Muchness and Light

They're only young once.

Someone asked me recently about my having put so much out there in my writing, about having dropped so many personal things into such a public space, and how I felt about my children seeing that, if and when the time comes.  It's kind of an off-shoot of having my parents or my in-laws read these things, and I've always said that they shouldn't look if they don't want to see what's there. 

With my kids, though, it's a little different, certainly.  They're young, and I often cover topics that simply aren't appropriate for them right now or any time soon.  Eventually the day will come when they'll be old enough to understand the concepts of sexual assault or youthful recreational drug use, of teen angst and depression, of isolation and self-loathing of self-image.  It's not like I think they'll wake up one morning, suddenly mature, and I'll decide to share all of my gory details with them.  But if my past choices and predicaments become part of their public knowledge, we'll address them as what they were: steps on the path to now. 

When I started writing again, and especially when I started blogging in this vein, I had to make the conscious decision to be (sometimes) painfully honest, both to others and to myself.  It was the only way I felt I could effectively explore the thoughts at hand.  It also meant I had to open myself up to criticism and comment from people I did and didn't know.  It's been rare that I've received negative feedback.  I'm fully aware that the more I do this, the more likely that is to happen.  And as much as I say I don't really care about what other people think, it would be disheartening to never get the goodness back from my readers, whoever you may be. 

But part of the decision to be so overtly candid did take my children into consideration.  Their perceptions of Mommy are totally skewed to the wacky intimacy of the parent-child relationship, as is to be expected.  They're only just now seeing that Stephanie and Mom aren't always exactly the same person.  While I will always be in the role of Mom with them, I was Stephanie before I was their mother, and that's not changing. 

And Stephanie did a lot of crazy shit, both badass and dumbass. 

Every single one of my battle stories is part of the Epic of StephQJ, and each deserves its rightful place as part of who I am.  I don't expect, or even want!, my children to emulate everything I did in my past or even do now.  What I do expect is for them to grow up with the knowledge that their mother is her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, as well as a life that isn't always little-boy-centric.  I want them to grow into their respect of me as a woman who did her best to enjoy her life, and who tried to model that behavior for them, even when she had to deal with the repercussions of bad choices and disappointments. 

If there's anything I am truly ashamed or regretful about in my life, it's not something I'm planning to talk about openly anyway.  There are very, very few things that fall into those categories, thankfully, and I've had to find my own ways to deal with them, to put them away for good, and to move forward.  I'm trying not to create any more regrets between now and the time this turn on the Big Wheel comes to its end. 

So what I want most for my boys to take away from their knowledge of me and my muchness, is the example of how to be their own person, how to make their own choices that are right for their own lives, and to deal with the consequences, good or bad.  I want them to recognize that the other people around them have the innate abilities and rights to do the same, even if the others' choices are in direct opposition to their own--and that being diametrically opposed doesn't always mean being bad.  And I want them to understand that everyone journeys through their own struggles in their own, personal ways, and that to get to the destination is a huge accomplishment, but that it is ultimately the quality of the journey that matters most.   

Top Five Songs By Bands Featuring Hot Redheads

So I have a big, not so secret crush on gingers, and my crush increases tenfold when the ginger also makes really good music. Call them the total package, call them my soul mates... okay, fine. Let's just call today's Top Five "the one where Melanie objectifies everyone" and get it over with. 1. Florence and the Machine - Kiss with a Fist Florence and the Machine - Kiss With a Fist British beauty Florence Welch is a spectacular start to our list of hot, talented gingers. Her voice is achingly perfect, and her stage presence is legendary. She can ring my bell any time. A kick in the teeth is good for some / A kiss with a fist is better than none. 2. The Frames - Fake The Frames - Fake I couldn't make this list without including The Frames, a huge Ruckus favorite. Front man Glen Hansard is a scholar and a gentleman, and has the most glorious head of ginger curls ever to bless an Irish boyo. 3. KITTEN - Kitten With A Whip Kitten - Kitten With A Whip We love on Kitten a lot around here, but it's only because they are pretty damn amazing. At 19, drummer Max Kuehn is the youngest ginger on my list, and possibly the hottest, too - not surprising since his father is Greg Kuehn from TSOL (good genes much?). But we can't credit dad with everything, Max is stunningly talented in his own right; the boy knows how to handle those sticks. 4. Neko Case - Dirty Knife Neko Case - Dirty Knife Known for both her time spent with The New Pornographers and her inventive, passionate solo work, Neko Case sings gritty, stark lyrics with a lush, haunting voice, remains gorgeous while doing so. 5. Two Door Cinema Club - What You Know Two Door Cinema Club - What You Know Ah, Two Door Cinema Club, home to front man Alex Trimble (yet another stunning Irish ginger), wearer of remarkably tight skinny jeans and purveyor of some damn fine indie rock. To see them live is to love them even more deeply than you did during the year prior, which you spent playing their debut album non-stop while you cried hot, salty tears because they avoided touring in your state...or is that just me?

