This video was like a roller coaster for me... a Betty Page roller coaster. I ran a gamut of emotions from "Whoa! Beyonce's flippin HOT!" to "Ugh... this is needy." to "Dang, I wish I could wear lavender lipstick" to "Aww she's dusting her Grammys" and finally to "YEAH! He is dumb!"
The song is definitely not without its issues, but I like the idea of it being a a problem with the dude and not Beyonce. After all, what's not to love?
Apologies in advance for the bummer post, but I'm feeling compelled.
It's been one month since my dad died, which means that it's been one whole month and only one month since one of the people who helped make sense of this world disappeared from this mortal coil. I'm not a fan of cliches, but to say that this month has felt both incredibly long and incredibly short is the best I can do right now.
Most kids love their dads, if for no other reason, because they are dads. But it's no hyperbole to say that my dad was one of my favorite people, period. He was a genuine joy to be around; his sharp wit and unparalleled pun mastery were something to behold. Even when he'd lose his temper, his colorful conglomerates of profanity delighted me.
He was a wonderful singer, songwriter, and guitar player. A notably dubious claim to fame was having his song "Good Girls" on the soundtrack for the 1978 Linda Blair roller skating vehicle, Roller Boogie. It's worth noting that my dad's song was 2nd on the soundtrack, right after Cher's "Hell On Wheels" (heard in the trailer below).
Johnnie Coolrock - "Good Girls"
My dad had a theory that another L.A.-based band, the Knack (of "My Sharona" fame), was ripping him off. "I started wearing skinny ties, then they started wearing skinny ties!" That the Knack released a song called "Good Girls Don't" just a few months later only further fueled this conspiracy theory.
In the end, playing some shows here and there and collecting royalties from the soundtrack of a movie that flopped were not enough to earn a living. My dad took up house painting to make money, adopting the moniker "John D. Painter."
He has a real knack for picking colors and soon became the painter of many famous L.A. folk. His favorite celebrity client was Ms. Farrah Fawcett, who apparently had an entire room in her home full of Angels-era memorabilia. In the mid-80s, my dad wrote a screenplay about an L.A. house painter called Navajo White. He wanted John Cusack - a fellow Chicagoan and John - to play the lead role of the house painter.
While living in L.A., my sister would spend the occasional weekend night at his apartment. There was something always unfamiliar there, like it was a space that was never properly equipped to have children in it. But it was comforting, insofar as my dad was there. One night, I told my dad that I couldn't sleep. He got up and made us hot fudge sundaes. I remember it well because it was one of the few childhood moments I shared with him where I was not competing with my sister for his gaze. It was very nice.
As I grew older, circumstances at my mom's house made me want to get out of there. By this time, my dad was back in the Chicago-area, living one town over from the town he grew up in: Homewood, IL. I never really thought of using the words "running away from home" to describe this situation, but my aunt gave them to me, and I'd say they fit. At 15, I packed up two suitcases and got on a plane to Chicago. I had never lived with my dad, but anything had to be better than my mom's house at that point. When I arrived, the air of uncertainty around us both was thick as butter - how would this work? What would it look like? We got to my dad's apartment and he had set up a spartan-but-homey room for me. A twin bed with a t0o-soft mattress, a dresser, an easy chair, and a mobile he'd crafted out of metal discs. He let me choose a color for him to paint the room. I picked dark purple.
To my surprise and delight, living with my dad was wonderful. We made and ate meals together and he was interested and involved in my schoolwork. It was the family life I hadn't had, but had longed for, for years. We made a great team. When my dad decided to once again put the painting business aside to pursue another dream, I tried to help out as best I could. He opened Sputnik, a coffeehouse and music venue that quickly became a beacon for suburban young folks with little to do. It was great and he loved it. Even when he complained, he loved it. Sputnik had a good run of two years, but the morning revenue from commuters was curbed when Starbucks opened a few doors down.
Not long after Sputnik closed, I went off to college. Not long after that Hanna was born, and not too long after that I went back to Chicago for an internship. After college, I moved back to Chicago, partially because I was in love with a boy there, but also because I could be close to my dad again. I'd be at his house every weekend, doing laundry, barbecuing, going for walks in the nearby woods, and fishing. He would book us gigs to perform as a father/daughter act. I am immeasurably grateful for the many times we were about to sing together.
