2003.7.24 – what is your rush?

Travelling used to be relaxing. Getting to the destination was only half of the fun. Taking the country roads and winding your way through hills and valleys across the U.S. was the only way to go.

There were service stations where the attendants would pump your gas, check your oil, clean your windows and send you off with a smile and wave.

Diners were owned by locals who came to a destination on the way to somewhere else and just decided to stay.

Landmarks meant something and driving was never a hurried experience. A family would actually talk and play road games while going to visit family and friends.

Today we manufacture minivans that have small televisions and personal plugins for the stereos so that the kids keep quiet and the parents “enjoy” the trip. We make every attempt to disconnect from each other and get to where we are going as fast as possible. If a train is quicker, we go that route. If a plane is the way to get there in the shortest span of time, we hop on.

What has happened to us? Gone are the days when a roadtrip was the only way to get anywhere and you didn’t complain about how long it took to get to the hotel or beach. We stopped along the way to visit new places and see the outdoors. We took pictures next to giant statues and quirky monuments.

Whole families used to pile into the camper and trek across the country. This is no longer the case.

Perhaps the economy is to blame. The longer hours and less time that we spend as a family, in order to make enough to go on that once a year trip to somewhere nice, could have some effect. Most families want to hurry up and get there because the trip is so short as it is that driving just makes the time spent away even shorter.

The frame of mind has been skewed. We have to begin to realize that the whole trip can be enjoyable. The amusement park at the destination is not the best part, but the togetherness is what really makes a vacation special. Spending time together and seeing sights along the way. Not just at the destination.

If we could just take the time to stop and see the sights, we might be more relaxed and have a lot more fun on our short time away.

This is a pipedream but it is one worth having. America is beautiful and the only way to know this for sure is to see it first hand. To share it with others and to keep a photographic record of the journey. After all, the journey is truly the best part of the trip!

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.7.16 – packrat living

The wedding was a success. The honeymoon was lovely. The apartment is a mess.

Yes, the presents have all been opened, looked over, and stacked in the most out of the way spot. A few items are in use. The rest wait patiently for their spot on the kitchen counter, bathroom vanity, or bedroom dresser.

This is the life of a packrat. Always attempting to throw out or give away excessive things, but eventually filling the spaces with more stuff.

In the month of May there were 5 garbage bags full of clothes taken to the local AmVets for donation. Three boxes of Christmas Decorations and one box of sheets were also dropped off. Despite the giving away of a multitude of clothes, the closet and dresser still remain packed to the brim.

The only good that came from the purging was the disposal of several articles of clothing over 10 years old. Yes, there were flannel shirts and corduroy vests. Even a pair of acid washed jeans. Heavens!! Clothes that went out of style in the eighties and had been packed up and moved into four different residences since the beginning of the nineties, are now in the hands of charity. Hopefully to be worn by people who can actually fit into them.

Moving on to the kitchen. In April a small renovation was done. The microwave cart was added to the already miniscule kitchen space and several appliances were able to be freed from their boxes. The blender, espresso maker and milkshaker were all set up in a nice looking manner atop the microwave. They have yet to be used, yet still look smashing and are happy to be away from the storage they had languished in for years.

In the living room the coffee table complains of clutter. The mail and other detritus that has built up is only the work of one week of dropping. Things tend to be set down and eventually die there. Weekly organizing takes place but within a day or two it is back to normal.

The room that is designated as the dining room has become the magnet for the bulk of the wedding gifts, mentioned earlier. These gifts cover the table, bar, racks (bought especially for the gifts) and floor of this space. There is barely room for a foot to be placed in order to lunge toward the table. This area has been tackled but once since the return from Toronto and will take several more attempts to get organized.

Eventually all this clutter will be gone. The packrat moniker will no longer be viable. Energy is valuable in this quest for organization. It has been elusive thus far.

In time, everything becomes garbage. The dilemma of the packrat is in the throwing out of things. Which things deserve to see the garbage can, goodwill bag or storage container. In the quest for organization things become blurred. Is it really necessary to save that collage that was made in 8th grade art class? Even if it is the coolest looking thing you made in junior high? Even if it gives you fond memories of an easier time?

I cannot judge. It is painfully obvious that I am a packrat. A hoarder of the tenth degree. My clutter is immense and continues to grow daily. I realize that to other people this may seem like a problem. To me, however, this is my way of life. The apartment has not reached immovable status of late (like my old bedroom at my parents house eventually did), so I feel that I’m doing well. As long as the junk gets moved around, turned over, and some of it actually given away, I feel that I will be okay. I don’t need a therapist or a professional organizer. The help I need is inside and one day I will release it and make my space more livable.

Until that day, I will relish my clutter. Love my junk. Be proud of my status as a packrat. After all, it is better than being a neat freak. Isn’t it?

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.6.5 – the pride is on!

“Pride – In the Name of Love…”

Sorry, channeling Bono for a moment.

Let me switch the channel…

“Celebrate good times, C’mon!”

Ah, ha! Kool and the Gang is better.

Getting serious now, this pride I speak of is not about music or pop culture, but rather a way of life. This weekend, we have our annual Gay Pride festival in Buffalo and it should be one rip roarin’ celebration!

Am I gay? No. Does it matter? No. That is the great thing about the community. Anyone and everyone is welcome and each person makes the party better.

I am, however, what some might call a “fag hag”. By the way, that isn’t a self described title, but rather what my friends have called me. The first time I heard that term I got this flash of a short, ugly woman following around herds of boys, but now I have learned to love it.

Being a shoulder to cry on is my specialty and frequently they let me have a little room edgewise in the spill the beans department. Many of my friends have moved away, but we still keep in touch via the internet (ah, sweet computer, where would I be without thee…). Hopefully, this weekend will draw us back together, if even for a short time. Pride is important, no matter who you are and celebrating it is a great triumph and a fab time.

So, where will you be this weekend? Sitting in front of the tube, watching another episode of “While You Were Out” (no pun intended and I do love that show) or getting out and doing something? If you are anywhere near the vicinity of Elmwood Avenue in Buffalo, New York, I highly recommend joining the fun!

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.5.16 – interiour design

I am thinking about going back to school. Yes, the hippie has decided it is time to get back to the creative and try to get out of this cycle of customer service hell. Ofcourse, there will be a short time where I will have to continue working in the service industry, to supplement my income, but hopefully after returning to school I can come out with something that projects me into a future with creativity and interest.

The boredom of day to day is getting me down and I think that design is just what I need in my life. A new design perhaps. Interior or Graphic. The decision has not been finalized yet. I am leaning more towards the former, merely because of my obsession with any and every design show on TLC, HGTV and The Discovery ChannelTrading Spaces, While You Were Out, Design on a Dime, Designing for the Sexes, and on and on.

If I could stay home all day and watch these shows I would be in my glory. Even better, to be able to do for a living what these designers do. I’m not talking about being on television as a designer, but just being a designer. Visiting people at home and decorating their lives. Bringing colour and light into spaces that are drab and dim. Giving new life to old rooms. All those cliched things that are used in the commercials for the above shows.

The result of design school would be a BFA degree that I could use to further my craft/design career. The major goal is to not end up in an office again after graduating.

After I received my music degree in 1997 I immediately went to work for a telephone company. It made sense at the time (for the money aspect), but when I look back on it now it was the turning point that brought me here. To a bank. Sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day staring at a computer screen. Sure, there are perks to working in an office on a computer. If I finish up my work early I can work on my websites or write, but overall it is depressing.

So…I am going to go back to school. The only way to do this is to say I am, rather than I think and then just do it. Now is the time and might be the only chance, so wish me luck as I embark on finding a good school and applying. Thankfully I did well in my first bachelors degree, so that will lend me a bit of credit towards a new degree.

Interiour design, here I come! Watch out, ’cause the hippie is on her way!

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.4.25 – earth day should be every day

22 April 1970. The first national celebration of Earth Day. Since that time, Earth Day has evolved into Earth week and really taken shape in the grassroots community. Tree plantings, rallies, and festivals are just the tip of the iceberg and this year is certainly no exception.

Being from an area of toxic waste, I am well aware of the effects of chemicals on living things. Last year I wrote a two-part column on Love Canal, the area of Niagara Falls, New York where I spent the first few years of my life. To learn more about Love Canal click here and here. There will certainly be more to the Love Canal Saga, but I will save that for later in the summer. Right now I want to focus on Earth Week and the things we can do to make mother earth happy and healthy again.

