on whatever random topic happens to pique my interest at the moment. But lots of people are curious, right? Am I really that abnormal?

Answer: Perhaps I am. Now that my school days have (at least for the moment) come and gone I find myself actually jealous of high schoolers I see working on math homework, envious of college friends researching and writing a paper. I know, I'm bizarre. It's not like I eagerly looked forward to studying and doing schoolwork when I was actually IN school. But back then it was mandatory, and anything that is a "have to" is usually met with some degree of resentment. Now there's no one telling me I have to get this set of problems or that analysis handed in by Tuesday at 11:59 p.m. Learning was, however, my favorite part of pre-college school days and one of the highlights of college as well. While everyone in their right mind looked forward to lunch or gym periods (or studyhall... which I never chose to "take"), I was the one enjoying making flashcards and anticipating what we'd be reading next in English while dreading the social aspects of school life. Since I've graduated, I've not only picked up old math textbooks and worked on problems, but I've actually purchased new textbooks for my reading/problem-solving pleasure. When I say I miss college I miss more than just the friends, parties, dance company and campus atmosphere.

Yesterday is a prime example of my nerdiness. During the day I was bored. Very bored. So I visited livescience.com, a site with cool, random articles and lists that I often frequent in an attempt to appease my curious mind. There was an interesting article on the facts behind "going Green"... what's really good for the environment vs. what things people typically think of as being cleaner/more energy efficient that are actually bad. It reminded me of how much ridicule I got in college (as a largely apathetic individual on a very activist do-good campus) for not recycling. I jokingly said then that I was "an economist and not an environmentalist" and that recycling costs millions more dollars than throwing things away. People got angry. I realize that you, reading this, are probably now angry too. Perhaps prepared to call me ignorant. The fact of the matter is that I had at one point seen an episode on the discovery channel that pointed out all the negatives of recycling. This blew me away... I had never before heard anyone say recycling is not what we should do as good, "moral" citizens. It's not like the show convinced me of anything, but it made me curious enough to look into the topic more... start up my own research project if you will. I spent weeks reading as many academic articles as I could find on the issue... not too many people are anti-recycling. I found that there is however, a small but vocal group who do believe it is not the way to go. And they're not lazy, apathetic, ignorant people... if anything, they're strong environmentalists and big supporters of wasting as little as possible. Anyways, I was reminded of all of this while visiting livescience.com yesterday and it made me want to take on another new "research project" to satiate my ardent curiosity and relieve some of my boredom. I intended to spend the next several hours looking up information in order to find the perfect topic. While I started off reading some things on how it's ridiculous to believe there's not hundreds of other, more advanced life forms out there in space and then on the inexplicable physiological explanations for intuition (inexplicable explanations, haha), I ended up finding (and reading in its near-entirety) a 47 page "article" discussing the pros and cons of recycling that was published in a journal a few years back. After I was done I felt a strong urge to write a critical opinion essay on the topic. Don't worry. I refrained.

I have a constant need to learn more (and apparently to write essays and solve math problems). Maybe some day I'll go to grad school. For now I'll have to settle with helping people edit their papers and secretly buying used textbooks.

Just think of me as the non-stereotypical nerd girl choosing to read while her

classmates in the background choose the ever-more popular activity known as socialization

(and ignore the "waterstain" that shows I stole the photo)

Interesting blog topics used to fall into my lap. I swear to you, they sought me out. I would regularly encounter bizarre situations or hilarious characters that begged to be written about. Something like this has not happened in a very long time. Now, I generally have to rack my brain or ask for suggestions in order to come up with something to write about. Occasionally a topic will come to mind organically... but very rarely anymore does something happen that makes me think "I can not wait to blog about this". Maybe my perception of the world around me has changed. Last week, however, an interesting blog topic downright tackled me during my train ride home and here I am today, a few days later, hoping I can remember every detail of the story and retain its humor in my retelling.

Setting: January 28th 5:40 p.m., Stamford train station, outside, 17 degrees... 0 with windchill, 5 minutes until train arrival, went outside 5 minutes early because voice-over attendant man said "New Haven train now arriving on track 4"... he lied, I have 5 minutes still to go. I stare off at nothing in particular, looking at the ground, when walking into my line of vision is a pair of legs in dark baggy jeans and timberland boots. When this person invaded the empty bit of pavement I was staring at I was pulled out of my daze and looked up casually. The baggy jeans and timberlands belonged to a young 20 something African-American guy with long dreadlocks, a black shirt and a clerical white collar. My initial thought I'll admit was not "isn't he freezing?", it was, albeit stereotypical of me, a surprised reaction to see such a young man wearing a priest's collar, especially in combination with the rest of what he was wearing. I was intrigued. At this point I even thought to myself, hmm... there may be a blog here. Almost immediately however I dismissed the thought... so I see a young priest in some street clothes, big deal. I realized quickly that he was probably not a priest, but rather a deacon. Irrelevant.

Fast-forward 5 minutes and I'm on the train. Deacon guy sits down directly across from me and next to another young 20 something year old woman. I pull out my book and begin to read when I hear them start to talk. I kept reading for awhile but very quickly I was drawn into their conversation, not caring if they noticed that I was still reading the same page after 30 minutes and could probably guess that I was eavesdropping.  She begins the conversation "So, you a priest or something?". I suppress a smirk, I admit it. (From here on out my internal thought bubbles will be in italics). Priest man: "Actually, I'm a student of theology." Silence. More silence. Silence lasts a good 13 seconds. Priest man: "You know what theology is?" Silence. More silence. Silence lasts a good 13 seconds. Other people besides me sit there in silence and don't respond to people? This is new to me. Priest man: "It's the study of religion. From a biblical perspective. So the only book we need in class is the Bible..." and added as an afterthought "and a notebook to write in." Apparently the girl finally thought of something to say and replies, "That's cool. Do you get to give speeches in churches and all?" ... Speeches, sermons, whatever. Same thing. Priest man: "I get called in a lot to do funerals. Because I'm young." Now, here I don't blame her for her silent response. I don't see the connection either. He does funerals because he's young. Makes perfect sense. Note sarcasm. I guess priest man realized that in fact it didn't make much sense and he chose to explain... "Because so many young people are being killed nowadays... whenever someone young dies they call me in to run the funeral. It makes the families feel better to have someone else young there in charge." I still don't see it but, okay. He said the worst part of it is when it first happens and they call you to "the crime scene" to comfort the families. Where the on the earth is this kid from that there's so many murders of children and crime scenes? Somewhere close enough to warrant him being on my train? I mean, perhaps NYC... okay, that's possible, probable. But still... He went on to say how the first thing they tell you is not to cry when you're "running the ceremony". That's the first thing, really? Is "ceremony" the right word? He explains "I mean, if I cry I'm not going to like, get fired. But I'm supposed to come off as a strong support." "I wouldn't like, get fired..." I found this amusing verging on hilarious. Well, as hilarious as something related to a funeral could be. Imagine firing a priest, or expelling a student, for showing emotion at a funeral. At this point I look up as if looking to see if the ticket collector man is coming by and I notice priest man's hand on the girl's shoulder. Very odd. Is priest man hitting on her? What is happening here? I also happen to notice the huge Rolex on his wrist... "diamond" encrusted, the type that shows 3 different times at once. Aren't you supposed to give up things like that or something? At this point I decided to go back to my book. I felt bad for listening in... and it was a good book I had been looking forward to finishing up on the train.

