When in Doubt

Only one post went out in February and now it’s March and I’m starting to think about spring cleaning.

Of my profiles.

I keep looking over what I do, what I write on a daily, weekly, monthly basis and I’m starting to realize that half of what I do isn’t really worth the time I spend.

My focus needs to come back because the real work is going to suffer if I don’t get it together. I miss the blogging and actually dread the days on the calendar that I schedule to write my tweets. The idea of a newsletter seemed great but I don’t prioritize working on it.

What I do like working on every single day are the following things:

This blog.

Fiction books.

Other books.

Blogs for clients.

Yup, that’s it. And everyone will say that I have to spend some kind of time on social media in order to stay relevant or in front of people but honestly, that seems silly.

Because if I don’t want to put in the time then those probably aren’t my people so why do all that work for something I don’t even want?

Right.

So in an effort to kick this blog back into something I update on the regular, I’m going to share two wonderful memes I found on Facebook. Because if you’ve been reading over here for any length of time you know I can’t pass up a lame ass meme.

26 things about me...

A- Age: 42

B- Biggest fear: Never getting it all done.

C- Current time: 2:36 PM

D- Drink you last had: water

E- Every day starts with: coffee

F- Favorite song: No way I could answer this, it changes too often.

G- Ghosts, are they real: yes

H- Hometown: Arlington

I- In love with: Matt

J- Jealous of: People who know how to start conversations with strangers without sounding or seeming awkward. (See blind date question below)

K- Killed someone?: Not that I know of.

L- Last time you cried?: can’t remember

M- Middle name: don't have one

N- Number of siblings: 1

O- One wish: To make a real living wage with my writing.

P- Person you last called: Mom

Q- Question you're always asked: Why aren’t you having kids? Which I assume will change in the next ten years, as I start looking too old to have them, to: Why didn’t you ever have kids?

R- Reason to smile: warm days and sunshine

S- Song last sang: Stuck - Melissa Ferrick

T- Time you woke up: about 7am

U- Underwear color: Excuse you, that’s a little personal for a meme.

V- Vacation destination: the beach

W- Worst habit: Being too hard on myself about my creative process.

Y- Your favorite food: Bianchi's pizza

X- X-Rays you've had: tomboy - too many to remember

Z- Zodiac sign: I’m convinced I’m actually a Gemini sometimes.

The Bucket List

( ) Shot a gun

(X) Gone on a blind date – Literally only once. It was weird. I was awkward. Oh no that’s not me being self-deprecating but I was actually cute or something, I was awkward. Example that I still haven’t forgotten even to this day (approximately 16 years later): I told him that I never leave the house without mascara then proceeded to continue that conversation for about ten minutes. Yeah.

(X) Skipped school (See ‘been on TV’ question below)

( ) Watched someone die

(X) Visited Canada – And I fully intend to visit again someday. Maybe for an extended period of time, say, four or so years. We’ll see. I hear Vancouver is lovely in December.

( ) Visited Hawaii

( ) Visited Cuba

(X) Visited Europe

( ) Visited South America

( ) Visited Las Vegas

( ) Visited Central America

( ) Visited Asia

( ) Visited Africa

(X) Visited Florida

(X) Visited Mexico

(X) Seen the Grand Canyon in person – Only way to do it, seriously. Come on out and visit in warm times and we’ll take you!

(X) Flown in a helicopter – I think but could be wrong about this.

( ) Served on a jury

(X) Been lost

(X) Traveled to the opposite side of the country – If it means coast-to-coast then not yet but I think Boston to Phoenix should count.

(X) Visited Washington, DC

(X) Swam in the ocean

(X) Cried yourself to sleep

(X) Played cops and robbers

(X) Played cowboys and Indians

(X) Recently colored with crayons – I colored in a picture of a bunny and painted blood coming out of its mouth. The conversation with the kids led to watching the scene from Holy Grail of course.

(X) Sang karaoke – Does Rock Band count?

(X) Sang a solo or duet – Does Rock Band count?

(X) Paid for a meal with coins only – Back in the day when I was a poor college student eating at Taco Bell, most of the time.

(X) Made prank phone calls

( ) Laughed until some beverage came out of your nose

(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue

( ) Had children

(X) Had a pet

(X) Been skinny-dipping

(X) Been fishing

(X) Been boating

(X) Been downhill skiing – Once. Never again.

( ) Been water skiing

(X) Been camping in a trailer/RV

(X) Been camping in a tent

( ) Driven a motorcycle

( ) Been bungee-jumping

(X) Gone to a drive-in movie – One of the first times I remember going to the movies was to the drive-in actually. I think the one my mom & aunt took us to was Snow White but the second showing (which I should have been asleep for) was On Golden Pond. Great movie, still love it, and especially at age seven-ish I was blown away.

(X) Done something that could have killed you – I’ve talked about this before.

(X) Done something that you will regret for the rest of your life – Because of the post linked above you might think my answer is yes. In truth my emphatic response is no. I wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t for everything I’ve seen, done and not done so regret would only mean I felt un-whole somehow. And I don’t.