Plant a tree!
This seems to be the most popular way to celebrate Earth Week. Planting trees helps to restore the natural eco-system of our planet and keep the oxygen flowing in the environment. We give trees love, water and CO2 and they reciprocate with enough oxygen to keep us sustained on this planet. Yes, this may be a truly tree-hugger thing to do, but it is necessary for our survival and the future of our species.

Attend a rally
Is there an environmental hardship in your community? Perhaps a disaster occurred that has changed the make up of the soil, water or air. No matter how small, grassroots efforts are what keep environmental agendas moving ahead in this country. Contact your local chapter of the citizens environmental coalition and join the protest! ?As Patti Smith says people have the power!

Volunteer
Helping others can give you a great feeling of accomplishment and pride. Volunteering your time and efforts toward the common goal of saving the earth can make you feel even better. Anything from working in the office of your local environmental coalition to taking field samples and processing the results can be of great use. ?Lend a hand and feel your heart expand!

Be charitable
Volunteering is always the best option, but if you don?t have the time for that you can always give of your wallet. All environmental organizations can use cash. Most will put it to good use. Just be sure that the money you send goes where you intend it to.

Teach kids about the environment
Start them out young. Reaching a child with the ideas of recycling, planting, and keeping the earth clean can do a world of good for our future. Kids have to live on this earth longer than us, so they have an even more vested interest into what happens environmentally.

Remember Woodsy the Owl

In 1970, an ad campaign ran to get kids into the enivronmental protection act. Woodsy the Owl would say “Lend a Hand. Care for the Land!”? and at the end the tagline song was Give a hoot, don’t pollute. Never be a dirty bird. In the city or in the woods. Help keep America, lookin? good! Next time you see garbage on the ground, pick it up and throw it away. It is a small gesture, but in the grand scheme of things every little bit helps!

Make Earth Day Every Day!
The best way to honour the earth is to keep it healthy. Rather than just once a year doing a good deed, we need to learn how to help out everyday! Making earth day a daily and weekly activity can do wonders for this great planet!

Whatever you decide to do this weekend to end our Earth Week festivities, remember that the earth thanks you for every little thing that reverses the effects from so many technological years. We made it this way and now it is time to turn it around! What will I be doing this Earth Day Weekend? Attending a rally ofcourse! Ralph Nader and Patti Smith will be there! If you want to check out where I will be, click here!

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.4.16 – feminism in the 21st century

We’ve come a long way, baby! Degrading as that statement may seem, it is actually very true. We HAVE come a long way, but the only way to know for sure that the struggle was not in vain is to continue on with it. We cannot just rest on the laurels of our foremothers who fought for the big stuff. We have to rise up and continue in their honourable footsteps.

Equal rights are not fully won with just the right for women to vote or equal pay for equal work. Feminism has to evolve into the 21st century and be a force to sustain these rights while winning new battles for women. Many times, in our society, women are treated unfairly in the workplace by other women. This is the most tragic event of all. Whether it be for reasons of contempt towards one another or ladder climbing, maltreatment of women by women is unacceptable.

It is an undeniable fact that, in organizing, petitioning and speaking out to free the slaves, American women learned how to free themselves. -Betty Friedan – The Feminine Mystique

In the early days of women’s rights, the feminist movement moved parallel to, and many times in conjunction with, the civil rights movement. Women were getting out and speaking up for the rights of blacks in America and, in turn, realizing that these rights should also be extended to themselves. With the notion that every human being was and is important, we see the struggle that would befall the most noble of feminists. In the process of helping to free the slaves and secure their civil rights, women saw something that they too wanted. Equal rights.

Feminism was a movement of resilience and militant pride. In recent years, feminism has begun to be looked at as a bad thing. Many factions have been ever increasingly more critical of feminists. Taking the example of two or three militant femi-nazis and making the whole group of feminists seem to be that way. This is yet another way for the establishment to dumb down the concept of equal rights for women. A way to make it seem unnecessary and even, in some instances, dangerous to be a feminist.

Every glamour magazine that sits on a shelf, screaming from its pages to the teenage girls of America, is a factor in this anti-feminism. Every add on television that makes a girl or woman feel less than she is contributes to anti-feminism. Each and every day that a girl or woman is taunted or made to feel inferiour results in the persistence of anti-feminism. Anti-feminism is a force in this country far stronger than the masses would give credit to. The ability to make women feel guilty for not spending every waking moment with their children is a form of anti-feminism.

Society still perceives career women and working mothers as a short phase in life. It is supposed that eventually these women will come around and learn to love staying at home. The assumption in that is that every woman is exactly the same and does not want to reach for a higher goal then marriage and motherhood. That the education of women ends when they become mothers. This is obviously not so, or we would not have so many career women as it were. In so much as it is possible for women to learn as well as men, so is it necessary for women to be afforded the luxury of both children and work. Women should not have to be “tied down” to family, giving up dreams of work success, unless they choose that as their goal. There are women who truly want to be housewives and nothing more and feminism extends them that choice as well.

The central theme is choice. The ability to choose career, family, home. The right to be able to choose whatever, whenever, and however without the consultation of a man. This does not, by any means, lessen the role of man in society. If anything, men are strengthened by feminism as well. They are able to have more openness in relationships because their wives/girlfriends/friends are more content and therefore more honest. Feminism is good for everyone, not just women, and this is the message that needs to be conveyed to the masses. Keep up the fight because no matter how far we have come, there is always road ahead to travel and to stop short would be nothing other than a travesty.

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.4.1 – where do you fit in?

Do you ever feel out of place, everywhere?

Lately, I have been visiting a coffeehouse, on my lunch break, that I used to hang out at when I was in college. I sit there, drink my coffee and read or write. This would be a relaxing experience but for the cold stares of the freaky deaky clientele.

The coffeehouse is across from U.B. – now being made infamous by MTV’s Sorority & Fraternity Life shows. Since I take a relatively late lunch (2 or 2:30pm), I am often in the midst of high school kids on their way home or students from the aforementioned college, skipping their 2 o’clock classes to play pool or shoot the proverbial shite.

Surrounded by these people I feel totally odd. I have lost touch with what I thought was my generation. In my job, I am required to wear suits, rather then the preferred uniform of angst.

At the point I begin to see the grounds in my coffee cup I pack up my stuff and head back to work. Pulling into the bank parking lot confronts me with the notion that I will again feel apart from my surroundings.

My hippie wool gloves, sweater and doc martens are not exactly what the “establishment” feels to be proper. Even in a suit, I still look less than the others. My beaded necklace and straight, center-parted hair are a little too left of center for corporate America. The fact that I am not trying to work my way up the ladder is a bit of a turnoff to my co-workers and superiours.

I realize now that I haven’t really fit anywhere since college. In the 6 years since graduation, my persona has skewed slightly from comfortable. This is what being a hippie is all about though. The ability to hold a decent conversation with pretty much anyone is overshadowed by the fact that I never quite look “correct” in any given place. At work I’m too liberal, while at the coffeehouse I appear conservative.

Comfort is obviously not an option at this point in my life. In two years I will be leaving my twenties and I will have to learn to be an adult. You would think that being 28 would afford me the tag of maturity by default, but that isn’t the case.

I still want to skip out on life to go have coffee.

I still want to drive around town with my stereo cranked up.

I still want to go to concerts, instead of work.

I still want to read for pleasure, rather than pay.

I want to be able to look at the world through rose tinted glasses and see my future as a canvas waiting to become a masterpiece.

With all this in mind, I leave behind a piece of me at that coffeehouse, in the hopes that whatever I choose to do next will be my destiny.

This lapse in columns has been brought to you by the leader in computers that crash, which will remain nameless for fear of lawsuits. I have installed the new hard drive and will be updating regularly once again!

Chat is always fun, so come visit me whenever you get a chance…Just click the chat link in any of our wonderful backwash communities!!

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2003.2.28 – what became of the jingle?

When did Generation X music become a marketing ploy? At what point did the advertisers decide that it was time to start using punk rock and new wave music to sell us cars, clothes, food, and anything else they can think of? I suppose, since Generation X itself is a construct of mass media, it was inevitable that our music would come to this point.