Well what was said right as I made this decision to continue reading made me flat out put the book back in my purse. Ready for it? Priest man: "So, you wanna grab like tacos or something? Maybe catch a movie?" No wayyyyy, priest man is actually hitting on her! Can they do that? I mean he's not a priest yet, but shouldn't he be practicing? Maybe he's not going to be a Roman Catholic priest... aren't some of the other Christian denomination priest people allowed to date and marry? Are they still priests or are they called something else? Do they still wear white collars? I need to look up more about religions other than my own... I'm surprisingly un-knowledgeable in the area. At least regarding clergy and dating. (All of this was a split second thought by the way. You know how your mind can think so many things simultaneously or at least in such rapid succession that you're amazed you thought so much in the matter of 2 seconds? Yeah, one of those moments). Okay, sorry for interrupting priest-to-be and woman's dialogue. Re-cap, priest asks woman out for tacos. Woman says "Are you allowed to do that?" Eagerly awaiting priest man's response on my end here. Priest man gives a funny smile and says "Even holy men have to f*cking eat" Am I alive? Did I really just hear that?!? Did priest man just swear!!!!!! I'm tempted to ask him to repeat himself because I'm in such a state of disbelief. Woman laughs. Laugh of nervous disbelief? Laugh because it would be funny response to you if it was just a normal "non priest" saying it? Laugh because it's a funny response precisely for the reason that it is a "priest" saying it? Any way you look at it, I think she heard what I heard. At this point I'm so completely drawn in, waiting to see what happens next that I'm practically just staring at the two of them. Woman decides to ignore the food comment (and the swear... and the invite out) and goes back to the movie comment. "So what kind of movies do you like?" Priest man doesn't hesitate "Probably have to say gangster movies. Like mobs, mafia... that stuff" This is too much to bear... a swearing priest who likes movies about violent criminals and suggests tacos to seduce women. I couldn't make this up. I heard her ask what his favorite movie was but regrettably had to get off at my stop before I was able to hear his response.

Seriously contemplated skipping my stop to hear the conversation out and then catching a return train but decided that was just ultra sketch and pretty lame. Looking back though I think it may have been worth it.

I could not find an image of a baggy jeans, timberland & rolex wearing priest
but this odd ensemble would have been just as bizarre to see and therefore
seemed equally fitting... google images labeled him a "punk priest"

I had a bizarre dream last night. Bizarre dreams for me are not unusual. Actually I take it back... not the second sentence, my dreams are unusual, but I take back the first sentence. This dream wasn't so much bizarre as it was interesting to me (and probably boring to you). It mixed together 4 musicals (and a movie). I'll explain it later for anyone actually interested. But this dream did make me start to think about dreams in general. They're one of the biggest mysteries out there. Most people have on average something like 14 dreams per night (I made that up but I know it's a sizable number) and yet we remember less than 5% of them. There are countless theories on why we dream at all and why we dream what we do. Some say it's a way of processing memories and eliminating unnecessary information from the brain. Others believe it's a reflection of our subconscious hopes and fears. And there are studies that claim they're completely random sequences that mean absolutely nothing and are based entirely on neural signals. Then there are other theories that say, for example, that dreams allow the repressed parts of our mind to be satisfied through fantasy while keeping our conscious mind from thoughts that would suddenly make you wake up from shock. And I think it was Freud (or some other famous psychoanalyst) who claimed that bad dreams teach the brain to gain control over emotions that are a result of distressing experiences, thereby literally helping us to cope. Who knows what dreams are all about... all I know is 70% of my dreams are nonsensical and bizarre (read, random). Then maybe 15% of the time it's a clear story/situation with some degree of believability (no supernatural slash impossible events, just improbable ones). 10% of the time my dreams really get me thinking about some part of my life (these are the ones I think reflect my subconscious) and the other 5% of the time I wake up amazed by the cleverness of my sleeping mind (usually it's a really awesome dance that I'm watching and I wake up wishing I could remember what my sleeping self choreographed, other times it's just a really clever, witty joke someone says in my dream and I wake up wishing I were funny enough in real life to think up something like that... you get the idea. Basically I'm more clever while asleep than awake. Good quality to promote about myself.) Really, when I think about all of the dreams I can recall in my lifetime, last night's dream was pretty normal.

So here is the dream, to the best of my recollection. Maybe 1 in 12 people will actually enjoy this. Make that 1 in 12 theatre people. But I'll still tell you about it, because I find part of it amusing. So, I dreamed I was auditioning for the musical Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Quick one sentence background info: There's only one role I would ever go for in this and that actual character's name is Christine Colgate. End background info. In my dream I was debating between two roles in terms of which one I should audition for. One of them was Janet van de Graaff (wrong show entirely... she's a character in Drowsy Chaperone) and the other was Veronica Corningstone. Yes, I know that's the character in Anchorman. Allow me to explain where I think that came from. See, in the dream I was picturing the character of Christine Colgate, including an image of the original actress who portrayed her, Sherie Rene Scott, but I merely had the name confused as Veronica Corningstone instead of Christine Colgate. Part way into the dream my image of Christine Colgate (or should I say Veronica Corningstone) switched from Sherie Rene Scott to Christina Applegate, the actress who played Veronica Corningstone in Anchorman (except it was the Sweet Charity version of Christina Applegate I pictured in my mind circa the 2005 Times Square billboards, not the anchorwoman version of Christina Applegate in a suit).

   

Sherie Rene Scott as Christine Colgate

                                   

My new image of Christine Colgate

I think my brain became confused because Christine Colgate and Christina Applegate sound quite similar really. Change an "e" to an "a" and a "Col" to an "Apple" and they're identical. So anyways, I was debating about whether to try out for Janet van de Graaf (who at least I imagined correctly as Sutton Foster in her Drowsy Chaperone yellow nostalgic dress) or "Veronica Corningstone".

  Janet van de Graaf

Veronica Corningstone

To aide in making my decision I decided to practice Janet's song "Show Off" and Christine/Veronica's random part where she belts crazy high in "Love is My Legs" (I say crazy high, it's probably like a D... your regular, standard D, not the crazy high one). And when I say I practiced these songs it was more so my envisioning Sutton Foster doing "Show Off" and Christina Applegate doing "Love is My Legs", complete with the dance moves, costumes and scenery... but in my dream-state this envisioning other people singing equated to me practicing. After I was done "practicing" I decided I was an ill-fit for both of these roles and that I would just audition for Peggy Sawyer instead (from 42nd Street).

And that was the dream. A combination of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Drowsy Chaperone, Sweet Charity, 42nd Street and Anchorman all wrapped into one. I really am a theatre nerd.

I've decided I hate Winter. It's too freakin cold. An age old question that shows up on 9 out of 10 "fill this out just because" surveys is what's your favorite season. I've always been a Fall/Spring answerer, leaning more towards Fall... but during Winter I'm always tempted to put Summer as my favorite season out of sheer resentment of Winter and its coldness. (Because we all know Winter's opposite, and therefore arch nemesis, is Summer... and in my bizarre mind declaring "Summer" as my favorite season is a kick in the gut to Winter.... Because seasons have feelings.... of course). I've always said I liked living in New England because we get the four seasons. Which I mean, yeah it's nice I suppose. I went to college with some people who had never seen snow before, and I thought that was a pretty sad thing. (These people went berserk when the first snow happened. I'm talking you saw a single flake and they were outside in snow gear, determined to wait and watch for 4 hours until half an inch had accumulated, all the while eagerly anticipating the moment there was enough that they could make a snow angel.) Certainly when I was younger Winter was probably my most hopeful of all seasons. With Winter came the chance of snow and with the chance of snow came the chance of school being closed. Of course, I lived on the coast and was more often than not merely taunted by seeing towns less than 10 miles north of me having no school while we only got a 30 minute delay. Really, why did 10 miles north always get snow when we in Orange got a "wintry mix"? The curse of the coast. Even then Winter was frustrating. If you're going to get snow, might as well get enough to warrant a school cancellation. That was my thinking. Otherwise what's the point? Sure, it's pretty while it's snowing (and it always weirded me out that it's warmer when it's snowing too) but after the snow is done it just becomes messy and annoying.

