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Is this what being patriotic is like?

by on April 19, 2012, in around town, jump aboard the crazy train, photography

Is this what being patriotic is like?

I was shopping at Target the other day (for, like, the third time in a week—don’t judge) and stopped by their soft t-shirt section (Ian and I are obsessed with soft t-shirts and will wear no others) and saw the one pictured above. (Also: how many sets of parentheses are allowed in one sentence?)

I knew it was related to a comic book character because the tag screamed MARVEL COMICS, but I had to Google to make sure that it was, indeed, Captain America. And here’s where I got weird. Despite the fact that it was the softest soft t-shirt I’d felt, and despite the fact that the star reminded me of the stars on Tennessee’s state flag, I considered not buying it because I was afraid it would look “too patriotic.”

Because lately it seems that the only people who wear “‘merica, fuck yeah!” shirts are assholes who think gays shouldn’t be able to marry, women shouldn’t be able to receive reproductive health benefits with their insurance (despite the fact that Viagra and other boner pills continue to be covered with no qualms) or have any kind of control over their bodies, and we should punish poor people and make life increasingly difficult for immigrants.

So I sat there in Target for a good five minutes trying to decide if I should buy this $10 t-shirt that I really liked, design- and material-wise, because I was afraid that people who wouldn’t recognize the emblem as that of a comic book character would think I was one of “them.” Either with them or against them—I didn’t want to be mistaken for that kind of person. That kind of patriot.

And then, it struck me: I am more worried about being mistaken for a proud American, because of what that means now, than as a comic book nerd.

In the end, I bought the shirt for three reasons:

  1. It was really, really soft. And as a nerd, I generally like to support other means of nerdery, even if I’m not into comics.
  2. I don’t give a shit what people think about me. Well, I try like it’s my job to not care, but I’m human so I fail at this occasionally. But really, none of us should care how perfect strangers perceive us, especially those who would judge someone based on a t-shirt.
  3. I don’t want “patriot” to mean “person who wears American flag paraphernalia to show that he/she hates everyone who is not a middle-aged, white, straight Christian.” So I am going to wear this shirt and love gays, abortion rights and birth control pills. And while we’re at it, I’ll also wear this shirt in support of immigrants, welfare and atheists. Because what’s more American than challenging the opinions of the loud-mouthed majority around you, right?

Ha, but you know what’s really going to happen? Nobody is going to notice or give a god damn about the shirt, because in the end it’s just a t-shirt. And it doesn’t matter.

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Day-parking at Bonnaroo

by on March 28, 2012, in around town, life etc.

I rarely pander to an audience, but I can see that a lot of people have been finding my blog lately by searching for some variation of “Bonnaroo day parking.”

So in the interest of helping my fellow Bonnaroo-goers out, let me tell you about day-parking: It is awesome.

More to the point, if you aren’t big on camping in the middle of a giant field with no tree cover for three to four days and live relatively close (or are thinking of getting a hotel reservation nearby), the day-parking situation is fucking great.

I live about 20-30 minutes from Bonnaroo (depending on traffic—driving in from Murfreesboro is generally busier than leaving), and day-parking last year was the best decision I made besides choosing to eat the gourmet pizza every day. I love camping, but I do not love camping in the blazing heat for several days with no shower or refuge from the sun. My sister and I drove in and out every day, and it was great.

Depending on how early you get in, you will have about a mile to a mile-and-a-half walk from day-parking to the entrance of Bonnaroo. It’s really not bad at all, but be prepared to not be able to just run out to your car quickly in case you forget something you wanted to bring in with you. I carried a Camelbak backpack with water, snacks and other supplies, and only once did I have to come back to the car (Emily and I got cold and went back for our hoodies later one night).

When you drive in the first day, tell the people who are checking your car for contraband (they will do this every day but it gets, ahem, more lax as the days go by) that you’re day-parking. They will tell you which way to go, and you’ll end up in a very large field where the parking volunteers will wave you into your parking spot. It’s probably a good idea to tie a helium-filled balloon to your car so that you can find it easily when you’re leaving later that night, because the field fills up with cars and you will be disoriented.

Day parking at Bonnaroo

The walk to Bonnaroo from day parking is lined with food and drink vendors, and you’ll pass by the car-campers, port-a-crappers and some first aid tents, too. The walk back to day-parking is well-lit at night, and I never felt concerned for my or my sister’s safety last year. I mean, be alert, of course, but you’re not going to be walking down a pitch-black gravel road for a mile.

