I did not invent post-its

"High school hasn’t changed. There’s still that one teacher who marches to her own drummer. Those girls are still there, the ones that, even as you grow up, will remain the most beautiful girls you have ever seen close up. The smart kids, who everyone else knew as ‘the brains,’ but I just knew them as my soul mates, my teachers, my friends. And there’s still that one guy with his mysterious confidence who seems so perfect in every way. The guy you get up and go to school for in the morning. … High school would not have been the same without him. I would not be the same without him."

-Josie Geller, Never Been Kissed

I turned 38 last Sunday. I did what I normally do on my birthday when it falls on a weekend: have pancakes at IHOP (free pancakes on your birthday!) and bought a newspaper to cut out the birthday horoscope. The horoscope lives on my refrigerator for the full year until my next birthday, when I put up the new one and reflect on the previous year's entry. Since my birthday fell on a Sunday, I also got to enjoy the special sections of The Washington Post: Outlook, the Arts, and the Sunday Magazine. I started with Outlook as is my method. After reading a disappointing story about the 45's problem with the truth, I stumbled onto a piece about high school. The writer, Richard Morgan, is the same age as me so he's also facing his 20th high school reunion this year. Unlike me, Morgan's high school is being demolished in order to build a new school. He looked at the demolition of his school as catharsis for the experience of high school; you have to watch it burn (so to speak) to move forward in life. It's like The Washington Post was in my brain or something.

What is it about high school? It has the power to reduce a person to a former version of them self faster than watching The Breakfast Club on repeat. But it's also filled with wonderful memories of friendships, shenanigans, and the type of self discovery that is easily mocked in film but never not needed in real life. If you went to a school like mine, with over 700 people in your graduation class, it can be relatively easy to slip into the shadows of having so many people be involved in this collection memory. You remember exactly who was what: the beautiful people, the brains, the theatre nerds (present and accounted for thank you very much), the stoners, and the jocks. The structure of high school is hardwired into our brains and there's nothing that can stop those groups and cliques from flashing around in your head. It's how high school works.

I didn't go to the 5th or 10th reunion. I don't think I knew that the 5th was happening and the 10th came at a time in my life where I didn't want to hang out with a bunch of people I went to high school with and pretend like A. I really wanted to know what was going on in their lives and B. I wanted to share what was going on in mine. I felt, in 2007, I kept in touch with the people I wanted to either in real life or on the Facebook. I was at a weird place in my life then, having just done the thing I never really planned to do or wanted to do: I moved back to Northern Virginia following Hurricane Katrina. It wasn't like I was admitting defeat or something, but I didn't want to immerse myself back into the world of Burke and Lake Braddock after that. So I stayed away. Then the 20th reunion rolls around and I decided I was going. Interestingly, like 10 years ago, I'm at the beginning of a new part of my life. I'm starting a new job on Monday and refocusing my efforts on continuing to live the best me life I can live. I only hope my classmates are doing the same.

It was a perfectly suburban moment. That's the best way I can think to describe it. Everyone was on the dressy side of a casual night out (with very notable exceptions of a few dudes wearing suits; nice touch), those with kids were explaining that they were with their grandparents for the night, and we all complained about traffic and the crappy parking at the National Harbor. There were awkward "you remember me but I don't remember you but let's hug anyway because we went to LBSS and graduated in 1997 so we're freaking awesome" moments. Seeing a few of the "mean girls" took me back to when they were meaner girls in high school; some things never change. People drank (a lot in some cases) and shouted over the too loud music to catch up on all these little things. They poured over the class photo I brought, trying to find their group in the mass of humanity on the high school bleachers. The names of those no longer with us were discussed in hushed tones and with sadness.

As I looked out onto the crowd, it wasn't a reunion movie that came to mind but the Drew Barrymore movie Never Been Kissed. In the movie, Drew's character goes back to high school at age 25 as an investigative journalist and finds herself reliving her own high school existence. At first, she falls back to being part of the same group she was in the first time around (the brains) and pining for the cutest guy in school. All of the sudden she becomes one of the pretty people, caught up in the magic of being popular and accepted in a way she never was as a teenager. I saw this play out in small moments throughout the night:

• Every single women (and a few of the men) giddy that a certain guy, the one they all got out of bed in the morning for in high school, had come to the reunion and was talking to them. And in some cases, posing for photos with them.
• The pretty girls are still that and they always will be.
• We somehow managed to find our groups again and stayed that way for most of the night. It's like we're hardwired to form cliques even when not in the school building.
• People recreating photos from high school because that's what you're supposed to do at reunions. 
  
• The group singing along to "Bohemian Rhapsody" as God and Freddie Mercury intended.
• Most of the women in my class look exactly the same and we all look freaking amazing. I knew most of them without having to look at name tags.
  
• The men were a different story: facial hair, losing hair, and the decision to dress exactly the opposite of how they did in high school made it challenging to identify them without a name tag. The facial hair ranged from ironic statement beards to ruggedly handsome dude on his way to being an older gentleman to "it didn't work for you in high school and it doesn't work for you now" so all bases were covered.
• To my knowledge, no one in my class is an assassin so there was no random assassination by ballpoint pen at the reunion. I mean, I probably wouldn't know if this happened since that's the point of an assassin but I'm 98% sure it didn't occur.   
• Don't ask dueling piano bar musicians to play a Rage Against the Machine song (I was hoping for "Testify" or "The Battle of Los Angeles."). They won't do it BUT if you're lucky, they'll replace it with your favorite Motley Crue song without being prompted (bonus points if you remember what this song is before I post the video below). This is both weird and awesome.