Now that I'm older, and driving (and not in school), any forecast of snow is just frustrating. It means I will have to add at least an hour into my schedule in order to clean off my car, leave early to get places and drive more carefully than normal, all the while fearing that my car will slip and do a 360 (as happened to me once) and go flying off the road or into another car. And yet, even though I hate when I look at the weather and see "snow" listed, I get depressed if an entire Winter has passed without one good snowfall. Then it seems a waste. I'm difficult to please. Not really though... it's just that Winter inherently annoys me. January is prime Winter time too... it's at the point when you're over the cold. Christmas is done, aka the only good thing about Winter, so Winter should be too. Time to move on to Spring.

Some people love Winter. You know the type... not the ones who tolerate it or the ones who enjoy snow, but the ones who really LOVE Winter. It's like with purple... I know how random that sounds and I agree, it's random. Allow a moment for an explanation (after which you'll still agree it's random). People generally have a favorite color but there are legit purple fans. I don't know why it's only that color that has the fanatics but I find it to be true. If someone's favorite color is purple they're usually obsessive and protective of their choice (do not insult purple in their presence). Well, Winter is to seasons what purple is colors. There are Winter fanatics. This is unfathomable to me. I mean, I suppose if you ski or ice skate (of which I do neither) okay... maybe then. But really... who prefers the cold to a comfortable temperature? What, do you just have  fantastically stylish winter gear you love to show off and wear? Matching scarf, glove, hat set? Cute boots? I don't know. I suppose I'll never understand. Just like I don't understand what's so fantastic about purple. All I know is I'm ready for Spring. Now, please.

Well, the new year is upon us. Time to begin another decade. I swear it was yesterday that we were all preparing for life to end with the Y2K scare. Sometimes I forget and think it's still the 90s... I can't believe I've had ten years to get over that and yet I still think of the 90s as being "now". 2010 sounds like the future. I mean, technically it still is for another 30 hours or so, but 2010 sounds like robot servants, flying cars, living in space kind of future. In summary of paragraph number one, this really weirds me out.

So now's the time when everyone sits down and decides this new year will bring changes and better things for them. They make promises to themselves, set goals to achieve, and feel a new sense of hope and positivity. My question is, why now? I get the symbolism and all, sure. New year, clean slate... new beginnings. What a tantalizing possibility! But really, the change from December 31st to January 1st is no different than any other 24 hour difference throughout the year. I was thinking about this whole "why now" and the purpose of resolutions and I kept going back to two highly contradictory thoughts on the matter, one extremely pessimistic and the other highly optimistic. I'm convinced that I firmly believe them both. Let's call this blog a journey into Trisha's pessimistic and optimistic revelations. And go!

Part I: Pessimism
New Year's resolutions are usually made with the highest intentions of following them through, only to be forgotten in the rush of everyday life. Then when the next December 31st rolls around and you go into your moments of self-reflection for the year you just get depressed that these goals were never followed through. So what do you do? Make it your resolution for the next year. Why do we do it? Face it, on New Years Eve (after one too many celebratory beverages) deciding to lose that extra 15 pounds may sound like a great idea. Let's start toward that goal by downing another beer! You may wake up the next morning still so enthused by the idea that you start thinking about diet and exercise plans, already envisioning yourself in the cute new clothes you're going to buy. But somewhere down the road you struggle. Maybe just a little bit. But enough to discourage you. Before you know it, your goal is lost, either ignored by you purposefully so you're not riddled with daily guilt, or you continue to make some efforts throughout the year but decide all in all it probably won't work out and you let yourself go, generally push it aside, figuring "it'll happen some day". We set ourselves up for failure and feelings of inadequacy, incompetency. The weight loss thing is just an example, but it's got to be one of the most common goals. I swear, everyone has the same 10 resolutions. In general, resolutions can all be classified in one of two ways: it's always losing a negative: quitting/dropping/cutting something (smoking/weight/spending or some other personal vice) and/or adding a positive: doing/finding/enjoying something (volunteering/new hobby/more family time)... something specific to help you live a happier, healthier, more fulfilled life. Problem with these goals is that they're not necessarily measurable and therefore not as easily achieved. (Touch of optimism and hope coming up...) You need something where you can develop specific, relevant, mini-goals along the way. Mini-goals that serve as a constant reminder throughout the year and a whole lot of commitment is your best bet. Even then though, not always gonna happen. (Fully back to pessimism...) Let's face it, 88 to 97% of New Years resolution-ers fail in their attempts. (Confession: I typed revoltuion-ers first instead of resolution-ers. Join the revolution and make a resolution! .... sorry) Anyways, that 88 to 97% failure thing? Known fact. Believe me, I research my statistics. And yet the majority of the U.S. looks at each new year and says I'm going to make this the best year of my life. Things will be different! ... Probably not.

Part II: Optimism
Well I'll be honest... I did have one clear pessimistic view and one clear optimistic view on the matter, but as I wrote the pessimistic section the optimistic view kind of died in me. I'll see if I can revive it here. (Another "I'll be honest" comment, I originally labeled this section "Optimistism" and I over-looked my error after several read-backs. Caught it eventually though. Obviously.) Here comes my attempt at optimism. I find it kind of sad that most people only take this one time each year to set goals for themselves. Shouldn't we be on a constant journey of finding a better, happier, healthier life for ourselves? Why wait until the beginning of a new year to decide it's time to change? If you're not happy about something, change it now! I'm constantly looking for ways to make my life happier and to become a better person. In 2009 I made a couple of big moves in an attempt to be happier. (Realized during my 2009 reflection period) And you know what, it made me join the crowd of people I criticized in the pessimistic section.... I think 2010 will be a great year for me! I don't think it will be a great year because of all the new, great goals I have for 2010 that I hope to achieve; I think it will be a great year because of the changes made in 2009 that have set me up for a happier future. I don't set specific goals regularly. (Touch of pessimism, devoid of hope coming up...) I really do think set goals, more often than not, just lead to failure. But it doesn't mean I'm not hopeful. If I desire a change and I see the opportunity, I listen to my instinct and make it happen. (Don't worry, back to optimism...) Best part about this way of thinking? Without set goals, you can't fail. There are no deadlines you have to worry about not making. You live life as it comes and take opportunities as they come. It's a way to seek out happiness and avoid stress. If it's something you really want in your life and you're committed to the change, you will make it happen whether you define it as a goal or not.


Now with all this back and forth-ness I think I've confused myself on what I really believe. First it was equally both thoughts... then entirely pessimistic and now that I've finished the optimism section I'm feeling oddly light-hearted and joyful on the matter. Why not... let's go out with some optimism! Every year is a new beginning yes, but so is everyday. You only live once. Don't wait a year to attempt a change you can begin today.

God, I'm so cliche.

You know how if you're reading a book you start to develop an image of the characters in your mind? Similarly, you know how if you talk to someone a lot over the phone, but you've never met them you also end up creating an image in your head of what they look like? (I'm thinking like a work contact rather than some strange "phone pen-pal" type of scenario. Hmm... phone pen pal... a situation where there's no pen involved... a pen is the instrument used to write a letter to a pen pal and in this case it's your voice that's the instrument to convey a message to this not-known-in-person friend... would it be called a voice pal? Anyways... pointless tangent, I know. It's how my mind works.) So, as I was saying, you create these images in your head of what these characters or people "should" look like. Usually it's completely unintentional... it's just the imagination at work, giving you an image to associate with these people- whether they're fictitious or actual living humans. So you have these pre-conceived images and then what happens? A movie comes out and suddenly the characters don't look like you envisioned them. Or you meet the mystery phone person and are can't help but think "that's not who I've been talking to. Who I've been talking to looks nothing like that" because you can't get the previous image of "what they look like" out of your head.

