Mother's Day Musing

My blog has very little place for anything that isn't dripping with the greatest amount of sarcasm that I can muster, you are all aware of this. However, since it's my blog and I can do whatever the heck I want with it, I'm going to write a completely straight bit because I feel like it.

I've posted about my mom here and there on this blog before, usually poking a bit of fun at her, cause she's a fun lady and can take it. Tonight my mom sent me a text message. It wasn't anything particularly special or significant. It was just asking where I was. I wasn't sure why she had asked, so I asked her about it and she replied that she just worries about me from time to time and wants to make sure I'm doing alright and not working myself too hard and the like. This shouldn't have been very significant, and it would have been very easy for me to smile and roll my eyes and say "I'm just fine, mom," especially since she just saw me earlier today and we live next door to one another, but something about it just struck me. My mom, with a million other things to think and worry about, still has time to worry about her grown daughter enough to send a text, even when she knows I'm fine. And, as it just so happened, I hadn't been having the best evening, and that one text was enough to remind me that there are a lot more things to feel good about than the stupid little things I was feeling down about.

I see a lot of kids out there taking their moms entirely for granted. It's usually some variation of "Ugh, my mom just doesn't understand." Sure, maybe that really is the case with some mothers, but I really don't think it's as widespread as any teenager or other free thinking youth I encounter makes it out to be.  Maybe your mom understands a whole lot more than you think she does. See, everybody emerges into puberty with their own set of complex problems that they immediately think nobody could ever possibly understand. This translates to the vast majority of adolescents and often young adults feeling like their parents "just don't get it" and are probably too old fashioned to understand anyway. But I'd be willing to put money on the bet that most of the people reading this have a mom who does get it. She may not go about responding to everything in the way that you think she should, because she's a different person than you and processes things in a different way, but in all likelihood, she really does get it.

At any rate, I just wanted to tell my readers how thankful I am for my mom, Wendy, for getting it, and for being one of the strongest and wisest women I know. And, if you like my blog, you should be thanking her too, because without her nudging me, I wouldn't have nearly enough push to even update as consistently as I do. And since I know she's going to read this: I love you momma! Thanks for worrying about me; I'll try not to give you too much to worry about. Though this is me we're talking about, so don't get your hopes up. But I think you're pretty swell, and if everybody could have you for a mom, I think the world would be in great shape.

In light of Mother's Day coming up this Sunday, I figured it was a good time to post this and to challenge my readers that, if you have the privilege of being able to, to call your mom and let her know you appreciate her, regardless of whatever differences you and she may have. Chances are, she's spent at least some time today thinking and worrying about you and would really appreciate the effort. I mean, really. She's worth it.

A Journey Into the Psyche of DJ Lance

A while back I did an overview of Yo Gabba Gabba where I spent a good deal of time poking holes in the premise, the characters, the execution, and just about everything else about it as well. I was convinced that I would have all my readers firmly on my side regarding my feelings on the show. Come to find out, however, that opinions about it are actually pretty split. I got quite a few comments informing me that I might not have been fair in my evaluation of it. The most vocal and well thought out of these opinions came from my friend Rachel who I suspect would probably watch Yo Gabba Gabba even if she weren't the mother of two young children, and who has the capacity to evaluate it more intelligently than should really be possible for what it is.

Among other things, Rachel seemed to think that my assessment of the situation revolving the orange-suited MC of the show, DJ Lance Rock, was not a very accurate one. See, I was going on the assumption that DJ Lance is being held there against his will by some unseen, malevolent organization, and Plex, the little yellow robot, is programmed to activate the torture device in the DJ's fuzzy orange hat if the man ever decides to misbehave.

A picture of the DJ for reference

Rachel, on the other hand, has done some thinking on this, and she is of the opinion that DJ Lance is not a victim at all, but is instead the benevolent god of the realm contained within the Yo Gabba Gabba box. 

This thing

She maintains that DJ Lance watches over and guides the mentally challenged residents of Gabba Land with Plex the robot as his magic disciple to teach them to stay out of harm and to do the right thing. She urged me to reconsider my position and to try and think about it this way instead, so I obliged her and opened my mind to new ways of thinking. I did a lot of research and watched several full episodes of the show to give it a chance.  And I did reach a conclusion. Just not the one she wanted me to reach. 

First off, I really can't ignore that DJ Lance really looks like he's in pain. And not the pain of a loving god having to watch his creations descend in to sin and chaos either. The stakes of this show are far too low for that. I'm talking real physical pain here, which is what led me to believe that he was being tortured in the first place. 

