Rant

I am sure you have all seen the new shirts coming from Dumb and Dumber (also known as Kendall and Kylie) that have their images plastered over classic rock and hip hop images such as 2Pac, Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, and Kiss. 

I cannot even begin to tell you how angry this makes me. 

First of all, these shirts are selling for $125.  Any rocker or concert-goer knows that the typical cost of a rock tee is at max, $40 and maybe $50 if it has some bells and whistles to it.  $125 is outrageous.  Explain to me why I would pay $85 extra to have a hoe’s image covering up my favorite band’s logo.  That’s like asking me to pay extra for ice cream that’s wrapped up in baby spinach—it ruins the initial product.

People are going to buy these shirts.  They are going to ask their mommies and daddies for money to buy these shirts.  Their parents are going to think these girls are some sort of entrepreneurial role models (an excuse they are going to tell themselves while they are just being lazy and avoiding the lesson here to teach their daughters that exploiting yourself will not get you ANYWHERE) and the young people will buy them.  They will not know anything of the music that has been mutilated and think they are hot shit.

There is a shirt with Kendall’s image over a Doors shirt.  THE DOORS?!?!?  I don’t even like The Doors but God Damn—they are untouchable rock royalty. 

So what is most irksome about this?  I think it is the real idea behind it.  The idea that a Metallica t-shirt is great and all, but slap Kylie’s big ass over it and it is worth more money.  And on top of that, fuckers will buy it!  More will buy it than if they sold a vintage Metallica tee for that same price.  #icanteven.

This whole family thinks they are above.  Above and beyond respect of legends.  Because they think they are legendary.  And we aren’t really proving them wrong.  The fact that Billboard’s Instagram posts pictures of Kim Kardashian (NOT a musician) as often as they post images of actual artists just shows their influence over industries they should stay the fuck out of.  Billboard is a music industry source.  Not a dumbass hoe source.  Get the fuck out of my feed, Kim!

So, in short, I take true offense to anyone who will buy one of these altruistic shirts.  I will never buy one and I disown any friend or family member who would.  Not only as a fan of some of these artists, but as a fan of all music and someone who respects all most artists in the industry, I find this to be so disrespectful and true proof that they (they meaning the worst family to come to television) don’t understand what rock is all about. 

Get your ass out of my face, Kendall.  Fuck you and your family!

Give Me Novocaine

In a few days, it will be a year since I have been having spine/back/hip issues.  One whole fucking year.  The only positive that has come out of this whole experience has been finding yoga, and making it such a huge part of my life.  Otherwise, I miss feeling like I can move my body however I want.  To feel like I need to think through activities before saying “sure” or “let’s go” is not something I have experience with.

After much acupuncture, a cortisone shot, and many many pain pills and creams, I decided to switch doctors.  The “Pain Management Specialist” I was seeing was totally unhelpful.  Every visit was “keep icing it.” 

Dude! I am going to become a human popsicle if I keep icing my back.  I was making a pretty regular routine of putting an ice pack in the back of my pants and holding it in place with the elastic waistband of my sweatpants.  I kept it there until the right side of my butt was numb and then I took it out.   Not a habit I want to get used to.

The new doctor  I started seeing recently is an Orthopedic Surgeon.  He recommended a nerve test which I experienced this week.  What fun! 

For this test, I had to lay down in bright blue, paper shorts, while the doctor attached electronic sensors with cords attached to them to my feet and legs.  “You ready to get shocked?” he asked.

“No.  Not at all,” I said.

He laughed.  And I did not. 

“Well at least your hair is already frizzy.”

Dick.

Then he took a contraption that looked like a Wii remote with two large prongs that distributed the zaps.  The shocks weren’t bad.  They made my legs and feet move without my control.  Then he moved to the second part.

“I am sure I mentioned the next part of the test with the needles.”

My eyes bulged.  He certainly DID NOT!