We are now the target demographic for such things, but it is still upsetting. Just as my mother was upset when Mercury used Fire by Jimi Hendrix to sell Firebirds in the mid-90?s, now we have to hear Forever Young by Alphaville in an attempt to sell us the new Ion.

The commercials are admirable. Showing stages of life and the fact that we have grown up now from our childhood and high school days. The connotation is, if we buy this car we can move on with our life. Leave the past behind and get on with the future. The future where we will hear more songs from the 80’s and 90’s used in commercials to sell us everything from laundry detergent to baby food.

Why don?t we hear jingles anymore? Are advertisers so strapped for new ideas that it is just easier to use an old song or do they truly believe that if we identify with the music it will make us more apt to purchase their products? I have never been swayed to purchase something simply based on the advertising campaign, but I am good at resisting. My affinity for not following blindly gives me the ability to make informed decisions based on things other than advertising campaigns.

Being an informed consumer is what it is all about. The ability to distinguish between good and bad products based on company history and product quality is invaluable. Consumers who buy products merely to have more stuff don’t have the drive to become informed. Reading magazines like Penny Power (the kids version of “Consumer Reports”) and watching Fight Back every night during dinner made me into a consumer of quality rather than quantity. Learning that products may not be all they seem from the commercials, made me able to be an inconspicuous consumer, rather than conspicuous. It gave me the ability to differentiate between quality and crap.

With this knowledge in mind, it is utterly impossible to sell an informed consumer a product simply based on the music used in the commercial. Why then, do advertisers insist on using catchy tunes from a generation ago to try and lure us in? I guess it fits the robot fa?ade. Advertisers think that consumers like this music so if they play it we will follow blindly to the stores to buy the products associated with these songs. What they don?t realize is that the only products that truly go up in sales are the cds of the artists used. This, is a good thing, but I am still miffed by this trend.

I don’t want to hear One Way Or Another by Blondie in a Revlon commercial.

I don’t want to hear Just Can’t Get Enough by Depeche Mode in a Gap commercial or Holiday in Cambodia by the Dead Kennedys in a Levi’s Dockers commercial.

I don’t want to hear Melt With You by Modern English in a Burger King commercial or 88 Lines About 44 Women by the Nails in a Volkswagon commercial.

I don’t want to hear Blue Monday by New Order in a Sunkist commercial or I Know What Boys Like by the Waitresses in a Budweiser commercial.

I don’t want to hear She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult, Tom Sawyer by Rush, How Soon Is Now by the Smiths, Tom’s Diner by Suzanne Vega, or Cannonball by the Breeders in a Nissan commercial.

I want to hear these songs on the radio, not on the television. The most melancholy part of all this is that MTV now plays more popular music in their commercials, then they do in videos. In the future, commercials may become our only source to truly good music. That will be a sad, yet inevitable day for true music fans everywhere.

2003.2.21 – speaking english?

Are there certain turns of phrase that bother you? Words or sentences that make you cringe uncontrollably? In recent years, even the newscasters seem to have become grammar-impaired. I realize that they are just puppets and read what is written for them, but you would think that they would be able to have some common sense. It seems that they are just regurgitating whatever mess of the English language has been presented to them in the past.

It is easy to locate the source of my preoccupation with grammar and usage. My maternal grandmother is an English language freak. She has a dictionary near to her at every moment of the day and if you mispronounce or misuse any word, she immediately scans the pages to find the correction. This isn?t something she does to make you feel badly, on the contrary, she wants to make sure that everyone speaks properly for when they go out into the world. We are all small pieces of the bigger family puzzle and as such, we must represent it in the best way possible.

In the event that you are put on the spot and do not know how to phrase something, just remember that the vast majority of people will not know if you are speaking correctly. With this being the case, people as high up as the President of the United States get away with some of the worst grammar in the free world. Not only mispronouncing words, but using phrases that would make anyone cringe. The worst offenders seem to be newscasters. At least, the local area news anchors, maybe not the national ones.

In college, students who wish to pursue careers in media are told that they need to train their voices to have a non-descript accent. The general consensus is to use the ?Mid Western? manner of speaking. This is a flat tone accent, and shows no ethnic or regional influence. Presenting the news with this accent supposedly makes it more official. Personally, I would rather hear someone with any old accent, as long as they pronounce the words correctly.

The thing that throws me is when I watch Canadian news. Newscasters in Canada have thick accents and they don?t try to hide it. This is the way it should be. We just want the facts presented in an intelligent manner, no matter what the tone of the voice presenting it is. Cutting back on useless jargon and gobbledygook would help the news flow better. Being sure that the phrases chosen are understandable to the masses and also make sense is a key attribute of good news writing. With or without a regional influenced speaking pattern, bad turns of phrase remain bad.

2003.2.13 – how small do you feel?

Let me paint you a picture. The background colour will be that of baby blue, which is plastered on every flat surface in sight. The bench you are sitting on looks as if it was ripped out of a 1970’s church and has been split apart in order to keep people at a distance. Fake wood is all you can think of as you stare at the line of seats against the wall.

The door suddenly opens and you are summoned into a room with more baby blue walls and wooden retro benches. There are large signs hanging from the ceiling that state emphatically, NO TALKING! You sit on another bench, by yourself, and wait for your name to be called.

Is this high school? An Alcoholics Anonymous meeting? The rec room at the local hostel? No, it is the wonderful and pleasant surroundings of the Traffic Violations Bureau.

Yes, you “California stopped” (downshifted) at a stop sign one blustery midnight in December. Yes, you plead “not guilty” on the ticket, believing you could somehow weasel out of it. You are now awaiting your destiny, in a courtroom sense, and it looks nothing at all like The Practice or even Judge Judy.

This is strictly low budget all the way and you assume that the blue walls are to keep the criminals calm. You wait, and wait, and wait and finally a judge shows up (45 minutes after your hearing time) to process the miscreants.

He thoughtfully, although condescendingly, explains that in this “major” city of New York State there is no way to plead down a traffic violation. You are either “guilty” or “not guilty” and it is basically your word against the police officer’s.

If you turn back now you will have let them win, so you decide to stick it out for another hour or so, in hopes that the cop won’t show.

As you watch the other offenders have their “day” in court, as it were, you realize that they are hiding the police. See, at the moment, you are surrounded by only moving violations offenders, no officials. Directly before each case, the clerk picks up the phone and calls somewhere to summon the police officer named on the ticket.

Your name is finally called and you step up to the bench. There is a big, smelly microphone staring you in the face and the judge is looking more foreboding up close. He instructs you to wait for the officer and your palms begin to sweat. The officer enters and you look in the opposite direction. He tells what happened on the night in question and you listen intently. When the judge asks you if you have anything to add, you decide to let this all go. You will not surrender your pride, to be shot down by the court.

“Yes”, you state, “that is exactly what happened, sir”. The judge looks at you in disbelief. You wait to be lectured on the point of wasting the courts time, but all you see is a big rubber stamp and a fine. You walk out into the hall, feeling like dirt and pay the ticket. You will have 3 points on your license for a term of 18 months and your ego will be down for a few days.

You did learn one thing from this experience. Never mistake democracy for happiness. You will only be let down in the end.

2003.2.5 – children first!

In recent weeks a new advertising campaign has been unveiled across the country. On my way home from visiting my family in Niagara Falls, I passed a billboard that struck me immediately. This isn’t like any other advocacy campaign over the years. It is heart wrenching and, in all likelihood, should be effective. The first billboard shows a closet door with a caption that reads, “A closet should only be a place to hang your coat.” The second shows a stovetop in the heated stage with a caption that reads, “A stove should only be a place to cook dinner.”

The sheer horror of these ads is what makes them honourable. Leaving the rest to the imagination is the best way to make people feel. Without a distinctive point, the ads reach out to everyone in a way that just showing violence cannot.

In case you haven’t guessed by now, these are new ad council ads sponsored by Prevent Child Abuse America, an organization that works to lower the cases of child abuse and neglect across the country. I have to admit that child abuse ads on television, radio and billboards have always been highly effective for me, but this has to be the most striking campaign. Unlike the campaigns to curb drug use and smoking, this campaign really reaches everyone. It grabs you by the throat and makes you realize how awful the act of abuse is. It makes you want to give of yourself immediately.