DJ Lance exists in a seemingly alternate level of reality from the others, meaning that he lives alone in a completely white space, while the rest of the cast exists entirely (at least to my knowledge) within the couple yards of cardboard diorama set up on the table in the middle of the space where DJ Lance exists. This, in combination with the fact that the DJ constantly looks frantic, pained, or disturbed but trying to hide it, leads me to one conclusion: DJ Lance is an insane man playing with his toys alone in a white padded cell. 

There could be many reasons for his confinement, but I'm not here to speculate on that. It should simply be  assumed that DJ Lance is somehow enough of a danger to himself or others that he had to be put away, and the only thing deemed acceptable for him to have in the room without hurting himself is his orange costume, the table, and his set of toys. You'll notice, if you look, that none of the Yo Gabba Gabba beasties really seem to have very sharp edges except for maybe Plex with his antennae, and they mostly all seem to be stuffed or made of some sort of foam.

And so every day, in a fit of psychotic hallucination mingled with loneliness, DJ Lance plays with his box full of friends and they have all the adventures portrayed in the show, learning lessons about basic human kindness, safety, and friendship. All of this is part of Lance's journey to recovery. It obviously isn't a hopeless situation. DJ Lance seems only concerned with doing good and helping his friends to be happy and safe, but there's a long way to go yet, considering that he does still seem to be imagining things like cheerfully suicidal bubbles that just looove to be popped, intimate details of each of the characters digestive tracts (the red one has three stomachs), and this thing: 

Speculation is that, as DJ Lance continues to work through his issues and become stable, the Yo Gabba Gabba universe as we know it will become gradually more tame, and then slowly disappear, leaving only the table, and DJ's five motionless toys. He will then be able to return to society, reformed and functional, and live out the rest of his life very happily, provided there are no relapses. 

At any rate, I  think there is a lot of hope for DJ Lance, and that this weird, terrifying world he has created is a very important step on his road to full recovery. He is headed for a bright future in which he will not, in fact, bite his friends. 

I wish him well. 

Terribly Festive - Follow Up

So hey. You guys.

You remember last time? When I mentioned that my sister had been talking about a song that contains the lyric "we shared a Christmas hug"? And how I totally thought that she was making it up? Well, we found it. And it is the best thing I have ever encountered.

A little background:
Apparently Utah Senator Orrin Hatch, when he's not doing his regular job, has a dream, and that dream is to be some manner of inspirational lyricist. So he, seemingly realizing he had the power to make this dream a reality, got in contact with sappy sentimental songwriter, Janice Kapp Perry. The two of them teamed up to make a Christmas album, and from that album emerged their collaborative opus, "The Christmas Hug". And now I am here to share that with all of you.

The Christmas Hug

Words by Orrin G. Hatch

Music by Janice Kapp Perry

Vocal by Gene Morford

We saw her through the window

Of her humble little home

The street was bright with Christmas lights

But she was all alone

She’s lived here in the neighborhood

For twenty years or more

But no one cared or no one dared

To knock upon her door

She opened up the door to us

And welcomed us inside

And though she smiled bravely

We saw tears were in her eyes

Her family was so far away

And could not come this year

The thing she needed most of all

Was suddenly quite clear 

Chorus

     We shared a Christmas hug

     We shared some Christmas love

     And felt the tender ache of loneliness depart

     We shared a Christmas hug

     We finally cared enough

     To feel the miracle of Christmas

     In our hearts

We held our simple Christmas gift

In ribbons green and red

But saw there was a greater need

And offered it instead

Our little girl ran to her arms

And hugged her tenderly

She said “there could not ever be

A sweeter gift for me” 

Repeat Chorus 

Christmas comes and Christmas goes

Doors will open, doors will close

So many Christmas mem’ries we hold dear

But the best of all the best

Always stands out from the rest

It’s one we will remember through the years 

Repeat Chorus 

A simple hug brought Christmas
To our hearts  

I will not mar this glorious moment by saying much else. But, Senator Hatch, I think you'd better keep your day job.

Every Single Time...

So the other day I woke up looking particularly haggard. Nothing abnormal, but it was a day when I had to deal with a lot of children (more than usual, cause the ones I nanny are already used to me looking frightening) and so I wanted to slap on a little bit of makeup so I would look less like an angry man. This is what I discovered:

Terribly Festive

So. Christmas music. It sure is bad nowadays, huh? Not anything like the good old classics you remember from when you were young. Those kids these days just don't know how to write a good Christmas song, do they? I find that a lot of what people choose to gripe about over the holidays is the mass amount of terrible Christmas songs that seem to find their way onto the radio this time of year. I personally have never really been able to see why this is, because, in my family, awful Christmas songs make up one of our most beloved traditions. See, I come from a family of musicians, which I feel has given me an appreciation for what distinguishes a good song from a bad song. Of course, I also grew up in a family of smart-alecks, which gave me an appreciation for why terrible songs are hilarious. When the Christmas season rolls around, we keep the radio on as often as we can, and when one of these songs comes on we all delight in singing along as awkwardly and off key as possible. It's reached the point where I start feeling giddy whenever something like, say Justin Bieber's enchanting little tune "Under the Mistletoe"comes on the radio. I can't help but get excited and sing terribly along with it. So I'm here now, as this current holiday season comes to a close, to share with you a few of the songs that are particularly special to me and my family.