I'm glad I went and I would encourage others out there to go to their own reunion at least once because it's a good thing to do. Will you love every minute of it? Probably not. Is it worth it to see a few people you never see in person and reminisce about that time when that thing happened that was so great you thought nothing would ever be so great again? Absolutely. Do you have to stay late? Not at all...you're an adult person who can do things so you can leave whenever you want. But go. Remember that time and enjoy it.

Photos by Joey, Katie, and me
Video by me

Lady Parts, Part Deux: Wonder Woman

Scene: A group of small children, ages 7-12, are playing in an enormous backyard. It's the mid-1980s and it's summertime.

Boy: I want to be Princess Leia.
Girl: You can't be Princess Leia; you're a boy. I want to be Princess Leia.
Boy: I can be Princess Leia if I want to be.
Girl: Fine, then I'll be Wonder Woman.
Boy: Wonder Woman doesn't have anything to do with Star Wars.
Girl: I don't care. I'm Wonder Woman and you can't make me change.
Boy: Fine. It's stupid but fine.
Girl: Wonder Woman isn't stupid. Stop being mean. Princesses aren't mean.
Boy: (Grumbles and walks away.)
Girl: (Stands in a defiant Wonder Woman pose.)

End scene.

This particular scene happened a few times when I was growing up. One of my friends always wanted to be Princess Leia when we played Star Wars in the backyard. I would always get mad because he was a boy and in my 7 year old mind, boys couldn't be princesses (Note: boys and girls can be whatever they want. Adult me gets it). Then one day I decided to be Wonder Woman instead and the world felt right. They were both princesses and strong and powerful. If he wanted to be Princess Leia, he could be. I wanted to be an Amazon.

Wonder Woman is my favorite superhero; always has been. Hers was the only comic I read regularly back when I read comics regularly and she was the only reason I watched cartoons like Superfriends and Galactic Guardians. I found Batman and Superman and all the other dudes exhausting in their dark pasts and unnecessary doubt of Wonder Woman's abilities. She's the only DC comic hero I enjoy. I watched the Lynda Carter series in syndication; she is the reason I wanted to be Wonder Woman. She was strong and smart and didn't take crap from anyone. That's who I wanted to be. I was obsessed with Greek mythology at that time and the Amazons were among my favorite characters. All of this was so different than everything else I was presented with: Disney princesses, Barbie, and even She-Ra, Princess of Power. Don't get me wrong; I loved Disney and Barbies too. But they weren't everything and they weren't adventure. Wonder Woman was adventure.

So to say that I was excited when I heard we were finally going to get a Wonder Woman movie would the the understatement of the year. I was excited and cautious; there hasn't been a good DC superhero movie in ages. Would this version of Wonder Woman become one more failure in the DC Universe? If it was, would it mean that we'd never see any of the other wonder female superheroes in their own movies rather than being sidekicks to the boys? This new movie is every discussion/debate/conversation/argument women have ever had about existing.

Which is exactly as the creator of Wonder Woman would want it to be. He'd want us to debate Wonder Woman and her role as a feminist icon because he created her to be one. William Moulton Marston created Wonder Woman to make people think about the roles women play in society. I recently finished Jill Lepore's book The Secret Life of Wonder Woman, part biography of Martson and part discussion of how Wonder Woman came to be. He was a psychologist, writer, lawyer, and inventor of the early forms of the lie detector. He was in his teens and early 20s during the suffrage movement in the US, hearing speakers like Alice Paul and Lucy Barnes discuss suffrage and the place of women in society. He knew Margaret Sanger, the mother of the birth control movement, and would marry a member of her family. He had a complex family situation. He believed women were equal to men and should work outside of the home, govern, and lead the lives they wanted to lead. He used his wives (read the book to get this full story) and Sanger as inspiration for his version of an Amazon. I think he would have loved how Wonder Woman was used in the late 1960s as a bridge between second wave feminists and older suffragist sisters in earlier generations. And he would love the new film version of his creation.

Martson would have jumped head first into the discussion around the women-only screenings of the film hosted by Alamo Drafthouse. He would have enjoyed Austin mayor, Steve Adler's, response to criticism that the events are exclusionary to men. I went to one of these screenings, at the Alamon in Ashburn, and it was wonderful. The ticket sales from all of these events went to organizations which support women and women's issues (In Christy's Shoes was the organization for Ashburn). These particular organizations need support more now than ever given the current administration's plan to dismantle anything remotely helpful for women. What I experienced was a fun evening, watching a great movie in a theatre full of wonder women. We did not, as I'm sure some people who complained about these screenings think, sit around and plot the destruction of man. We laughed a bit louder at some of the more adult humor in the film (There are penis jokes!). We sat in hushed awe at the women of this film, living their Amazonian lives. We cheered loudly when Wonder Woman entered No Man's Land. There were women in costume and so many great t-shirts (I wore a classic WW logo shirt). It was a group of women enjoying a great film about a superhero that means so much to all of them. Like when the lady Ghostbusters graced the world with their humor and awesomeness, nothing bad happened to the men of the world because we had some women-only screenings of Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman was everything I wanted it to be: origin story, love story, and an opportunity for some really amazing women to kick ass. If you're not impressed by the Amazons, particularly Robin Wright as Antiope, you weren't paying close enough attention to the what you were watching. Gal Gadot is striking as Diana (Wonder Woman). She's also funny, smart, and strong; all the things I wanted to be when I pretended to be Wonder Woman as a child. The rest of the cast is great; Chris Pine as Steve Trevor, Lucy Davis as Etta (a favorite of mine from the early comics), Connie Nielson as Hippolyta, and the bad guys, Danny Huston and Elena Anaya. I can't spoil the big bad for you but it's a good one. There's so much to watch and take in along the way. Patty Jenkins, the director, has made a DC superhero movie that is the right combination of dark and light. She and her production have captured what is wonderful about Wonder Woman and her love of mankind. Wonder Woman didn't leave Themyscira to follow a man; she left to help protect mankind from the evils of war. As she says at one point, "It's about what you believe. And I believe in love. Only love will truly save the world." 