via www.whatstheruckus.com

Love The Ruckus, and I'm partial to redheads, being the dynamic strawberry blonde that I am. I also really dug this article, so I'm sharing.

Adam Taylor:From Boy to Man in 19.7 Minutes

Adam Taylor has grown up a lot in three years.  He graduated high school, dropped out of art school, and decided to move to Lancaster, PA, to pursue his musical dreams full time.  His new mini-LP, No Poet, is a testament to his growth, both as a man and as a musician.

"Since the last EP [Play the Piano Drunk, 2008], I've matured as a person, songwriter, and performer," says 20-year-old Taylor.  "Making a quality record takes a lot of dedication, and I really felt more up to the challenge this time around."

Play the Piano Drunk focused almost exclusively on the external struggles of culture and youth that Taylor saw as he wrote and recorded the album, while finishing his senior year of high school.  No Poet still has Taylor's gritty observations of life, but he's begun turning the gilded mirror toward himself. 

"For me, this record has so much to do with stepping out of boyhood into manhood, and what it means to be a man and not just an artist," reflects Taylor.  "This record isn't so much about songs as it is about life."

Taylor's hallmark sound of deceptively simple, up-tempo melodies is present throughout the tracks.  His critical dissection of societal expectations and perceptions is laid bare alongside his examination of the personal strifes of burgeoning adulthood.  The dark excitement of sexual frustration and exploitation (I want it, your stomach/your hips, your legs, your money/El Cheapo, the steeple, the people want you honey) is masked behind the high-energy strumming of "Oliver".  He sings of the yearning to escape home in "New York" (pack your bags get on the train/I'm leaving for New York/and I swear/I am never coming home), and he challenges what he's been taught about God in the intricately poetic "Spaghetti Western" (And I saw Jesus/in a card game/he was betting with all your hopes/and I had three kings/that he was seeking/the bet was clearly lost). 

But the carefree adolescent still makes himself known, both lyrically and musically.  No Poet debuts a new, snazzier version of the fan-favorite "Lucy", a tribute to Taylor's "funny-looking" dog.  Touring and recording partner Kate Young, who has performed with Taylor since they met in 2005, says, "This newer version of Lucy gives me the fuzzy wuzzy feeling." 

Taylor and Young positioned themselves around one microphone, requiring them to depend on each other's own internal timing to determine breath patterns and weave their signature, organic harmonies.  While it's still reminiscent of Taylor's folk and ragtime roots, there's an added electric sound that brings the long-loved track up to date: it's a grown-up "Lucy". 

Taylor says the new version is different than what fans are used to hearing, but that it accurately reflects the current sound of the band.  He wrote all seven tracks on No Poet but quickly credits his band--Kate Young, Mike Giblin, Jason Hoffheins, and John Fritchey-- with bringing them to life.  "I like to let the band be the band, you know?"

Young says the recording process evolved over the past three years, as well.  When they worked on Play the Piano Drunk, she travelled to Lancaster from their hometown of Hagerstown, MD, to record for a couple of days as a session vocalist.  For No Poet, she was able to be in the studio every day.  That unfettered access to the sessions and the progress allowed her to voice her opinion on the work they were doing.  "Plus I got to do shaker and tambourine on this one," she jokes. 

The other constant in the studio was Taylor's older brother, Chad, who produced both No Poet and Play the Piano Drunk.  Chad Taylor is a veteran musician (Live, The Gracious Few) and producer (Falcon Jones, Stealing Venus, Shaker) and is impressed with the growth Adam has made between records.  He notes improvement in his brother's sense of timing, as well as his ability to communicate as a lyricist and a musician.

Young says it was different working with Chad the second time around, having gotten to know him a bit better since they first worked together in 2008.  "Chad challenged me a lot more on this record," she explains.  "This time around I was a little less intimidated."

