Social Media Monster

When I was in high school, I had a MySpace page (okay, I still do, but I don't remember the last time I checked it). I frequently got into arguments over the most petty things. Then I started reading blogs and had similar arguments there. Stupid.

I've always been opinionated. This isn't something I've ever tried to hide. But when I go back and see the things I said and the arguments I was a part of, it's no wonder people found me so irritating. I didn't have anything better to do, but wanted to feel involved in something. Feeling involved and being involved are two very different things. Being petty online is in no way being involved. It took awhile for me to learn that.

I wrote for Brightest Young Things, then I started writing for VCU's student publications and then a few other blogs. I was writing before in all the petty comments I made, but I wasn't being constructive and I didn't have a focus. Of course, I was also unhappy and unhappy people tend to be a little nocuous. Finding a focus and realizing that someone could be entertained, or relate to my stupid life changed that.

All of that, the blogs, the "networking" sites, and now Twitter and Foursquare and Flickr, and everything else, all of that is Social Media. It's so weird that three years ago I didn't know the phrase, and now am involved with it all the time (maybe too much).

Most of my friends don't use Social Media beyond Facebook. They might have a blog, but most of them don't. To them Facebook is mostly about staying in touch with people they already know, stalking frenemies, and reconnecting (stalking) people they knew years ago. They are missing the point.

I admit, I do use Facebook mostly for personal relationships. The people I'm "friends" with there are people I know and see and plan on seeing again (or awkwardly running into), and more importantly, would be happy to see again. However, my blog and my Twitter (which I use as a microblog) are available for public consumption.

The things I post in public are meant to be shared. I believe that the internet, but specifically Social Media, allows for us to grow beyond our comfort zones and create larger, more supportive communities. It's not meant for hiding behind a screen to argue petty issues, it's about relating to others, whether through similar complaints, senses of humor, or concerns.

So when I complain about bad drivers, or make fun of people that are (in my opinion) badly dressed, or Sketchers, or Mormons, or hair, or any other thing around me, know that it's a superficial comment. I don't have a disregard for people that drive badly, I'm sure they're fine people, most of my friends are bad (i.e. slow) drivers. When I comment on someone's hair, it's only because I do hair for a living, and in my head I'm thinking of all the things I'd like to do to it. Because at the end of the day, I only notice because for some reason, I care about strangers and feel insignificant surrounded by so much that's bigger than myself.

Sorry, Dad, but umm...What?

I find cussing to be funny in certain (most) contexts. My father does not. Recently my father has joined Facebook. And because I am a relatively nice daughter, he and I are friends, according to Facebook.

Now, I love my dad. He loves me, he worries about my well being, and because I have not turned out at all to be the person that he had hoped I would turn into when I was born, we don't always get along. And sometimes, a lot of the time, he does embarrassing things.

(This is a picture of my dad from this past Christmas. He bleached his hair and beard to look more like Santa.)


For example, when I started writing for a certain Web site two years ago, and I was going to help out at their relaunch party, he emailed them and accused them of "exploiting" his then eighteen year old daughter because I was writing for them and helping out at this party without pay. I was at a National's game with a twenty-five year old when I got a call from one of the editors at the Web site. It went something like this (and please keep in mind I had not yet met these people, all of our communication had been via email):

Dude: So, we just got an email from your dad...
Me: um...
Dude: Are you sure you can help on Saturday?
Me: Yes.
Dude: We don't want to be responsible for you getting into trouble or anything...
Me: I'm really sorry, my dad is kind of um...crazy, um...sometimes. And I'm sorry that you had to experience it before i got a chance to warn you.
Dude: Um...right. So, Saturday is still going to work?
Me: Yes.

This was also at a point in my life when my dad went through the phone bill and put the numbers of the people I had called into his phone. So, that twenty-five year old I was with got a call from my dad while we were at that game. I can't relay that conversation to you as I was not part of it, but this guy was not very happy about it. Apparently my dad offered him steak and was not happy to hear that he was vegetarian. Real men eat meat, or something.

After that call, I got a call from my dad asking when I would be home. I had made plans to go to said dude's house and cut his hair after the game, and my dad wanted me to bring this guy by the house...I went to this guy's house, cut his hair. He cried. And then at some point we ended up making out.

This was probably the most absurd day of my life.

Until about six weeks later, after my graduation when a 37 year old friend came by my house for the open house. We thought that it might be a good idea for my parents to meet someone that I spent time with when I went to DC, we were wrong.

So, my dad and this guy had this conversation:

Dad: So, how old are you?
Dude: 37.
Dad: Do you have any kids?
Dude: No.
Dad: Well, if you did, maybe they could hang out with Amanda.

Yeah, later that dude and I agreed that that was probably the stupidest idea either of us had ever had.

Two years prior to both of these events:

My friend, a guy-friend, who could drive, and I used to hang out quite a bit. I'm not really sure how we became friends, except that it was through a mutual friend. And before we met this group referred to me as "The Chunk" because when asked if I was skinny, my friend told them no. Which was true, and still is true, but I'm not chunky either. I have an upper and lower half that fit quite well together, in my opinion. Anyway, I embraced the nickname, and it became a joke thereafter.