We need more messages like this from our superheroes, fictional or otherwise.

Summer Mix

I love listening to music in my car. There's something truly wonderful about driving around listening to songs I love, singing along and car dancing. Music sounds better and certain songs sound absolutely magical in my car. I'm sure some of this is a holdover from my childhood when we drove everywhere (like between states when we moved or from Louisiana to Michigan to visit family). My parents were teens/young adults when Motown and muscle car music ruled the airwaves so we listened to a little bit of everything on those car trips. My brother and I are similar; we like a lot of music that spans all sorts of genres and artists although we both have our favorites. I can't go on a road trip without spending a considerable amount of time thinking about and planning my music. When I went to Ocracoke in April, I spent more time deciding which CDs to bring than I did deciding what I wanted to pack clothing-wise. If I didn't plan my road trip music, it would be like not picking up Twizzlers and Doritos for the road...unacceptable.

Three songs are particular favorites of mine to listen to in the car: "More Than a Feeling" by Boston, "Low Rider" by War (complete with my Matthew McConaughey impression), and "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass. These songs came out in the 1970s (1974, 1976, and 1972 respectively) and seem designed for peak enjoyment while sitting in your car. Of the three, "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" is my favorite. When I was little I had this image of what I thought Brandy looked like. She was a 70s folk singer type with long red hair who wore peasant blouses and her braided chain made from the finest silver from the North of Spain. I loved the story of the song; it's romantic but not overly sentimental. It doesn't gut me the way so many of the sad songs I love do. It's a perfect summer song.

I haven't listened to "Brandy" in a long time so to say I was pleasantly surprised by its inclusion on the soundtrack for Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2 is an understatement. It's one of my favorite parts of a movie in a movie where I loved many, many things (y'all, Groot is a baby). James Gunn, like Quentin Tarantino, is skilled at using music in his films. The first Guardians movie and its soundtrack were absolutely delightful. They worked together perfectly; I can't imagine the first Guardians without the songs. I loved the idea that Peter's mother would make him mix tapes of songs she loved so he would be able to share them with her even after she's gone. I like Meredith Quill's taste in music a lot. She and I would be music friends given the variety of music she liked. Gunn has described her as an oddball and a music lover in recent interviews about the music. We'd totally be pals.

Anyway, the second Guardians movie opens with a flashback of Meredith as a young woman riding in a convertible with a man we come to find out is Peter's father, Ego. They're listening to "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" exactly in the manner the song's writer, Elliot Lurie, intended it; driving around on a beautiful day with the top down with your best girl/guy, having a great time. That's it. The song never had any heavy meaning as Lurie has shared since the movie's release. There is no story behind it: he wrote some chords, then some lyrics, and used an ex-girlfriend's name as inspiration for Brandy's name. It was the band's one hit and has been featured in a ton of movies and tv shows. It also served as inspiration for the KISS song "Hard Luck Woman."

What's cool about the use of the song in the film is the importance it's given in the plot. Since I don't want to spoil everything for those of you who haven't seen it yet (Seriously? What have you been doing for the last month?), I'll keep it brief. Ego uses the song to explain his relationship with Meredith when he and Peter finally meet. The song becomes this grander metaphor for the choices Ego has made and the ones he wants Peter to help him realize. Peter can opt for the girl (his mother or maybe his Guardians family) or he can opt for the sea (helping his father realize a rather insane plan). Listening to the song, it is the exact same story but without the fate of the universe hanging in the balance. AND the sailor in the song is not nearly as terrible as Ego ends up being (for reasons I can't tell you without spoiling everything).

This is what I love about movies and music. I've written about this before, particularly about the music of David Bowie. When a person writes a song, he or she has a reason for doing so or an inspiration for the story told in the song (usually). When the song gets released into the world and people start to listen to it, they begin to ascribe their own meaning to songs whether the writer likes it or not. Songs take on the personal very quickly. A song fills in when you can't find the words yourself. That's why the soundtracks for the two Guardians movies are so perfect. These song are more than fun to fill in around fight sequences and explosions or background; the soundtracks are a character too. Don't get me started on the use of "Father and Son" (my second favorite Cat Stevens song) in Vol. 2; I'd rather not starting weeping again.

"Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" is an oddly beautiful song about love but the kind of love that's never realized in the way that we want it to be. Adult me is happy that the sailor in the story was up front with Brandy about the fact that his life, his lover, and his lady is the sea because not everyone would be that truthful (like Ego). Adult me also wants to shake Brandy and tell her to move on with her life especially since this dude assumes Brandy only wants to be a wife (you know that lyric in the chorus). Maybe Brandy didn't want to be a wife, she only wanted her man to be present and not just bring her fancy gifts from Spain. Hopeless romantic me (she makes an appearance every now and then) totally gets why Brandy continues the life she's living. Adding the Ego/Meredith/Peter story on top of my own feelings about this song makes it even better.

As my birthday is next weekend, I've begun work on my annual birthday mix tape to be listened to for the remainder of the summer. "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" is definitely on there as it should be. If anyone has a convertible I can borrow, let me know.