( ) Rode an elephant

( ) Rode a camel

(X) Eaten just cookies or cake or ice cream for dinner – Um, how about all 3 at the same time. Just don’t make me count out the number of times this has happened over the years.

(X) Been on TV – Evening Magazine local Boston program in the early 90’s. And, like I said, it never would have happened if it wasn’t for skipping school. And New Kids on the Block.

( ) Stolen any traffic signs

(X) Been in a car accident

( ) Been in the hospital in past 24 months

( ) Donated blood

( ) Gotten a (speeding) or any other type of ticket in the past 12 months

(X) Gotten a piercing

(X) Gotten a tattoo

( ) Driven a manual transmission vehicle

( ) Ever owned your dream car

(X) Been married

( ) Been divorced

(X) Fell in love

(X) Fell out of love

(X) Paid for a strangers meal

(X) Driven over 100mph

( ) Been scuba diving

(X) Written a published book/story/poetry

( ) Eaten snails

I Get Lost

In my youth I was a mall rat. From the time I started working, as a babysitter at about age 13, I spent most of my free time and money at one of several malls in my area. And I got my first mall job as a teenager.

Technically, saying I spent money at the mall means this whole post disqualifies me from 2/3 of the Kevin Smith definition of mall rat: “They're not there to shop. - They're not there to work. - They're just there.”

Which is fine. I was just as happy to hang out as I was to work, and shop, at the mall.

There was something comforting about being enveloped by the latest trends in consumerism day in and day out. You experience a sterile, bland feeling that overtakes you as soon as you walk through the door to a mall. It isn’t quite clinical like a hospital but the level of perfection achieved in window displays, squeaky clean floors, and toothy smiles on the faces of every (disgruntled) employee, always brought a similar smile to my face.

Entering a mall is a lot like entering a casino. Think I’m kidding? There are more similarities than you might think.

Lighting tricks are used. Where a casino keeps the captive from noticing there’s a world outside due to lack of windows, malls usually have a lot of windows. They allow natural light to pour in during the day, forcing a level of euphoria for shoppers and employees alike.

Good luck finding a clock. Time doesn’t exist in the mall. Unless you work in the stock room. Plus, that directory you’re looking for? Yeah, you’ll need to traverse the entire mall to find it. Clever marketing tactic. You’ll probably end up shopping while on the way to find where you want to shop.

Not to mention, they’ll gladly take all your money without a second thought. Nobody in retail gives a shit if you can afford what you’re buying. Those people are making about $12 an hour. And probably spending their entire check in the very place that provides it every week.

And I was definitely one of those people.

Back in those days, I always loved the mall. I could get everything I needed in one indoor adult playground. Tampons, diamond studded high heels, a back scratcher, and an extra set of keys? A mere mile apart. Need a prom dress, set of bowls, a haircut, and a specialty watch engraved for your 2 year anniversary? You can have it all within the confines of those walls.

Why would anyone want to spend their time anywhere else?

When I was younger there were four malls I could get to on the T: Woburn, Assembly Square, Burlington and Meadow Glen.

Burlington mall was the go-to location. I only needed to catch one bus right out of Arlington center and in 30 or so minutes I could pass through the doors of consumerism with ease. Not only did I hang out there (usually at Heel Quik, the shoe repair place where all the cute boys worked), but over the years I also worked there in multiple stores.

However, Burlington mall and the others didn’t have the one store that Meadow Glen had. The money waster of all money wasters.

The recording studio.

I can’t remember the official name of the place but I could get there in my memory a million times over. Through the doors of the food court, straight across the main hallway and all the way to the back of the mall, down the hallway nobody ever visited, on the end on the left.

Friends, family and I spent time there trying to convince ourselves we could sing. Or at least do Karaoke over a pre-recorded background track. 9 times out of 10 we wasted money by singing along to songs by New Kids on the Block or some other popular pop artist of the time.

My sister, who could actually carry a tune, busted out an awesome rendition of Debbie Gibson’s Lost in your Eyes. I might even still have the cassette tape of that recording somewhere.

We’d sing our little hearts out then go get cheese fries at Friendly’s, or a bacteria laden smoothie at the juice place. On the very rare occasion I had a couple bucks left, I’d usually spend them on magazines or buttons with Jonathan Knight’s face.

All of that time “in the studio” even convinced a few of us we should start an all-girl band back in high school. We called ourselves Girls on the Move. We took the train to Dorchester or Roxbury, and by some miracle of chance, we located the studio of uber-producer, Maurice Starr.

Then we sat on a couch in front of this enormous music presence and sang some sugar-laced pop song at the volume of a nervous mouse. Which prompted Mr. Starr to smile and all but shove us out the door.

Hey, we tried.

But all of those terrific experiences in my life likely never would have come to light if it hadn’t been for the influence of the mall.

So I had mixed emotions when I heard that the very site of our initial star-in-the-making location was about to become a grocery store or some other everyday store with no character of its own.

Meadow Glen officially closed its doors forever last week.

