6/23/11

Punk is in your Soul

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I was working on some shoes the other night and my older sister Paige started asking me about the punk movement. Is it the music aspect or the fashion or the lifestyle that makes one “punk”? How do you qualify?

I guess when you’re putting spikes on your shoes your family might want a bit of an explanation. I’m not sure I can explain it myself, but I think if you boil it down it’s a form of self-expression, like life-art.

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I don’t know which came first with my interest in punk, the music or the fashion or the art. They kind of go hand-in-hand. I originally got interested in the Velvet Underground. Velvet Underground were compatriots of Andy Warhol and the whole Factory scene (he was their manager and they his studio band). You’d know their song “Walk on the Wild Side.” Thus, fashion, art and music were all part of the genesis of the punk movement. In the early 70’s John Cale made bad decisions and Lou Reed shot off into his solo career. Later he joined with David Bowie (and recently the Killers on one of my favorite tracks ever, “Tranquilize”). I remember loving Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” when I was in seventh grade. How on earth did I stumble upon that? And Bowie, of course, is every child of the 80’s alien symbol of awesomeness. How could we not be mystified by The Labyrinth? I wanted to know all things Bowie. I remember thinking as a 13 yr old, Ziggy Stardust? Who is that? I need him in my life. My fave of his is “Rebel Rebel.”

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But back to the 70’s. London in the seventies vomited up bands who paired the aggression, fashion and attitude of the New York bands, both glam and otherwise (including the New York Dolls “Personality Crisis”, Iggy Pop “Lust for Life,” and T. Rex “Bang a Gong”) with politics. Thence came the Sex Pistols, my personal favorite punk band. Heard of Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious? They were part of the Sex Pistols. “God Save the Queen” is punk’s national anthem and it’s an attack on British conformity and reverence to the monarchy. They frequented Vivienne Westwood’s clothing store “Too Fast to Live Too Young to Die” and the band became the inspiration for much of Westwood’s clothing. Hence, the pins, spikes, leather, red plaid, deconstructed clothing look. Pretty much everything that looks punk can somehow be traced back to Vivienne Westwood. I lurve her.

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Along with the Sex Pistols were The Clash. They’re another punk pioneer group, widely called “The Only Band that Matters.” I kind of agree. They headlined a concert in 1978 called “Rock against Racism” and they kept ticket prices low at concerts to avoid giving money to “the man.” They pretty much made no money which is an interesting anti-consumerist position for a band to take. You’d know “Rock the Casbah” and “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and probably “London Calling.”

So those were the major Old School punk groups. But Old School Punk became artsy and pretentious, so Street Punk developed as a return-to-roots movement that happens every once in a while. Punk goes in waves. I don’t like much Street Punk (called Oi). Too gritty. Then in the mid-90’s Green Day moved from Street punk to a more commercial band – basically they sold out. But they still make good music and they're great live. Also in this group are Ska Punk including my two favorites Rancid (related to Operation Ivy) and Less than Jake. In the 90’s there was Skate Punk (The Offspring, NOFX, Face to Face, Bad Religion). I like this subgenre and I saw some of these bands at Slim’s in SF when I was a teenager.

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Betsey, Vivienne W. now (old with orange hair) and in the 70’s.

Punk fashion today looks exactly the same as it did in the 70’s, except with a lot of glam thrown in. And that brings us to Betsey Johnson. Remember John Cale of the Velvet Underground? Well that’s Betsey’s ex husband. She was part of the Velvet Underground / Andy Warhol scene! She’s been in and out of style since 1978 but I think she really blew up fashion-wise when she started making accessories and handbags around 2003. I bought my first Betsey Johnson dress at a thrift store on Telegraph Ave. in 1996. It was hot pink. It still fits, but maybe for Some Guy’s eyes only. Betsey has really married art and fashion, with big punk elements thrown in. She needs to hire me to design shoes for her.

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So when Paige said, “I like it, I just don’t really get it” it got me thinking. Where did all this come from? How is it still relevant in my mom-life in the suburbs? Is it possible to be punk and drive a minivan?

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Punks on the Street . . .

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evolve into Madonna’s punk phase which inspired Lady Gaga (as does Andy Warhol) . . .