It takes awhile for me for the character (read, not-real-human) thing to latch on and for the actor playing the part to become the main image I associate with the character, rather than what I came up with in my head beforehand. Like Harry Potter was still a cartoon image in my head (an image, I'll admit, that was initially aided by the illustrations on the front covers and beginnings of each chapter in the books) until book 5 when while I was reading I realized I was imaging Daniel Radcliffe instead. (Side note... at first I wrote that as Danielle Radcliffe and I had to stare at it for a solid 3 minutes before I realized why it looked wrong. End side note.) And, I had just gotten used to the image of Dumbledore being the actor from the first two movies when the new actor stepped in (for legitimate reasons) and my mind's image of the character was completely confused. I have those moments when I see a movie version of a book and just think the actor is completely wrong compared to what I imagined. For example, Confessions of a Shopaholic. I've always loved the book series. I had created an image of the character from reading the books. I even used to imagine to myself, if it were to become a movie, who should play Rebecca Bloomwood (later Brandon). Shortly after picking the ideal actress I began to only envision Kristin Davis (of Sex and the City) whenever I was reading, instead of the original image I had of the funny woman obsessed with shopping. When the movie DID come out I struggled so much with the fact that it was a redhead, first of all, then with the fact that it was not Kristin Davis. I couldn't get into it. Then there's the reverse type of scenario where I see a movie first and then read the books... so the image of the characters is already in my head as being the set of actors. In this case I can't help but wonder what my mind would have created for the characters if I had no set image in my head already of what they look like from the movies. Prime case of this for me is Lord of the Rings. I'm reading the books now for the first time and while I hadn't seen the movies beforehand, they were a big enough hit when they came out that I had already developed images of the characters from previews and promotions and such. So when I began reading Frodo automatically became Elijah Wood. I think it's funny the process our minds go through in re-creating image associations. For me it takes awhile for things to switch over from what I originally imagined to what is shown to me as "the actual character", aka the actor representing the character. Is it kind of related to the old question of how many times it takes to meet someone before an initial reaction can be changed? ... Except in this case it's how many exposures to or how much time it takes before an initial image associated with a character can change to what's being presented to you.... I guess it's not really related at all, but I thought they might be some type of similarity to draw there. Just ignore me.

So it's all fine with the land of make believe and re-imagining characters. But when it comes to real people I guess I thought it would be different. In reality, it's much harder for me to switch over these images when they pertain to real people when I would think it should be easier. For example, at my job there are several people I work with over the phone on a regular basis. I'm talking I've heard their voice daily for the past year and a half. I have developed images of each of these people. I don't purposefully create an image... it just happens. Sometimes, I eventually meet some of them. If they don't look like what I have envisioned (and come on, what's the likelihood that my imagination is that good? If they look like what I've envisioned I would start calling myself clairvoyant) and... what was I saying? Oh, right. So, if they don't look like what I have envisioned I am, well... I'm not completely thrown off, because I never really expected them to look like I had pictured, but I have a hard time after the initial meeting re-creating my image of what they look like. Lots of times, when I picture them afterward I still picture my old image rather than what they actually look like. I would think that once I've met the real person the old image, that was really based off of nothing but voice and perceptions on personality, would disappear and be replaced by what they actually look like. But no! Of course, the more often I see the actual person the more likely the image is to be replaced. But, for example... there's a couple of people I work with regularly over the phone and since I began at this job almost two years ago I've met them in person twice now... each time a year apart. The second time I met them it hit me that even though I had seen them before, for the past year I was still picturing them the way my mind initially did... I was picturing these "characters" of what they "should look like" and they weren't replaced yet by the images of what they actually looked like. As I result I was slightly awkward during the second, year later encounter, as I tried to subtly yet intently study their features so their faces would be ingrained in my mind and hopefully overtake what my imagination decided these people look like.

Another similar type of scenario is when you see pictures of someone before you meet them... in this case I don't have a hard time "re-adjusting" my images of people, but I'm completely thrown off by it if they don't look like their pictures or they don't act like how I thought they would based on their pictures. I've talked to some people online before meeting them and more often than not, gotten a general idea of what they look like from pictures (actually, it's more likely to be the case that I didn't talk to them before meeting them, I just "know what they look like" from pictures before meeting them... the wonders of facebook and some pre-encounter borderline-stalking... don't judge me, we all do it). So even though the pictures are, obviously, pictures of these people, you don't ever really have a clear image of what someone looks like until you meet them face to face. But I see these pictures and get an image in my head of what they look like. Then when I meet them I'm slightly thrown off if they don't look JUST like they did in their picture. Something seems off. It bothers me. This is arguably one of my most random blogs, and I'm pretty random. I also feel as though I just rambled on about nothing for the past x amount of words. Probably reads that way too. It's okay, I'll still click "publish post" and let the rest of you read it.

About once a month I allow myself a therapeutic cry. Well, I shouldn't say allow... it makes it sound like I limit myself to a certain number of crying experiences but that I hold back the rest of the time. I'm not one to cry much in front of others, but I allow myself to cry openly when alone. I see no point in holding back tears and sometimes will even encourage a good cry when it's been a while. I'm not entirely sure if it's because I think I'll feel better afterward (even if I wasn't all that sad to begin with), or if it's that I find the experience itself to be sort of the prime form of introspection... with the tears comes an outflow of emotion that surfaces thoughts that may have been locked deep inside my subconscious. It's almost a spiritual experience for me, though perhaps not in the sense one may typically think when they think of something as being spiritual. It's just a form of expression...

Every form of expression is in essence therapeutic. Why does anyone speak, write or create to express themselves? It's about forming and sharing opinions and feelings. We all feel better when they're let out in some fashion. Isn't the experience when crying similar to this? Whether crying alone or with a friend, in silence or while talking, the thoughts that come up during the process are a sort of therapy through expression.

A lot of the time, for me, I'll start crying and not know why. I honestly would not be able to tell you where the tears came from or what made them start. On the surface I'll blame it on past depression. But if I allow the crying to continue and don't wave it off as "some silly, no-reason tears" I get into a very self-reflective mode, thinking about my life... where it is, where it's been, where it's going. Sometimes I still can't explain the tears, which may make me cry harder. Eventually I hit a peak and shortly thereafter I calm down considerably, with a new sense of calm and collectiveness (and connectedness). Sometimes a headache. But always the feeling that I just went through a sort of cleansing. The key is to never tell myself "time to stop crying"... instead, I try to draw it out as long as possible, until I have no tears left that I want to cry. Then I feel better.

Of course, the tears don't always come out of nowhere. Sometimes it is the self-reflection that comes first and warrants the tears. Or something happens that makes me cry. It's at these times that I realize the power we have as individuals to make ourselves feel better. It's a process, yes. But the therapy for me doesn't come in the tears alone, but in the thoughts that come with the tears. Things are put into perspective. I am always able to convince myself that while things at the moment may not be okay, what is happening is for the best, and will shape who I become and the course my life takes. As much as I may not want or like things that happen, I can come to terms with the fact that they still may be the right thing or what I need, either to teach me something, to help me grow, or to make me happier in the long run. And I find it important to always take a step back and think how blessed I am and how in comparison, my troubles are so minor compared to what other's experience. And at the same time I have to tell myself that despite this realization, it's still okay to be upset and concerned about what I'm going through.