Next week: We'll talk Wonder Woman and how the men of the world will still be fine even though I'm going to see a women's only screening.

Groot GIF
Mix tape image

Be Alright

I keep all of my concert tickets in a Sex Pistols lunch box. My friend, Mary, bought it for me years ago when she worked at the Experience Music Project in Seattle. I thought it was a smart place to store my concert tickets. I'm missing a few from my earliest concerts but I have the ones that matter most: my first concert (New Kids on the Block), the first Lilith Fair, and the first show I went to as a teenager that involved one of my friends driving us rather than our parents (R.E.M at Nisson Pavilion). Tori, Patti, the White Stripes, Nick Cave, Run-DMC, Metallica - they're all here in this box. I like to flip through the tickets every now and then and relive a little bit of the magic of each show. I can usually remember who I went with (my brother on many, many occasions) and if the opening act was any good (if it was Whirlwind Heat, the answer is an emphatic "hell no"). I don't obsessively write down set lists so I can't recall all of the songs for each show but I'm sure somewhere out there on the interwebs, someone has done this for me. I could look but I'm good for now.

My first concert was a New Kids on the Block show at the Superdome in 1990. I was eleven years old and my dad went with me. Two years later we had relocated to Northern Virginia and my dad, not learning his lesson the first time, took me to see Def Leppard at the USAir Arena (remember that place?). It would be years before my dad and I would go to a concert together again (Santana and Rod Stewart at the Verizon Center for his 66th birthday). I assume it took him that long to get over the agony of listening to preteen girls scream and sing along with NKOTB. I'm surprised his ears didn't bleed that day. My dad is a great dad.

In 1990, the New Kids on the Block were my favorite band. I think I had a NKOTB themed birthday party the year before; the tickets were definitely a birthday present but I don't think the themed party was the same year. Each ticket cost $20 for seats in the 600 level of the Superdome. I don't think you can buy a bottle of water for $20 at a concert today. Jonathan was my favorite member of the band followed closely by Jordan and Donnie. I thought Joey was annoying and Danny was an afterthought. I knew all the words and the choreography and was probably wearing at least two items of NKOTB clothing at the show. I may also have been wearing my Debbie Gibson hat because I was freaking fearless when it came to fashion back then.

I don't remember the order of the songs they played or what "witty" banter happened but I remember being in love with being at a concert. I've been to a lot of concerts and shows since NKOTB and while they're each special in their own way, none of them will ever be my first concert. First concerts are the only truly pure experience that exist (probably). It was exciting and overwhelming and frenetic. Every teen girl there was so excited to see the band and sing along (and scream a lot). I'm sure I made my dad buy me a t-shirt (which I no longer have and did not need). I know I stayed up way past my bedtime and was exhausted the next day but it was summer so it didn't really matter. I couldn't wait to go to the next concert (I believe it was Huey Lewis & the News with my brother in Detroit). That first show hooked me in and I've never looked back. I have not gone to see NKOTB again even though they've done reunion tours over the years. My dad won't go with me again (yes, I've asked) so what's the point really? I don't think it would be as much fun to see the band today; it would be fun but a more adult, alcohol influenced kind of way rather than the pure fun of going to my first concert.

Going to see live music is one of my favorite things to do. I love going to any type of venue and I'll go see bands or musicians I don't know just to go. The show might not be great but I always enjoy the experience of being surrounded by other music fans enjoying themselves. That's the beauty of concerts; you get to hang out with a few hundred or thousand (or ten) music fans. A concert is a little community of souls, coming together over their shared love of what this person or group has created. How beautiful is that? I happen to like a lot of bands who appeal to multi-generational audiences so the crowd is always fascinating to be part of. My favorite example of this was the Green Day show at the 9:30 Club last October; it's shows like that one that make me happy to be a rock fan.

As I've been reading about the bombing at the Ariana Grande show in Manchester, I can't help but think about all those kids going to see their favorite singer live, possibly for the first time. I know the excitement they must have felt in the lead up to the concert, thinking about what to wear (is it a high ponytail or cat ears kind of night?) and planning with their friends, taking selfies throughout and singing along to each song. To have such a horrible tragedy take place at the end of what was a magical night for those who attended is heartbreaking. The loss of so many young lives is devastating.

For the most part, people have been responding to this tragedy in the way you would hope people would respond to tragedy, with respect and remorse and most importantly, sentiments of community and coming together. However, there are some notable exceptions including journalists who have made disdainful remarks about Grande's music as they cover the bombing. It makes me angry how some have felt the need to cover this story in a way that dismisses the things teen girls like as if it somehow makes them less important and this bombing less of a serious threat. Emma Gray wrote a great piece on this exact topic for Huffington Post; if anything, the fact that a concert audience made up almost entirely of young women, their mothers, and LGBTQ youth was targeted should tell you a lot about the world we live in and what hate looks like.

My hope is that these fans don't stop going to concerts. I want every single one of them to go to another show and another one after that and keep going. I want them to keep being part of the amazing community that is a live music audience. I don't want any of them to ever lose that feeling or be fearful enjoying what they love. I want them all to feel the magic that happens when the lights go down and there's that one second before the show begins where the entire audience takes in a collective breath before losing it when their musical idols walk onstage. That is magic.

I don't know many of Ariana Grande's songs but one of my friends posted this video on Facebook the morning after the bombing; it's fitting in a lot of ways.

Next week: A discussion of my summer music list, "Brandy", and why I need to borrow someone's convertible for a day or two. If you haven't seen the new Guardians of the Galaxy movie, take the time to do so before next week; there will be some discussion of the movie although I will try to refrain from spoilers as much as possible.