Keep in mind that the definition of what makes a 'bad' Christmas song is very specific here. Most of us agree that those novelty Christmas songs that are trying to be funny are generally nothing but annoying, but that's not the sort of bad that I'm talking about here. What I mean are the songs that don't know they're bad. The songs that, for whatever reason, think they are so very touching or influential or inspirational and just fall very short of their mark. These are the songs that I love. So, without further ado, here are the terrible Christmas songs that are very near and dear to my heart. 

The first two on my list are the two I find the most tame, despite bringing out varying degrees of hate in the more cynical folk. I don't want to be too mean about them, as they are songs that a lot of very nice, intelligent people genuinely like. I'm sure a lot of these songs fall under that description. I like a lot of things  unironically that are generally considered 'bad', so I'm not in the business of making people feel bad about what they enjoy. That said... "The Christmas Shoes"...

This song is a tale of a man who isn't really feeling the Christmas spirit as he is out doing some last minute shopping until he encounters a young boy out trying to buy a pair of shoes for his dying mother and learns the true meaning of Christmas. That's the general idea. Earlier this evening as I was working on this post, my father referred to this song as 'emotional blackmail'. And really, that's what it is. You can't not be  moved to tears by the plight of this poverty stricken young boy and his terminally ill mother unless you are the most terrible heartless person in the world. Why, even the Grinch himself would have an extra four or five sizes added on to his tiny heart by the heartfelt sincerity of the boy's plea. And that's why I think so many people hate it so much. Because it makes them feel uncomfortable about not liking it in the first place. And that is exactly why I love it. This song is basically threatening that if you roll your eyes at its sappiness, then you will be outcast from society for hating all that is good and not understanding the meaning of Christmas. This is enough to send the people who don't like it and don't know they're being blackmailed into a frothing rage, sending them on tyrades about why they hate this song and generally stirring discontent for anyone who dares not to be moved by it. That is just pure evil genius, and I respect that. "The Christmas Shoes", you are as diabolical as you are fun to sing, and I tip my hat to you. 

The second is less... smart, I think, on the whole. It is not crafty enough to be manipulative, and is, perhaps, all around more innocent than "The Christmas Shoes" but far more deeply sincere as well. The song I am referring to is "Mary, Did You Know" or, as I like to call it, the stupid question song. 

I am all for keeping the real meaning of the holiday present in the music that plays on the radio during the season, but this song seems to flounder a bit, particularly due to the fact that yes, Mary DID know all these things. That's what the angel told her when he said she was going to have this baby. So as sincere and well meaning as it is, it's still a dumb question, which makes it a fun song to mercilessly mock like the excellent individual I am. Not to mention that my sister does a delightful off-key and 'heartfelt' rendition of it, complete with an awkward shimmy jerk dance that is really quite stirring. 

As I said, those ones are pretty tame. It's hard, at least for me, to find any offense in sentimental little numbers meant for small town Christians. The songs that I find truly special during the Christmas season are the ones that cater to the wider mainstream. The holiday love songs; the white guilt ballads; the songs that work so hard share the very vague message of 'Christmas is neat'; these are where the real meaty goodness of bad Christmas music lies.

Here's a song that tries too hard. I've never really even been sure what it's trying too hard to do, but it is.

A song that seems to think that growing up means asking for more vague, unattainable things for Christmas, like peace on Earth and for everybody to hug and stuff. I think my favorite part of this is that the singer seems to be asking Santa for all of these things. Lady, Santa ain't know how to make any peace on Earth in his toy shop. Leave the guy alone and ask for normal things like an iPod. Quit your contemplative introspection and go out and rally for peace or hug a hobo or something yourself. Santa's a busy man. On the list of songs that are my favorite to overdramatize off key, I think this one might be the top...

Now, everybody knows that Christmas is all about spiting last year's lover by flaunting around this year's, but I think this song takes it to the next level.