Over the past couple decades Meadow Glen went through lots of changes. The recording studio and everything down that hallway fell by the wayside in favor of some cheaply made crap stores. Casual Corner, and all the other clothing stores where shoulder pads weren’t optional, closed years ago.

They tried to keep the place alive with chain restaurants, party supply stores, and some other shops that just couldn’t cut it in the end.

In all honesty I probably haven’t stepped foot inside that mall in well over ten years. Maybe fifteen. After I stopped working in retail I tried like hell to limit my time spent in malls to, well, never if I could help it.

Because, really, why bother?

Every mall is pretty much the same these days. The same overpriced stores. The same lame merchandise. The same snarky and irritated employees making little money for a thankless job.

So, I guess it felt weird that I was as bummed out as I was to hear my former favorite dirt mall was closing its doors forever. But nothing really lasts, right?

Except maybe nostalgia.

Goodbye Meadow Glen, thanks for all those ridiculous teenage memories.

I came across the picture above on Facebook shared by a share of a friend. If you took this photo and would like the credit please contact me so I can add that info to the post. Thanks!

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In addition to this drivel I also write stories people like to read. AKA: Fiction. I release one every month, free for you, in my newsletter Facts & Fiction. Sign up now because you won't read these stories anywhere else. Make 2016 better. Do it now!

Friday Night it was late…

Music can transcend time and place. It can make us feel more than we ever thought we could. It can make us laugh, make us cry, and every host of emotion in between. For me there are some songs that speak to me about a time and place even though I never heard the song while having the time/place experience. It’s just that sometimes the words are so evocative of something I’ve lived that the song takes me there. Today’s first track meets those criteria.

I’m talkin’ about a lifetime plan…

Years ago, long before Matt and I were an official couple we used to get together randomly for weekends in either New York or in Boston. I like to tell people we were pseudo dating for the three years before we decided to make the leap into a defined relationship. Before that we were just “friends” but our nomadic personalities were so perfectly matched there was no chance we weren’t going to be together…eventually.

Hurry don’t be late…

I was a traveler back then too. These were the days before 9/11 when I could pack up a tiny overnight bag and fly down to North Carolina for a weekend leaving only thirty minutes before a flight to get through security and get on the plane. If I left work at lunchtime on a Friday I’d be in Raleigh by dinnertime, have a whole weekend to chill, and be home before the clock struck ten on Sunday night.

I can hardly wait…

When I went to see Matt in New York it was the same story with my drop-of-a-hat travel enthusiasm except most of the time I jumped on Amtrak to get there since it was cheaper and easier than flying.

A couple times I took the train all the way to New York and Matt met me somewhere either on Long Island or otherwise but the majority of the time we met somewhere in the middle. And that somewhere was New London, Connecticut. About halfway (give or take) for both of us to travel it was the perfect spot to meet up. Not to mention it was always far less crowded and insane than the New York train stops.

The only thing with New London is that it is a popular launching point for other places that travelers can get to via ferry, train, or car so the town is full of people in transition.

Once I was headed out to Fisher’s Island to visit the vacation home of my sister’s then serious boyfriend and I took the train into New London to connect with the Fisher’s ferry. Matt took another ferry out to New London from The City to meet me for dinner before I hopped on my ferry to Fisher’s. I tried desperately to convince him to call in sick the next day and come over with me but he said he couldn’t. Instead we just got some food and hung out for a while.

I said to myself ‘when we’re old’…

The town didn’t have too many options back then for places to eat but we both loved Thai food so we ambled on into Bangkok City, the restaurant choice on State Street. It wasn’t anything too fancy – dated carpet and furniture with lots of kitschy “western friendly” décor – but we were hungry and there were hours before either of our boats departed. I got the Tom Ka Kai and Matt got a beef satay for our appetizers. The food was delicious otherwise I never would have remembered what either of us had because we didn’t stop yapping each other’s ear off all afternoon.

Who knows what we talked about. It didn’t matter. We were spending some time together, in each other’s space and smile. We were figuring out that we were falling in love.

We’ll go dancin’ in the dark, walkin’ through the park…

After our meal we decided to walk off some calories and I wanted to smoke a little weed before getting on the ferry. So we headed up the block to the corner of Union where there was a small park with a couple of benches. After the short walk there we plunked down on the park bench and continued to talk like no words would ever be enough.

After a short while and a couple hits from my pipe, the Fisher’s ferry was in dock and ready for passengers. But we weren’t done talking. We weren’t done spending time together even though the schedule was telling us we had to be. There was family waiting for me on the other side and I was very likely in roaming mode on my cell phone back then so there was no way to call and cancel. Matt and I hugged our goodbyes and both took the correct ferry to our individual destinations.

But we weren’t done. Not by a long shot.

Not too long after that we officially got together, engaged, and married. For the first handful of years after we got married we made a special point to go back to New London, sans train and sans pot, every year on our anniversary to have a fantastic Thai meal at our favorite little spot. It was still the perfect place for conversation…

And reminiscing…

May’s Month of Music

Reminiscing – Little River Band (iTunes first track)

Kids Wanna Rock

There are a few moments in my life I can look back on and just smile at the luck, timing, and synchronicity of it all. Winning tickets from my favorite radio station to see Bryan Adams in 1987 is way at the top of the list.

