Eat bite-sized candy and have a listen. Enjoy a good, or even better a bad horror movie.
Enjoy this Spooky Playlist on Spotify
I’ve been watching horror movies almost exclusively for weeks now. I may have a problem
We all want you to know that it’s a concert, not camping. Are you headed to a full day of classes right after the show? A sleepover perhaps?
What bonds people just as well as love, perhaps better? Hate. Shared hatred. Trés cozy.
I’m not talking that hate that inspires over-privileged selfish cowards to carry about tiki torches. I’m all for loving everyone first and then picking out individuals to hate based on their selfish behavior. Have you ever been at a show and your hatred of some rude fuck molesting you with his backpack & torturing all that they touch completely bonds all around the offender? You all find peace and bond over the fact that yes, said person is ruining everyone’s experience with their complete disregard of every other human being. Yes. We are at a rock show, but that does not mean we all have to be assholes. If you have a medical need to do so, please do, otherwise it’s completely silly. My mom always taught me manners will always take you further in life.
Who is this person that insists on bringing a backpack to every show?. The largest purse to a tiny venue? Are you that person that insists that piece of luggage the size of a small child needs to be with you in the front row?Are these people on their way to O’ Hare? And of course, they need to be right next to the stage with their small child strapped to them apathetically slamming into all around them. They turn to yell to their friends about that other friend who will be right there. I already know they also have a backpack and they are going to be standing directly on me in 5 minutes. Can’t wait. Cue, full turn around and (again) smashing me with the backpack, waving like a moron about 6 inches from my face to another moron to come stand upon me. Why yes, of course, he’s extra drunk and smelly, why wouldn’t he be? Good thing they can’t feel it all because they’ve brought a backpack large enough to hold a goddamn tent. I plot about the opening of the bag and all the belongings just tumbling…
To the backpackers:
I hate your backpack and now I hate you.
Everybody hates you and your backpack
I will bitch LOUDLY about you to you and roll my eyes with our shared sufferers of your existence.
I plot about opening that bag and all their… seriously wtf is in there? I do hope it’s precious. The bag empties it’s guts all over the floor and we the surrounding afflicted, mosh it all into oblivion. I dream of this moment. I swear it’s gonna happen one day. I’m gonna hit that right day and …yeah
AND SERIOUSLY WTF IS IN THERE?
Hell, this isn’t the 90’s, you have a phone which usually contains EVERYTHING. Keys you are allowed to have keys, wallet, and a phone. Fine, it’s a day-long festival but seriously how much shit do you want to carry around with you, ALL DAY? Do you think that bringing a huge backpack is going to enable you to hide all your illegal fun stuff? Good luck on that. I watched at Riot Fest as one guy shut down one of the lines for about 10 minutes while they insisted on ripping apart the very large, very packed bag and splaying its contents. If you bring a backpack you should make the decision that bringing all your worldly possessions with you should be left back where there’s room for that kind of lameness. Get to the back of the crowd where you belong. The pit is reserved for those who know how to exist without all of our belongings strapped to us.
We are the free, let us be free.
Sorry, not sorry. Fucking manners, people.
from the series Concert Etiquette
Another festival season is damn near over. Color me crushed. And exhausted.
Summer’s end always makes me sad but as much as I hate to admit it, hopeful.
Don’t tell anyone I have a reputation to maintain.
By the end of summer, I’m fucking tired. I need Fall and as much as I even further hate to admit- Winter. I need a goddamn break after all the lakeside bike rides, the sweaty street festivals, and the weekend-long treks back and forth to a festival.
I need an excuse to lay in sweatpants and watch Netflix.
It seems like an odd time to start a series about festivals and concerts perhaps.
Sure, the concerts still rage on in the winter. Winter shows just have a different flavor. The wardrobe, footwear, and venues change but the music still goes on despite the notorious Chicago Winter.
The cold weather brings a time of forced reflection. A time to reflect and not be distracted by the warm day and the sunny breeze. A time to reflect on all that I love about a good show, what I adore about squeezing through a crowd to stand with a bunch of strangers just so I can be that much closer to the band. Yes, I also will bitch about what I hate and life rules I just wish people would abide by. My rules.
If people would just follow my rules but like in a no-rule loving way that just simply included some damn common decency as I see fit.
Perhaps this entry will be the first in a series about me bitching about what I wish people knew at shows, perhaps some helpful advice. I’m not quite sure where this will all go honestly. Let me pretend to be wise and all knowing and use my concert knowledge for good not evil.
Ok, some evil but good evil, fun evil.
Full disclosure: Here I am bitching about winter and festival season being over. I am heading out to Riot Festival this weekend to put a nice little finish to all my summer shows. I refuse to admit summers over until after Riot Fest.