I had to lay face down and he stuck a needle into my muscles.  I had to have the muscle relaxed and then flexed.  The idea is to see if my muscles are working more than they should, to compensate for the injury.  He stuck the needle in my calf, thigh and then my butt.  Yes, I had to flex my butt. 

He left the room and came back to discuss.  He said, “there was a finding.” There was a muscle making up for the injury in my spine and the best solution was surgery.

“Would you be able to have surgery this summer,” he asked.

I started crying.  Like, little-girl-dropped-her-ice-cream-crying.  He was asking me questions and all I could do was use hand gestures and shake my head.   He got up and gave me gauze to wipe my eyes (he didn’t have tissues which makes me think most people don’t act like a crazy toddler when they are in this office).  He told me the surgery is minor and I would be able to be as active as I was before the injury. 

I am taking some time to ponder this idea of surgery.  In the meantime, more cortisone and trying physical therapy.  He walked me out and carried my backpack (again, girl who dropped her ice cream) and told me to email him with questions, updates or anything else.  Part of me wonders if I should shoot him over a quick email: “Sorry I burst into tears after you poked my butt” . . .wait, that doesn’t sound right.

Anyway, denial is considered toxic.  One should address situations directly.  Face things head on.   Well, for right now, denial is sweet.  I choose to enjoy a short time of addressing the situation by ignoring its existence.  For the rest of the week, I shall pretend I am perfectly content leading a low-impact life and find comfort in yoga, sunshine and vodka.

And for all those reading this, enjoy your own type of denial with the perfect playlist:

Discount Books Are So Stressful

At my job, we have team meetings once a week.  At these meetings, we pick “value” cards from a deck and each week, discuss what that word means in our current life—work or personal.  There is a whole stack of these cards with different words on them . . . creativity, peace, justice, power, love, anger, etc.  The idea is to creates conversation and allows us to get us to know one another better.  We had pulled cards months ago and I got “Tranquility.”  We never went over them and then this week, we did.   When it was my turn to talk about what my card means to me,  I simply said:

“This is funny because I have absolutely no tranquility in any part of my life right now.”

A little blunt perhaps but I had nothing else to say.  When you don’t have tranquility, all you can do is reflect on the fact that you don’t.  Oh yah, you know that thing . . .well I don’t have it.

I know the value of peace and tranquility, especially of the mind, because I have experienced it.  I can recognize that my current lack of tranquility is temporary and I have had it, and will again.  The major benefit of tranquility is that it gives me full perspective.  Problems don’t seem that big, issues seem like they will resolve themselves.  I get a full understanding of “there is only so much I can do” and I know that worry, over thinking, and analyzing does absolutely nothing to improve my emotional and physical state.

It is cliche, but honestly, I experience the most pure feeling of tranquility during yoga.  I get a revelation that I have limits, and most of the things I worry about in the other hours of the day is worthless.  Life is basically good and beautiful—putting energy into other ideas is a waste.

Don’t worry, I feel tranquility in other places too—and sober, believe it or not.  I recently was sitting in Brooklyn Bridge park with my boyfriend.  We were sitting on a bench, near the pier, looking out at the water.  It was so much warmer than it had been over the last few days, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.   In that moment, I felt truly relaxed.  I felt safe.  I felt at peace—tranquil.

I do not know what qualifies as a true anxiety attack but I believe I have had two of them.  Very minor, but I had them.  Both within a few days of each other.  This was about two years ago.  One attack came while watching a movie with my parents.  At the end of the movie, I felt extremely tense in my jaw.  It felt as if my neck and jaw muscles were tightening so much, I might not be able to relax them . . . EVER.  So, my mom gave me a heating pad to wrap around my neck and my dad gave me scotch (this should give you a good picture of what my parents are like).