I’ve referenced this story before but I knew I wrote a longer piece about this event so I had a look through all my old posts. I admit, I was going to phone in a re-run for today’s post. But I couldn’t find the story anywhere. Which was weird because I knew I wrote it. I spent lots of time searching tags but to no avail. Finally I thought, maybe it’s not on the blog but somewhere else? But where?

Have you ever had that happen? You know you wrote something but when you go looking for it the thing just doesn’t seem to exist anywhere other than your head? So I did a search through my files and turns out I wasn’t crazy. I had written about it before. In a paper for school. My upper level English class got to read about my fun win before you guys, sorry. So because I wrote an A+ version the first time I’m just going to run the story in its entirety here. Please note it’s kind of long (1500-ish words). Also please note I’m including a lot of school related stuff to the original post date.

Enjoy!

Thinking About Our Younger Years

By Jennifer Shon

ENG: 325 Intermediate Composition

Week 2 final paper

Ashford University

August 29, 2011

“In 1987 I was fourteen years old and like many teenage girls I had a burning love affair with pop music.  That year, just before I entered high school, my mom had managed to save enough to purchase her first home.  My parents had gotten divorced seven years prior and my sister and I lived very frugally with our mom.  Without much extra to go around, my sister and I turned to music as our most frequent source of entertainment.  There were only a few popular radio stations in Boston at the time and one of them was the seemingly everlasting Kiss 108. 

When I was a teenager Kiss would play all the top 40 hits and back then those hits were relatively light on hip-hop, heavy on pop and hair bands.  Bryan Adams was a staple of the station; not an hour went by without hearing “Run to You” or “Summer of ‘69”.  I wasn’t alive yet in the year 1969, I also didn’t have a clue what the six-string was that he sang about, but none of that mattered.  He just rocked.  His album Reckless topped the charts in the United States and I’d been a fan since his second album, Cuts like a Knife; in the back of my mind I was always humming “na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na.”  I heard that he was coming to play close to Boston, in Worcester, but there was no way I would be buying tickets without a job and my penny-pinching family certainly wouldn’t be taking my sister and I to the show.  Feeling defeat, I would turn the crackling speakers of my stereo way up every time his songs played and visualized dancing in the front row as he belted out his gravelly vocals. 

Most days after school I was either, doing sports, or trying to get out of going home to do homework by hanging out with my friends.  As freshmen none of us were driving yet and, as geeks, none of us hung out with the cool upperclassmen that had wheels.  Nearing the end of the school year, gymnastics was over, and I was feeling particularly lazy one spring afternoon so instead of walking to the center after classes I decided to just go home.  My mom worked until five o’clock and my sister was still in afterschool care so I was bound to have the house all to myself.  I was looking forward to turning up the radio, singing into my curling iron and writing in my journal.

Upon entering the front door I was greeted with the peeling wallpaper that came with the house.  It was an unusually warm day and the house was quite musty.  Humidity hung inside our little 800 square foot ranch house and forced dust to plume upward with each step across our pea soup colored carpet.  Some of that dust had probably been trapped in that carpet since my parents bought it in the early 70’s when they got married.  As I headed for my bedroom I wondered why they didn’t each get half of it in the divorce.

I tossed my school bag onto my bed and it immediately sank into the sea of laundry and blankets that my mom likely picked up off the floor that morning after I had left for school.  I frowned because the pile was so high I could barely see the top of the posters of Sean Astin I had hanging on the wall.  I shoved the blankets and questionably clean acid washed jeans down near the end of my bed and grabbed my dual-cassette boom box as I headed for the kitchen.  The radio was always set to Kiss 108 so I didn’t have to turn the dial; I clicked it to “FM” on my way to the fridge.

I heard Wang Chung begging everyone to have fun and opened the door to the fridge not expecting to find much that wasn’t at least a week old and starting to get fuzzy.  With a sigh I grabbed a box of crackers and started toward the sofa when the DJ’s voice came in at the end of the song “Caller ten wins a pair of tickets to see Bryan Adams at the Centrum.”  The crackers landed on the kitchen table as, in one smooth motion, I flung myself at the phone.  Faster than a tween can send a text message, I dialed the station.  Busy.  Hang up.  Dial again.  Busy.  Hang up.  Dial again.  Ringing!  I briefly considered that maybe they’d gotten their caller and killed the lines but my heart jumped into my throat when I heard “Kiss 108 who’s this?”

With that rapidly beating vital organ half blocking my windpipe, I stammered to utter my own name to the voice on the other end of the line.  I knew that voice well.  It was the voice of the afternoon DJ; the same voice I just heard asking for caller ten.  In one more beat of my heart I realized that I was caller ten.  I managed to swallow my heart back down into my chest as he confirmed my utter disbelief by saying “You’ve just won two tickets to see Bryan Adams!”  My immediate reaction was to yell “SHUT UP!” and the DJ just said “No.”  I thought we both laughed but I’m pretty sure I managed to squeal instead.  After five seconds of banter that felt like an hour to me, he asked “What station gives you the best tickets?”  With an overly excited, resounding reply of “Kiss 108!!” I knew I would hear myself on the radio in mere moments.  He asked me to hold to give my info and reality set in. 