Bottom line: If you’re considering day-parking because you live or will be staying close by and value cleanliness and air-conditioning, go for it.

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Taken March 19 at 5:30 p.m. in Nashville

by on March 20, 2012, in around town, life etc., photography, Project365

Taken March 19 at 5:30 p.m. in Nashville

I don’t even want to think about what summer will bring.

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Do we live in a police state now?

by on October 30, 2011, in around town, news/politics

I hadn’t formed a full-fledged opinion on the Occupy[ ] protests yet, but when I learned that Tennessee Gov. Haslam ordered the Tennessee Highway Patrol to arrest the protesters—who were peaceably assembled and exercising their First Amendment right—I realized it didn’t matter what I thought. Because agree or disagree with the reason, they have the right to protest. But apparently our governor decided to squash that right—which should concern any resident of Tennessee, no matter what your political or economic stance is.

As usual, Aunt B. explains it better than I ever could:

I want to say that, when you live in a state where they make up “laws” on the fly AND wait until the middle of the night to arrest people for violating those made-up on the fly laws so that their actions remain hidden from citizens, when they wait until the middle of the night to arrest people AND they arrest journalists so that your ability to learn about what happened is curtailed, it’s sobering.

(Emphasis mine.)

It’s also telling that after two nights of arrests, and two nights of the night court judge releasing those arrested because they were brought in under a newly created law that he deemed unconstitutional, last night there were no more arrests. So did someone finally bring Haslam a copy of the constitution? Did he realize that arresting people under the guise of “it’s for their own safety!” was bullshit and victim-blaming at its finest? Did the THP buck their orders and refuse to arrest people that weren’t breaking any actual law?

I’m interested in how this will play out. Our state has had its fair share of PR nightmares lately thanks to some small-minded racists. I wonder if we’ll make The Daily Show for our leader attempting to take away our First Amendment rights? I hope so. Because I think it’s going to take more than local dissent for Haslam to get what he’s doing is wrong.

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Tear down what is old when it’s not pretty anymore

by on August 19, 2011, in around town, past lives, photography

Tear down what is old when its not pretty anymore

Destruction of any sort, whether it’s planned or not, always leaves me feeling a bit unsettled. So when I went to the doctor the other day and saw that the building(s) that housed Middle Tennessee Medical Center from 1927 until October 2010 is being demolished, I was jarred.

I worked in this hospital from Sept. 2003 until Dec. 2005, both on the clinical side (pharmacy tech) and the administrative side (marketing coordinator). I have a lot of great memories of this place—it was a really good job and the people were awesome. Very community-oriented, warm and friendly. I learned so much from both of my jobs there, and I know that if it weren’t for all that I got to do in my marketing gig there I wouldn’t have moved on to the other great jobs I’ve held (and continue to hold) since then.

This picture is showing the part of the hospital just to the left of the ER entrance. I believe the second floor that you see there is part of 2C. I could see a sign hanging in the hallway but because my eyesight sucks couldn’t tell what it said. I believe it said 2C, but I’m not sure. After so many years of cobbled-on additions to make room for more and more patients, it was certain that a new building was needed. This one was kind of a Franken-hospital, and even after spending years running through the halls and back-ways to deliver meds or give tours to visitors, I’d still get lost any time I had to go back.

But this place had character, especially the original wing. When I worked in marketing my office was in that original wing, in a revamped patient room. It was a little creepy knowing that people had undoubtedly died in my office at one time or another, but the room was HUGE and I had a giant closet. It was superb. The largest office I probably will ever have.

It’s sad to see it being dismantled like this. Not even dismantled—destroyed. Looking bombed-out. For some reason I thought the original building was on the historic register and didn’t think the city (or the hospital itself) could tear it down, but I guess not. A friend of mine says that they’re going to build a park here, so at least they’re not putting in another shitty apartment complex.

I wonder what will happen to this area now that the hospital is gone, though. Most of the doctors’ offices and other medical establishments are all moving over to Medical Center Parkway where the new hospital is. I wonder if there will be incentive to keep this part of town clean and vibrant?

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Internet killed the video star

by on August 14, 2011, in around town, past lives, video

The other day Ian and I got a text from a friend letting us know that Video Culture, a local independent video store, was closing this weekend. Now, the fact that a video store—especially a locally owned, non-chain one—was closing wasn’t a surprise. But for anyone who went to MTSU, at least in the mid- to late-90s and early 2000s, Video Culture was an integral part of the college experience.