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which evolves into Madonna goes back to the roots – Warhol. It all comes back to the Factory, folks!

I remember when I learned I was pregnant with my third child worrying about having to make the jump into minivan life. I had an X5. It didn’t fit three carseats across. I was talking to my then brother-in-law about the commitment it takes to officially give up on cool and buy the damn minivan. He turned to me and said, “Your car does not define you. Punk is in your soul.” I bought the minivan. (And yes, of course it’s black!)

This is the phase my life is in right now and I think it’s pretty hardcore. Sure we live in a glamorous quiet suburban town. Sure I rock pack-n-plays. But I’m going to wear what I want and be as leftist as I please and look how I want and take my kids on urban vacations. I just like to live where I can get a freaking parking spot.

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5/25/11

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I’m obsessed with this movie:

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Have you seen it?  Go buy it or find it on Netflix or something.  Or invite me over to watch it with you because I want to watch it again and again.

It’s the story of black hair and the lengths (ha, pun) women go to to get long luscious Beyonce hair.  Relaxing, extensions, weaves, they’re all in there.  It was a total revelation and I loved how black girls spilled their hair secrets that I’ve been wondering about my whole life.  I watched it again last week with my fabulous and lovely hair dresser friend Melissa. She was as mystified as I was and I thought, as a hair dresser, she would be privy to this sort of information.  Apparently only black hair dressers know their secrets?  Why is that?

What is UP with Beyonce’s blowing in the wind hair?  How did she get it that long and silky looking using relaxer which I know just fries your hair?  Is everybody related to Native Americans?  How does Michele Obama get her hair to look perfect?  Who is wearing fake hair?  What is fake hair?  How much does this all cost?  And most importantly, HOW DO I GET IN ON IT??

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Weave, weave.

A weave means a lot of different things.  These, I’d guess, are full pieces that are sewn onto the head after the real hair is french braided down to the scalp.  It’s a fascinating process and one that takes hours, has to be redone every 6 weeks, looks like it hurt, and costs a fortune.  I want to try it!  But it sounds itchy.

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Braided, netted, extensions to be sewn on.  These are clipped to the hair.

Now everywhere I go I’m constantly evaluating black girl’s hair and analyzing how they got it to look so amazing.  It’s like art.  They can change their hair dramatically overnight. 

Jealous.

Wigs are definitely not part of white girl culture, unless the wearer is undergoing some sort of chemotherapy, in some theatrical show, or maybe a prostitute.  If you see a white girl wearing a wig A) you notice and B) you try to determine if she is sick.  I’ve always been tempted by wigs but never given them a go.

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Pre-wig, wearing wig cap and looking kinda scary.

No time like the present!

If you’re going to buy a wig, I say, go big or go home. Japanese girls wear wigs all the time for cosplay -- costume play dressup -- as seen with Gwen Stefani’s xenophilic (but perhaps condescending) Harajuku girls phase.  I didn’t want a natural looking wig.  I wanted an anime-style wig.  Not quite Lady Gaga, but something fantastic.

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Cosplay girl, Girls in cosplay in the Tokyo Harajuku neighborhood. Jude in the stroller.

After being jealous of this blogger for months, I found some fabulous wigs for sale from China and went for it.

My wig’s debut was a regular Saturday.  My kids and I were headed to the Little Farm in Berkeley and then to the mall for some shopping.  Just me and them, probably not seeing anyone I knew.  Perfect time to experiment with my new freaky wig.  I was feeling brave and ready for adventure.

My mom helped me put on my piece, though she objected and didn’t get why I was wearing a pink wig.  I didn’t really know either.  I just felt like it, okay?

We got it on, I turned to her and she adjusted it and said, “Looks perfect.  You look like a prostitute.  Don’t be surprised if you get propositioned.  Have a good day!”  Thanks mom!

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At the Little Farm

At the Little Farm I quickly realized that being normal and with my kids totally validated me despite the weird hair.  I had a posse.  My kids didn’t think I was weird, they liked it!  It was like being a mermaid all day, or a Disney princess!  Stranger kids wandered up to me in interest.  I liked it!