I moved to the bay area to start graduate school, and my dad was proud, but sad to see me leave. He sent me off with a Tupperware full of trail mix and an atlas. For the first time in a long while, I would not be coming back that weekend. We were both choked up as I drove off, but my dad did a better job of hiding it.
I was at work when I found out that he'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. A quick Wikipedia search told me it was a terminal illness. And despite sitting on this knowledge for 10 months, his rapid decline came as a surprise. Again, I was at work when my stepmom sent me an email. "I lost my Dad to cancer so I know a bit how it feels to hear that someone is starting to leave thisworld. I think that is starting to happen now." That night, I was on a plane.
One night when I was alone at the hospice with him, I put my head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. His sternum was a rough ridge compared to what it had been in a fleshier, healthier body. I thought about resting on his chest when he'd read me stories at his apartment for the weekend. His heartbeat was stronger then, his body younger and cancerless; that's the safest space I'll ever know.
Lost for things to say, I sang a song that we sang together many times. "Come on wheels... take this boy away..."
John & Tate Brazas - "Wheels (Cobain Room Session)"
Once he finally stopped breathing, people said I was holding up remarkably well. At the funeral lunch, I was cracking jokes and enjoying a Manhattan. It seems weird, but Alison Bechdel - who also laughed while telling folks about her dead dad - summed it perfectly for me in her graphic novel, Fun Home: "The idea that my vital, passionate father was decomposing in the grave was ridiculous."
Since we're leaving in June-ish, I've started my SF bucket list: Things I want to do before my SF life dies. I figure these things will be good to check off my list while I still have a gaggle of friends around to help me. I hope you will support me in these endeavors.
1. Stay out all night and roam the SF streets, watch the sunrise over the city, eat breakfast at 5am, and sleep all day
2. Participate in a dance contest
3. Film the Party Starters commercial and set up a website
4. Start a 60's girl group (see next item)
5. Fashion a beehive
6. Create my own Home Shopping Craigslist Network complete with a call center backdrop Inspiration: Brenda Dickson
(i couldn't find a plain screenshot of this scene)
I guess this is my wish list. Two months isn't quite enough time to do it all. The first two are doable. Anyone want to participate/help?
Miss you already, Megan Marie: the visual designer/dancer in the dark/the esprit de corps
After three weeks of work travel, I'm back! I've missed you all!
My last business trip was to Jackson, MS where local tipped me off to a Jim Henson exhibit happening at the Mississippi Museum of Art. Being a Muppet fan for as long as I can remember, I knew I had to see it. Naturally, I was thrilled to see Kermit and the Mahna Mahna puppets, but there were some Jim Henson rarities on display: early sketches, psychadelic 60s experimental films, and photos of him playing dress-up as a child. I've always thought of Kermit the Frog as a total dreamboat; he's sweet and sincere, plays banjo, rides a bike, and loves hanging out on logs. But the playfulness, weird humor, and dreamy qualities present in Jim Henson's entire body of work was enough to make me want to add "find Jim Henson; get lawfully wed" to my growing "time travel to-do" list. It doesn't hurt that he's sort of a babe in that "bearded freak" way.
The exhibit also put Jim Henson on another growing list of mine: "Soul Brothers/Soul Sisters."
The idea behind the list is simple and very 6th grade: people in the public eye that I feel a certain bond or connection with. It's romantic in the way that I'd like to assume that I could BFFs with any of these folks (even though I'm basing this assumption entirely off a public body of work... whatever). Here's some other folks on the list:
Dick VanDyke - I often state that I want to be in a polyamorous marriage with Dick VanDyke and Mary Tyler Moore. When people realize that I'm serious, it becomes more creepy than cute, but doesn't make it any less true. This man does what matters: sings (with animated characters) and dances (with animated characters). He's goofy in an irrestible way. My aunt sometimes waits on his old-man self in her restaurant and she said he whistles to himself and skips. She thinks he's nuts, but I think he's perfect.
Neko Case - second Neko shout-0ut on this blog! Neko is like an older, wiser sister who keeps shit hella real with you. She's a badass with a soft side; a self-proclaimed tomboy who can still take sexy pictures. She's a public female who offers a more complex idea of femininity. She's a lady pilot and an animal lover with a golden voice. I'll sing myself hoarse belting her songs in my car. "The next time you say forever, I will punch you in your face." I LOVE HER!