The store they were closing down this weekend is the newer location, over off E. Main Street at Rutherford, but when I was at MTSU they were over by the Package Shop (later renamed the University Package Shop) on Tennessee Blvd. (now called Middle Tennessee Blvd—Jesus Christ, Murfreesboro, does anything stay the same?). When I lived on campus my freshman year of college, my roommate and I would walk over and rent movies, and when we moved to Nottingham Apartments our freshman year, we were there a lot (as well as the Package Shop, whenever we had someone with an ID to get us a handle or two of shitty booze).

When I was in grad school, I had to rent Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi and Video Culture was the only place locally that had multiple copies of all three. Like an asshole, I waited until the last minute each time I needed to rent each movie to complete my assignments. This was before Netflix, and Blockbuster and Hollywood Video sure as hell weren’t carrying anything that independent or interesting. Video Culture saved my ass each time.

They were the go-to place for cult classics, anime, funky stickers and movie posters. Oh, and porn. If you were of age, you could quietly turn the handle of the backroom door and find yourself in a small, non-ventilated room filled to the brim with skin flicks. (Or so I’ve heard, ahem.) When they were over on Tennessee Blvd, a women owned a store upstairs that she called a “gift thrift store,” but that I pretty clearly remember as a head shop. (A guy we talked to this weekend claims she didn’t sell pipes, though, so maybe she had all of the other accoutrements of a head shop except for the pipes, who knows).

A few years ago they moved out to the most recent location, the location that Ian and I visited on Saturday after drinking our lunch at Old Chicago, the location that’s taking the store to its grave. All of their inventory was severely discounted, including naughty titles that I could not stop laughing at. I mean, Womb Raider? The Witches of Breastwick? How do you get the job making up porn titles? Wait, I don’t want to know.

We picked over the shop’s remains, not really finding anything interesting until I noticed a pile of huge movie posters laying on the ground. We were about to leave when I off-handedly asked the guy at the counter if he had any X-Files posters. Remarkably, he remembered seeing one the day before and invited me to look through the pile. Ian and I rummaged for about five minutes when I noticed something that looked familiar.

It was the poster for The X-Files: I Want to Believe.

Holy shit. I had found it.

The poster was $1 or free with any movie purchase, and since we didn’t have any cash on us we gave the shop another run-through and came up with The Crying Game and all three Shafts. For $16. Definitely an awesome score, although I’m way more excited about finding the X-Files movie poster than the DVDs.

And despite not having set foot in Video Culture even once in the past five years, I’m pretty sad to see them go. It’s definitely the end of an era. “Progress,” the guy at the counter said.

I wonder what will come next. Can anything out there kill the internet?

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We’ll see how it goes

by on July 11, 2011, in around town, health, or something like it, life etc.

Today after work Ian & I joined a gym. We’d been talking about it for a while and had tried to go check out the one a block from our house last week, but it was so full there wasn’t even anywhere to park for a minute. At about 7:30 p.m.

So today we stopped by Gold’s Gym to see what it was all about, and I was surprised. I expected it to be muscley and gross and seedy, but it was actually pretty nice. Lots of machines, plenty of light and space, and plenty of middle-aged folks in there to where I don’t think I’ll feel terribly uncomfortable. There will always be muscle-heads at any gym, but since I’ve only ever gone to the YMCA or the hospital wellness center I wasn’t too sure what to expect.

We go Wednesday evening for our fitness consultation with a personal trainer. I’m sure Ian will have no trouble, but I’m a little afraid of being laughed out of there when I say I really just want to use the bikes and eliptical machines with the TVs.

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I get knocked down, but I get up again

by on July 5, 2011, in around town, music is like air, but for my ears, past lives


They Might Be Giants covers Chumbawamba

This is amazing. If you don’t want to watch, it’s They Might Be Giants covering Chumbawamba’s iconic song Tubthumping (hat tip to Morgan). I say iconic, but what I really mean is “the song that defined my freshman year in college and therefore holds a special place in my heart.” Which is why, in the video above, when I heard TMBG say that they didn’t know “how the song goes” I got really confused. How could you not know Tubthumping if you were alive, under 50 and had access to a radio in the United States in 1997?