Then we went to the mall.  We’re always a bit of a spectacle because I load all three kids onto one stroller.  This time I was pushing it wearing my weird wig.  Teenagers stopped me to talk about the wig.  Old people smiled at me.  It was strange being so conspicuous, but very amusing.  It made a boring and stressful walk through the mall a total adventure.

And then we ran into Carol!  Mimi’s preschool teacher (hi Carol!) was shopping with her mom and, as she passed me, was nudging her mom to look at the girl with the freaky hair.  Then when she recognized Mimi and Jude she said incredulously, “Lenore?!”  I loved that she knows me well enough to be simply amused.  It was so fun running into someone we knew and we laughed a lot.  It was the best part of the day.

Until that night.  It happened that I was meeting Some Guy, his boys, and our friends for dinner.  In Oakland.  At an Ethiopian restaurant where we are often the only white people there.  I don’t know why I felt more uncomfortable in that restaurant, and subsequently at Oak Street in Emeryville, than I had in less ethnically diverse areas.  For some reason a white girl wearing a wig in the majority white suburbs is different than a white girl wearing a wig around more black people.  People literally pointed and obviously nudged each other.

It was very interesting.  But then I thought to myself, why is it weird for me to wear a wig and not weird that the girl standing next to you is wearing fake hair?  What’s the difference?  Do you think her wig is less noticeable?  Cause I notice.  I know the fake hair secrets now. 

I’m slowly debuting my pink wig with my friends.  Today I wore it to the laundromat and the dentist.  It turned mundane activities into adventures, and all because of a mass of synthetic pink hair.

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I’m totally buying more.

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Laundromat photoshoot.

5/14/11

Not Normal




There were 1200 hits on this blog yesterday.
Sure, many of them are refreshes and returning visitors, but still.
Kind of a lot of people.
It got me thinking.

What is the most important thing I could say to you? What would be worth reading, worth your time?

I was born a little bit different -- when I was just a little kid my older sisters would say, "Come here, Normal" to which I'd scream, "I'm NOT NORMAL!!" I've always had authority problems and rebellious problems and rebel rouser problems. I got kicked out of church camp EVERY YEAR but my parents still made me go back. I was my parent's worst nightmare throughout my teen years, aside from my intensity about academics. I've never really been a good girl.
After high school I attempted to quit going to the LDS church. I had LDS friends and attended church but I had many problems bending my will to that of an organized religion. I believed that the LDS lifestyle was a good way to live but I wasn't trying very hard and I didn't really feel like I fit in: I had weird hair, I supported liberal politics, I hated Utah, I didn't go to BYU, I didn't think women should serve missions, I had no verbal filter, I was a feminist, I wore bikinis, I was fun.
A bit weird, not that cute, hanging out in my favorite section of Barnes & Noble. You're not a real blogger if you can't post gross pics of yourself.

Despite not fitting in I found myself an LDS husband who tolerated and celebrated my unMormony brand of Mormonism. We had a lot of good years together in which he would help me dye my weird hair, discuss the merits of attending non-Sunday church activities, and seek out less "normal" Mormons to befriend.
While I was definitely on the fringe of LDS culture, I didn't realize that I may have also been on the fringe of LDS practice. Sure, I went to church and attended the temple, did my callings and lived the LDS lifestyle. Nevertheless I felt stagnant in my belief.
And then came crisis.
During the crumbling of my marriage I found myself alone on Sundays while my ex was either traveling or doing theater. I found myself alone at night. I found myself alone in general.
On those Sundays I had a couple of kids who were not going to go to church that day unless I took them. And so I took them.
On those nights alone at 2 am there was no one to call and nothing to do but worry. The church says to seek for solace in the scriptures. And so I read them.

This was my hour of need and I had faith that the simple Sunday School answers would work: read the scriptures, say your prayers.
And it did work.
I was strengthened. We got through the worst of it. The rain came down and the floods came up and this house on the Rock stood firm.
I've been through the greatest trial of my life and it was a crucible for me. It taught me faith, humility and reliance on Christ.
I've always been a believer, but now my strong will is more flexible. I've been humbled.
I'm still a liberal voting, rebellious, kinda weird feminist woman with little filter, but I have been through hell and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that the Gospel taught in the LDS church is an absolute necessity.
I invite you to look into it. It's totally in this season.
And if it feels foreign or you think you're not going to fit in or it's not for you, come sit by me.
If I can do this so can you.