The second attack was at Barnes and Noble—probably one of the most serene stores out there but yes, I was able to have a breakdown there as well.  This time, I felt like I couldn’t focus.  No matter what I was saying, doing, looking at, it was as if my thoughts were somewhere else and my body was just doing it's own thing.  I felt like my legs might give out; that they wouldn’t hold me up anymore and I would just collapse on the floor in front of the “now on Blu Ray” section.  

It was a very odd time.  And it showed me that there are always going to be things fighting against that tranquil feeling but I have to work that much harder to maintain as many moments of this tranquility as I can.  After this team meeting and saying out loud how NOT tranquil I was feeling, I made an effort to work towards it.  

At the end of the meeting, we all gave our cards back and picked new ones.  Clearly the universe is telling me something. 

Peace.

Sweet Caroline Goes To Yankee Stadium

I have never been a hug sports fan.  I remember watching the New England Patriots as a kid with my parents.  I remember Drew Bledsoe getting hit and then seeing this Tom Brady guy play quarterback and thinking . . . I don’t know why but I don’t like you.

Still don’t, by the way.

I remember going to a Red Sox game as a kid and caring not one bit about the game, but enjoying all the different food options you could get at one stadium.  A fat kids dream!!!

Being in college in New York when the Red Sox won the World Series and living in New York for at least two Patriots Super Bowl wins, I have seen the anger that arises towards me because of the teams I root for.  What I have found most interesting is that during every game, when the team I care about is winning or losing, it really doesn’t change the conversation.  There is anger from New York fans, no matter which team is winning. 

I was at a Yankees/Red Sox game last night at Yankee Stadium and even though the Red Sox were playing horribly, the fury was still there.  I was so confused.

Lets be really clear about this, I barely watch any sports.  I watch the big games (and those are really only if one of the New England-based teams are playing).  I don’t follow players, I don’t understand baseball, I don’t know when the seasons start and end.  I am not a sports person.  But I do get a sense of excitement and passion when I do watch a game.  When in Rome.

But, having said all that, I still face a lot of aggression.  I have actually been at work in the morning, in my office, and a coworker came in, came into the doorway, pointed at me and said “New England sucks” and then walked away.  She didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.  Meanwhile, I had no idea what had happened to make her say this.  This has now happened at two different jobs.  I have never said anything aggressive towards any opposing fan because I don’t feel I need to for a couple of reasons:

First, most teams have triumphs and their fans all ride those until the day we die.  With the Red Sox, when “the curse ended” it put us on a high that no one can really take us down from.  No matter how much people hate your team, the fans still remember those amazing wins.

Secondly, your team and its fan community should speak for itself.  I don’t feel the need to defend any New England team because their game is the best representation.  This goes for when they win and when they lose.  It is an awful thing when a fan goes against the team when they are struggling.  It’s like a mobster going against the family—you just don’t do it.    

Thirdly, I have noticed that New York fans and their teams have to be the best.  The spirit is of “we are a number one, top of the list, kind of the hill . . .” you get the idea.  Boston and New England fans have a different spirit.  Not so much of a number one status but of overcoming obstacles.  More of a “we are still standing, look how far we have come” feeling.  I like that.  Plus, that is what I grew up with.  In New England, there is more team swag worn than any other type of clothing.  If you gathered a random group of 25 New Englanders, there would be more than 50% wearing some sort of team logo.   I grew up with teenage friends getting their team tattooed on their body.  I never heard of anyone rooting for another team that wasn’t from our states.  It just wasn’t done.  When I went to school in New York , my mom was asking why I wouldn’t become a Yankees fan or a Giants fan.  I still don’t really have an answer other than its just not in my DNA to do that.

So as a half-assed sports enthusiast, I have to say that having dealt with sports fans of all kinds, I maintain that I am a proud New England/Boston fan.  It is how I was raised and it is where I come from.  So how do I handle the Haterade?  I say nothing. And when we win, I don’t say that much either.  I don’t need to.  Stay true to your team, no matter how hard it may be.

And for my fellow New Englanders, here is a short playlist that should bring you back home.