And if you were in college in 1997 at MTSU, like I was, you heard this song everywhere. At every party, in every bar, blaring out of every random car driving down the road, playing over the loudspeakers in Hastings—this song was there. Despite its political undertones and the band’s anarchist leanings, it’s a silly little party song, and I have a strong feeling that if it weren’t for the righteous chorus that invites you to scream it and the line “pissing the night away,” it never would have amounted to anything.

But the song will always remind me of how I felt my freshman year in college: My painstakingly made plans to move to Tennessee were finally realized, and I was there—on my own, responsible for myself, living with my decisions, good or bad. As cheesy as it sounds, over the course of that year I had been knocked down—a lot—but I kept getting up again. And so every time I heard this song playing in and around Murfreesboro, it was a tiny reminder that as long as I kept getting back up, I would be OK.

And I was. 1997 to 1998 was a banner time.

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Bonnaroo 2011: Sunday

by on June 20, 2011, in around town, jump aboard the crazy train, music is like air, but for my ears

Bonnaroo 2011: Sunday

After three very full days, Emily and I decided to take it easy on Sunday. We rolled into the festival around 1 p.m. and met up with Ian and Scott to find something to eat. I could have eaten that wood-fired pizza all damn day, but instead opted for a veggie-burger served by a crabby girl in a bandana. It was still hot as balls, though, so I could sympathize.

After we ate, we settled in around Which Stage, where I thought I had read Bruce Hornsby was playing his full-band set. Apparently I had lost my ability to read in the heat of the day before, though, and we realized we were listening to Amos Lee. Not a bad singer, but Bruce Hornsby was one of the main reasons I was excited for Bonnaroo, so we made our way up to That Tent to hear his set. Scott and Ian stayed back in the shade of a large tree, along with about 500 of their closest newly made friends, while Emily and I ventured up closer so I could hear better. I was pretty bummed out that he didn’t sing Mandolin Rain or The Way It Is; maybe he had sung it the day before at his acoustic set that we left early, who knows. I texted Ian as the set almost ended threatening to punch a hippie in the nutsack if I didn’t get to hear one of those songs, but as usual I didn’t make good on my threats.

Bonnaroo 2011: Sunday

Oh, I almost forgot: As we were heading over to hear Bruce, we walked by a tent near Which Stage that had been pissing us off the entire time because it was always full of shitty bands playing music just loud enough to disrupt our audial enjoyment of the Which Stage bands we really wanted to hear. But this time, we heard something good—a band called Neon Trees. Check them out if you’ve never heard them before. They sounded really, really good.

After The Bruce Hornsby Disappointment of 2011, we headed into the Brooer’s Festival tent so I could drink a bunch of beer in the shade while we all relaxed. Ian fell asleep for a while on our tablecloth, and Emily and I just sat around and chilled while people-watching. I left shortly to find a bathroom and ended up getting a bit lost, but made my way back just in time to wake up Ian so we could head up to What Stage for Robert Plant. Scott had disappeared at some point and wasn’t answering texts, so we did the Bonnaroo thing and said “fuck it,” heading on to the next place without him.

Emily, Ian and I spread out the tablecloth on the grass by What Stage and listened to Robert Plant for a while, sharing frozen lemonades and arepas and feeling thankful that we didn’t have to rush off to anymore far-flung stages. As much as we had enjoyed the entire Bonnaroo experience, it had been a long four days and we were dwindling.

We ended up deciding to skip Widespread Panic (I know, hippie party foul!), and got home around 9 p.m. where we promptly began taking turns jumping in the shower and washing as much of the dirt caked on us away as possible. Emily threw some clothes in the wash as we headed out to Toot’s for a quick late-night dinner, meeting up with Scott beforehand to reclaim Ian’s camping gear they’d packed in his car earlier in the day, and when we got home later promptly crashed in the bed to sleep the sleep of 1,000 sleeps. I woke up briefly Monday morning when Emily left to drive home around 9 a.m., but didn’t fully tear myself away from the bed until after 11 a.m. It was glorious. And needed.

Bonnaroo 2011: Sunday

Also needed: About five more showers. Even with driving out every night and taking two showers a day I still felt a layer of dirt on my body and in my lungs that took another couple of days to full go away.

But it was all worth it. And I can’t wait until next year.