Tell me about yourself...

Back in April, many of my friends and some of my co-workers told me to take my time and take a break. Don't rush into a job search. Let the stress of the last year (it has been a stressful work year) go away before diving in to find a new job. Their advice: Do fun things! Binge watch tv shows you've been meaning to watch! Read all of the books! Travel! Bake things! I did try to follow their advice to some extent. I did fun things (and still do fun things). I've read a ton of books and have baked at least one thing per week. I did binge watch tv. As a matter of fact, I'm still binge watching shows and have developed a somewhat questionable love of the show Kitchen Nightmares. I can't explain it; Gordon Ramsay's yelling at disaster restaurant owners and chefs soothes my soul. 

I received a far amount of advice about what I should do next. These suggestions ranged from the obvious yet unrealistic ideas of opening my own bakery and opening my own record store/bakery to the ridiculous (courtesy of my father) of moving to small town, opening a weird store, and helping the local police force solve crime. We were watching a Hallmark mystery movie at the time so my dad has an excuse for this one (all Hallmark mystery movies have this plot structure). It's also been suggested that I should start my own consulting firm (I think I'd want to consult on how not to be a jerk but I'm not sure if there's a market for that) or that I should sell all of my possessions except my car so Pumpkin and I can go on a massive road trip, doling out sage advice (me) and being adorable (her). I love all of my friends.

I appreciate what my friends were trying to do by encouraging me to take my time before rushing into my job search. I worked for my last company for almost 11 years; that's a long time and it's rare these days to stay at one organization that long. I didn't do the same job that entire time (thankfully) but I "grew up" there. A lot of professional firsts came to me during my tenure, most of which I am very proud of and thankful I experienced. I agreed with the idea of needing to let go of the event and the organization but not with the idea of not moving forward with my search. I am my father's daughter after all, and if you know my father, you know that the man cannot sit still for any amount of time. I have the same problem. Neither of us can do nothing for long periods of time so the idea that I would take a break seems alien to me. Doing fun things and reading and baking only fill the time for so long. I need to have more purpose, more meaning in what I'm doing. So I dived in.

I did all the things one is supposed to do when beginning a job search. I updated my resume, created an "All-Star" profile on LinkedIn (this is not that challenging by the way), and I reached out to people in my network to let them know I'm looking. I signed up to work with the career coaching organization my previous company offered; the reality of the movie Up in the Air hit the moment I got that folder with all the information on the next phase of my career. I won't say too much about my coach except this: I love a list but people aren't lists.

I've attended about ten webinars through this coaching service on various aspects of the job search. Some have been helpful, particularly around writing a positioning statement (live a value proposition for you as a qualified worker), tips for handling the "why did you leave your last company?" question, and coming up with an interesting way to answer the dreaded "tell me about yourself" question. These areas can be awkward to discuss and as I'm prone to awkward, it's been helpful to have a professional review these items and provide feedback. Other times, it's a struggle to sit through. There are only so many times I can hear the question "Do I really need a LinkedIn profile?" before realizing I'm not the intended audience of many of these webinars. It's been good to look at this as a process since I love a process and I love a list. Each step in the process is one step closer to not having to fill my time with these webinars or getting more attached to canceled Gordon Ramsey shows.

I'm not the first person to compare the job search process to online dating nor will I be the last. You have to talk about yourself and why you're awesome and why they should pick you all the time potentially while wearing clothes you bought for this occasion so you look professional and trustworthy (I'm looking at you black jacket). You have to prove your value in a way that isn't as clear cut as online dating. You could met or exceed every qualification for a position and still not get the job. It's very possible searching for a job is worse than online dating. The idea of rejection in dating doesn't sting nearly as much as the idea of rejection in work. I'm extremely proud of what I've accomplished in my professional life; I've had the opportunity to create engaging and powerful content, deliver training to lots of people, and help hundreds of people start their careers off on the right foot. I helped build part of the business; that's not me exaggerating, that's fact. It pains me to think that I won't be selected or that I'm qualified but not in exactly the right way or whatever else could come up because I know myself and I know what I'm capable of doing. None of these feelings are helped by the fact that the hiring process is excruciatingly slow. It can take weeks to hear back about a position...and that's if the company replies at all.

It's also incredibly isolating. I'm not saying that I don't talk to people anymore but my day isn't filled with the dailiness of going into an office. It's filled with me, my computer, and a cat who doesn't understand why I'm home all the time. She has cat things to do and I'm in the way. Her current question: how many Radiohead albums in a row is too many?

I'm lucky to have wonderful friends and family who are being supportive and helpful during this process. They've helped me connect with other people who might be good contacts for me to have (because networking is the only way to get a job these days...apparently) and have gotten me out of the house when I need to get out of the house. They check in to see how I'm doing. They send me funny pictures of cats and ideas for other businesses I should open (apparently, they think I'm made of money). They're keeping me sane and keeping me motivated. I know it's a process and the process will eventually end. I'll find a new job and all will be right in the world. I know this...I only wish it would end faster. That's all. And Pumpkin does too. She has so many cat things to do. 

Summer is so freaking exciting! Things to look forward to in the next few weeks: my summer playlist/long-form discussion of the song "Brandy", a summer kickoff "Lazy Movie Weekend", my 38th birthday, and my 20th high school reunion.

Tell me that part about Metallica again...

A few comments:

1. No one has perfect hair rolling out of bed at such an early hour. No one.
2. Metallica and the Offspring shouldn't be used comparatively since they're not in the same genre. Punk and metal are cousins. What good comes of comparing cousins unless your family is mean spirited and horrible?
3. Christopher was always the wrong choice. Always.