I couldn’t believe it.  I won something.  On the radio.  I had never won anything in my entire life and I won tickets to see my favorite singer.  Tickets I had been dying for.  Tickets I knew we couldn’t afford to buy.  I couldn’t wait for my sister to get home so I could tell her the news!  As I gave my address to the woman who picked up the line my excitement to tell everyone I knew grew bigger than my bangs.  But when I hung up the phone I suddenly panicked – how would I even get to Worcester?  My sister was obviously going with me to the show but it wasn’t like an eleven year old had any better access to a car than I did. 

By the time I got around to calling my dad I was running out of options but he said he’d be more than willing to take us.  My fluorescent orange, size seven Keds left the floor at least five times while I jumped around for joy.  When my sister arrived home the two of us sprang around the house like Tigger as we hugged and screamed in decibels too high for even a dog to hear.  After living with two girls for so long I think it was safe to assume my mom had long before lost all her hearing.  She congratulated me on the win and I could tell she was a little relieved when I told her how we were getting to and from the show.

It was excruciating to wait for the tickets to arrive in the mail and even more excruciating to have to wait almost a month for the show itself, but the day finally arrived and my dad wasn’t a second late picking us up.  After selecting my nicest, oversized, cable knit sweater, ankle zip jeans with the little denim bow on the back, and ghetto-gold hoops I applied a half a can of AquaNet to my wall of hair and we hugged our smiling mom goodbye.  The forty minute ride to Worcester was the only thing separating my sister and me from the stage.  When we got there, my dad, worried we might get lost coming out, forced us to repeat the location of the parking spot at least five times.  After hearing the first note come blasting out of Bryan Adams’ guitar the only thing either of us remembered was song lyrics. 

My dad sat in that parking lot the entire three hours of the show waiting for my sister and me to emerge.  I can only imagine how bored he must have been without so much as a book to keep himself entertained.  But as my sister has reminded me, there were countless times our mom had to endure our hormone induced, megaphone like lungs so it was his turn.  We spent the entire car ride back screaming at each other due to concert induced deafness and teenage excitement.  He hardly seemed to notice and that was good because there was nothing quite as awesome to me at age fourteen than winning those tickets and going to the show.  That night, truly was, Heaven.”

May’s Month of Music

I’ll Always be Right There – Bryan Adams (iTunes first track)

Nevermind Should Be Two Words

When it comes to my musical tastes I’m usually pretty mainstream. I don’t consider this a bad thing though I’m sure some of my alternative music loving friends from early high school would disagree. But what other people think has never really been what draws me to any particular type of music.

While D&D were in town for their wedding last month we sat around listening to Pandora and I have no idea what station came on but the Smashing Pumpkins started pumping out of the speakers. I immediately groaned. D said she’s never liked them either and I thanked her for being (it seems) the only other one in the world besides me who feels that way.

I proceeded to say ‘Yeah, and I really dislike the Beatles, Stones and Springsteen too’ to which she replied ‘See, I knew there was a reason we were friends’. D groaned and asked us how we couldn’t like those iconic bands. We both shrugged because the only real answer is that we just don’t. Music and what attracts us to it is a very personal choice.

Sometimes I feel music is such a powerful influence in the world that it can solidify relationships or raise a cause for the best debates about merits of melody, style and genre. But just like religion, abortion, and war, no one will ever be able to prove that their side is the right one. It’s all personal preference. I favor a plethora of varied musical stylings but that doesn’t necessarily include the bands that revolutionized the music industry.

As you already know I was a girl who loved (loves) both pop and hard core rock. In the late eighties most of the rock bands I listened to would’ve been considered metal, be it heavy or hair. Bands that wore makeup and tight leather pants back then were either hair bands (Poison, Warrant) or music for the freak crowd (The Cure, Duran Duran) and I liked them both.

Pop radio wasn’t entirely sure what to do with these songs and bands. Back in the late eighties and early nineties radio was pretty well segregated. Nowadays you might hear Katy Perry, Bon Jovi, the Foo Fighters, Metallica and Carrie Underwood all on the same radio station. It wasn’t like that back then.

In the early nineties the label ‘alternative’ had a very different meaning. The music in that category was probably in rotation on WFNX (RIP) and was perhaps a local band that had gained a modicum of stardom in their current scene but hadn’t taken it national. They weren’t going to be played on Kiss 108 or any of the other pop stations. But by the time I graduated high school that was all about to change as Nirvana hit the mainstream and started a new style of music pouring out of speakers everywhere.