This guy, he and I bonded over our atypically dysfunctional families and our nonconstructive ways of dealing with it. This was my sophomore year of high school and this was the year that I started having panic attacks regularly and seeing a "crazy doctor" for them.

One day he and I had made plans to get lunch and play pool at the local Hard Times Cafe. He picked me up, and my dad answered the door - with a knife. This wasn't the first time he had done this, he had pulled out a knife to scare one of my sisters' guy-friends (who is now gay) years before. My friend handled himself fairly well, and acted obliged to see the rest of my dad's collection. And when we finally left he went off about how crazy my dad is, and how the knives weren't even cool, all looked the same, and what kind of person does that? My dad, that's who.

This friend was also the person who, when in the middle of a panic attack gave me a cigarette to calm me down. It kind of worked. And we spent that afternoon smoking and sitting on an old sofa on some dead end in Manassas.

Well, this friend and I still have some undefinable relationship. He calls me a bitch and I tell him that I miss him. He points out something stupid that I said, and I tell him how happy I am to hear from him. It's just how we work.

Well, he commented on my Facebook profile picture a couple days ago and called me a "crazy bitch" to which I agreed. And left a comment saying so. My dad also saw this comment and was not happy about it, and left another comment about how he "would love to get his hands around (my friend's) throat." and how "please (his) family must be that he is so respectful of women." Then my friend retorted and mentioned the knife collection, and how "your daughter isn't ever going to bring anyone home..." Um...

Facebook notified me about these comments at the same time. So, like four hours too late. Luckily my dad did not see the retort. I can only imagine what sort of reply that would have induced.

I called my dad last night to attempt some level of understanding. It didn't work. He doesn't understand why or when it would be funny or appropriate to call someone a bitch, dick, prick, asshole, slut, whore, pussy, etc. My relating a story about me and my sister April and how we call each other those names all the time didn't help. Now he thinks that I don't have any self-respect.

So, umm...all those times growing when I've tried to explain to people about my dad, they always think that I'm exaggerating. I'm not.

pro-choice/anti-stupidity

Today on BYT, a link to this site was posted.



I typically see teen parents and wonder that a lot myself. And upon looking at all the pictures I couldn't help but think of a girl I took Cosmetology with. I'll call her Ashley. Ashley was a pretty cool, if not self-loathing chick. She was the type of girl you would look at and label "goth" or the exact opposite of me. She was also the stereotype that kept my parents from supporting my decision to take Cosmetology instead of other elective courses.

One week towards the end of my first year in Cosmetology, our teacher had us read over some letters that the second-year-students had written for the upcoming crop the next year. All the letters said the same things, "Mrs. Burchell is strict, but she cares about you," "do your theory," "it gets easier," "a lot of people will drop out," and the most notably prophetic, "at least three girls will get pregnant."

Ashley was one of at least three girls to get pregnant (not to mention those that had abortions and miscarriages), but her's wasn't an accident. It was completely planned. She and her boyfriend felt that they loved each other enough to bring another person into the world. And while that may have been true, that didn't make it at all responsible. She figured that she'd be able to support a kid on her salary from the Haircuttery and with whatever her boyfriend made at Costco. In theory this could work, but certainly not in Northern Virginia.

I have since had lunch with her and her beautiful baby girl. Everything about their situation is stereotypical. They live with his family, he's enlisting in the Army and they're engaged. I could not do that. She's not the only person I know who's having kids and getting married that's my age. I'm nineteen! I couldn't want to not have kids more than I do now, I certainly do not want kids before I'm thirty.

So when I see teenage girls with babies on their hips and meet guys who have gotten multiple girls pregnant and meet people that don't know where to get free condoms, or cheap contraception - I'm in awe. I just don't get it. And it's not so much "why the fuck do you have a kid?" it more "why the fuck did you decide to have sex without any sort of contraception and when you found out that you were pregnant why did you decide to have the child and how are you content living this life that limits you in every way possible?" I don't mean to sound so negative because I don't believe that children are simply mistakes and ruin peoples lives if born at the wrong time, but I do see pictures like these and think, "fuck, how could they have not known?"

While I can appreciate the humor of this website, the fact that it exists I feel defines what is missing in our education system. Sex education, and not just the kind that explains the various forms of contraception and sexually related diseases and infections, but the kind that says "hey, don't you want to be able to give your kids everything? Don't you want a great life for yourself and for them? Because if you have a kid now your life, and their life is going to be hard and life's already complicated enough."

So much for Harmony

I have done absolutely nothing productive today. I did however cut Garrett's hair, which looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. I ate some fruit snacks and watched Gossip Girl, after spending way too much time looking for the third episode and then waiting for it to load. And now I'm listening to Mates of State and watching an argument unfold via BYT. I did not mean for that to go where it has. Yikes!