I saw a rerun of this episode the day after I saw Metallica live and thought it was a sign from the musical gods that I needed to write about Metallica this week. What I find most infuriating about this particular clip is Christopher's immediate jump from an adult conversation (one he started about marriage and their relationship) to a childish dig on a band he doesn't like but Lorelai does. A band he probably doesn't think girls should like and therefore, because Lorelai does like said band, she is irrational and wrong about all things not just her choice of music. A woman can't possibly like Metallica. Or Black Sabbath. Or any other loud, aggressive music. Christopher is the worst.

My enjoyment of heavy metal music is one of those things people find amusing about me. When I say "heavy metal" I'm talking about more mainstream metal not the dark, dark stuff some people enjoy but you get my point. When this particular topic comes up in conversation or via the blog, people laugh. I remember a conversation with a male friend that went something like this:

Me: I saw Black Sabbath on tour last summer. It was an odd show; Ozzy looked like he was wearing pjs and he occasionally shuffled around the stage like he didn't know where he was. But the music was solid.
Him: You went to a Black Sabbath concert?
Me: Sure. I hadn't them live before so why wouldn't I go? I've also seen Def Leppard a few times, Metallica, and KISS. (Side note: we can argue levels of metal later.)
Him: Really? That just so weird. You're wearing a sweater with pineapples on it.
Me: I'm not sure what my pineapple sweater and my enjoyment of any type of music has to do with one another. I also really enjoy The Ramones. Is this problematic for you?
Him: I just imagine you like girl bands and I don't know, Beyonce. Girls like that type of music. You probably only like metal because you thought a guy would like you more. 
Me: (Pauses...scene in which I punch guy in the throat flashes in front of me as well as my favorite Clue quote.)

Me: As much as I love when guys explain music to me, we should probably go back to talking about work. There's less of a possibility that I'll punch you in the throat if we talk about work. 

(I'm not friends with this person anymore.)
 
I have a long relationship with Metallica. I grew up in the suburbs and my brother is a metalhead so I was destined to enjoy them. I've listened to this type of music since I was at least 9 years old. My brother is one of my earliest musical influences. It's from him that I learned about Metallica, Motorhead, Megadeth, GNR, Anthrax, Black Sabbath, and all the bands in between. He's also responsible for my spiral into hair metal bands. Face it, hair metal is a gift from the heavens and we should all just admit how much we love it and move on. He's my regular concert buddy when these shows come to town. We've seen Black Sabbath, Metallica, KISS, Motley Crue, Alice Cooper, and Def Leppard together. We are super critical of opening acts. We try to predict what the encore will include (we were half right for Metallica this week). In addition to the music itself, we have very dynamic conversations at shows about things like the psychology of the mosh pit. My brother is my favorite person. 

I've seen Metallica in concert twice (2009 and this past Wednesday). I own four of their albums. I know the lyrics to many of their songs. I follow them on social media. I sat through Some Kind of Monster, the mildly ridiculous documentary about the time the band went through group therapy while working on a new album (and Dave Mustaine from Megadeth probably cried off camera). According to James Hetfield's welcome at the show on Wednesday, I'm part of the Metallica family. And the Metallica family doesn't judge...probably.

Metallica is one of those bands that has always been in the my musical mix; sometimes they move to the front, sometimes they're the background while I enjoy other things. But they're never not there. I was thinking about this at the show this week. There is one song that is always front and center for me when I think about my relationship with Metallica. That song is "One."

My brother had a television in his bedroom when we were kids. He watched a lot of MTV and I remember watching videos with him on the rare occasion I was allowed in his room (we're six years apart) so he was a teenager at the time and I was annoying. In 1989, when "One" debuted, he would have been 15 and I was 9. The song is from the album ...And Justice for All. This album was the first Metallica album to reach any sort of commercial success; they were mostly an underground thrash metal band before this. It's also a fiercely political album; there are songs about the environment, censorship, and inequality. "One" was the considered an antiwar song (which I'll get into in a few minutes) and has the distinction of being the first Metallica song to get a music video. In case you haven't seen it:

There are three versions of the video: the above version (the original, long version), a shortened version, and a version missing the scenes from the movie. The original, with the film scenes, is the one I saw in 1989. The film scenes are from an 1971 antiwar movie called Johnny Got His Gun based on the novel of the same name. The film centers around a young man named Joe Bonham who goes off to fight in World War I and returns home as a quad amputee who also lost his eyes, nose, and ability to speak. He remains conscious of what's happening to him but unable to communicate with anyone. The film goes between hospital scenes and flashbacks of him with his family and in battle (and one where he imagines himself part of a freak show). Eventually, he remembers Morse code and begins to send an "SOS" signal to his nurses and doctors and repeats "kill me" over and over again. No one listens to him and he's left alone to an unknown fate. The film wasn't particularly successful, although Jimmy Carter used to show it to members of his cabinet when he was governor of Georgia, but became something of a cult classic after Metallica used in the "One" video. The band eventually bought the film rather than having to pay royalties every time they used the footage.

The video terrified me when I first saw it. Imagine being 9 years old and watching this. First, it's in black and white which is scarier than color film (it's the way light casts shadows in black and white). Then there's the war imagery, the guy hidden from view, the horrible dialogue from the film. It's a lot to handle. This is also the era of long-haired, scary looking Metallica. They all looked dangerous (yes, we can argue they still might look a bit dangerous). Metal is a very physical form of music and they all fit that part so well. James Hetfield and Jason Newsted (this was his first album with the band) were particularly creepy; they both looked like horror movie villains.