If there's one thing I've learned in my still short life it's that everyone has it the worst. No one person's sufferings are worse than another. Or at least you can't think of it that way. We can't discredit someone's pain by saying their problems aren't too bad. We don't know what they're experiencing. Think about those teenagers who commit suicide and seem to have the perfect life... where nothing on the surface is wrong. Growing up I went through a phase when I was experiencing something particularly difficult for me. I was convinced that no one else in the world could understand the pain I felt. I had it worse than everyone else. Anything others tried to say about their bad experiences in attempt to comfort me only made me hate them for thinking their pain could compare to mine. No matter what, their lives were perfect in comparison. Since then I've seen far worse things happen to other people than what I experienced at the time. And I've seen other's suffer seemingly worse for things I would deem far less extreme than what I went through. I find it important to always think about this to put things in perspective. I don't want to ever discredit others' emotions, so I do not allow myself to discredit my own. I'm comforted when I think that yes, other's have it worse than me, so I am grateful for what I do have, but that it's okay to still feel my pain, with no feelings of guilt.

If you can guess, this blog came after one of these "therapeutic cries"... hence the 5:00 a.m. posting time. The blog itself is a further therapeutic step, as it too is just another form of expression, as much for myself as anyone else. Yes, it's nice to have others to turn to when things don't go your way, but I've never been one to discredit the value of a night of self-reflection, and a good cry to realize that things are going to be okay.

Quite often I find myself intrigued by commonplace things. Usually, these thoughts begin with "Whoever thought it would be a good idea to..." and finish in any of a wide variety of ways. Almost anything can follow that "..." (still don't know the name of those dot dot dots). Usually there's a relatively practical or historical answer, but I'm intrigued nevertheless. For example, who ever thought it would be a good idea to make movies? How did they know people would want to gather around a screen to watch some made up story? Certainly it stems from a history of live theatre but even that... who decided to write these things called plays and perform them in front of a group of people? Does that stem from storytelling? Does it all stem from playing make believe as a child? I could occupy myself for hours thinking about this and researching it all, usually still left unsatisfied with the answers I find. And movies is a rather explicable one. Take instead something like bubblegum. Who thought it would be a good idea to make something that you chew and chew and don't swallow and it never (slash in-reality-just-takes-a-long-time-to-before-it-gets-grainy-and-gross) dissolves? Expand that out to all types of food... who decided to throw plant like things in water, watch what happens and call it tea? Or drink the white liquid that comes out of a cow's udder? Moving away from food, who decided it would be a good idea to stand up on a piece of wood on the ocean, wait for a wave and call it surfing? Who decided the standard way to earn money would be by going somewhere and working 9-5 on everyday but Saturday and Sunday? Pretty much any human invention, activity, or societal norm can be inserted after "whoever decided it would be a good idea to..." and form an interesting thought.

One that always gets me, and which I'll exclaim to a friend or family member usually every other month or so out of a sheer disbelief that is renewed whenever I really think about it, is the concept of pets. Yes, around the third week of every month containing 31 days (rough time estimate), if you were to sit in the living room with my family's animals, myself and my family, you would hear me say, "Do you believe we invite these animals to live in our home?!". Yes, I get the companionship and all and I am a big pet person. But the idea of this amazes me! Who on earth decided it would be a good idea to take wild animals (because all animals were once wild) and let them live in our homes... pay to feed them, clean up after them, and when medical advancements were achieved, pay for doctor's visits? I'm sure it all started with keeping animals for functional purposes... dogs for herding & hunting, cats for killing mice and unwanted pests, and over time these animals "mutated" enough or were selectively bred and had enough human interaction from a young age to not only see humans as a beneficent creatures, but also as surrogate parents. Their behavior literally mutated... the process of domestication. Afterall, weren't dogs once foxes or something? And who on earth would invite a fox into their home now? Like I said before, as with all my "whoever thought"s there's almost always an explanation seeping in history and a hefty dose of logic. But if I think about it on the surface it still amazes me... we let animals live in our homes! The idea that we took these wild animals and said here, live with me blows me away. You must have some equivalent to this... something rather ordinary that makes you laugh to think about.... or am I really just more curious slash odd?

This is reminding me of a blog from freshman or sophomore year about my future imaginary book entitled something along the lines of "Random Things You Never Really Wondered About, But Now You Will"... topics included things such as what happens to you during a heart transplant because you temporarily don't have a beating heart, where do gerbils come from since you never see them in the wild, and a twist on the classic "why is there a different # of hotdogs than buns in packages?" with why are toothbrush holders too small to hold toothbrushes?

Next time you're bored, play my "whoever thought it would be a good idea to..." game and if you have any level of curiosity or a bizarre sense of humor I guarantee you will be kept occupied, by your silent self, for a while. And fairly entertained at that. Then, you can bring up your silent amusing thoughts to others and watch as they stare at you, dumbfounded, wondering why you think about these things. It's a fun rainy day activity.

So, I was thinking about music. Music styles, music formats. Taste in music. How it's all changed throughout my life. I can pretty much go through the timeline of my musical preferences and think of the music format I listened to, the style of music and how old I was. They're all grouped together. I'm sure it's no surprise that my early life began with cassette tapes, but I also had records. Not just parental hand-me down records, records were bought for me. Thinking back, I'm kind of surprised they still sold them new. It would be like buying a VHS nowadays.

Anyways, my cassette tape/record stage consisted of primarily "kiddie non-music" related, some music related geared for kids stuff, musicals and oldies. There are certain tapes I remember treasuring... one was my "Trisha tape"... one of those things you buy for babies to help them learn their name. In my case it got recycled past toddler years because I thought it was so cool to hear my name in all these songs. One side was for night time and the other side for morning. And all the songs were for me! "Goodnight, Trisha. Time to close your eyes, Trisha" and "Wake up, put a smile on your face Trisha!" I loved that tape. I also remember one of those tapes that accompanied an activity book... I was OBSESSED with it. Just as an example, you'd be doing a maze with a camping theme and they'd sing "We're going on a bear hunt" and tell a scary story that ends with you getting out of the maze safe and sound. I listened to the thing without the activity book all the time. Another favorite was Mary-Kate and Ashley's "I am the Cute One". Who doesn't love to dance to Broccoli and Chocolate or act out Don't Let Your Mom Go Shopping? What girl from my generation didn't fast-forward through My Horse and Me and the spoken word skits? I also had a tape that my parents had custom ordered for me... which I thought was the coolest thing in the world. It was a mix tape that was much cooler than just taping things off the radio because it had the song names printed on the tape and the tape was labeled "Trisha's Music" or something equally as standard and non-creative, but still incredibly exciting to a child because it mentions their name. It had my random oldie favorites like beach boys, chantilly lace, itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini, yakety yak, love shack, girls just wanna have fun etc. as well as some songs from musicals. This was the only music I knew to exist when I was younger. My favorite record was the Chipmunks Christmas album, but there were others, including a Strawberry Shortcake record.

I remember the first time I really realized there was other music besides oldies and musicals (and well, kid songs). I was in fourth grade and my cousin got a CD for Christmas... TLC's Crazy Sexy Cool. First of all, the fact that it was a CD was a HUGE deal to me... not many people I knew had CD players yet. I remember being shocked that he listened to this "modern music" (he was 3 years younger than me). I thought everyone listened to the type of music I did. Except for musicals, I knew not everyone listened to those. But the oldies... the groups from the 50s and 60s and the rock from the 70s and 80s. I didn't listen to a "top hits" station until 6th grade. This was also when I got my first CD, Sister Hazel, as a gift, and had to then go purchase a CD player to play it on. Thus ended the cassette tape phase of my music listening, and the oldies.