Anyway, Mates of State are probably one of the least talked about indie bands right now, despite having just released a sixth album. I'm pretty sure it's their sixth anyway. They are a married couple that has a couple of kids and live in Connecticut. She, previously a teacher, and he, previously a cancer researcher. Overall, they're adorable. She plays the organ/keys while he bangs on the drums, and they harmonize perfectly. Can you imagine what a wonderful world we would live in if we all could harmonize like that with our loved ones? Arguments would sound so much nicer.

If you have an Imeem account listen to them here. Or you can always check them out on MySpace and YouTube.

We Are Scientists

The interview, my first - ever, I did with them is up at Brightest Young Things.

You should go read it. It's pretty awesome. As all (five) of you expect of me anyways.

Hipster Love

Last night was my first Brightest Young Things event. I spent most of my time dancing in the foyer with Will and taking money from people, and giving them wristbands.

The music was good, though the acoustics weren't. The pictures and art were splendid. The people were having a good time. Jesse Bishop (the one and only) was the MC, The Dance Party did their usual diddy ( I happen to love that diddy, but last night they were not at their best), the Apes were fantastic as were Plants and Animals.

All in all it was a blast. I don't have any pictures, but there will certainly be some up on the site, if not today then tomorrow.

My only complaint about last night was that there wasn't food. I trekked (all two blocks) to McDonalds to get my sugar back up. On my way there I passed Ibiza. If you don't know what that place is, that's great news for you. I had only heard about it, until last night, when I saw the ridiculously long line in front. I am very happy to say that I am not keen on waiting in lines, and if only all those people knew what was happening only a block down the road and how much more fun they would have - if only, or not.

I also believe that if I did make it into a club like Ibiza or Fur, I would most certainly get kicked out because I am a horrible dancer. On the other hand, black men seem to like me,so maybe I'd get to stay and one would kindly teach me how to dance. I had three very large, very intimidating, black men hit on me last night. One was at McDonalds, and two of the security guards at the BYT bash. I'm glad I have a decent sense of humor and could take it lightly.

There was on security guard in particular though, I think his name was Jerry(?) who did not hit on me, but was the bouncer. He laughed at me and Will's dancing skillz (or lack thereof) and ate my fries.

It was a hipster breeding ground. Never will you see so many in one place as you will at a BYT event.

My Dad is Crazy: 3

(Mr. Brann, brace yourself, I'm about to rag on my Dad)

Yesterday,I went to my very first professional sports game: Pittsburgh Pirates v. Washington Nationals. The Pirates won; I think it was 11 to 4?

Anywho, I went with Ian and a few of his friends. Overall we were having a good time, until...my dad called Ian, to invite him down to Woodbridge to get his hair cut here, and to have a steak.

My dad called me first because he said that he had the wrong number and was shitting bricks over it. Not that that is anything new.

I'm used to my dad making a complete fool of himself, and I understand that it is never going to stop, because he thinks he's being intimidating when really he's being an ass.

In addition to calling Ian he e-mailed Brightest Young Things and told them what horrible people they were for "making me" work at their relaunch party (tonight), when I volunteered, because I would like to continue writing for BYT and maybe, one day, get to pick what I write about, or just continue writing there because it'll look great on future applications/resumes.

Cale received the e-mail, called me, read it to me, and agreed that my dad is crazy, but he doesn't want me to get into trouble.

Typically my parents are nervous, but they let me go do whatever as long as I tell them where I'm going, who I'm going to be with, etc. Usually, if it's the weekend, I'm home by 2 am. This does not see unreasonable, I'm young, they are not, and I know they stayed out - especially my dad. Last night, my dad tried to tell me that I had to be home by midnight, and he's trying to do the same tonight. That did not happen last night (1:15 ish) nor will it happen tonight.

Oh, what are they going to do when I don't live here anymore/go to college? I feel like they should be ready to get rid of me, but they aren't, at all.

So, Dad, if you're reading this, I plan on getting DRUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNKKKKKK TONITE! and totally having lots of promiscuous sex in the make-out tee-pee, because I think STD's are super cool, so is being irresponsible, and getting into car accidents, and hanging out with crack heads, doing crack = COOL! Other cool things that I enjoy, that you should worry about me doing are: shooting up, getting piercings in "unique" places, hanging out in alleys in southeast, waking up that ho-bo and asking them for change, Crack! - seriously, there is no greater drug (and look how thin I'm getting), watching gay porn (that's what I've been into lately), talking to people online that I don't know and then meeting up with them in person in said dark alleys, (insert anything else utterly absurd here, because I obviously enjoy it, obviously).

if you haven't heard...

I just wrote a review for Brightest Young Things (BYT) and will be reviewing the Tapes n Tapes show this week for them also. I'm pretty excited.

I also can't help but compare this to Almost Famous, I mean I'm not on tour or anything, but still, I can't help but make the comparison. Is that pathetic? Probably. Wishful thinking? Definitely.

Spin had a flash of GOP in their May issue, and a page featuring The Long Blondes - whom I may be reviewing in May. I think it's a good sign, considering Spin is one of my favorite magazines.

Can you tell I'm excited? Just a little bit.


http://www.brightestyoungthings.com/live-dc/live-dc-grand-ole-party-rogue-wave-930-club/