Then there are the lyrics. Now as a 9 year old, I was probably not paying as close attention to the lyrics as I do today but here's a sample:

Verse 1:
I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
Deep down inside I feel to scream
This terrible silence stops me
Now that the war is through with me
I'm waking up, I cannot see
That there's not much left of me
Nothing is real but pain now 

Or maybe you're more of a verse 3 kind of person:
I cannot live
I cannot die
Trapped in myself
Body my holding cell
Landmine has taken my sight
Taken my speech
Taken my hearing
Taken my arms
Taken my legs 
Taken my soul
Left me with life in hell

Even if I wasn't paying close attention back then, there are some lines that jump out and my 9 year old self would have heard. Let's not forget the chorus: "Hold my breath as I wish for death/Oh please God, wake me," not exactly the stuff of pop music (which is what I was listening to at the time). I didn't understand why my brother would like such scary things but he did. I didn't understand what it was like to be a teenager and the feelings of alienation and suburban ennui that marked the life of one. Metallica is defiant and that's appealing. They're loud and angry (also appealing). I wasn't a teenager so I didn't get it. I understood this about music later but at that time, I was a little kid who thought it was scary.

Of course, once my brother knew I was scared of the video he would use the information to his advantage, calling me into the room when it was on and singing the lyrics every now and then. Such is the job of a big brother. My fear didn't stop me from being fascinated by the band. I remember borrowing (stealing) my brother's cassette tapes and listening to them when he wasn't home. When other Metallica videos would come on MTV, I'd watch them even when my friends wanted to change the channel. I was hooked but I would never, ever admit it to my brother. I continued listening to my boy bands and pop stars until finally one day, I gave up and embraced my love of all things heavy metal and punk and loud. I credit hair metal for getting me over boy bands; why listen to NKOTB when you can listen to Poison? It was logical at the time.

So there was no boy I was trying to impress because at 9 years old, I didn't care about impressing boys. One day, I saw a really scary music video and I was never able to get it out of my head. I embraced the scary and became a lifelong fan. That's it. I know it's hard to believe that girls and women simply like things because we like things. Our job is not to sit around and think about all the ways to impress a dude with our love of some band. If I did that, I'd have spent more time in my life asking guys to explain Enya and Kid Rock to me than doing anything else, including sleeping. I have zero time for that. I'd rather spend my time listening to "Harvester of Sorrow," my fourth favorite Metallica song, and contemplating the psychology of the mosh pit.

This photo doesn't do the red light on the crowd justice. It was a super cool effect.

Clue meme

Lazy Movie Weekend: We can have fun, but we cannot be wild

Friends are important. I've written about this a lot here on the Island and in my professional life. As I posted on the Facebook this week, sometimes you realize that you need your "let's ditch touring colonial homes to go to Myrtle Beach to dance and meet boys" friends and sometimes you need your "I'd slice open the belly of a tauntaun to protect you on Hoth" friends. Sometimes you need both (and you should always plan on being both at some point in your life). One of the most challenging things about friendship, to me at least, is distance. We don't live in a world where people stay in the same place their whole lives (most of us don't) so we don't live down the street from our best friend or even in the same city or town. We may find new friends as we move and settle elsewhere but it's never the same.

I'm lucky that one of my oldest friends (I've known her since the 7th grade) still lives in the area so I always have a partner in crime, but my closest friends, my girls from college, are all over the place. That point was driven home a few weeks ago when I visited Ocracoke. I don't know how many times Kelly and I discussed how we wished we lived nearer to one another. Alas, that is not the way life is currently working.

This exact theme is at the heart of this weekend's Lazy Movie Weekend. It's one of my favorite movies of all time and is about friendship and new beginnings and whether or not it is appropriate to do modern ballet at a beauty pageant (the answer will be revealed below). The girls in the film are all about to go their separate ways after high school and want one last adventure. Yes, friends, I'm talking about 1989's Shag the Movie. This movie has everything: Myrtle Beach, an Elvis-esque teen idol, a dance contest, perfect hair, and Scott Coffey. Let's put on our Shagging shoes, grab a few beevos, and have the most fun watching Shag the Movie.

• I own this movie on VHS. Because of this, I had to take it to my parents' house to watch since they still have a VCR. My mother thoroughly enjoyed this because she loves the music. Fun fact: she was a freshman in high school in 1963, the year in which Shag is set.
• In addition to Phoebe Cates and Annabeth Gish, 80s teen movie queens (for Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Mystic Pizza, respectively), this movie featured the next generation of some very famous families including Bridget Fonda, Page Hannah (sister of Darryl), and Tyrone Power, Jr. This was a super big deal in 1989.
• "Every damn thing has to happen when you're in a damn hurry." Luanne (Page Hannah). Luanne is arguably the most quotable character in this movie and that is saying a lot. 
• Best beauty advice ever: don't wear dark lipstick. Followed closely by the rule of not letting any of the other girls drive her car. Mrs. Clatterbuck was a smart lady. 
  
• Girls "kidnapping" their friends is a thing and it always will be. At least in this instance, Luanne, Pudge, and Melaina are planning something fun for Carson rather than say, making her go to breakfast in her pajamas or accidentally killing her with a jawbreaker (see 1999's Jawbreaker for more details on how this last one worked). Come to think about it, we should just stop this practice immediately.
• I can't think of anymore Southern names than Melaina, Carson, and Harley. Hearing their names makes me want to say things like "I'm just sayin' is all" and "I mean" and throw a "y'all" in at every possible opportunity. 
• Can we bring back the fashion of this movie? Maybe not all the halter tops (although they all look adorable on these ladies) but the dresses and the skirts and the shoes and the cigarette pants. We all need these back in our lives. Even Vogue agrees with me.
• Does anyone have one of those nail polish dryers? I mean, I would never get a gel manicure again if I had one of those. A hair dryer is not the same.
  