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Bonnaroo 2011: Saturday

by on June 15, 2011, in around town, jump aboard the crazy train, music is like air, but for my ears

Bonnaroo 2011: Saturday
I woke up sore and a bit disoriented again Saturday morning, but about 10 to 15 minutes of stretching and yoga got me feeling back to human again, luckily. Emily and I knew that we had a long day ahead of us, so we stayed in bed a bit longer and got back into Bonnaroo around 2 p.m. We brought more ice and beer in for Ian and Scott, and again Ian met us on the path to his tent to help carry the load.

As soon as we got into Centeroo we headed for Sonic Stage to hear Bruce Hornsby’s acoustic set, but the sun was hot and there was nowhere to sit in the shade (plus, he was a bit boring, as much as I hate to say that), so we bolted. We walked over to Which Stage and heard a bit of Alison Krauss, and then grabbed some more pizzas from the woodfired pizza place we had become so fond of. After we ate, Emily, Scott and I headed up as close as we could get for the Mumford & Sons set, but the crowd was thickening and I got a bit claustrophobic so I headed back to our spot near the drum tent to sit with Ian for a while.

Ian and I eventually wandered up front to That Tent to hear Loretta Lynn, and sat down at a picnic table with a really nice couple from Nashville and a friend of the woman’s daughter. They swapped camping war-stories with Ian, laughed and congratulated me on my decision to day park, and we ended up hanging out with them for pretty much the entire show. By then Emily had wandered over to us, so we decided to hit the port-a-potties (since we were near “the good ones”) and then head up to What Stage for The Black Keys show. We lay down the tablecloth again, made friends with the people around us, and eventually Scott showed up and joined us as well.

Having heard The Black Keys at the Ryman when they were last in Nashville, we were a bit shocked and disappointed at how quiet they were on What Stage. They blew the freaking roof off of the Ryman, but we could hardly hear them sitting out on the lawn in front of the stage. Emily and I bailed about halfway through to make a trip back to the car to grab our hoodies, glowsticks and my buffalo hat in preparation for Scissor Sisters and Girl Talk later that night. It was thundering and lightning so on the way back into Centeroo we put on our disposable ponchos, and were protected from the mere minutes of light rain that came down as we walked back over to Which Stage to meet up with Ian and Scott again.

Bonnaroo 2011: Saturday

Back at our drum tent, the four of us sat on the ground and listened to Buffalo Springfield (I was wearing my buffalo hat for it, of course). A man came up to Emily and I with several large tubes filled with glow bracelets, and asked Emily if we’d like to help him make a chain. She agreed, and he walked away and came back shortly with a small stool and packs of glowstick connectors. He handed us various colors of glow bracelets and connectors, and when I asked how he wanted the colors put together he said that I was the creative director of the project. I decided on purple to blue to green.

Soon, a number of kids approached the man asking to buy some glow bracelets, and he began selling them at three for $5. He instructed us to hand out the glowsticks as he took the cash, and then asked us to watch the operation while he walked around a bit. A couple of guys came up and asked if they could “just have a few,” and we told them no, they weren’t ours to give away, but they could buy three for $5 when the man returned. They looked around, agitated, and asked again if they couldn’t just grab them. I replied no again, and they sighed and took off.

The man returned, took a look at our chain, and decided it was time to connect ours to his. After he did this, he wrapped the chain around his neck, and then broke off about 20 bracelets and two necklaces and handed them to Emily and I, thanking us for our help. He mumbled something about meeting back there again Sunday night, and took off.

After Neil Young finished out the Buffalo Springfield set with Rockin’ in the Free World, we got up and walked to the What Stage to see about the Eminem show. The crowd was packed in pretty tightly, and people near the back were fist-pumping and jumping and getting kind of rowdy. I noticed that Eminem was using a backing track, and wondered if that was something standard for rappers to do when performing live.

Ian and Scott were tired, and so we walked them back to their tent, Emily and I debating on whether we could make it almost three more hours before Girl Talk even came on. On one hand we had our glow necklaces and bracelets that we were excited about, but on the other hand we were tired and dirty and kind of ready to just head home. We chatted at the tent for a while, and then headed back to our car to call it a night. Unfortunately, Optimus Prime was just about deflated, so we thanked him for his days of dutiful service and tied him to the fence in a sort of balloon burial.

Bonnaroo 2011: Saturday

When we got back to Murfreesboro the skies opened up and the rain washed a good amount of the dirt and grime from my car, but unfortunately Manchester didn’t receive the same gift. We were in for another dusty day on Sunday.

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