4/26/11

WFT: Nor

My WFT is one that’s shared by most of my family.
We’re not huggers.
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This is weird if you’re over 5.
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You’d think we would be, being mostly girls and loving babies in the way that we do.  But I think I can speak for most of my siblings when I say that we’re not really on the hug bandwagon.028
I pretty much get all my hugging done with this guy.  (And Some Guy)
We don’t deny hugs, we just are always a little caught of guard by them and they typically make me very uncomfortable.  Why do people press against each other?  What do they get out of hugs?  Am I missing something? 
To me hugs are either sexual or an opportunity for a cheap feel or something reserved for children.  I think hugs peak in middle school when they really are an excuse to get all up in another person’s grill and touch them.  Creepy. 
I’m extremely physically affectionate with my children and significant others, but beyond that I’m a bit weirded out.  Is it weird to be weirded out by hugs?
I’m trying to retrain myself.  I aspire to being more hug-friendly because clearly I’m missing something.  Force me to hug you.  Thanks.
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Maybe I’m Victorian.  Don’t think Victorians hugged.

3/4/11

Punk is Not Dead

This is what happens when you take your three little kids to LA for no reason whatsoever. You visit LA Zoo, Kidspace by the Rose Bowl, and make a bit of video art.

Thanks to the producers, psuedo-parents, and all around gang of fun who is NS and BS.

Enjoy.

2/18/11

Pony Couture

 

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My little Mi going to preschool on her 4th birthday. 

I’d dress just like her if it were not widely frowned upon.

 

Mimi loves My Little Pony.  She’s loved them for about a year now and I encourage it for these reasons:

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1)  The ponies are androgynous.   Truly.  None of them are gendered in the least.  They don’t have gendered pronouns; their voices are unidentifiable as female or male.  It’s creepy and comforting at the same time.

2)  No gender means no sexy things about them.  No worries about slutty clothes or ponies pairing off to make more ponies.

3)  They’re cheap, easy to come by, and can go in the bath.  They’re easily identified by the stamp on 403their rumps, called the “Cutie Mark.”  The main ponies are Pinkie Pie, Cheerliee, Rainbow Dash, Toola Roola, Scootaloo, Starsong, and Sweetie Belle.  I did not have to google that.

4)  Every couple of years they come up with other weird ponies.  Last year it was Mermaid Ponies, a movement we could get behind no matter how absurd.  This year it’s ponies with gigantism.

5)  There are a million My Little Pony videos on YouTube.  Frequently they are in foreign languages.

 

Mimi sneaks into my room and snatches my iphone during nap time.  She breaks into the phone and can find pony movies to watch without knowing how to read.

   

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A few weeks ago a package arrived at my door addressed to me.  Upon opening  I discovered seven vintage My Little Ponies from 1983-1984.  Did someone know we’re a pony household?  Who sent these mystery ponies?

And then it dawned on me.

I grabbed my iphone, and sure enough on the EBay ap was a completed transaction purchasing $37 worth of vintage My Little Ponies.

$37 for ponies!  Ponies!  Not even cute ones!  Collector’s items!

Yes, my preschooler can Ebay.  I will be turning off the “buy it now” option.

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2/17/11

My Dead Body Friends

2011 is pretty much the best year ever. I’ve reconnected with a lot of my very good friends and seen a lot of my local friends. I dub thee the Year of Friends, 2011. It’s a good thing, too, because when you’re down a spouse you really need your friends.

Recently my BFF Niya and my BFBM (best friend before marriage) Brett came to town. I don’t like the phrase Best Friend so I make sure to use it a lot to vex and annoy, but also to indicate the importance of these people in my life. It sounds exclusionary and I am all about inclusion. I have a lot of BFF’s who cycle through my life in varying degrees of talk-to-every-day and talk-to-every-year. You are probably my BFF.

Brett and Niya are my dead body friends. The saying goes, “An old friend helps you move, a good friend will help you move a dead body.” My heart kinda broke last year, these are some of the people who are putting it back together.