I was lucky enough to live through a wonderful and happy childhood. I didn’t have to worry about parents who were abusive or uncles that were “too close for comfort”. Once, when I didn’t get my way, I threatened my mother with a call to the child abuse hotline and she looked at me with that disapproving look saying, “Honey, you have no idea what child abuse is!” She was right, I didn’t. At the time I was angry because I wanted something I couldn’t have, but that could never be construed as abuse or neglect. After speaking to people in college that were abused and/or neglected, I understood how frivolous my younger comments had been.

At this point I realized that listening was the only thing I could do and it helped more than any words that I could utter. Without experiencing abuse myself it was impossible for me to ever truly understand the hurt and anguish involved, but being there to vent to was the best thing I could have done. The cycle repeated for one of my friends as she went from an abusive father, to an abusive husband, to an abusive boyfriend. People may argue that it is the fault of the woman, but you must first realize that abused women start out as abused children a majority of the time. They don’t choose to be abused, abuse chooses them.

The only way to stop these cycles of hatred and anger is to advocate for children. Start from the beginning. Making strong kids will make strong adults. With these new ad campaigns and more involvement in children’s organizations, we can make a difference. There is certainly a long road ahead, but continuing down it is the only option available.

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2003.1.23 – roe vs. wade, 30 years later

They came, they saw, they fizzled out. Thus was the plight of the “Army of God” in Buffalo, New York. Wednesday, January 22, 2003 marked the 30th anniversary of the Roe vs. Wade decision, meanwhile, in Buffalo, the trial of James Kopp continues.

“the hate filled want to build bunkers in your beautiful red earth, they want to build them in our shiny white snow…”

Mr. Kopp has confessed to shooting Dr. Barnett Slepian, in his home, in October of 1998. The previously mentioned “Army of God” believes that Kopp was justified in what he did because it helped save babies from being aborted. The so-called army descended on Buffalo this week to whip up support for their newly crowned hero, Kopp.

As many of you may know, Buffalo is a pretty cold place to live. Winters are harsh and not really conducive to protesting and rallying. The “Army” numbered about 12, and looked more like a gang than anything else. Toting signs that stated “Save a Baby, Call a Kopp” and other wonderful anti-abortion slogans, they froze their butts off in defense of what they believe to be a worthy cause.

“So they went and stuffed God down the barrel of a gun, and after Him they stuffed His only son”

The irony of the crusade is what really strikes me. Apparently, it is okay to shoot and kill Doctors, but not okay to abort babies. If they were truly pro-life, as they claim to be, they would be wholeheartedly against the killing of anyone. This includes the doctors who perform abortions.

As you may have guessed, I am a staunch pro-choice supporter. I have always been and always will be a proponent of a woman’s right to choose what to do with her own body.

Politics and religion have no place in the womb.

This may not be a shared view, but it is mine and I am entitled to any opinion I have. After all, that is what being a human is about. We are thinking animals and even when we don?t agree we should be able to appreciate the fact that individuals come to opinions after much deliberation.

“a bullet marked ‘right to life’, whizzed past his kids and his wife, and knocked his glasses right off of his face…”

On both sides of the abortion issue there are valid points to be made, I just really feel that in the end it all comes down to the fact that this is my body and nobody can make decisions for me about what I want to do with it. In the end, whether abortion is legal or not, women will continue to make the choice. The difference is that when abortion is not legal the choice becomes much more dark and dangerous.

Certainly a wire hanger is not the answer, but in desperation choices become cloudy.

Abortion will always be a hot button in American society. There is absolutely no way around it. On both sides of the issue opinions and feelings run strong. It is a never-ending battle of politics and personal views that will just keep circling around and around for centuries to come.

The important thing is to keep the Roe vs. Wade decision upheld, so as to not lose the legal means of this procedure. Women will continue to have control over their bodies and the choices that they make, but without the legal means of abortion many women will perish as a result of half-assed procedures.

If we learn nothing else from the debate on choice, we must keep in mind this fact – criminalizing abortion does not stop it from happening, it just makes it more dangerous.

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

All quotes in this piece are attributed to Ani Difranco, from her song “Hello Birmingham”.

2003.1.7 – diy or die!

Distros. The new wave in online independent distribution. Sites run by committed individuals with a passion for spreading the “word”. In this case the “word” would be the DIY scene.

Do-It-Yourself is a movement that came into full force in the 1970’s. Punk rockers were looking for a way to express their individuality. Sure, the music was unique, but the style had to be even bigger! DIY was just the thing to make a statement. By taking normal clothes (usually acquired through thrift stores) and ripping, tearing, patching and safety pinning, the punks invented a new way to dress.

This new movement gave an outlet to artists that would have otherwise been lost in the shuffle. The crowning acheivement of DIY was the invention of the ‘zine. The ability to make a magazine about anything they wanted was the ultimate DIY experience. While writing, publishing and copying the ‘zine was an easy task, distributing it was often a nightmare. Even when there were friends to help, the ‘zine never got much further than a mile or two away from the printing press.

Another feather in the cap of DIY is the independent music scene. Punk rockers were tired of record labels telling them what to write and who to gear it towards. With this in mind they began breaking out of the norm and starting up their own labels. The indie bands of today owe everything to the DIY punks that started the trend away from the major record labels. Without the indie labels and the college radio stations, underground music would stay so far out of site that even the hippest music lover would be hard pressed to find it.

Coming full circle from then to now, distros give ‘zine publishers and indie musicians a chance to share their art outside the local scene. Some of the more involved distros even include great craft items like buttons and stickers.

In a world of fashionable commercialism, the distros are keeping the independent DIY spirit alive. If you want to buy something truly one-of-a-kind and sometimes subversive, check them out. Or, better yet, make your own DIY creations and start a distro. After all, it isn’t punk rock if you don’t DIY!!!

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.12.18 – holidays the way they should be

Holiday shopping. A time to wade through the endless sea of shoppers at your local mall and fight them off with your bags of holiday treats. A joyous time of peace and goodwill, as long as everyone on your list receives exactly (or something close to) what they asked for. Is this really what it’s all about? If this is so, then I would like a refund!

For the past three years, my fianc?e and I have attempted to cram all of our holiday shopping into the last weekend before Christmas. We have consciously decided to boycott the malls in search of an alternative shopping experience. At first the reasoning behind this stemmed from the fact that we wanted to support our local vendors. More recently, it has become almost like a quest. We wake up as far before noon as humanly possible for a day off and make our way down to Elmwood Avenue. Being the last Saturday before the holiday it is extremely busy, but a cup of coffee usually gives us the energy we need to scavenge through the shoppes.

Last year, unfortunately, we came in contact with far too many yuppie types for our liking, but we muddled on determined to find the perfect gifts for all. It becomes a sort of race to the finish, as we realize that this is the only day we have left. The last few sorry individuals on the list will most likely reap the consequences, but no matter. At least they are getting gifts, right?

Wrong! This isn’t how it should be. Christmas should be a time of joy and peace, not cutthroat buying practices. With a limited budget and an even more limited timeframe we shouldn’t give in to the commercialism. There are a multitude of reasons for not buying presents, but every year the guilt sets in and we feel the need to buy buy buy.

Well I say it is time to stop! Consider the consequences of our conspicuous consumption. Think about the sweatshops that produce those modern commercial products. Think of the needy people in this world who cannot be consumer whores. Let the world know that the true meaning of Christmas doesn’t begin and end with Santa Claus and the latest talking Elmo doll. Be conscious of these things as you shop and remember that less is definitely more!

Here are some good ideas for holiday shopping. I am going to try to follow these this Saturday when we go on our annual present hunt and maybe you should consider them too.

1 – Don’t buy something for someone just because you feel obligated.

2 – Attempt to find a gift, even if it is inexpensive, that shows the receiver how you truly feel about them.

3 – Be aware of where the items you purchase are made and, if possible, what the conditions of the workers that made them are.

4 – Stay away from malls if at all possible.

5 – Think of alternative gift giving ideas. Baking a batch of cookies for someone can sometimes make them happier than that silly paperweight that you found at the overpriced shopper hut.

6 – Support your community vendors.

7 – Give the gift of love, peace and joy. That is always better then shiny wrapping paper and a big old bow.