Nicholas Gurewitch - not a household name, but the genius (GENIUS!) behind my favorite comic strip of all time, The Perry Bible Fellowship. We're all familiar with the "sense of humor" cliche, but I would gladly go for an arranged marriage with this man based just off his now-defunct comic strip, which can be absurd, midly cruel, and hideously clever. Plus, he put together an entire soundtrack for a fake Wes Anderson movie. DREAMBOAT!
Lisa Hanawalt - Lisa's also a new addition, but once I found out that she was the brilliant lady behind this masterpiece, I knew she was on the list. After flying through her entire online portfolio, I promptly ordered a copy of Stay Away From Other People. When it arrived, I was having an awful stomach ache and it was better than an entire roll of Tums. She wrote about buying a pair of short overalls from the thrift store (see? Soul sister!), but they were labeled "Teen Bibs." A few pages later, she wrote about her dream wedding, which included "Bride wears white teen bibs." I die, I die.
Lotta Crabtree - "a true San Francisco character," (whole) Lotta Crabtree became famous in Gold Rush times for her singing, dancing, banjo-picking, and cigar-smoking. A hermit in her later years, she died unmarried, and left her fortune to animals, aging actors, and arts programs.
I know I'm forgetting many, many people, but who are your soul brothers/soul sisters?
I want to start out by saying that I realize this blog isn't really for super heavy stuff, but I hope you don't mind me using it as a stepping stone in bravery. I appreciate so greatly the venue this blog is providing me right now. Thank you friends for letting me air all my stuff here. It seems kinda weird doing this in a blog, but what I'm going to do, call a meeting to discuss it? I want you ladies to know me and know me well. I want to know you well! I'm writing you this evening to come out to you in a way. I've got some stuff that I need to get off my chest and I'm treating this as a trial run before I tell my Dad and family the very same thing. By the way, this is going to be a long ass post and may get pretty boring, so don't feel obligated to read it :)
I've recently come to terms with my core beliefs and now I feel a responsibility to be honest with myself at all times and with anyone I respect. I am an atheist.
I can't tell you how strange or difficult my decision to be honest with myself and say those words--I'm an atheist--has been. At the same time, I feel so free from the oppression I've felt. In fact, I didn't realize how oppressed I was by religion and the fear of a god I could not feel or prove existed. Within the last year I've started to look at myself and what makes me happy...what doesn't make me happy, etc and have introspected so thoroughly. My realization has come in baby steps. At first I was able to say that I wasn't Christian, but did believe in god. Then, I was able to say that I didn't know what the real truth was and didn't think anyone really did. Then, I could say that I didn't believe in god...but never have I imagined I could assertively say that I am an atheist. There are reasons why I've felt so inhibited and afraid to explore how I really feel...
First, I have to start with my childhood (this is the long and boring part--but i gotta work through it). My family was not religious in anyway...at all. My Dad read me stories from a children's bible story book and until I was probably 9, I believed they were simply fascinating stories. We never went to church. If my parents ever talked to me about god or religion I do not remember. When my parents separated, my Mom and I moved to the desert and she was attending new agey rennaissance fairs when my Aunt, who we lived with for a little while, encouraged her to go to church. I should mention that by this time my Mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She started going to church, but never made me go. I went a few times after I got jealous of all my Mom's new friends...yada yada yada the church community became a huge source of comfort and support for both my Mom and myself. We'd eat dinner with the pastor and his wife. They would hold special prayer services just for my Mom. My Mom and I were baptized together. In the wake of what felt like my entire silly little 10 going on 11 year-old life unraveling and imploding, the church and the idea of god and the afterlife helped me and I can't imagine how it helped my Mom. I hope it comforted her. This is one of the main reasons I've neglected to listen to myself on the matter. If you believe in god and are facing a life without your Mom, being baptized with her is really something. When my Mom was coughing up blood and couldn't take me trick or treating or had to spend weeks in the hospital and I was left alone at my Aunt's house, I had something to call out to for help. So, to turn my back on that as an adult felt almost like a betrayal to my Mom. I feel like it was good and has been bad for me to believe that my Mom is somewhere on the other side watching over me while I make mistakes and triumphs. More on that in a few.