I’ve mentioned Niya a lot. She’s an artist and occasionally poses for people who are selling things ;) Here’s some of her art:

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Talented, no? If you’re in LA her show is still up at SubUrban and you should swing by and buy some. Or check out her website.

Any who, Niya and Brett were here.

Wait, Brett is supa cool too. He’s a real bonafide filmmaker who makes a living doing only filmmaking and does not sleep on his mother’s couch. No, he and Niya are not an item. He’s dating this girl.

Here’s his production company and a flier for one of his movies that is on TV sometimes. coyote

Whatever, enough with the resumes.

Brett and Niya were in town and we went fun places and did fun things. And Brett fell down a lot.

And my chest still hurts from all the laughing. Seriously funniest people ever.

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Tilden Park Trains, beautiful day.

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Please kids, look at the camera. I beg you. View from Berkeley hills of SF Bay.

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At the Lawrence Hall of Science.

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Ethiopian Food in Berkeley (thanks Some Guy for the recommendation! Love that place!)

Also, my own piece of Niya Art. I got a tattoo on my back when I was 18 and didn’t know what a tramp stamp was. I like what it is, just not the location or the fact that it’s there at all (Tattoo regret?! who knew there was such a thing?) I tried to get it lasered off once but have not had the courage to go back because I don’t enjoy being electrocuted. Worst pain of my life, ever. So I’ve been thinking of changing the tattoo to something I like a bit more since it’s not going anywhere. There’s your warning, mom.

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Two artistic types couldn’t take ONE good picture of me with the minions? How am I supposed to recruit a new man when it’s clear my kids are fully a swarm? Can we just pretend the last two are one person? Does Mimi’s free spirit count for two? How am I going to sell us??

Also, it was Brett’s 74th birthday and we happened to be at Pam’s. One mention of his birthday (I hadn’t told them in advance) erupted into a full on GreenBomb party, complete with clown and face paint and singing. Brett was game and I think learned a bit about why I am the way I am. I was totally born this way. And so were my kids!

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Art in Motion at the Lawrence Hall of Science.

1/27/11

Thirtieth Birthday Personal Assessment



Had Mimi + 10
Failed at marriage - 50
Had Jude + 15
Had Silas + 20

Taught College English to Freshmen and Sophomores + 5
Wrote a book + 2
Failed to market that book - 5
MA in Shakespeare + 3
Have excellent friends in LA + 5
Have excellent friends in Dville + 5
Have some very close girl friends +10
Get along with sisters +5
Sometimes get in fights with sisters -3
Sometimes get in fights with Alex - 3
Sometimes get in fights with totally random full-of-themselves filmmakers + 2
Get along with parents + 4
Wrote a screenplay + 2
Pretty good at keeping my kids happy and well fed + 10
Not that great at my church callings -2
The workers at McDonalds know me -1
I fit in my pre-marriage jeans + 5
I can eat anything I want + 3
Watch Gossip Girl religiously -3
A bit gossipy myself -3
Also watch Jersey Shore -5
Don't know much about Modern Art - 5
Have a temp rec +25
Held three jobs while pregnant + 5
Too wimpy to make phone calls - 1
Can't keep from zinging people who deserve it -3
Use swear words -1
Ok at teaching choreography for musical theater +2
Can change a tire and fix house things +2
Regular church attendance +3
Most time at church spent mad at my kids -4
Loves shopping at Betsey Johnson -1
Bargain hunts +2
Only spent about two nights away from my kids in the last 6+ months + 10
Not great at making plans with friends -1
Good party planner +2
Been to 15-20 countries + 5
Impulse traveler -1
Great reviews of teaching on reviewum.com + 3
Sorted a stack of laundry as tall as I am tonight +1
Cannot live without my cleaning lady every two weeks -2
Not that good at styling my hair - 2
Pretty good at dying hair pink +3
Good at selling cars + 2
Have fairly cute kids + 5
Relatively funny + 3
Impatient -3
Could be more service oriented instead of needy -5
Bad at writing thank you notes -2


Fastest diaper changer in the world +1
Am able to travel with kids +5
Kind of awesome at Just Dance +1

Thus, my life score today is: 80. That's like a low B. Next decade I'm going to get an A.