The Music was as Grungy as the Place

I remember the first time I saw the cover for Nevermind because the image was so striking compared to the other covers of the time. I was walking through Harvard Square, something I did regularly back in high school because Cambridge was just the next town east of Arlington, and came up Mt. Auburn Street which intersected with another main drag, JFK. Tower Records was right there on the corner in a prime location for all to peruse the latest selections. And for some of the skater kids who hung out in the Pit to shoplift with a clean getaway, no doubt.

The building was diagonally across the street from The Garage, a former parking garage refurbished to house commercial stores. At the time it had a little Mexican joint and a pizza place (at the top level of the former car spiral) where the slices were about a quarter of a pizza for only a couple bucks. I frequently spent the only money I had left on a slice to keep myself fed while the bulk of my money was spent on music. The Garage also housed my favorite record store, Newbury Comics, which I preferred to Tower because it had a true Boston vibe and they played rock in-store. Newbury was grittier, more real, and less expensive than its commercial counterpart.

The Square was full of dirt, grime, grit, the most interesting people, and all the music anyone could ever wish to feast their ears on. Music in every genre was available in Tower Records though and the window posters were big enough to attract people from blocks away. The cover of Nevermind hanging in the window the day I passed by didn’t disappoint.

A naked baby, almost smiling, was fully submerged in a pool and looked to be chasing a fish hooked dollar bill. The message was powerful and I interpreted it as us Americans chasing the almighty dollar from birth whether we drown or get snared in the process. The interpretive message worked for their visual art but it didn’t sell me on the album. I just didn’t feel their particular music because the lyrics seemed to be just as shrouded in mystery as the cover art. I didn’t get it.

Yes I’m admitting it out loud – I wasn’t, and still am not, a fan of Nirvana.

I definitely found music that spoke to me out of that era – Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam – but Nirvana just didn’t do it for me at all. But I can’t discount that music was forever changed after the release and mainstream acceptance of their second album.

Moving On

I stopped hanging out at the Square regularly shortly after graduating from high school. As a gal working and/or going to college there just wasn’t time to hang out and spend my lazy days perusing music I really wanted to buy but couldn’t afford without a job. Believe me, the irony of finally having the money to spend but no time to go and do it was not lost on me. It’s probably one of the main reasons I later got a job at a record store in the suburbs near where I lived.

Since Nirvana hit the scene over twenty years ago there really hasn’t been another huge game changer in the face of musical direction, but, instead, music itself seemed to take on a new direction. Stations started playing cross-genre artists so it wouldn’t be strange to hear a country, rock, and pop artist played on the same station. These days I can buy single digital tracks of songs by bands from whom I may not want to hear an entire album.

And though I’m not much a fan of the band there are one or two songs I own by Nirvana simply because they were/are so influential it would be hard to keep them totally out of my collection (that goes for the Beatles, Stones and Springsteen too). Plus Matt was a big fan so their albums live on in our house.

In the end I should thank Nirvana for helping to bring an end to music segregation on major market radio. As a gal who enjoys a slew of different genres I like that I can put on one station and comfortably listen to as much mainstream music as I choose despite what their genre label might be. Because these days alternative is just as mainstream as pop.

May’s Month of Music

In Bloom – Nirvana (Pandora first track)

The Obvious Choice is J is for Jennifer…

…but this whole blog is about me so wouldn’t that seem a little like a cop-out or cheating? I mean there has to be something more unique I can find to report on the benefits of the letter J right? I said so yesterday and don’t want to be considered a liar or anything.

So let’s talk about something else, like June for example. June is going to be a big month this year. I’m turning forty in June. That’s supposed to be some kind of milestone right? I don’t feel forty. Well, after eleven years of gymnastics assaulting my physical being my body sometimes sure feels it. Sometimes even older (like when it rains and every joint in my body starts pointing and laughing at me). But mentally? Mentally I’m hovering somewhere around twenty-two.

Just old enough to drink but just young enough to be lazy with no one barking at you for it.

At least that’s how I spent most of my early twenties. Weekends weren’t filled with responsibilities or commitments unless they involved going to a ball game, the club or getting a real meal with family as opposed to eating Kix or Ramen every night.

Maybe if I went to less ball games and clubs I could’ve spent more on food. But let’s be serious, it wasn’t like I wanted to cook a steak on the stove top in my craptastic second floor apartment in Everett. Plus it wasn’t like I could even access the stove with the piles of dirty dishes cluttering it up.

What those dishes were used for is beyond me now. I remember a lot of things about that apartment and time in my life but what I ate while living in it isn’t one of them. In fact at one point the dishes got so out of hand it was easier and cheaper to just throw them all away and buy new ones.

No that’s not a joke. I was twenty-two and lazy remember?

Not much changed when I finally moved into my own place at twenty-seven. There were plenty of times a guy would come pick me up for a date, friends or family came over to visit and I’d just take the piles of dishes from the kitchen and stack them up in the tub behind the shower curtain.

I figured if anyone who came over was bold enough to peek behind that curtain then they deserved to see the specks of pasta sauce and old chunks of who knows what festering on my stack of bowls and plates. I moved them so those people wouldn’t have to see the nastiness in my kitchen.