I did everything as a young teenager to feel like I fit in, as most teenagers experience at some point, to some degree. I stopped listening to my old tapes and the oldies stations, switching over to KC-101 and Kiss 95.7 and asking for the coolest new CDs. This was the teeny-bopper stage. Cassette tapes were oldies, CDs belonged to the bubblegum pop world. I followed all of the female solo girls (of which there were 4: Britney, Christina, Jessica & Mandy) and all of the boybands (mainly 3: N'Sync, Backstreet & 98 Degrees). I was OBSESSED with Christina... wore a belly-shirt to her concert to mimic Genie in a Bottle, clipped out every image of her I could find, and bought multiple versions of the same CD because each one was issued in a different country and like, a song name might be spelled differently. I bought anything fun and bubbly sounding (B*Witched anyone?). M2M was as non-mainstream as I got. And I thought they were so indie and I was so unique for finding such an awesome, different sounding group. I listen now and it's just as standard pop-ish as the rest of the music was then. I tried to watch MTV around this time too but no matter how much I wanted to like it, I couldn't get into it.

Then, there was this new fangled thing called the Internet. And with the Internet came digital music. You didn't buy CDs anymore. You downloaded them. Uploaded to an ipod. I didn't get an ipod until about 3 years ago, and even still, it's a baby ipod. A shuffle. I have yet to own a normal one. Too expensive. But you can bet I was still downloading music before I got an ipod. And with the digital music out went most of the pop-current hit listening. I'll still listen to the top-hit stations but I don't follow the current artists or buy their new cds. My taste in music changed yet again. During my older teenage years it transformed slightly from traditional sunny fun pop to more acoustic, emo-ish alternative pop. Like, I was a huge Dashboard fan, years before they became mainstream. During college years it changed yet again to a more quirky, bizarre, "anything new and different" type of sound... suddenly I'm listening to gothic cabaret, indie folk with a twinge of jazz, classical inspired electronic, bands that are as likely to play toy pianos, typewriters and wooden crates as violins or trumpets. Little artists no one has heard of. Found with the assistance of pandora.com, cdbaby, and "Other people who bought this item also looked at" lists from Amazon.

Besides this progression from records and cassettes with oldies, to CDs with pop, to digital music venturing into the indie and bizarre, I also have a recent addition of associating classical with radio. I've never been a classical music person. I avidly avoided any radio stations below the 95.7 mark... which ventured into country and classical land. But lately I've turned to these classical stations when driving home late at night. It's relaxing and refreshing to hear things that are always new to me (rather than the same 12 songs repeated over and over on other stations). It has a calming effect. Classical music always reminded me of Barnes & Noble, where it always seems to be playing in the background. (Do you ever associate types of music with certain places also or is it just me? Classical belongs to Barnes & Noble. Jazz belongs to Starbucks. Easy listening of the early 90s belongs to my old Orthodontists...)

I think it's kind of amusing that with the advances in technology and each new music format that comes out I associate each with a different genre of music based on my changing preferences. And it's strange to think this may continue throughout my life... with a change in music preference will come a new music format... though I can't imagine what more can be done besides digital music and ipods... though I'm sure people once said that about Atari for gaming systems also.

So, tomorrow is Halloween. A day (well, evening) where children frolic about in overpriced costumes that get worn for a couple of hours and then shoved into the attic "for the memories". A day (well, evening) where it's okay to take things from strangers, despite constant parental reminders the other 364 days of the year to never talk to strangers, never mind accept candy from them (a stereotypical lure used by kidnappers), never mind actually EAT it (we check for pins in the chocolate first, so it's okay). A day (well, evening) where highschoolers race from door to door in their "I'm going as a teenager" costumes for the males, and for the females, their skimpy, sex-ified outfits under the pretense of being some type of "cute" animal or celebrity (despite the freezing temperatures). They beg for candy, knowing fully well they're a bit too old to be playing this game anymore and that the homeowners of where they're trick-or-treating really only want to see little children in their get ups, but they ignore these things... not because they don't want to grow up, but because, well, free candy is a good thing.

Halloween may seem like one of those holidays that's created by candy companies, but it's actually one of the world's oldest holidays. It's kind of remarkable to go through the history of Halloween and see how much it has changed over time, and how it's celebrated across the world. We think of it now as such a commercialized thing. Don't get me wrong, it definitely is, but it's roots are a far cry from the roots of say Valentine's day or mother's day. Just about everyone knows Halloween has something to do with old beliefs that spirits can come back this one night of the year. The story is part of the fun and tradition of Halloween today... ghost stories, graveyards, scary costumes, haunted houses and hayrides, horror movies... they're all associated. Now it's all fun and games but it's strange to actually think that way back when it was all taken very seriously. Family's ancestors were honored and invited home, including leaving plates of food for them at the dinner table, while harmful spirits were warded off by means of burning crops and animals in sacred bonfires as offerings to keep themselves protected. During the bonfires they wore costumes, typically animal heads and skins, to disguise themselves so evil spirits would mistake them as one of their own. I mean, this was serious stuff here. Sacrificing animals? They would also leave food on their doorsteps to appease evil spirits that roamed the streets that night. This could have contributed to the idea of trick-or-treating but it more likely stemmed from a tradition from a religious holiday, All Souls' Day-- November 2nd, where the poor would beg for food and families would give them pastries called "soul cakes" so long as they promised to pray for the family's dead relatives.

And somehow the non-secular and the secular joined together to make what is probably the most non-religious of all holidays. I mean, this is America, we're used to non-secular activites creeping into religious holidays... or, more like overtaking them. But Halloween isn't thought of as religious at all. And somehow it went from a day of celebration where people felt especially close to deceased loved ones (although it was also a day of sacrificing animals and burning valued crops), to a day of ghosts, pranks and witchcraft, to a holiday about bringing together the community in games, food and festivities, to a day where everyone gets free candy so long as they abide by the ever important rule of saying "trick or treat" after knocking on a stranger's door. You can see the connections between now and then (costumes, dead spirits, begging for food) but the 2000 year old road of changes still seem extreme.

I didn't intend this to be a Halloween history lesson. Alas, it has somehow turned into that. My apologies. Don't think I'm a walking encyclopedia on the topic of Halloween... merely curious, bored and an expert googler. I'm sitting here trying to think about my past halloween costumes. With the exception of costumes worn at college Halloween parties (cowgirl, 50's housewife, burglar) I honestly can not recall a single one. When I was younger I'm sure I obsessed over finding the perfect costume each year, and now I don't remember one of them. I'm even trying to think through the standard costume categories to see if some memory is ignited but I've got nothing. It's all a bit disappointing. Anyway, I think the concept of getting dressed up and running around your neighborhood for free candy is incredibly bizarre. I mean, really... take a step back... ignore the history lesson I just gave, ignore the fact that it's something you grew up with, and just think about it. We put on costumes. We ask people to give us candy, but it's not rude. We actually pick through their offerings to decide which we deem most worthy to be given to us. Again, not rude. We carve faces in pumpkins.

I'm just saying. We carve faces in pumpkins.

I'm giving in. Explanation of opening statement later... background info now.

For the past ten years I have been an avid Harry Potter fanatic. I've read the books at least 6 times each, have the three supplemental books J.K. Rowling wrote for charities (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Quidditch Through the Ages & Tales of Beedle the Bard), own multiple HP analysis/reference/opinion books, visited mugglenet.com probably 912,000 times, contributed to discussions slash sent in either opinion or critical essays 612,000 of those times and of course, own all the available movies and have watched them to the point of memorization. At one point I even started an encyclopedia study-guide type list of all Harry Potter facts I came across while reading. (It was never finished but I somehow doubt that makes me appear any less of an extremist). I satisfied my HP craving before the final book release by gobbling up the countless, highly inaccurate 900 page "leaked" versions of Deathly Hallows that were inconceivably written (and formatted to look authentic) by highly ambitious fanatics with way too much time on their hands, read the 800 word prequel (actually written by J.K. Rowling) within 20 minutes of its unannounced online release, and still seek out new essays and analysis of the stories and characters. I'm up to date on the development of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park, set to open this Spring... anyways, I think you get it. When I said I'm a fanatic I wasn't using the word lightly.