These ladies most certainly rock
A little collection of songs about flowers.
Perhaps I did not have the most “normal” Mom. I don’t really know if a normal mom exists but mine is pretty kick-ass, nonetheless. I can’t imagine having one of those normal moms. It sounds terrible. Thanks mom for never being normal.
Thanks Moms for without you, we would all not be here and most of us would be much worse people without one. I’m thankful for the ladies who embrace being a mom and love doing it. I have no interest in the whole affair but I’m glad someone is and loving it. Moms come in all shapes and sizes, biological or not.
Moms- Thank you for all you do, all you’ve done and I look forward to crossing paths with the great people you all made. Cheers.
Art is not what you see, but what you make others see
One of my favorite things is that despite the artist’s intention, every viewer takes their own interpretation to put their own experiences and thoughts on something to come up with their feeling that could very easily have nothing to do with the artist’s intention.
As a business owner I have to be aware of what side my business takes, if any. There was a point that I struggled with how much to reveal. Do I keep my brand separate from me as a person? Do I swear as a brand? Because as a person, I swear a whoooole lot. Do I have separate instagram accounts? Where does my brand start and I as a person, end?
I went back and forth on this many times. It all changed after an article on Startup Fashion (tried to find to no avail), I finally chose. The article read if I were to be honest (and I am honestly a person who says fuck) and if I was looking to keep my brand authentic, I would use my own voice. Authentic attracts authentic. I love creating in my house and making things but I always struggle with the marketing aspect. It makes me feel silly, pushy and fake. When I feel things are fake I lose interest as a brand and a consumer. I have no time for inauthenticity.
So onto where I’m really heading. In the last few
weeks months year our political climate is mirroring our actual climate; Shit is getting pretty scary. I have had to choose a side, not such a hard choice. I had to choose my level of involvement and where I feel comfortable posting my opinions and my involvements.
I’ve had to make some choices. My facebook has 2 sides my brand & me as a person. Pretty easy choice as far as that goes. My personal facebook posts are filled with scathing political rants. My brand remains filled with posts about art, women, and relatively passive posts. I have 1 Twitter and 1 Instagram. My original thought was I didn’t want to deal with 2 separate accounts and don’t post enough on either to support 2 accounts. My Twitter account is mostly brand stuff with my personal mixed in. My Instagram is brand stuff but much more personal. Then as the political climate heated up, much like our changing climate -how poetic. My social media has taken a turn.
As I got more involved, I got more pissed. Partially fueled by my anger at what has become normal, partially decided by it was becoming harder to hide.
I knew my choices as a consumer were becoming more defined by companies and the stances they took. I cheered when a designer upon getting an order from Ivanka Trump also let her know her purchase would be going right into the Hillary Clinton campaign. I would simply be a hypocrite if I hid myself. So here the fuck I am.
I am a woman business owner who refuses to let my country be sacrificed to a dictator and all his little whims. This election was fucking bloody.
We are all in a mortal battle for all that is right and wrong and it goes far beyond political parties. A madman fed on the anger of a nation and is selling them what they think they wanted, someone to blame.
Nope doesn’t sound at all familiar….
The majority spoke. The majority was ignored. Our country is sick. The people who show up on the street, people who refuse to not sit back and watch the ugliness from their TVs are the fucking heros. We have a lot of true life heroes these days. Good thing because we have a hell of a lot of villains. I am so tired of “my side” as being classified as lazy, whiny and jobless.
I will be on the front lines. I will be loud. I will get into uncomfortable conversations with those I love as well as complete strangers. I don’t fucking care if someone has no interest in buying from my business because I think all people have the same rights and that I care about life, not just while it’s in the womb. If you want to know where I stand, ASK. I will most certainly tell you. I will not be silent, muted or uninvolved.
My business is my child and I refuse to raise a child that has no opinion-
In fact, that bitch is fucking pissed.
Self expression can be daunting. In the last few weeks many people are finding themselves expressing themselves perhaps far more than even planned, including me. It’s great to live somewhere that we can express ourselves.
I salute those who speak up.
Alice in Wonderland has always held a fascination for me. I adored the classic cartoon as a kid. I wanted to stroll through a giant garden of singing flowers, even if only to be kicked out. I was heartbroken as my middle school presented Alice -the musical and my complete lack of being able to carry a tune made me not even an option for my beloved Alice. My silent appearance as a less vocal dancing card was a much better fit though also soul-deflating. In an obvious delayed retaliation to the unfairness of my impaired singing ability, I was forced years later by my added teenage angst to paint my self portrait as Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Don’t worry, I do not let my complete lack of singing ability stop me from singing … And loudly. I am sorry