• Carson: I think eyeliner is trashy. Melaina: I wear eyeliner. Carson: Well, it looks good on some people. Only true friends can have this type of dialogue.
• How many times does Luanne say "Melaina" in an exasperated way in this movie? I lost count and we're only 20 minutes in.
• Places like the Pavilion just don't exist anymore. I'm not saying this is why the world sucks but it's possible it's part of the reason. The look on Pudge's face when she sees it for the first time is my proof.
• "Why can't girls ask boys to dance?" Pudge (Annabeth Gish) is my favorite of the four girls. I suspect I'm halfway between Pudge and Luanne if I was deciding which girl I would be.
• We already missed the "meet cute," if you consider throwing a condom full of beer at their car a meet cute so enter Buzz and Chip. If those aren't 60s guy names I don't know what are.
• "I got news, you're gonna lose." Melaina to the trashy girls Suette and Nadine (I lied those are the most Southern names of all time). Melaina decides to steal Nadine's man and win Miss Sun Queen instead of Suette. Melaina is a force.
• Big Bob is literally the guy your mother told you not to date, including the car and inability to understand the word no.
• Shaving cream and tissues - this is what they do to get back at Melaina? I don't get it.
• "This is the most fun." Pudge although this phrase is used throughout the movie and I've said it at least six times since I watched the movie on Tuesday. It's my new favorite way to describe everything.
• Pudge and Chip dance. He tries to tell her he's a bad dancer but he's a liar. If this movie doesn't make you want to learn the Shag and the Madison, I can't help you.
• I know everyone is supposed to be all abuzz over Buzz (see what I did there?) but Chip is the only game in town. I love Scott Coffey; he is my biggest 80s holdover crush. If you've never seen Shag, you may remember Scott from Satisfaction (the one with Justine Bateman and Julia Roberts and they're in a band and Liam Neeson is awkwardly involved) or maybe Mulholland Drive. He's a director now. Check out Adult World for a taste of his directing abilities. Anyway, I love Chip. He's sincere, dorky, polite,  clueless, and he can dance. He's perfect (and he aged well).
  
•  No Melaina, you should not do modern ballet to the tune of "Dixie" while waving around a Confederate flag. I don't care that this is 1963 and you're in South Carolina; it's still a terrible idea. As Luanne says, "Modern ballet is trashy." You should recite Scarlett's "Yankees in Tara" speech instead. It's much more dignified as a talent for the Miss Sun Queen pageant. 
• Remember when people got discovered at things like beauty pageants and dance contests? Simpler times with no Ryan Seacrest.
• Of course, Carson calls Harley (her fiance) because she feels guilty about flirting with Buzz. Of course, Harley has to come Myrtle Beach. 
• Jimmy Valentine! If he's not a mini-Elvis I don't know who would be considered that. The actor also appears in one of the only Gywneth Paltrow movies I can tolerate. His teen idol is awesome, exactly what I imagine the life of a 60s teen idol is like. 
• Luanne trying to make Melaina feel better about the one piece bathing suit: "You, Melaina, you are a flower of the South."
• "Holy pajamas." Chip's reaction to Suette's trashy modern ballet routine and a wonderful phrase. 
• The house party! Melaina basically makes Luanne invite Jimmy Valentine over and then things get out of hand and everybody gets knee-walking drunk (you know what I mean). Of course, this leads to Luanne and Harley becoming a thing, Carson and Buzz disappearing on a boat, and Pudge and Chip falling asleep in a bathtub. You know, like every party you went to in college.
• Chip's comment about falling in love but not having to because he met Pudge and he could just write to her instead is the most heartbreaking moment of this entire movie. Pudge, you're my girl.
• And then morning comes. As does the maid to tell everyone that the Senator (Luanne's daddy) is on his way. Additionally, we have to deal with the end of the elaborate "where's Carson?" ruse and awkwardly discuss how her having sex with Buzz makes her "wild." I guess it makes her "wild" in a 1963 kind of way.
• Harley's logic about getting married and not calling off the wedding is the worst logic I have ever heard about getting married ever. He is every bit a proper Southern gentleman.
• Note: Never follow Melaina's advice when it comes to boys. It will only lead to hurt feelings and no partner at the Shag contest.
• I love the sequence with Chip and the Senator. It's earnest and endearing all at the same time.
• The Shag contest is the best part of this movie. Pudge and Chip and "Stagger Lee." I said before and I'll say again, if this movie doesn't make you want to dance (even if you're terrible like me), we can't be friends. The video is below for you to cherish as I do.
  
• Carson: Luanne, why don't we just go up there and say "This was our last weekend together, and we didn't feel like going to Fort Sumter and touring goddamn colonial homes. We wanted to go to the beach and meet boys and go to wild parties and dance." I mean why can't we tell them the truth? Exactly, Carson, why can't we?
• Of course every movie has to end with the singing of your high school anthem because that's how movies work. At least they all look absolutely lovely while singing it.
  
  
   

I don't know about y'all but I'm going to go call some of my friends, learn all the choreography (by the great Kenny Ortega), and find some wonderful party dresses. That sounds like the most fun.

Going out image
Pudge & Chip
Cruising
Poster
Scott Coffey
End of the movie