Nostalgia or Manipulation?

Inspirational song: Sunshine Day (The Brady Bunch)

Whenever possible, I fast forward through television commercials, or I wander off physically or mentally while they're on (i.e. grab a tablet of some sort to read through Twitter or play games, or go investigate the latest crash-y noises that frequently follow bored kittens). Rarely I pay attention to ads on TV. There's an ad on current rotation that actually caught my attention, although I couldn't for the life of me tell anyone what sort of product it is selling. It uses an instrumental pop song that is as treacly sweet as can be, doubly so once you realize it's "Sunshine Day" from the Brady Bunch episode where they were a semi-professional singing group recording in a studio. (I'm pretty sure that's the one where Peter's voice starts to change. Is that relevant?) That I know all of this without consulting the Book of All Knowledge (Google) is kind of the point I want to make. I really feel targeted by nostalgia, to the extent that it has gone past annoying to feeling vaguely threatening. I don't want to think of myself as a member of a particularly desirable demographic, but maybe I am. I get all of these subtle pop culture references that are thrown out, and I'm more than a little bit susceptible to the nostalgia they are using to manipulate me and my cohorts. This is everywhere now. The first time I sang along to Muzak in a grocery store decades ago, I groaned that I must be old. Now every single song piped over the top of public spaces is aimed at me. The casino I went to so often in Central City was notorious for digging deep on the pop charts, spanning about 20 years, all of which cover my entire youth. I know they're trying to give me a sense of calm or even euphoria, so that I'll continue to sit and plug bills into the machines. I know I'm being manipulated. The hard part is figuring out whether I'm offended.

There is something very endearing about people who get the same pop culture references as you. It allows you to feel a bond that doesn't really exist when a person who has a natural distance from you (like if they're a celebrity, a newscaster, a boss, a candidate...) refers to some entertainment or toy that meant something to you when you were both younger. When some actor on a talk show references something from your youth (lets say, Gremlins or Tamagotchi Friends or the song that played at your high school prom that had everyone out on the dance floor), it catches your attention, doesn't it? If they make a fond comment about something you like, you feel positive toward them, even if you otherwise couldn't care less about them. If they speak disparagingly about your beloved Aquanet and scrunchie hairstyle that you rocked when you were 13, then you feel shamed or angry, regardless of whether they actually deserve your scorn. Is it fair to do that? Conversely, is it fair that all the movies are remakes of what we loved as kids, so that they can make money off of us without original content?

I had a pop culture epiphany yesterday. Someone on Twitter made a comment comparing someone to "Vince Clortho," and it set off alarm bells in my head. I'd heard that recently, but I had no idea who this name referred to. The Google alerted me instantly that the commenter had misspelled "Vinz Clortho," and from there I found that it referred to the Keymaster, the minion of Gozer who was the dog/bear monster that Rick Moranis' nerdy CPA character turns into in the original Ghostbusters. But having found all this out, I still had no idea why the name was echoing in my head. I turned it over mentally for more than an hour, until it finally fell into place. I had been watching a lot of old Key and Peele videos, because I had told someone about a great skit. It was the "Inner City Wizard School" bit, where Jordan Peele is the principal of Vincent Clortho Public School for Wizards, a run-down, underfunded, inner city American version of Hogwarts. It hasn't been a month since I was showing my friends the clip, and giggling over how well written and performed the skit was. I kept wondering where the Clortho part came from. I thought maybe it was totally original, or maybe it referred to something cultural that I was never exposed to. It didn't occur to me that it was one more layer of their writing brilliance, a deep dive into pop culture that I missed the first five times I watched that segment. I found myself admiring their pop culture bona fides, and now, a full day later, I'm wondering the ssame thing I wondered in the last paragraph. Does it really make them cooler that they used an obscure movie reference from my past? I mean, honestly I think Key and Peele are some of the best comedy writers of my lifetime already, but is it okay for me to give them bonus points for this? To my astonishment, I think they deserve them, for no other reason than they did their homework. And maybe now I'll go see whether Ghostbusters is on Netflix.

American Dream

Inspirational song: This Is America (Childish Gambino)

When I wrote the email that volunteered my home and family to host the foreign exchange student, I suggested that I could give her a unique perspective on the American experience. I think in my head that meant I could describe the places we lived around the country and the cultural nuances we claimed as our own from each assignment. I might not have thought it out further than trying to teach her about Carolina pulled pork, New Mexico green chile, or Central Coast California tri-tip, if I’m being totally honest. She may think it’s funny when I say “y’all” in my Oklahoma accent, but it’s not the broad view of America I was hoping to impart. I have less than a month left to figure out what I want to pass along to her.