Video aside (though it should not be ignored because it is one of the most hilariously overdramatic and spiteful things ever) this is the ultimate song about re-gifting. Though there are a few bewildering logistics... Like... if she gave HIS heart away to somebody else, then how did he get it back the next year to give it to somebody else? I am so full of questions here. Anyway, I really have no idea how the rest of the song besides the chorus goes, despite having listened to it several times today, because it kind of tunes itself out. I don't even have to do any work for it to fade into the background. But the chorus always comes back in with its powerfully petty message and makes this song something truly special.

But among all of these, there is no song that spews self-righteousness vaguely disguised as Christmas cheer quite like this.

My favorite part is when it zooms in on Sting looking like he doesn't want to be there during the "bitter sting of tears" line....

Written from the perspective of a bunch of rich white people who have absolutely no idea what Africa is like,  "Feed The World" makes up the centerpiece of any great banquet of terrible Christmas music. Just in case you were enjoying your white suburban Christmas a little too much, Band Aid is here, straight from the 80's, to remind you that you should be feeling guilty about the things you have because people in Africa are suffering. I mean, they don't even have any giant rivers there or anything! One can only hope that, in addition to this song, all of these artists donated a significant portion of their millions to humanitarian aid, or else this song's premise falls completely flat instead of just mostly flat. And let me tell you, I just about screamed with delight when I discovered that there was a great big sparkly Glee version of this song as well, because that means the completely clueless sentiment expressed in it is still alive and well today in mainstream pop. Because sometimes we really all do need to be reminded that yes, there really are people that stupid. Also, for a real treat, come over to my parent's house some time and watch my dad jerk to this like an awkward white 80's kid. 

So there's my list. I'm sure there are more out there, and I'm always on the lookout. For instance, my sister maintains that there is a song that exists somewhere that contains the lyrics "We shared a Christmas hug..." However, searches for this gem have turned up little, and so I am convinced that is is a mere urban legend. Kind of like bigfoot except for with worse writing.

Anyway, I know that Christmas is now over as are most of the holiday songs on the radio, but I want you all, next year, to try and find something different in all the awful things playing over the holidays. Don't grump and groan because the music has completely missed the spirit of the season or is just plain terrible. Think of it a different way. Because if we believe hard enough, bad Christmas music can give us all a very important gift. The gift of laughter.

And as I said before, if you happen to like any of the songs on it, please don't feel attacked. This is all just opinion. After all, I  like several of the Barbie movies. 

The Worst Feeling

I experienced something terrible the other day.

Nobody over the age of eighteen ever really wants there to be any evidence laying around that they were once in their early teens, but, unless they kept an embarrassing diary or had a binder full of pictures of Orlando Bloom or something, it's not likely that anything is really going to turn up to haunt them when they're an adult. Now, I loosely fit under the category of what can technically be called an 'artist', which means that I spent a lot of my early teens drawing. I can't ever really bring myself to get rid of old drawings because they represent a part of my growth process. Of course, this means that I have a whooole lot of regrettable and embarrassing things from that time period that have not been destroyed. This is cringe-inducing sometimes, yes, but I can usually just accept that these things exist but can assure myself that they will never be seen and move on.

And then there was my experience from the other day... It went a little something like this:

Now, there is a slight chance that I'm still safe and that they ended up in a box in my parents currently inaccessible basement, but I quite honestly have no idea. The uncertainty is agonizing.

So I'm going to be in hiding for a while. Just to be safe. 

No, I'm not overreacting. 

Why I Hate RENT

I don't hate a lot of things. No, really. I don't hate Justin Bieber, even with many a claim that he is somehow singlehandedly destroying pop music. I don't hate the Star Wars prequels even though they apparently suck. Heck, I don't even hate Twilight, for as much as I rag on it; it's dumb and has some awful morals, but I certainly don't hate it. That said, I have a deep, burning hatred for the musical RENT. 

RENT is a rock opera -- based Puccini's opera, La Boheme -- that came out on Broadway in the mid 90's. The best I can explain it in only a few words is that it is about a group of vile, obnoxious proto-hipsters who spend outstanding amounts of time and energy trying to shock and defy 'the man'. The man in question being anyone who wants them to make a concerted effort to pay their rent and contribute to society. But no, they are 'Bohemians' and they need not bow to the whims of society, oh no. They are much too busy being troubled artists and getting into petty arguments at their best friend's funerals to comply with such outrageous standards. To get a better idea, here's a song of them telling us exactly that. I dearly wish I had the video to go along with it, but I couldn't find it, but I promise you it's a whole lot more eye-rolling when you can see it. If you're offended by swears, crude references, or annoying, entitled twenty-somethings, be warned. It's mostly the latter:

So that is RENT in a nutshell. And I hate it. You have to listen to the words because I'll admit the song is super catchy and I actually like it, but when I stop to listen to the words I immediately get back to rolling my eyes. It must be known that this attitude is kept up by most of the characters throughout the course of the show, and they are rewarded for it. Meanwhile, the only two characters I don't hate because they're not awful people, get to suffer. I call shenanigans. 

