If I could turn back time (I'd do some fucked-up things)
Thanks to the website Yearbook Yourself, and I blame Susie Fairchild for my obsession with this, I have assembled a fantasy collection of high-school pictures. All voting in the following categories was done by me, and is subject to change, depending on my whims/hormones.
Most Likely to Respond to Spousal Abuse by Baking a Cherry Pie
Most Likely to Fuck the Milkman, the Mailman, and the Meter Reader
Most Likely to Take Quaaludes Before Anal Sex With Gay Boyfriend
Most Likely to Grow a Penis
Most Likely to be a Frigid Bitch
Most Likely to Die a Virgin, But Not by Choice
Most Likely to Submit to Drunken Hairstyling
Most Likely to Enhance Peppiness With "Diet Pills"
I've been trying, for days and days, to write a coherent post about music and attitudes toward music. Obviously, that article isn't going to be finished any time in the foreseeable future. Let's just have a "cut to the chase" version of what I was trying to say.
Music, movies, the arts in general...I consider all of these to be necessary parts of my life, both as an observer and a creator. Just try to take away my iPod, fucker, and you'll see a clumsy bitch turn into a hair-pulling ninja warrior quicker than you can say "slacker goes ballistic."
But it irks me, has always irked me, when reviewers declare that certain albums or movies are IMPORTANT. That automatically prejudices me against whatever work is being discussed, because it just feels so overwhelmingly pretentious. It makes no sense to react that way, since my boycott is depriving me of music or art that I might actually enjoy, and in a way punishes the artist, who had no hand in that declaration of IMPORTANCE (unless the artist has made this claim himself, and then he or she goes into my "Snotty, Entitled, Presumptuous Egomaniac" file).
Works of art can certainly be considered more innovative, more influential, and have greater staying power than others, but I hesitate to single out works of art as IMPORTANT. Because, really, isn't all art important to someone, even if it's only the poor sap who's singing into a shoebox recorder in the bathroom at midnight, or fingerpainting pictures of her cats on a tempura-stained bench in the garage? To say that one piece of art is more important than another ignores the fact that every work of art is important to at least one person.
I guess what it comes down to, for me, is that all art is important on a personal level, but when someone in the faux-authoritative role of critic decides that it must be IMPORTANT to everyone based on this particular review, then I've gotta call bullshit.
This message was brought to you by The Society of People Who Record Music In Their Spare Bedrooms And Think That Farts Are A Valid Form Of Expression.
Alright, for those of you playing along at home: I have a new job. Well, a NEW new job. I realize my last job was still kinda new, but to be perfectly honest, it got moldy awfully fast.
Really, in my (admittedly damaged) mind, I thought the photography gig would be a great, artistic career for me, taking me in a whole new direction where I could show everyone my grand visions and be paid for all of it. The truth of the matter, though, was that I was being thrown into a nasty whirlwind of overbookings, ill-tempered children with idiot parents, and bitches who will stab you in the boob with a black pen while you're wearing a white blouse. Okay, so the boob stabbing only happened once. But isn't once enough for that shit?
On top of all that, I was only working one or two days a week, and was being asked to drive all over west Michigan to do sessions in the crappiest little studios you can imagine. There is too much variance in the company, so that some studios are grand and well appointed, while others are the size of a matchbox and their props look like the Diarrhea Squad got to them before I did. The record-keeping routines also vary from location to location, so I basically had to re-learn how to close at every store where I was sent to my doom. I've never worked for a company so reluctant to document their money-handling procedures.
Also, did I mention what that job was doing to my knees? You'd think a two-dollar whore would have bendies made of stronger stuff than that, but I found out that wasn't so. Photographing babies and toddlers requires the schmuck behind the camera to squat, kneel, and crawl around on the floor for most of the session, and by the end of any given shift, I felt like I'd been blowing midgets in a gravel pit all day.
I've never abandoned any job that quickly, but if I hadn't quit, I'd have just ended up in jail after breaking the neck of some bitchy mother or grandmother who couldn't get over the fact that I couldn't magically coax a smile out of a three-day-old baby.
So, here I am, enjoying my first day off since beginning my NEW new job last week. It pays less (on an hourly basis) than the last gig, but the drive is short, I know where I'll be working every day, I get scheduled in advance so that I know when I'll be working, and there is actual documentation for everything I'm learning. It's a small electronics store (if you're in the States, you definitely know the name, but let's not mention it here, hmmm?), so I get to be surrounded by geeky gadgets all day, which is never a bad way to go for me. I haven't worked a cash register in over 20 years, and let me tell ya - they have some fancy, fancy buttons on 'em now! I'm still learning my way around the merchandise, and of course, we're resetting the whole store right now, just to keep me confused. Consequently, I feel like a big ol' tard when people ask me where to find a fiber-optic cable, or an A/B switch for RCA plugs, but I do eventually find the goods, so I think there may be hope for me.
The best part of this job, though, is that my livelihood doesn't depend on getting small children to stand still, look at the camera, and smile. I just need to get adults to stand still, browse the cameras, and buy.
Now...do you have a minute? I'd like to show you a great wireless plan...