We dragged XS out of bed early today, and went to the semi-annual Mile of Smiles. This is where we line the interstate and wave at the escorts and bus loads of veterans from World War II and the Korean War on their way to the airport for their Honor Flight tour of the memorials in DC. I don’t know what other Honor Flight groups around the country do to send off their honorees, but I’m rather fond of this tradition in our area. It’s growing every year, filling more and more of the frontage road in Dacono/Frederick. This time out we remembered to bring our big American flag out rather than borrow one from the Carbon Valley Rotary or from the Boy Scouts, whoever it was who has handed them out in the past. We waited longer than usual this morning, or maybe we just showed up earlier and the buses went by as normal. We chatted up a mom and her teenage son who wants to join the army while we waited, and then Mr S-P started a little impromptu highway cleanup. Someone produced a black trash bag from somewhere, and in no time all the folks within a couple carlengths from us had nearly filled it. Our flag didn’t want to stay wedged in the guard rail, so I ended up holding it the whole time, waving it whenever cars would honk their horns on the way down I-25. Once the actual veterans and escorts drove past, I waved it continuously, until my shoulders felt like they were going to grind to dust. XS wondered when she was going to get some Americana themed clothes like nearly every other person was wearing this morning (including the Mr and me). They should be popping up in stores shortly, before Memorial Day.

It’s incredibly rare that I decide after a single exposure to a song that I must own it. It almost always takes me a few listens to music before I’m willing to part with my money to acquire a copy. Last night I had one of those lightning-strikes moments most of the way through SNL. Donald Glover was both the host and the musical act with his band Childish Gambino. Their first number was okay, but I didn’t have much of a reaction to it. The song he debuted near the end of the show blew me away, and I don’t think I can claim to have understood what it was all about instantly. I couldn’t stop thinking about it this morning, and I looked it up to read the lyrics and to make sure I had the title right so I could buy it on iTunes. It was then that I watched the video, and got so much more out of it. It’s intense, and it’s deep. That should be Deep with a capital D. It was shocking and provoking and still dangerously compelling. Plus the music and performance were superb. I recommend it, but with caution. It takes a while to absorb. Kind of like America.

A Good Day to Be in the Mountains

Inspirational song: Helplessly Hoping (Crosby, Stills, & Nash)

Who got to spend all day in the mountains, touring cool houses with incredible views, and picturing how they could look in the not-too-distant future? Anyone? I did. I took some folks I really like up for a preliminary scouting mission to some mountain properties. We ended up getting to see six homes over the course of the day, with a fair piece of driving between. It was an incredibly gorgeous day, even to someone like me who isn't a fan of unrelenting sunshine. It was just the right temperature, and the homes we toured were just deep enough in the pines that it was perfectly pleasant to be outside. It just doesn't get better than this.

It's far too soon for my companions to know when or even for certain that they are moving up here. Today was really just dipping a toe in the water. If I could wave a wand and get them to move here next week, I would do it. As it is, they have a lot of loose ends to tie up -- and several big life changes to line up -- before they can even consider making an offer on a house. That said, we saw an amazing property that they would offer on today if they were ready to jump. It was crazy cool. It was a moderately large log cabin, with a huge covered patio on one side, a deck (and patio below) overlooking the river It was a big lot, with access to another acre adjacent lot. There was a ton of flagstone inside and out, especially on the fireplace and stairs up in the great room. There were several flat places on this lot, unlike most of the others we saw, which were ideal for gardening.

Then once we were done with the inside of the home, we checked out the huge shed on the far side of the fence out back. I saw the wife of this family open huge doors, and I said "Ooh, that's an RV barn." It wasn't. It was above and beyond my wildest dreams for what I expected to find inside. This guy collected fallen trees, and had them planed into live-edge planks. They were beautiful. I need to keep an eye on this listing, and write an email to the listing agent. I saw what her homeowners were charging for this lumber. It is most likely that if I can come up with a good excuse for something to build with this lumber, I can reach them through their listing agent to purchase some of this lumber. It was truly wonderful.

In the Wrong Order

Inspirational song: Up All Night  (Boomtown Rats)

I have made a grave error. I had a long list of tasks to accomplish today, and I did everything in the wrong order. I found myself wandering into the shower after midnight, to rinse the hair dye out after touching up my roots. I had already painted my nails before I went in, so naturally I destroyed two nails completely and had to re-do them. I know I got through most of what I needed to do during the day, even though at the last minute I made some major changes to my goals. But it took me all freaking day, and more money than I meant to spend. I was literally staggeringly tired in the shower. Now I'm typing carefully, in the futile hope that I don't put more ripples in the plasticky top coat of nail polish. It's not going to work. Chances are probably about 90 % that I'm going to tuck un-cured nails under my chin while I sleep, or run them through my still-wet hair multiple times over night.

I have to be back up again in six hours. I have to bail on this and try to sleep, even though I'm wound up tight and trying to plan tomorrow's schedule. It's no fun being too tired to sleep. I can't afford not to try.