"Chad challenges me as a singer all the time," adds Adam.   "I actually played the electric guitar a good bit this time around.  He definitely pushed me in that area."  He says it can be both daunting and artistically compelling to work with an experienced producer who has intimate knowledge of his strengths and weaknesses, and who isn't afraid to get in his face.

Chad admits there were creative tensions between the brothers, and he wishes Adam were more willing speak up, and speak out, about his own music and the process.  The Taylors had to work together to get through their differences--including a fistfight over writing a bridge early in the recording process.  Both brothers point to the incident as proof of their shared passion for making great music.

"I'm always trying to get Adam to really speak his mind," Chad explains.  "I trust his thoughts on where the music, the sound and the performance should be.  In some cases he does openly disagree with me, and I've tried to hard as a producer to put him in first position even if I don't agree.  Make no mistake: Adam's music and the credit for it is all his!"

In January 2011, Taylor and Young launched the Kickstarter campaign to fund production and release of No Poet, as well as to help fund an upcoming tour.  In their well-produced, energetic introduction video, Taylor unpretentiously asked for help: "By donating, you're really becoming part of the process and assisting me in my dreams."  His honesty and offers of pre-ordered downloads, tickets for the album release show, personalized artwork, and custom-written songs were persuasive.  They surpassed their funding goal in three days.   

"I guess our fans are hungry, which is a good sign," Taylor says.  "I think it was them saying, 'Well, it's about fucking time, Adam!'"

Young is quick to point out that the money wasn't just from fans who were pre-ordering the record.  "Most of [the pledges] are from friends willing to support us no matter what.  It's freakin' great."

Chad Taylor says the "massive success" of Adam's Kickstarter as an extension of the philosophy of true alternative music, of the grassroots upsurge against the greed and oversight of the corporate music business.  He says he believes in a patron system of supporting artists, as opposed to major labels, but he recognizes the difficulties of financial sustainability as a full-time musician.

"With any luck, Adam's music will find a marketplace," Chad says.  "He is surely going to surprise people with the quality of the material on this new recording.  I know I'm doing all I can to help.  He is the real thing."

Adam Taylor has his eyes wide open to the potential hardships and pitfalls of being a musician, and he's ready to stare them down.  He says it's a daily struggle to overcome his fears of failing his present and his future, of having difficult conversations about his career, and of facing himself, personally and professionally.

"I'm learning to be brave, I'm learning to be a man.  This album is more about my journey into manhood than the actual songs themselves.  This record is another flagpole on the mountain that said, 'I'm Adam, and I have made it this far'."

No Poet is available now.  For more information on Adam Taylor and his music, visit his website at www.adamtaylormusic.com.

I don't wanna change for the sake of change. I don't wanna bring back yesterdays.

I'm hearing a lot lately that, sometimes, people just don't understand me.  (Oh no! People don't get me!)  They don't comprehend why I do the things I do, why I follow through on my choices, or fathom how I could ever have been enticed by those choices in the first place.  A couple of people have somewhat-jokingly? accused me of being in the throes of a mid-life crisis. 

Let me assure everyone here: there is no crisis.

Mid-life, maybe.  Maybe not.  Who the hell ever really knows when that end is coming?  Yes, I'm not-so-slowly approaching forty, and the second half of my life is still ahead of me, but I'm okay with that, really.  I'm not too freaked out by the aging, in part, because I know I'm doing things now to help ensure that I will live my life as fully and without regret as possible.

But what I feel is fulfilling or regretful may not be the same as it is for anyone else.  In fact, I'm pretty damn sure that what floats my proverbial boat is very different than what works for most people, and I'm okay with that.  I always have been.  It's just that now I'm at a place in my life where I not only accept my eccentricities, I celebrate them.  And sometimes I do it publicly. 

I fully believe in multiple lives.  I absolutely believe I've been through this general process many times before, and I also believe that there are certain people in my life who've been through this with me on at least one (if not many) of those trips.  I understand that not everyone agrees with my perception and interpretation of the Universe, and that's okay.  (Do NOT attempt to engage me in a religious debate, whether online or in person.  I won't respond.) 

Regardless if you think it's a round-trip ticket to your own transcendence, a one-way ticket to the Afterlife, or a no-way ticket to a solo grave, you're only guaranteed this moment that you're in.  No more but also no less.  To squander those moments is, in my profoundly personal opinion, an act full of potential regret. 

I don't want to live a life of regret.