8 – Remember the reason for the season and act accordingly. This is important, for the true meaning of Christmas cannot be found on a shelf in any shopping emporium!

I realize that unlike myself, most of you have probably already shopped till you dropped, but if you still have some people left on your list just consider the above ideas. You will thank yourself later when you feel the love of the season now, rather than the slap of your pocketbook come January.

Have a safe and Happy Holiday and a fantastic New Year!

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.12.5 – a bit territorial, aren’t we?

Have you ever felt territorial? This past weekend gave me new insight into territorialism in modern day relationships. A trip to Toronto would be the backdrop for a very educational trek down memory lane.

First of all you must know that Canada is almost like a second home to most of us here in Western New York. Border dwellers tend to take the fact that they live on the edge of another country, for granted. The people that I have grown up with at school, at work, and in my family have grown accustomed to being near another country. We don’t even look at it as foreign anymore. A good quarter of my life has been spent on the other side of the bridge. Hell, at nineteen we all went there in order to drink, as the drinking age was 2 years younger than in New York.

Having said all this, one of the members of our party was a true tourist by virtue of the fact that he had never been outside of the country before. Being from Fresno, California didn’t afford him many chances to go to Canada. Finding out this fact, the tour guide in me kicked up to full force and I was more than prepared to show him Toronto. I made the mistake, however, of deciding to go to the more obscure locations, rather than the touristy places and I think I may have lost his interest along the way. He had his girlfriend with him though (who happens to be one of my best friends), which made things better, but also brings in the territorial issue.

Let me sidetrack you here for a moment and give you a little history on territorialism. In my college days I tended to be extremely territorial of not only places that were what I considered to be mine, but also people. I shared this same feeling with my best friend at the time and whenever someone would try to break through we would be on guard. Basically, what this involved was when one of the out of town students would begin to learn the city enough to start giving driving directions or restaurant recommendations we would be irked. If at all possible, we would attempt to one up the out of towner with more intricate details. This was obviously a very childish phase and thankfully I’ve mostly outgrown it. I say mostly because every once in a while I have the feeling again. The difference is that I no longer act on it. I no longer go out of my way to make other people look like fools. I simply agree with whatever the newbie says and I don’t correct them. The best part of this strategy is that eventually they will make a fool of themselves by giving bad directions or the like.

Sidetrack completed. Moving on to Toronto.

The weather as we left Buffalo was cold, but sunny. Stuffing five people into a small four-door sedan, we finally hit the road at 1pm. Normally we would leave early in the morning, but certain problems arose, per usual, and we were unable to get out of town until this late time. One and a half hours later we arrived in Metro Toronto and a feeling of relief swept through the small vehicle. Walking around a metropolitan area in freezing temperatures is probably not the greatest idea, but we certainly made the best of it.

Our last stop before heading home that evening was a bar on Peter Street (“Fez Batik”) where the territorialism began to rear its ugly head. The bar was somewhat busy, which meant that all five of us were unable to sit together at a table. We decided to break into two groups and then rotate accordingly. A marked lull in the conversation began and so I decided to discuss a few items with my best friend. I have a nasty habit of being nostalgic at the most inopportune moments, and this was definitely one. We talked about my impending wedding and any plans that were to be taken care of. We talked about our mutual friends who are in other states now. We talked and talked and talked. Finally I realized that perhaps our talking was a bore to the newbie in our group and so I tried to get him involved in the conversation.

Tact and group activities are not a good mix for me. I suppose that I should probably get to know a person better before I begin talking about issues that are outside of the norm, but I can’t help myself. Eventually we moved to an area where all five of us were able to sit together, only now I was literally the “middle woman”. Two on one couch, two on the other, and me in the middle on a hard bench. I tried to bring the two groups together, but it was useless.

Giving up is a good thing sometimes and in this case it was the best choice. We finished up the drinks that we had and headed for home. Surprisingly, everyone stayed awake in the car so that I wasn’t made to be a lone driver. It is difficult to bring a new person into the fold when you have four people who have known each other for so long. The territories were mapped out and we didn’t break through this time either. Not for lack of trying, but perhaps for lack of consenting.

Until next time…

Shalom –
Hippiegrrl

2002.11.21 – a movie changed my life

Can a movie change your life? It may sound trite, but it can happen. Once the lights go down in the theatre, anything is possible. That is why they call it the “silver screen”, isn’t it?

My first year of college wasn’t the finest time of my life. I commuted 60 minutes round trip per day and being a freshman wasn’t easy if you didn’t live on campus. Add to this, I was a music geek. Being a “geek” of any sort doesn’t lend itself well to the “make friends and influence people” attitude that is fed to kids in their senior year of high school.

This is where “Reality Bites” comes in. My salvation. I would come home from work or school, pop that worn out copy of the movie in, press play and feel relieved. I knew the characters, I knew the dialogue, I saw myself in Vicki (played by Janeane Garofalo) and it made me happy, even if for only 90 minutes.

After the movie ended each night, I knew that I would be able to face another day of voice lessons and humanities lectures. I knew that I would meet new people and develop lasting friendships. It took time, but it happened and without my time spent with Winona, Ethan, Janeane, Steve and Ben, I wouldn’t have functioned quite as well in my real life.

I have moved on now and I don’t relate to characters in movies in the way that I used to. Occasionally I feel moved or I can see a resemblance to my own life, but it is never as apparent as it was with “Reality Bites”.

Some of you out there may be asking, “Why?” “What is it about this movie that made my life so wonderful?” To be truthful, I cannot explain it. It was a feeling of that time and even now when I watch it I have difficulty recapturing that sense of security I originally felt. It is also very personal. Judging from the looks I get when I tell people that my favourite movie is “Reality Bites” and that it changed my life, I realize that it was something that only I (and perhaps a few close friends at the time) felt. One thing I know with great certainty is that this movie gave me a wider perception of my generation. “Reality Bites” portrayed characters as being resistant to commercialism, while also being slaves to the media. It gave me a sense of the consumer attitude around me at the time and it helped me to gain some perspective of that.

In time we will see what effect “Generation X” has on the future. Hopefully my peers will contribute more than great movies and new technology. I just feel honoured to be in a group that has so much to offer the world. As I grow old I know I will be able to look back with fondness on my nights spent on the couch, curled up with my favourite movie, analyzing every word and learning more and more about pop culture with every viewing. As I stated at the top, it may sound trite, but this movie changed my life. Saved me even. It gave me a reason to continue with my goals and strive for something better than low level commercial consumption.

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.11.15 – wish you were here

Ah, Buffalo in November. The leaves are getting near that brown crispy stage and the snow is about to fall any day. Yes we have long hard winters here in the Queen city, but there are so many other reasons to come and visit us.

I don’t think that Buffalonians realize how famous their city actually is. Maybe not in the sense of winning sports teams or motion picture sets, but we hold our own in the Art, Architecture and Theatre departments. It is a safe bet that the majority of people in Buffalo probably don’t know that Mark Twain once lived here, that Frank Lloyd Wright built several houses here, and that the Albright-Knox Art Gallery holds an original of Andy Warhol’s “100 cans”.

Yes, President McKinley was shot here and Teddy Roosevelt had a residence down the street from my apartment building, but nowadays Buffalo gets a bad rap. The main reason for this is the sad state of major league sports in this border town. Everyone knows about The Bills and their fantastic 4 superbowl losing streak in the 90’s. The Sabres aren’t much better, with their down to the end Stanley Cup loss a few years back, they are carrying on the tradition of sports incompetance.

A theory I have for the losing aspect of Buffalo teams has to do with the fact that a good portion of Western New York is built on Native American Land. It is thought that perhaps the Tuscaroras and Senecas of the area put a sort of hex on all sports teams. ?We took their land so they take our glory. If you ask me, it isn’t a fair trade for the Native American side as they don’t get much out of the deal, but it certainly makes sense.

Most sports fans in Buffalo think there is a curse on the teams and this would confirm that theory. However, I am not a sports fan in any sense of the word so I don’t particularly care if the teams win or lose. The only teams I really appreciate are The Bisons and Sabres because their complexes are still in the downtown area and they bring people into the city, even if only for a couple of hours a night. Plus, hockey rocks just because it is a Canadian pastime, and you all know by now how much I love Canada!