If you've ever had a conversation with me about something that is wrong with society and today's youth culture, you will almost always hear me utter the phrase "And that's why I hate RENT" because that's what RENT is for me. A representation of everyone who has ever made me groan with exasperation at how smart and edgy they think they are. 

My cousin and I were discussing yesterday the clock we bought at the thrift store. It has cats on it. Upon purchase, we found that it required three batteries. One to power the clock, and two to work the intensely annoying meowing sound that goes off once an hour. Of this, my cousin said "Well, I guess it takes more energy to be annoying than to be useful." I thought that was very fitting to this situation. There is so very much energy put forth by the cast of RENT into being so very very annoying "edgy", with the intent of making a bunch of old white people gasp in shock and clutch their pearls. That's all. That is what 'defying the mainstream' is, as far as I can gather. What they are actually accomplishing -- according to my parents who are part of the demographic that RENT is trying to horrify -- is something akin to the auditioners on American Idol who think they are really good at singing. If you've ever watched the show, you know how convinced these people are that their voices are going to impress everyone and have this big impact, when really we're all just incredibly embarrassed for them and hope they will stop and go home soon so we can just continue with our lives as normal.

Now I don't hate 'Bohemians'. I may see them as obsolete, considering there is no need for a Bohemian revolution in a world where unconventionally expressing yourself and following your dreams of being an artist, writer, musician, etc. is no longer scandalous or unorthodox. You are free to do your thing and congratulate yourself on your uniqueness as much as you want. It is when you start whining about how society should owe you something for your abject refusal to contribute to it that I immediately stop caring about what you have to say. And that is how I got to complain about RENT during the entirety of the Occupy Wall Street movement. There are better ways to combat inequality. Actually doing work instead of protesting, for instance. And I am not bashing on people who can't get jobs. I am bashing on people who wont. Like most of the cast of RENT.

Everybody wants to be unique. We were all fourteen once, and understand what it is to want to make people pay attention to us. However, most people stop begging for attention by telling everybody how edgy and anti-establishment they are after they stop being fourteen. For an example, I am going to pick on the "Scene" trend plaguing our high schools cause it's a thing I'm actually aware of and because there is at least one youth who is very dear to my heart who I would like to save from a lot of future embarrassment. A "Scene" kid is somebody who looks like this:

They spend their days pleading for attention on Facebook and Twitter, acting like they are smarter than everyone, taking pictures of themselves, and pretending to be shocking and quirky. Nobody outside of the Scene circle has ever thought they were cool, and most of them grow out of it before they can humiliate themselves in college. The rough adult equivalent of that trend is this:

A greatly toned down look but one that still screams "I never grew up, please pay attention to me." But while attention seeking teenagers can get away with not having jobs or paying rent and spending all day listening to music or snapping pictures of their hands forming hearts because they still live with their parents, adults who don't live at home do not get this luxury because they are adults. 

Look. I get it. I am a writer and sometimes I even pretend to be an artist too. My entire blog is basically an elaborate front for people to notice me and think I'm cool. I would love nothing more than to just get to sit around all day and write and not have to worry about paying bills or anything just because it's what I love to do, but I can't because real life does not work that way. Until I can find a way to reliably make a living from blogging, I have to have a job. Now, I am one of the lucky ones who has a job that I like, but I've worked ones I hated too. I've had to wake up at 3 AM to work every day and I've worked two jobs at once to save up tuition and I really don't need to hear about how much you suffer because you don't feel like picking up a shift at McDonalds cause it interferes with your free spirits, cast of RENT. If you don't pay your rent, your landlord has to and they've got bills of their own to pay. Get a job. You freaking hippies. 

I could rant about this forever but in interest of anybody actually caring, I'm doing my best to keep it somewhat short. To wrap up, I will make a list of things that, however abstractly, make me complain about how much I hate RENT. Please note that this is still a work in progress. After all, I still have yet to find out the names of those young hooligans who wont stay off my lawn, and don't even get me started on that Lady Gaga character... But here it is: 

PETA
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Occupy anything
California
The Kia Soul
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Anybody who un-ironically refers to the business world as 'the establishment'. 

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And don't get all up on me because "RENT is about AIDS and how it affects the lives of so many and...." No. RENT is about annoying people, some of whom happen to have AIDS. Tell a story about people with AIDS who aren't insufferable and then we'll talk.