I firmly believe that anyone who picks up Harry Potter and gives it an honest shot will become hooked, no matter how much they claim to hate reading. I get highly defensive... I'm very protective of this phenomenon of a series. I largely credit it as the reason I'm a reader today, as I rarely picked up a book prior to Harry Potter out of a sheer desire to read. Well, (this is going to seem like a big jump of topic) when Lord of the Rings came around it was too much for me and my fifteen year-old self to bear. Yes, I know LOTR was published over forty years prior to Harry Potter, but I feel like its fanatascism with my generation wasn't really ignited until the movies came out... which was right around the time I had gotten into the Harry Potter series. I'll admit, I didn't jump on the Harry Potter bandwagon right away. I started reading the series after the third book was released... when there was enough hype to make me curious. Like I said, I wasn't a reader beforehand. Of course, I was instantly hooked. Two years later, the first LOTR movie comes out and critics and fans are PRAISING this thing. I had always thought of LOTR as one of those books that was only read by those weird, fantasy obsessed, dreams about dragons, plays Magic: The Gathering, quotes Star Wars daily type of nerds. Far from mainstream, more like a small cult following... like Rocky Horror fans or something. And all of a sudden, EVERYONE was talking about this movie, reading the series. I absolutely refused. The only series that deserved this level of hype and fandom was Harry Potter. I would not be involved in something that in any way competed. It became Harry Potter fans vs. Lord of the Ring fans. In my mind at least. A new craze fighting the rekindled fanatacism of 45 years earlier. I was proud to announce I hadn't seen the movies. Comfortable with the fact that I didn't know who Frodo was or "get it" when people started muttering "my precious" in an odd voice. Give me Harry Potter, ignore "that other fantasy series".

Like I said, I didn't understand the LOTR craze or think it deserved a moment's glory. I was shocked, therefore, in tenth grade to hear my english teacher, Dr. Liberman (who any Amity high schooler thinks of as the most brilliant, cultured academic to hit the entirety of New England, and often thought she should be a professor at Yale instead. Seriously, I know someone who has her listed as their religion on facebook) what was I saying??? Oh right, someone asked Dr. Liberman what her favorite book was. We all expected her to pause and consider from among the plethora of worthy novels she's read in her life, or rattle off a handful of titles, claiming each is respectable in its own right. The thing is, we were actually interested... like I said, she was like a literary God- hearing her answer would be like interviewing Charles Dickens' and getting his response. Well, there was no hesitation on her end. She instantly replied that Lord of the Rings is the best thing ever written and went into a detailed analysis of its literary goodies after stating how she sets aside a week of her winter vacation every year to re-read the trilogy. I was horrified. How could she think this? She didn't seem like a medieval sword loving, dreams about dragons type. Are the books actually something more than just your standard fantasy story blown into astronomical, unwarranted proportions by an obsessive America? I respected Dr. Liberman's opinion more than nearly anyone I knew, so I had to believe her. But I still refused to read. I didn't want to be swept up in anything but my Harry Potter. I was still angry by all of the attention Lord of the Rings was getting.

Fast forward nine years and I still haven't read it, still haven't seen the movies. I don't get quite as angry as I used to if Lord of the Rings is mentioned, though I will admit I get more satisfaction than I used to when I see people's shocked reactions upon hearing I haven't seen any of the movies. But another new series has also entered into the category of extreme fandom. This one, I'll admit I was completely unaware of until the movie came out last year. Of course, I'm talking about Twilight. I don't know if the release of the movie sparked people to read the series more or if they were reading all along and I was clueless, but my recognition of the Twilight craze started last year. Here was further competition. Competition that was harder to beat now that all of the Harry Potter books were released. I'm more grown-up now than I was at fifteen... arguable, I'll admit.... so, I was less "bothered" by the Twilight series than LOTR... I would just not read the books and that was that. No need to get angry or argue with fans. To each their own. Just let me have my Harry Potter and the rest of America can read whatever inferior series they desire.

Now, to my opening statement. I'm giving in. After all this time, all of this protesting and defending, I'm going to read Lord of the Rings as well as Twilight. Why now? Well, first off, I have this impossible goal to read all of the greatest books ever written, and see all of the greatest movies ever made. There are lots of definitions of the word greatest. In this context, in my mind, greatest books means the classics 90% of America can name off the top of their head, plus "current" best-sellers... anything that's become a recognizable name among those who frequent Borders or Barnes and Noble. Greatest movies means "the permanents" on imdb.com's ever changing list of top 250 movies. I have come to accept the fact that Lord of the Rings fits into both the book and the movie category, and sadly, Twilight fits into the book category as well. I'm being harsh, but really... if there's a good book out there, I want to read it. There's something to say about so many people loving these stories, so I'm giving them a try. Besides all that, I really have been curious since Dr. Liberman's announcement of her favorite book. I'll be honest, I'm expecting to enjoy Lord of the Rings... probably become an obsessive fan, years later than the rest of the world... at the very least, gain a respect for the trilogy. I can't really conceive of the fact that it is a bad series, despite secretly hoping that I in fact, end up hating it. Twilight though, I expect to hate. I have never enjoyed a single "love story" novel, no matter how many other genres they squeeze in there. That, coupled with the fact that it really is geared to teenage girls, and deals with vampires (no matter how re-invented they are), and the fact that many, many, many critics and writers have said the author can't write at all, leads me to believe I will not enjoy this series.... probably hate it... possibly, enjoy it as a guilty pleasure, though admitting to myself that it's really pretty bad... definitely not respect it.

So there we go... I'm letting go of my Harry Potter defensive ways just enough to give these other series a go, knowing that they could never replace Harry Potter and that Harry would still win in an imaginary battle between any of the Lord of the Ring characters or whatever evilness resides in the Twilight series. I'm sure I'll have updates. As for now, I need to muster up the determination to actually go GET the Lord of the Rings. I've made the decision to read it but picking up the book too soon might scare me off. Need to get comfortable with the idea first.

The other night I went bowling after a performance with friends who are also in the show. Besides thinking back to when I shamefully desired "bumpers" at age 14 but was too embarrassed to ask slash be seen playing with them, I found myself remembering how my dad glorified bowling alley french fries. Whenever we went bowling he would say "Have to get the french fries! Nothing compares to bowling alley fries" and as an adoring child I believed him whole-heartedly... that no other french fries in the world could compare to those found at your local AMF 30-laner. That was the other thing... it didn't matter what bowling alley it was: 10-pin or duckpin, 4 lanes or 50, national chain or hole-in-the-wall local, if they had a food bar (and they all do) and they had fries (and they all do) they would be phenomenal (and somehow they all are). I remembered his little tip: to always eat them with your left hand so your bowling hand didn't get greasy. I took these things as facts that I lived by... bowling alley fries are fantastic and when you get them, eat with your left hand. There was no arguing either of these. They were just true. To this day, I believe both... and while I'm not obsessive about only eating with my left hand, I still smile thinking back on this little tip that at the time I thought was a golden secret the rest of the world would only be so lucky to know. This got me thinking about other things from when I was younger.... things that I accepted as fact, and in some ways, lived by, in the appropriate situations (such as, when at a bowling alley)... things that intrigued me... that I found to be special in some way, even though when looking back they're at best simple and banal and at worst, illogical and idiotic. Allow me to divulge...