Getting back to the rich history of the Queen City. Hundreds of years from now Buffalo’s legacy will most certainly be Architecture. As long as the many buildings that were constructed near the turn of the 20th century still stand, Buffalo will continue to thrive as a historical landmark city. Finding use for these buildings has become the big problem in the downtown Buffalo area. Many of the structures have fallen prey to vacancy and, in turn, infestation. They are still beautiful to look at from the exterior, but to venture inside would be a risky proposition. If big business could just see that Buffalo is a great city to invest in, we would be able to refurbish these beautiful, old buildings and bring back a little of that Pan-American Historical spirit.

Peace,
Hippiegrrl

2002.10.30 – nature vs. perfection

Insecurity. Low self esteem. Depression. These are all symptoms of what I like to call, modern American society. In a perfect world there would be no lack of pride attributed to a person who is “different” in some way. In different, this means that the individual doesn’t share the majority likeness, when in reality, the majority isn’t always the secure faction.

Television gives this country a low sense of self worth, by flashing images of “perfection” at us daily. We see that teenage girl with the tiny figure and the perfect skin and hair and we think that we are supposed to be that way. The reality is that any person on television goes through a series of “touchups” prior to filming. They don’t just roll out of bed looking perfect, there is a lot of work involved.

Mind you, there are natural beauties (both female and male), but they are few and far between, and the rest of us have to get up an extra hour in the morning to make ourselves look as close to perfect as we can. Well, I’ve shrugged off the life drama. I’ve decided that I’m no longer going to spend half of my life getting ready to go out. I’m not going to buy 20 different products to put on my hair, face, and body so that I can be a different, more important, person. I’ve been steadily coming to this point since college and now I’ve arrived. Makeup isn’t what makes me who I am.

To be truthful, I never wore heavy heavy makeup to begin with. Sure, in high school I followed the crowd and layered up the coverstick, liquid makeup, powder, etc., but I never went all out with the eyes and lips except for special occasions. In college, the only time I really did it up was on Friday nights to go to Gords, but those were the goth days, and you can’t be goth without pastie skin and thick black eyeliner. Now, I have enough trouble getting to work on time with just the shower, if I had a makeup routine, it would make me lose my job.

Getting back to the original point – Insecurity. I’ve known many people in my life who have been insecure, and it has been a difficult thing to overcome. Most recently I’ve spoken with an individual whose insecurity seems to have affected her entire life. She was unable to conquer this problem (mainly for the fact that she doesn’t realize that it is a problem) and it has steadily hurt her relationships and social situations. It seems like it is at the root of many other problems that she faces, yet there is no way to target it this late in the game. For this fact, it is important to let people know when you sense their insecurities. Helping a friend in need, makes you an important person. If you know someone with low self esteem, pay them a compliment and keep it up…you really can prevent depression if you try!

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.10.22 – road trip

The one year itch has come upon me full force this past week. If you aren’t sure what the one year itch is, I’ll fill you in. After working at a specific job for one year or more I become unsatisfied with the job for one reason or another. Usually, I just get plain bored and I want to move on to something new.

This, most likely, stems from the fact that I went to college and earned a bachelors degree, which I have yet to use in the workplace. I will probably never use my degree, being that it was in music performance and I decided that it wasn’t my bag to play all the mezzo-soprano “pant rolls”.

for your own reference (if you care) a “pant roll” is basically a girl playing a little boy part. back in the day, before women were allowed to sing opera, young boys (castrattos, ouch!!) played all the female parts. now-a-days, mezzo-sopranos (middle range) have to sing these parts because there are no longer (thankfully) castrattos.

While attending college, I always had the dream of dropping out, buying a 1970’s vw bus and following “the dead”. Making beaded necklaces and other trinkets and selling them in the concert parking lots. Sleeping, eating, and hanging out in the bus, with no expectations or requirements on my life. This dream was shattered the day that Jerry passed, and I wasn’t really that into “phish”. Needless to say, I finished college and then began my long string of meaningless jobs.

First I worked at a telephone company as a sales person. Not the best job for a hippie, but it paid the bills. After that I decided that coffee would be a better atmosphere, so I applied to be a manager for a coffeehouse. I had worked at this establishment previously, so getting the job was a cinch. There were a couple of problems with the business, such as being in a mall, and the owners being cheap, but I really enjoyed making the coffee drinks and being in charge of a store.

The enjoyment ended when the owners decided that money was more important than quality employees, and so, yet again I moved on. This brings me to my current position, in the systems department at a small community bank. I know, what you are thinking. Why would I want to work in a bank? See, it is the community part that brought me here and so far it has been a pleasant experience.

The itch is beginning though, and it is the road trip bug that is impossible to get rid of. I never did get to take a road trip to follow “the dead” or anyone else for that matter, so that is why I think I begin to feel “stuck” in my jobs. I’ve been to Europe, but I’ve never seen my own country and that is really a shame.

I attempt to travel through books and television, but no matter how good the book may be, when you close that copy of “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” you are still sitting on your couch in freezing cold Buffalo. You aren’t really riding on the back of that motorcycle seeing the country in the best way possible. You are stuck. You have to go to work and make money and pay bills and accomplish something with your life.

Now, that last part threw you off, didn’t it? Accomplish something with your life. That is a pretty tall order and usually quite hard to do if you are trying to pay bills. Sure, there are jobs that you are making money AND helping people like teachers and doctors and such, but how many of us can really do these types of jobs. It takes a strong will to be a teacher OR a doctor.

So far I have suceeded in the paying bills department, but not so much in the accomplishment for life. I’m still searching and I think that a road trip is just what I need.

Now here is the question….should I quit and move on or ask for vacation time? You can give your opinions on the message board if you like!

be sure to check out my boatload of links below!!!

peace!
hippiegrrl

2002.10.14 – sedaris in buffalo

Readings are often long, drawn out evenings, in which the audience is forced to sit and listen to a writer spout off about the tiniest details of writing and their own personal craft (or crap, as the case may be).

I tend to stray away from actually going to see the author in person, for fear that the greatness of their work will end up being crushed by the weight of their terribly huge egos. The exception to this rule is author David Sedaris. Having attended a reading of his, last week at University of Buffalo, I found that he was one of the most down to earth “celebrities” I have seen thus far. In fact, his demeanor is sheeplike and nervous and he rarely affords himself a compliment. Even during the question and answer session at the end of the evening, he seemed thrown when given praise about his work.

This gives him a buddy kind of feeling with the audience, which he most likely regrets in the long run. He is more of a David, then a Mr. Sedaris. Part of the reason for this is his style of writing. He writes mainly about his family, calling them each by name, but has the best spin on this style of anyone writing today.

David’s appearances on NPR (where he got his start) have been memorable and he currently lives and writes in France when he is not on his reading tour across the states.

The bulk of the reading last week was new material. David basically used the audience as guinea pigs, which we were happy to comply with. He hasn’t lost his touch and will hopefully be coming out with a new book of short stories soon.

Until then, click the links below to learn more about David. I also threw in one link on his sister Amy, who is equally talented and funny, concentrating her wit more on television and sketch comedy.

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.10.8 – gardening guru?

Do you know how difficult it is to have a green thumb in an apartment building?

Actually…I don’t have a green thumb at all, but the fact that I live on the third floor in a blacktop jungledoesn’t really help matters. Living downtown is extremely cool, except if you like to see greenery.

So…I have started a lovely windowsill garden. Mind you, the plants in this garden rarely get air, but with the southern exposure they get more sun than any plant could ever want. One plant, in particular, is an Amaryllis. “Why is this plant so special?” you may ask. Well, it is actually a twentieth or twenty-fifth generation bulb, of which it’s ancestor was raised in Andalusia, Alabama. A far cry from Buffalo, but my bulb seems to enjoy it up here.

I suppose it has become accustomed to the change in temperature, just as my grandmother did when she moved here back in the fifties. The original bulb, of which mine is a great (many times over) granddaughter, was brought here in a coffee can.

My mother lovingly transplanted it the moment she arrived home from visiting my Mama (southern for Grandma) Kate. This little bulb produced dozens upon dozens of children and now one of those children is part of my window garden.

Obviously, this is a fiesty little plant, but there has always been one problem. We have never seen it bloom.Actually, until recently we didn’t even know it was an Amaryllis, but with a little research we found out that it was. So…in my internet travels I have found a way to make it bloom! This will be really exciting, at least for me, if it works.