Another huge issue for me, right now, is that 99% of my family consider themselves Christian. Of that 100%, 85% are devout which means I get the "Did you pray about it?" and the passage quotes at the end of every email. The biggest obstacle is telling my Dad. I love my Dad so much and I feel like I appreciate him more and more every day. He and I have great talks about everything...deep and shallow. Everything except religion and politics. I have shrugged off every piece of biblical advice for the last 10 years and I feel like the worst person for not being honest with my Dad. You have to understand though, upon telling my Dad that I am an atheist, I expect he will worry for his whole life for my soul as he envisions his daughter burning in hell for eternity. This kills me. How can I put my Dad through that? That's what has kept me from telling him.
The third and most growth-inspiring reason this has been hard for me to admit is because I have never trusted myself to know anything over someone else. I don't know why, but there it is. Prior to this decision, if someone would have countered my argument, I would sincerely believe that they knew better and I probably missed something. This is a common theme in my development as an adult and I wish to change it. No one has such a great perspective that they know more than me. I mean, yeah sure there are people that have studied and literally KNOW more than me, but we're talking about a belief. I have beliefs and though I wouldn't press them on anyone, I have just as much of a right to express them.
Oh yeah, and I'm a people-pleaser and no one wants to hear you're an atheist. No one where I'm from anyway.
What this means for me: Admitting to myself that I don't believe there is a god has helped me in several ways. It sounds crazy, but I feel more at peace and free from the loss I've experienced than ever. Feeling like someone is watching you throughout your whole life is interesting. I used to write letters to my Mom about school and my Dad and my friends. I still have them. They are so sad. It's hard to read them and think of myself alone in my room communicating with my dead mother. It's a one-way conversation, let me tell you. It's hard to articulate, but when I realized that my Mom stopped existing when she died and wasn't in any pain or concern, I felt free. My Mom...she's so important to me and I'm deeply saddened still that she doesn't know me as an adult. I fantasize about going back in time so I could be friends with her in high school. I want to make clear how much she means to me and what a hole her death left me with. However, it may sound cold, but knowing that she's really gone is a relief. I don't imagine her up there thinking about my decisions or worrying about me...waiting for me. I feel like, for me, it was unhealthy to constantly be on the lookout for signs from her, hoping that she would communicate with me through birds or dreams or patterns in time. It makes her death less sad for me. It makes my life more meaningful. I can fully concentrate on what I'm doing and where I'm going. I'm not worried that I'm not spending enough time thinking about her. I'm free to move on when and how I naturally can.
I've had a tremendous feeling of renewal with all this. I see my life as this insane opportunity for exploration and meaning and excitement and joy. I'm not happy with how much I've settled in my life. I want the very best for myself. I want every experience. I want to live fully as a human being and see how capable I am. The drive to enjoy my life is in full force. I feel like I'm ready to stand up for myself and carve out my spot in the world (as small as it may be). I want to be kind, but respect myself at all times. It's strange to me that the idea of heaven made it okay for me to kind of just do whatever. It makes sense. I mean, if you think about your potential 80ish years on earth and compare that to a proposed eternity to have the best time and see everyone you've ever lost...who really cares what you do here. That's kind of how I looked at it. No longer though. I feel a strong drive to be good to my loved ones and to myself and I see how freedom is basically the most important element of the human existence. It's funny how much more motivated I am to stay out of jail now. Who knew being godless would inspire me to be a better person. haha. Not that I ever expect to be in jail for serious time, but these are the things I think about.
My fears: I fear that when I do tell people they will conclude that this has something to do with one of two influences. First, and to me, the most hurtful is that Morgan would have something to do with my disbelief. The truth is we talk about this kind of stuff a lot and being able to openly talk about something like this really did help me to come to terms with it. However, I've been doubting the bible and god since the very first time I realized that the stories in that book were meant to be truth. I've told several people about my doubts and they usually push it aside like I do when they want to talk to me about god stuff. The second is that I may be jaded from all the loss I've experienced, feeling abandoned by god triggered a non-belief feeling. Every time I've faced the death of someone I love I've wanted to and been desperate to believe and reach out to god. I've never felt mad at god...most likely because I've never truly believed in god and therefor never felt betrayed or upset.