The only time I remember doing dishes in that studio apartment was when I was having an overnight guest. I wasn’t mean enough to tell them they had to shower at the gym or something. So I guess that means I did dishes at least four or five times while living there before Matt moved in with me.

Thank god for Matt. He actually was the only guy who stayed over (before we were officially dating that is) that I did dishes for. When I said overnight guest I meant more like friends or family coming in from out of town. Guess that should’ve been my first clue that Matt was the keeper.

And this year he’s supposedly planning a party for my (alleged) milestone birthday in June. I don’t know how many people he’s inviting or who might show up but I’m just thankful we have a dishwasher.

Posted for April 2013 A to Z Blog Challenge J is for June

Early Days

Back in high school I was fortunate enough to be able to choose my own English classes in Junior and Senior year. Freshman and Sophomore years I took the standard definition of English – read books, write papers, learn vocabulary and the like – but in Junior year I was able to break free of that by selecting Journalism and in Senior year I satisfied my necessary requirement by taking Creative Writing. It’s safe to say those were the best moves I ever made in school because both classes helped to shape the Writer I am today.

In Creative Writing we were frequently given “pop quizzes” as I liked to call them. Our teacher, Lucile Burt, called them ten minute writings. She’d establish four or five topics per class and for ten minutes we had to write the first thing that came to mind on each subject or theme. I still make use of this technique sometimes when I’m struggling to come up with a good topic.

On September 9, 1990, right at the beginning of the school year, Lucile assigned one of these days. There were four topics that day – Blue Shirt, Two People in a Canoe, A Green Apple and a Promise, and Leftovers.

Brilliant subjects right? I mean out of thirty people in class she easily encouraged 120 different types of stories since each of those things would bring out something completely different in each of us.

I don’t remember the class or the specifics of what we were required to do with each subject but I’m guessing, due to the random symbols located throughout the original pieces, that we were supposed to select our favorite lines and favorite piece written during the class.

The one I starred was Blue Shirt.

When I went back and read this short piece today I started laughing in a fairly ironic way. Apparently I’ve always been a crazy person trapped within my own head because even at seventeen years old I had a penchant for rambling interior monologue. Perhaps this is the very thing I should be focused on writing. Or maybe I just like that this style allows for as many adverbs as possible.

Anyway, without further rambling, and in its original state (one long paragraph) word-for-word (including insertion of symbols, excluding names), I present you with my ten minute writing. Bear in mind this was 1990 and I didn’t have the benefit of a computer so I’m transcribing this from my hand written journal and it’s likely to be much shorter than if I’d been able to type.

Blue Shirt

I’m supposed to be concentrating on my breathing but all I can think of is the topic “Blue Shirt”. --> When I take a breath in I see all my ideas and imagination getting tossed and jostled around. When I exhale my mind relaxes and my thoughts come together again. But just when I think they are going to be put into a perspective where I can write or think about one of them, I inhale again and all of the ideas are tossed around once more. When I exhale again there is a certain calmness about my mind, like I have no worries or thoughts at all and all of my problems have a solution. But when I take my next breath I feel like a human being again. [Friend’s name] has a blue shirt on today which makes me wonder if she’s writing about herself. I have on a white shirt yet I’m still writing about myself in this entry. It makes no sense why I’m not writing about a blue shirt when that is the topic of this whole thing. Lots of people wear blue shirts. Why was that the topic? I have to wonder if I’d have written about myself or something totally different if the topic had been white shirt. --> But it wasn’t. So I didn’t. And now I’m curious as to what our next topic will be.

Posted for April 2013 A to Z Blog Challenge E is for Early

Landmarks, Boston Style

I was watching a Bruins game a few days ago and during a commercial when they panned around the Garden something hit me.  Many of our famous bronze statues and landmarks that we send tourists to check out are sports related.

Is this a regular thing in other cities too or are we unique in our fandom of sports? 

There are certainly the random-historical-dudes-on-horses statues in the Public Garden, Boston Common and other places.  But when they pan over the TD Garden sign & down to the ground during Bruins games the camera rests on the insanely popular, well photographed, and very cool bronze statue of Bobby Orr flying through the air during his famous shot. 

In fact the shot is so well known in Boston it is simply referred to as “The Goal”; I’d wager that hockey fans everywhere know about it though, not just those of us from Boston.

Ted Williams putting his huge cap on a little fan’s head is at the entrance to Fenway, and, as I said, Orr is at the entrance to the Garden but look around beyond major league stadiums and you’ll discover all kinds of neat bronze people. 

At the Roxbury Crossing station on the Orange Line of the T, tucked into a corner of the quad on the Northeastern campus, you’ll find a fantastic bronze sculpture of Cy Young.  Allegedly placed where the exact pitches were thrown from in the original baseball stadium, he’s one big guy watching over the students who come and go from class.

Take a walk down to Gate D at Boston College’s Alumni Stadium and you’ll come face to face with the brown, metallic version of one of the greatest football players ever to grace New England with his talent on two teams – the BC Eagles and the Patriots – Doug Flutie.