Below I have included several links to guide you, the reader, through fall planting and forcing of bulbs. Maybe in your clicking, you will find out that one of those plants you thought was just leaves, happens to also be something that can spring forth a beautiful bud!

Good luck and happy gardening!

Peace –
Hippiegrrl

2002.10.1 – hippiegrrl goes goth

Yes, it is that time of year again. Time for that “sweet transvestite” and his minions to light up the night. Time to gather the rice, toast, newspaper and lighter and head to the local showing of the greatest cult movie of all time. Take that “jump to the left…” Whether you are a magenta, riff raff, columbia, brad, janet, rocky, or even frankenfurter, you will fit in at the “science fiction, double feature”. (find out which one you REALLY are by clicking the link below!)

By now you must know what I’m talking about. If not, you are missing out. “Missing out on what?” you ask. On the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” ofcourse! Rocky is the ultimate in cult movie mayhem and Halloween is the best time of year to become a “regular Franky fan”. This is the season when all the freaks come out to show off their latest costumes or scream out their new audience participation lines. At “Rocky” you can dress anyway you want without feeling odd or different. Chances are, the person next to you is even scarier than you are.

“Don’t Dream It, Be It”

Let’s talk Rocky history. This movie started out as a serious (or as close to serious as a movie about cross-dressing aliens can get) musical starring a few of the 70’s up and coming stars. Barry Bostwick, Susan Sarandon and Tim Curry to name a few. The real genious behind the film was “Riff Raff” portrayer, Richard O’Brien. Not only was he the voice of the infamous “lips” at the opening of the film, but he also conceived and composed this most fantastic musical. “Time Warp” has become a cult favourite all on it’s own and a sequel (“Shock Treatment”) was even squeezed out of the Rocky phenom.

Let’s not kid ourselves though…without the “unconventional conventionists” that show up every friday at midnight in thousands of theatres, Rocky would be nothing. It was the fans that made this show great, and it still is. Face it, the movie on it’s own has little value, but with the live actors on the stage acting out the scenes with the movie and the fans in the audience screaming anything and everything, this cult classic is most certainly a treasure.

So…whether you are a “wild and untamed thing” or a “no-neck” you are welcome at Rocky! Don’t delay…pack that bag with all the essentials, brush up on your quips and get your butt to ” the late night, double feature, picture show”.

“Rose Tint My World, Keep Me Safe From My Trouble And Pain….”

peace!
hippiegrrl

as a footnote: I am sad to announce that the owner of the theatre (Amherst) where Rocky runs, in Buffalo, has decided to pack it in and no longer show the film. The cast showed up one night and was told that they would no longer be performing and the film was already sent back to the studio. Here comes my yuppie reference…Too scary for them I guess. You didn’t think I would get through a whole entry without that did you?

2002.9.21 – help me, help you

What can we do to change the face of our community?

For starters, revolt! Don’t follow the staus quo. Walk your own way and think however you like. Take every opinion and then form one of your own. Basically, don’t believe the hype and don’t buy in to the norm.

People everywhere today want to fit the mold. Be normal. But what is normal really? Obviously none of us truly know what normal is because we are all different and therefore not one of us can be considered normal.

Success doesn’t come from being like everyone else. From looking like images of what beauty is “supposed” to be, projected on television and movie screens. It comes from feeling like you have accomplished something. That your work was not all for naught. That you have helped others more than you have helped yourself.

That last thing is the most difficult. Being selfish seems like it is the way to get ahead, but little do all those yuppies know that they would be a lot happier and content with themselves if they helped someone less fortunate out once in a while (everyday would actually be nice), rather than just helping themselves.

Let me tell you a little story that hopefully demonstrates my point…

I take the train to work every morning and then I take it back home again after work. Almost every day when I walk back to the train I see this old man who happens to be homeless. He used to hang out in front of a certain coffeehouse that my fianc? worked at, back in the day. This man used to keep the other “bums” away from the front of the coffeehouse and probably saved the establishment many problems. The only thing that he asked for in return was a cup of coffee. He would never beg in front of the coffeehouse and he made sure nobody else begged there either.

This was really good for the coffeehouse. For one measly cup of coffee per night they had, in a sense, a security guard. At least to keep other “vagrants” away from the front of their establishment. I guess that a good thing never lasts though, because eventually the coffeehouse owners became greedy and decided that even that one cup of coffee for free each night was too much to spare and they kicked the man out. They wouldn’t let him stand in front of the coffeehouse at all after that. If they saw him come near, the employees were instructed to get rid of him.

The moral of this story is that greed, in fact, is not good. The coffeehouse had a good thing and they didn’t know it. Or they did know it and didn’t care. Now, however, if you walk by this particular coffeehouse, there are more “bums” than you can imagine, hitting you up for change. Funny, the owners are probably kicking themselves now, but that is the way yuppies operate.

“Take action for myself now and reap the consequences for others later. Only think of me me me.”

So… that story illustrates a little bit of the problem with Buffalo, specifically and America, in general. People say that they want their community to be better, but what do they do to make it happen? Absolutely nothing. They sit on their butts and complain about how horrible the area is, but they don’t try to make any significant changes.

We need to act out. Choose a cause and put your heart and soul into it. For better or worse, you will be practicing a basic right of any human and hopefully helping others in the process.

Here is something to remember about the above story… the next time you run into a “bum”/”vagrant” or whatever term you choose, on the street on your way home from work remember; a majority of those guys and gals are veterans who fought for the freedom and safety that we all take for granted. Isn’t that worth the change in your pocket? If you don’t think so than i suppose you prove the whole point. But, if you do then get out there and DO something to change your community and, in turn, the world!

peace!
hippiegrrl

ponder this – ideas are the best defense against hypocrisy!

2002.9.12 – love canal, 25 years later, the saga continues

Before we dive in…this is a continuing piece. The previous entry gave a history of Love Canal and it can be found in my archives under “My Life and Love Canal…Part 1”. So…without further ado…away we go…

Next year will be the 25th anniversary of the evacuations at Love Canal. My family was one of the first to leave the area and it was an extremely traumatic experience at the time. Being a 4 year old, I didn’t have a complete grasp of the situation, but now I have come to realize the magnitude of it all.

I recently took a drive around what used to be my “old neighbourhood”. It is chilling to see that the 5 blocks in which my home and, what would have been, my grade school are fenced off. After the evacuation of all the families in Love Canal, the city had the houses torn down and buried. A fence was erected around the area and ominous signs were posted displaying the tag lines “warning, dangerous area, keep out” and the like.

To think that people lived here, that they raised children here, is sad and difficult to comprehend. How could the toxic contamination of 400 families go on for so long unchecked? What has become of this area now?

The funny (in a morbid sort of way) part of the story relates back to one of the best movies of the 1980’s… In the film “Tootsie”, Bill Murray plays a struggling writer who is the roommate of Dustin Hoffman’s main character. The play that Murray’s character is writing is called, “The return to Love Canal” and it depicts a family that moves back to the ill-fated area after a “clean-up” has taken place. Hoffman’s agent in the film, played by Sydney Pollack, comments to Hoffman that the play concept is far fetched because “who wants to see a play about a family who moves back to Love Canal…it isn’t realistic…nobody will ever move back there…”.

The irony is that people have moved back. The city told residents that the other side of the cross street (Colvin Boulevard) that runs through the site was safe to return to. Many houses were restored and sold for low mortgage value, which sounds like the cycle repeating. The same thing occured in the 70’s, when the city put up low income housing on the most detrimental part of the land and didn’t warn any of the residents of the dangers their homes may possess.

An interesting side note to my journey through the modern Love Canal area is that a brand new apartment complex was constructed a few years ago on the opposite corner from the fenced in area. This complex is a senior housing community and when these old folks sit on their back porches, they have a fantastic view of the dumpsite. I guess that the city feels that these individuals are getting near the end, so a few chemicals shouldn’t matter now…Morbid, I know, but likely. After all, the city and school board of Niagara Falls built a grammar school and homes right on top of the site in the 70’s, so why should anything change now.