Child of War

Inspirational song: Give a Little Bit (Supertramp)

There is no happy medium. Months ago, my character was focused, driven to complete the task we were given, to go find a mystic siren and ask her questions before the new moon. I tried and tried to steer toward achieving that goal, and there was always something thrown in our faces. The game master diverted us over and over. Tonight was the backside of that quest. We were returning with the answers, and with two particular collections of “trophies” from the roving bands of orcs we dispatched. We were offering information and collecting rewards. It was time to unwind after stressful situations, so that is exactly what I did. My character is a forest gnome. She is three foot four, and she weighs thirty-six pounds. After two stops and a couple opportunities to wave severed monster parts at squeamish party members and non-player characters (because she has no gag reflex and a sick sense of humor), she gave up and went to a pub and asked for some of the local cider (that comes from the apple orchard of a recurring NPC who may or may not be trustworthy). Three or four ounces into it, and little Gunda was druuuuuuuunk. So I played her that way. I was loud, unfocused, and obnoxious. I had a great time, and she did exactly what someone would who had just completed a 2 month-long quest that involved significant danger to her life and that of her friends. She blew off steam.

So when we came home, I said to Mr Game Master, “It might be unwieldy, but playing drunk Gunda was fun.” He just scowled at me and said something like, “You guys get off track so much.” And then he stomped off to bed. That really deflated my good mood. I can’t win. Either I’m frustrated by trying to get onto what we are trying to find while he’s throwing in detours, or I’m wasting his time by correctly role-playing my character.

I don’t know where to go with it. I’ve established that she’s a hothead and super impulsive. I’ve also demonstrated that she has a soft spot for animals (especially her mean Shetland pony), mothers and children, and a certain shape-shifting elf who has saved her life more than once (and she would defend him at the expense of her own life at this point). She’s going to keep being mouthy, even when (not if) it gets her in trouble. She is the one who told me how to play her. So no matter how much it irritates the game master, Gunda is going to live up to her lofty name, and be the fierce warrior she swears that she is. I expect her mouth to get us both in trouble every week. She hasn’t let us down yet.

Starting a Trend

Inspirational song: Travelin' Man (Ricky Nelson)

This is a really tough blog to piece together. I know I was busy all day. I am physically and mentally exhausted. I have no idea how to pull a coherent story line out of any of it. I felt like I was dashing from task to task, and nothing stands out as noteworthy, or at least tells a good story. It was cold and rainy all day, which worked to my advantage while I was outside pulling stacks of weeds and dead stalks from the front corner flower garden (the Unless garden). I helped Mr Smith unload a couple truckfuls of lumber that he salvaged for free, that will form the skeleton and possibly floor, walls, or roof decking of his little mountain shed. Between these things I wore out my arms and shoulders, and because of them I took a muscle relaxer. That might account for why the rest of the day is a blur.

Our regular game night didn't work out tonight, but those of us who were in attendance (it was at my house, so of course I was there) found an alternative to our usual campaign. We pulled out the mah jongg kit and brushed up on it. This time the distribution of wins was much more even. Everyone except Mr S-P got at least one win (but since he only played the last hand of the night, he had less opportunity than everyone else.) Next week we have one of our Thursday night players scheduled to be absent for surgery, and since he is the most creative of all of us, we decided not to advance the D&D game without him. Instead, we'll have a hot tub game night, with a rotating quartet playing mah jongg at the patio table, and people going in and out of the spa. If this goes off like I think it will, it should be a thing, a scheduled event. I'm going to start a trend. It could be its own category on Evite.

I don't have much else for tonight. I'll fall back on pretty pictures. Bruno the lizard was particulary photogenic today. It's as good a place as any to start.

The Floor Is Lava

Inspirational song: White Rabbit (Jefferson Airplane)

The puff of air never came. I had to put my chin in at least three, probably four of those hardcore light and mirror contraptions to view the insides of my eyeballs. Not one of them was the dreaded glaucoma test, but I still blinked furiously and flinched whenever the lenses got within range of my eyelashes. I am so utterly terrified of the puff-of-air glaucoma test that I can’t sit still for any other test. It doesn’t matter what my calm, rational mind says. My eyes water and blink, and I giggle nervously and apologize profusely when I have to lean back and re-center myself. And sadly, I feel like they shot air into my eye. I’ve felt it all day. I hate that feeling.

I had to get my eyes dilated today. I was encouraged to walk around and test out glasses frames while I waited for the drops to take effect. My prescription has changed enough that I need new lenses, and I am seriously contemplating a set of dedicated sunglasses to use while I drive. There were some really beautiful frames. I didn’t pull the trigger, though. Maybe in a month or so.

I went back into the exam room and waited for the doc to come look me over, to make sure my lupus drugs aren’t causing macular degeneration. It’s a high risk, and so far I’m fine. While I sat alone in the room, I stared mindlessly at the linoleum floor. It was that warm orange/pink sandy color that disappears under foot, and it had a random swirly pattern. The longer I looked, the more it quivered and rolled to my dilated eyes. When you’re a kid, and you’re climbing around the furniture because the floor is lava, you are only playing. You don’t really see the floor roiling. This hallucination was so vivid, I thought about climbing up on my seat and leaping over to the counter. I wonder what Dr K would have said if he had walked in on me clinging to the cabinets, screaming about lava. I bet that has never happened at his clinic before.