Head to Quincy Market to catch Red Auerbach hanging on a bench, hop the Green Line to Kenmore and catch a pass from a bronzed Harry Agganis outside the arena named for him, and if you happen to run the Boston Marathon be sure to locate the statue of George V. Brown in Hopkinton as he stands ready to tell you to go.

Not only are there players, coaches, directors and inspirational people associated with Boston sports sprinkled all over the city but there is actually an entire tour dedicated to the thrill of finding some of them!  It’s called The Boston Sports Trail and quite possibly as important (if not more important) to the residents of town than the Freedom Trail or and other historical landmark. 

Mostly because in Boston, the sports are a historical landmark!

If you want to get more info on The Boston Sports Trail for next time you’re wondering what to do on a random Saturday afternoon, you can check out this link on Boston.com  Not everything I mentioned above is even on this trail, but there is also a lot more than I mentioned in this post, so I definitely suggest digging into your Google searches for the bronze gods & goddesses of Boston and hunt down even more sports greats on your own!

All I can say is I know what I’m doing next time I’m visiting my hometown!

Measuring a Summer’s Day

Tangerine, my favorite Led Zeppelin song of all time, comes to mind at this very moment because it just so happens I’m eating a fruit of the same name. At this time of year they’re everywhere in mesh shaped nylon baggies so no matter what store I find myself in, if I’m perusing the produce department, a bag of these juicy little balls of happiness are definitely coming home with me.

Some folks could probably have named this post Oh My Darlin’ but to me tangerines just make the world a little juicier than a Clementine. Maybe it’s because of Page’s stunningly simple lyrics full of complex visuals (if you know the song this should make perfect sense), or the delivery of those words through Plant’s haunting reflective tone, or maybe its that Jones & Bonham come in at the exact right moment to bring stability to the growing legs of the well timed guitar solo. Maybe the reason I love it is because it isn’t perfect but it’s out there to be loved anyway.

Or maybe I love the song so much because it reminds me of a nostalgic love so strong it could never be forgotten, and the person it holds in the palm of its hand was that very thing to me.

Innocent and stupid and new, ready to grab the world by the scruff of the collar and drag it along behind us as we blazed a trail. But at some point I realized he wasn’t with me anymore so I looked back to try to find him but he had mysteriously disappeared. Then I spent so long watching behind me for where he had gone that I missed the fact that life fell out of my hands and passed me ages ago.

If only things could stay so simple as Bonham’s back beat. But they rarely do, if ever. So at this time of year I find myself reflecting voraciously, as if it was an activity I’d never done before and may never get to do again.

It always starts out with the year that has just flown by in the blink of an eye and all the things I remember about it, and then it spirals into a trip down the cobble stones of memory lane.

Of course this year was struck with tragedies of massive proportions that would be hard to ignore, like earthquakes and oil spills. But it was also filled with amazing things of beauty like a close friend having a healthy baby girl or seeing a double rainbow in upstate New York.

In the past year:
♥ a good friend moved back to the area
♥ I completed the edits on my first novel and started shopping it
♥ continued to play drums every week
♥ went to countless shows (including finally seeing Bushwalla live on his own, Seth Glier, DMB, BNL and Jason [of course])
♥ one of my favorite actors died (Haim)
♥ saw my sister on her coast
♥ spent time with friends and family (on the other coast and mine)
♥ finished helping to clean out my grandparent’s place
♥ watched the final season of a long favorite television show (Lost)
♥ took on a few paint jobs
♥ walked to support Alzheimer's research
♥ spent tons of time laughing & joking with Matt (in the car and at home)
♥ went fishing (and actually caught some!) with old friends
♥ witnessed the kids in my life get even smarter as they became another year older
♥ saw a couple Sox games live at Fenway & a few Bruins games live at the Garden
♥ dealt with a flood in our basement
♥ experienced a summer full of hot sunshine (bliss!)
♥ started an extreme exercise program (P90x - bring it!)
♥ joined a Book Club
♥ signed a lease for a second year in the same place (call Ripley’s!)
♥ drank with the local townies at the Jersey shore
♥ sold a few things at a craft fair
♥ wrote most of my second novel
♥ kicked Matt’s butt repeatedly in Scrabble
♥ and so many other awesome things I couldn’t begin to list more

Well I could but would any of you read a day by day accounting of my lame-ass life? Probably not.

As I spent the last year getting healthy in mind, body and soul it started becoming more clear that my life is longing for another grab it by the balls and have at it adventure. I know there’s still a couple weeks left this year so I don’t completely rule it out for happening in 2010 but it just feels like 2011 is calling to me from the future. That next year is where the great escapade will be found.

Become a published novelist? Celebrate ten years married? Get my body back in shape? Quit smoking? Something else? The world is open, and so am I, to the possibilities that exist. Bring on the adventure 2011, even if that adventure is wrapped in a moving truck traveling 3500 miles across this great country to the Valley of the Sun!

Someday I will no doubt look back on that journey and think about me and Matt taking it together.

“Does [s]he still remember times like these?...And I do.”