Overall, my drive through the “old neighbourhood” gave me an eerie feeling. I have looked at several maps of the entire expanse of Niagara Falls, New York and noted that Love Canal is not the only dumping ground in this old industrial town. Any day now, the whole city could turn into a dump, and it wouldn’t be a big surprise, but the area that used to be my home is empty and fenced off, giving a chill to any Sunday driver who may venture there.

Don’t worry…my next entry will be more light-hearted. At least, as light-hearted as is possible for me. I just thought that it was useful to let people know what happened back then and to show the magnitude of something that has been buried in the press ever since. Next year will be 25 for us evacuees and it is about time somebody started talking about it! Lois Gibbs has been talking for years, but one woman just isn’t enough. Former residents need to stand up and let the world know what happened to them. We need to remember, so that it never EVER happens again!

peace!
hippiegrrl

please check out the links below to find out other ways you can be an active member of society (or activist for short).

2002.9.3 – my life and love canal part 1

On the 13th of November 1974, Karen Silkwood, a union member and activist hero, was run off the road in a mysterious “one car crash”.

One day earlier, on the 12th, I was born in a sleepy suburban area of Niagara Falls, New York. At the time it was called LaSalle, but would come to be known, over the world, as Love Canal.

Was it coincidence or fate, that I would be connected in some way to both of these events in history?

Until now, I have been mainly an armchair activist. Doing research and complaining about the circumstances surrounding me, but not really making an effort to do anything substantial to change the world, as it were.

After some time searching and realizing that it may be destiny that I am connected to both a plutonium plant worker/union martyr and one of the most horrific incidents of toxic waste poisoning in history, I feel that it is now, finally, my time to stand up for what I believe and start doing something about it.

This piece (in 2 parts) is my first act of trying to put across to people who probably have no idea about the events of 1978 and 1979 in Niagara Falls exactly what happened and why we need to prevent things like this from happening in the future.

Let me begin first by giving you a small synopsis of the events in Love Canal. It seems odd to me (because I lived through this) that people don’t seem to know what love canal was. Many people on the internet (from extensive researching I have conducted) seem to think that it either never happened (ala urban myth) or that it wasn’t that serious.

Background: In 1898, William T. Love had the grand idea of digging a canal to connect the Upper and Lower Niagara River to use as a conduit for hydro-electric power. This was quite the undertaking for the time period and this canal would have brought great things to the city of Niagara Falls. However, as many projects ended up in this era, Mr. Love’s canal was never to be finished. Essentially, he ran out of dough. So, he decided to sell the canal to the chemical company in the area (Hooker Chemical) who would in turn use the canal to dump over 20,000 different types of chemical compounds. Being that the base of the canal was clay and the cap that Hooker placed on top was the same, there would have been no problem whatsoever with the dump.

Enter the Niagara Falls School Board.

During the baby boom era, Niagara Falls was growing faster than people could imagine. The school board needed more land and decided to acquire the canal property to build a grade school and several ranch house units. Hooker sold the property to the school board for a token $1 and stipulated in the contract that there was to be no digging deeper than 4 feet into the ground.

Let me pause here to state that although chemical companies are usually held culpable for their actions, Hooker was very thorough when looking at future problems and their involvement. Many times during construction at Love Canal, representatives from Hooker warned the city government of future problems, but the city wanted to build up the population and didn’t seem to care about future consequences. This, by no means, should be assumed to be an “okay” from me for the Hooker Chemical company policies. The problem with the situation is that in the early twentieth century, America was beginning to produce more and more chemicals to help us supposedly live better (“better living through chemistry”) and disposal tactics were not quite up to par.

Continuing the story…after the school and homes were built, families began moving in to these beautiful new residencies. This was a model community in the fifties and the residents had no idea what was lurking under the surface. However, soon enough strange things began happening. Brown sludge began seeping into basements. After large winter thaws residents could smell strange scents in the air that seemed to be of the chemical variety, but they didn’t think anything of it. After all, why would the city put it’s residents in any danger?

This is the big question? Why?

In 1978 everything came to a head. It was August and the cap was beginning to subside on the dump. This brought about large quantities of chemicals in our backyards, in holes which we presumed were “mole holes” but in reality were holes that had been eaten out from underneath the surface by such lethal agents as the dreaded dioxin.

To wrap up this portion of my posting, the state government became involved and evacuated 400 families in the area and closed down the 99th street grade school, which sat directly on top of the main dump area. We were forced to find alternate housing and were basically afraid for our lives.

My parents were shocked to find out that their idealic home and life was about to be ripped apart due to the travesties of the city government.

That is probably enough for now. I will continue with the story on my next entry, but until then please view the links below to see what you can do to help out present environmental problems.

peace –
hippiegrrl

2002.8.27 – why did i ask?

How many rhetorical questions do you ask in one day?

1? 10? 50? If you work in the customer service industry, like me, you probably ask anywhere from 50-100. The main rhetorical question being, “how are you doing today?”.

This is a question that very rarely requires an answer longer than 2 or 3 words, yet many customers feel the need to elaborate. They don’t just say “fine” or “good” like we expect, but they launch into a dissertation on their life and every problem under the sun.

Being a pretty even keeled person, I tend to listen and let it slide, but some of my co-workers get extremely distraught when they trap themselves with this dreaded question.

I say, if someone is making you a cappucino, they most likely do not have their phd in psychology. Not to say that baristas are stupid – on the contrary – I know some baristas who are professional students and get amazing grades, but they don’t want to solve the worlds problems.

Here is a solution. Next to the tip jar, in every coffeehouse (and if the coffeehouse you work at doesn’t even have a tip jar, high tail it to another establishment, for tips are the cornerstone of the barista trade!), there should be a can similar to the one Lucy had in “The Peanuts”. You know, the one that she collected her “5 cents” for psychiatric advice with. After all, it is difficult enough for people to drop their 2 pennies into the tip jar, let alone dig out another 5 cents to blurt out all their problems.

This would work to the advantage of the workers because instead of rolling their eyes or tuning the customer out, they can merely point to the can and exclaim “if you want advice, cough up the dough, buddy!” Ofcourse, in theory this would always work, but in practice you could just upset people. The latter is more likely. So, if you take up this concept, please proceed with caution. You know how the yuppies get before they have their half-caff-double-latte-with-no-whip-and-extra-foam. If they only cared about the people picking the beans they drink daily, they would help out a fair trade cause instead of a local chain. see links below for starbucks info and what you can do to help the fair trade cause!

Keep this in mind. If you don’t want a lengthy answer, don’t ask a rhetorical question. It will only curtail you from the ability to read the book that you set down to wait on the customer. Hello is enough. Don’t even go to the “how are you today?” arena. The bout will take longer than you expected and you will be subject to boredom and polite rhetoric.

peace!
hippiegrrl

coming up from hippiegrrl…”my life and love canal – a 2 part series, 25 years later.”

2002.8.22 – why romy and michelle were right

if you are a fan of cheesy 90’s, saturday night live humour movies, you probably rushed out to your local cinema the day “romy and michelles high school reunion” was released.

don’t fret! this isn’t an article to make you feel guilty for liking those movies, in fact, it is just the opposite! i love cheesy movies, if only for the mindless viewing pleasure. i know i can watch “night at the roxbury” or “zoolander” and not have to think too much. there is no mystery to solve, just straight forward funny and sometimes that is what you need after a long day at work. getting back to romy and michelle though…

this past weekend i attended my 10 year class reunion and it was, oddly enough, similar to this movie. to my disappointment, there was no dance number, but the people at the event still acted like they were in senior year of high school. the only difference is the children they have.

after hanging out for 2 or 3 hours, i realized that having babies was so important to these people because that has been their lone accomplishment thus far. yes – many have graduated from college, but a larger percentage have not and so these people back you into a corner with their baby stories. don’t get me wrong – i love kids – i just would like to talk about something more intellectual as well.

anyway, flashy outfits, helicopters, and janeane garofalo aside, my reunion was more similar to romy and michelles than i expected.

the moral of the night for me was: the nasty girls in high school keep their ugly attitudes for the rest of their lives. no matter how nice you try to be you can never break their shell of rudeness. on the up side though… the fat girls always lose weight and get their revenge at the reunion!

hopefully the 20 year will be more calming and i’ll see a change in attitude. i suppose with age comes wisdom. ofcourse, cheerleaders will always be cheerleaders, right?

peace,
hippiegrrl