There is one last thing I want to talk about if you can believe it. Besides giving this a test-run before going to my family, I also feel a duty to be somewhat forthcoming about my beliefs for the sake of busting stereotypes. There was a girl in my high school history class who answered 'atheist' when asked what each of us believe...kinda hard to imagine that flying now. I remember thinking she was evil and that her parents were probably heathens. There is a definite stigma (like I said--in the world I grew up in) to atheism. I've never known anyone with a loving family that were openly atheist, for instance. It's always people that have been presented as devil worshipers, anarchists, trouble makers, soulless evil people. It sounds so ridiculous, but this is what I've grown up in. My good friend Alecia said something really enlightening (she has several times..almost every time I talk to her). She said it's a lot easier to live somewhere like San Francisco where things like being gay or supporting gay rights aren't as controversial as a lot of places in the US, but it may in fact be much more important to live with your beliefs in a place where the majority of the people are adverse to you or your beliefs. I've never tasted adversity to any serious extent and I don't pretend to be a progressive social anything. I'm just saying, there needs to be a better portrayal of all beliefs and lifestyle. So, I'm going to say it again. I'm an atheist. I'm creative. I'm loving. I can be a good influence on the right person. I don't believe in evil that doesn't originate within human beings. I don't believe in miracles. I don't believe in ghosts (that one was hard to give up because it's fun to be scared). I believe that when I die I will cease to exist. I believe in people and family and life. I will live my life for myself and my family. I want to be the best wife and daughter and sister and friend that I can. I hope to become closer to my family once they know this about me. I love them and I love you and I want to exist with you in honesty and without judgment.
as creatives, i know we are always looking for inspiration stimulation, which is why i'm really excited to share them thangs with you ladies. originally it started as a tumblr, but got so many hits because of its amazing content that to keep it running, the author had to either pay millions or shut it down... he shut it down for awhile to figure out an alternative. so anyway it's back in website form, raunch and cool still intact. please enjoy some of my favorite selections, and prepare to mark it as your favorite new site....
My dad had a theory that another L.A.-based band, the Knack (of "My Sharona" fame), was ripping him off. "I started wearing skinny ties, then they started wearing skinny ties!" That the Knack released a song called "Good Girls Don't" just a few months later only further fueled this conspiracy theory.
Dick VanDyke - I often state that I want to be in a polyamorous marriage with Dick VanDyke and Mary Tyler Moore. When people realize that I'm serious, it becomes more creepy than cute, but doesn't make it any less true. This man does what matters: sings (with animated characters) and dances (with animated characters). He's goofy in an irrestible way. My aunt sometimes waits on his old-man self in her restaurant and she said he whistles to himself and skips. She thinks he's nuts, but I think he's perfect.
Neko Case - second Neko shout-0ut on this blog! Neko is like an older, wiser sister who keeps shit hella real with you. She's a badass with a soft side; a self-proclaimed tomboy who can still take sexy pictures. She's a public female who offers a more complex idea of femininity. She's a lady pilot and an animal lover with a golden voice. I'll sing myself hoarse belting her songs in my car. "The next time you say forever, I will punch you in your face." I LOVE HER!
Nicholas Gurewitch - not a household name, but the genius (GENIUS!) behind my favorite comic strip of all time, The Perry Bible Fellowship. We're all familiar with the "sense of humor" cliche, but I would gladly go for an arranged marriage with this man based just off his now-defunct comic strip, which can be absurd, midly cruel, and hideously clever. Plus, he put together an entire soundtrack for a fake Wes Anderson movie. DREAMBOAT!
Lisa Hanawalt - Lisa's also a new addition, but once I found out that she was the brilliant lady behind this masterpiece, I knew she was on the list. After flying through her entire online portfolio, I promptly ordered a copy of Stay Away From Other People. When it arrived, I was having an awful stomach ache and it was better than an entire roll of Tums. She wrote about buying a pair of short overalls from the thrift store (see? Soul sister!), but they were labeled "Teen Bibs." A few pages later, she wrote about her dream wedding, which included "Bride wears white teen bibs." I die, I die.
Lotta Crabtree - "a true San Francisco character," (whole) Lotta Crabtree became famous in Gold Rush times for her singing, dancing, banjo-picking, and cigar-smoking. A hermit in her later years, she died unmarried, and left her fortune to animals, aging actors, and arts programs.
as creatives, i know we are always looking for inspiration stimulation, which is why i'm really excited to share them thangs with you ladies. originally it started as a tumblr, but got so many hits because of its amazing content that to keep it running, the author had to either pay millions or shut it down... he shut it down for awhile to figure out an alternative. so anyway it's back in website form, raunch and cool still intact. please enjoy some of my favorite selections, and prepare to mark it as your favorite new site....