Let's start with one that's completely illogical but fairly saccharine. (Sorry for the formal word choice, it just came out.) One time when I was very young and sick with a stomach ache, my dad asked if I wanted him to rub my tummy (there's no grown up way of saying that). I told him no, that that never worked and it was a fake and stupid remedy that tried to convince your mind that it was like a medicine but really it did nothing (I was a clever, stubborn child who wasn't assuaged by the usual signs of parental love for a sick child). He told me that I must have been rubbing the wrong way. I was clever and stubborn, but also curious... what did he mean by the wrong way? He told me that if you go in circles in one direction you will feel better but if you go in circles in the other direction, you will actually feel worse. At the time he told me if it was clockwise or counterclockwise that did the healing. I don't remember which it was. This idea totally comforted me and I believed it 100% (how clever was I really?). My whole life I must have just been rubbing in the bad direction! What I now see as an obvious parental trick to get your child to feel better, at the time it was another secret tip-- one only my dad would know, and I felt lucky to receive this tiny speck of wisdom. In the future, whenever I got sick I would forget which direction was "the good one" and ultimately "remember" after my testing both directions and deciding that one felt infinitely better than the other. One time I remember I couldn't figure it out and I asked my mom which direction it was. She had no idea what I was talking about and told me it didn't matter how I did it. Obviously, my father hadn't clued her in on his cure for the stomach ache, or at least he didn't realize I would take it so seriously. While this should have been a sign that his medicinal rule was in fact made-up, instead it made me smile that my mother didn't know.... it was mine and my dad's secret... a tidbit of information so special that he didn't even tell it to her.

Here's another one that stems from an anecdote of my fourth-grade teacher. Fourth grade was the year you were forced to write in cursive for every assignment turned in. By fifth grade it was pretty much your choice, but in fourth grade, if you handed something in with printing, you had to redo it. An attempt to force us to be comfortable with script. Well, telling any fourth grader they HAVE to do something typically leads to complaining, or at least quiet resentment. To us 9 year olds, who had been writing in printing for our whole lives, an entire 3 and 1/2 years, cursive was the most unneccesary, complicated, useless thing to learn. Who cares if you can write words without lifting up your pencil (which is the reason every teacher gave as the benefit of learning cursive). It saves, what... point-oh-nine seconds? While I was an incredibly respectful child who NEVER questioned authority (and teachers were the highest authority of all), in my most secret thoughts I too decided that the minute I didn't have to, I would never write in cursive again. That is, until my 4th grade teacher shared this story... one day when my fellow classmates were, once again, complaining and questioning the reasoning behind having to write in script, she told us how she received a letter a few years back from an old student of hers and she was in complete shock when she saw that it was in printing and not cursive. She smiled in a knowing way and promised us that we will all eventually see that cursive is so much easier... it saves time and your hands never cramp, and that this letter she received surprised her so much because every adult she knows writes in cursive, except this ex-student of hers. While this was essentially a re-hashing of the "cursive is more efficient & easier to do" speech, this story fascinated me. I believed at that moment that every adult wrote in cursive and decided that this would be my own way of realizing when I'm an adult... when I prefer script to printing. I would be mature and grown-up the day I agreed with her and thought that cursive is easier and printing is a waste. Completely ridiculous, but it's what I thought. When fifth grade approached and I was allowed to actually choose between script or printing, I still went back to printing. Why? Because it was part of the process. At that moment in my fifth-grade life, I thought printing was better. I hadn't reached my stage of penmanship enlightenment yet. And that was okay with me. For the record, I never switched over to primarily writing in script. I don't feel guilty or immature. Part of me sometimes fantasizes about writing her a letter in printing, and picturing her being horrified.

Another school related one comes from gym class... my worst enemy. I was that child who hated gym. Who wore dresses on gym days in hopes of being told to sit out of the activity. I enjoyed two things and two things alone: rope climbing days (because it's fun to see a rope dangling from the ceiling) and the Connecticut physical fitness tests (because I liked to be better than everyone else). While not competitive in sports or organized games, I was highly competitive when it came to dance and schoolwork. Included in schoolwork is all forms of tests, and I wanted to be the best at the physical fitness tests. There were the passing marks and then the "challenge marks", for those of superior childhood health. Merely passing would not make me happy. Merely achieving the challenge goals would not make me happy. I had to surpass the challenge marks by at least 5 for things scored numerically (sit-ups, push-ups and chin-ups), come in 20 seconds under the challenge mile time, and be the very best of my entire grade at the sit-and-reach. If any of those were not achieved then I failed. We were practicing our mile runs in preparation for the test and I was only barely making the challenge time during these classes. While I was praised by the gym teacher, who normally saw me as the girl purposefully ignoring the games and putting in zero effort, I knew that my times would not do. Once, he said to the class how the most important thing in running is to establish a breathing pattern and that he always did "out-out-in-in" in short breaths while he ran. He credited this as the reason he was able to run fast and not get very tired. That was it. The key to my success. From there on out I wouldn't even walk in the hallways without breathing out-out-in-in. I once overheard a friend tell another classmate that her dad ran every morning and that he didn't breathe that way and that the gym teacher's method was wrong, it would hurt your time and is bad for your body. Again, I rolled my eyes at her inferior sense of judgement. Obviously, the gym teacher was right and if she chose not to take his tip then it's just another person I would outrun. I ended up reaching all of my physical fitness goals, and finished behind only one boy in my class in the mile that year. I KNEW it was because of my breathing.

Here's another one, somewhat related. Like I said, I was very competitive in dance, though very quietly so. I secretly wanted to move up in the company levels faster than everyone else. I wanted to have the highest kicks. I wanted to be front and center all the time. I wanted to be thought of as the best in the class. One thing that destroyed my self-esteem in dance for the longest time (aka until fifth-grade) was that I couldn't do a split. For me, who strove to be better than everyone else (at least I'll admit it), to be the highest off the ground in my class when we practiced our splits was absolutely mortifying. I'd go home and cry afterward, sure that all the other girls were laughing at me and how I was so bad at them. Once, my teacher saw me get teary eyed (which by fifth grade, yes you're still young, but not young enough anymore that it's commonplace to cry in a group of people when you're frustrated or embarrassed). It was on a parent observation day and I was so embarrassed by my splits and that my mother, and all the other parents, had to see them compared to everyone else's. The teacher came up to my mother after class and reassured her that I would eventually be able to do a split. She said it to my mother as if I weren't there but knowing that I was listening in... I think it was an attempt to save me from further embarrassment by not directly addressing me about it. She told her that all I had to do was straighten my back leg and eventually I'd be able to get all the way down. I had never heard this straighten the back leg rule before. I went home and immediately began practicing splits with a straight back leg. In class I'd still bend the back leg because it gave the appearance of being lower to the ground... when both legs were straight I was waaaaay too high off the ground for me to deem it acceptable for others to see. I felt like my teacher let this little rule slip just to me because she liked me the most of all the girls and wanted me to do well (I was a self-centered and insecure little child who, despite severe social anxiety and shyness, craved praise and admiration). A year or two later I had my splits all the way down and had progressed to doing beyond-splits (absolutely awful for your body, but impressive when you can go past 180 degrees). I became one of "the more flexible girls" and mentally thanked my teacher for giving me this secret piece of fail-proof advice. It was like I was given the gift of a piece of magic. This straight back leg rule makes complete sense physiologically but at the time it was something I obsessed over and thought no one else knew.

In summary I was an overly, overly conscientious and egocentric child.