There were a lot of things that happened to and around me, that kept me rooted in place for a long time, emotionally and spiritually.  There was a lot of fear--of failure or success, or of achieving (or not) the unknown--that kept me from being me in the ways I thought I wanted to be.  I still managed to move forward in my life, just not necessarily in the manner I originally anticipated.  I came to this place and time only by forging that path. 

A Yoggi Berra-ism fell into my head this week, about taking a fork in the road if you find one.  The point, of course, is that there's a whole different world of potential down that other path, but you have to take a path either way.  Some would argue that you should stay on your chosen path if it's perfectly good and reasonable and works well; it's gotten you this far, hasn't it?  That may be the right answer, certainly.  But there's something else entirely, something with its own potential--better, worse, or indifferent as compared to your current situation.

The problem is the choosing.  There's a lot of uncertainty when given a choice to move forward.  No matter which way you go, you'll never know what's to come until you're in the thick of it.  And there's no way to ever know what you passed over in favor of the other direction. 

We're all kind of like Heisenberg's particles; we can know, with reasonable certainty, our velocity or our position, but never quite both.  Educated guesses may allow predictions of outcomes, but there's just no way to know for sure where we'll end up and how we'll get there. 

Unlike minute particles, we can't measure our own progress within the confines of a carefully controlled laboratory.  There are a zillion external forces--inertia, gravity, possibility, success--that constantly affect our momentum and position.  The same internal forces--inertia, gravity, possibility, success--are often in direct juxtaposition to the external, counterbalancing and holding us suspended in our own animation. 

It goes back to the fear of moving, of being impacted and bombarded by the outside, that kept me sheltered and careful for a very long time.  With very limited exception, I don't regret any of the choices I've made in my life, because they brought me to this point, and there are some really remarkable things that are happening in my world right now, both literally and figuratively.  What I'm finding is that the fear is subsiding, and I'm actively seeking to explore the things I passed by for a very long time.  I can't go backward, return to those other places in times and redo the things I might wish I'd done before.  But sometimes opportunities will present themselves again, or in a new way, and I'm choosing to accept the chance of those experiences, fully, and not to let them be squandered away by own trepidation and apprehension of possible outcomes. 

Right now, I am letting that fear fuel me and propel me forward, rather than hold me in place.  I'm smart and self-aware, and I recognize that I might only be able to know my own velocity or position at any given time.  That being said, I make the educated decision to choose how over where, the journey over the destination.  Eventually I'll end up in the same place--the end of this life--and I want to know that I came there bravely and consciously, under my own power, and not because there was just no other way to go. 

Wonder Woman costume now slightly less awful | TV | Newswire | The A.V. Club

via www.avclub.com

I'm following up on this, because there was so much discussion about the original horrid Wonder Woman costume. She has red boots now (YAY!) but also less plastic-y pants. I'm digging this a little more, though I still question where Adrianme Palicki has any hope of outdoing Lynda Carter.

New Adam Taylor "No Poet" Available Today!

I've talked of my love for Adam Taylor and his music many, many, many times.  The new record is available for download today, and it is amazing.  Yes, he's my friend.  Yes, I love that boy.  But I would tell you if it sucked, because I would've already told him it sucked.  And it doesn't  It's really quite smart and fantastic.  You won't regret buying it, I promise. 

 

I have an idea.

My BFF recommended an alternative Alice book recently, The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor.  It's a sci-fi story with Alice as the jumping-off point.  The idea is that Lewis Carroll's inspiration, Alice Liddell, was only half-real.  Beddor's Alice is actually Alyss Heart, a young princess who is heir to the throne of Wonderland. 

Her mother, Queen Genevieve, and her father, King Nolan, are killed by Genevieve's evil sister, Redd, who has been living in exile for some years.  Alyss and her bodyguard, Hatter Madigan, are forced to flee Wonderland through the Pool of Tears, which is a portal to other worlds.  Alyss ends up in Victorian-era London, while Hatter washes up in Paris.  Alyss lives a sort-of Oliver Twist street urchin life until she's arrested, sent to an orphanage, and eventually adopted by the Liddell family.  Hatter is on a constant search for his princess, stumbles upon Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and gets ever closer to returning the heir to her home. 

In the book, Wonderland is the source of all things everywhere in every world.  Anything that can be dreamed up, imagined, can be sent via looking glass to be added to the vernacular of other worlds.  Airplanes, pogo sticks, and light bulbs were all originally conceived in Wonderland.  White and Black Imagination are at constant odds, often times manipulated to fit the schemes of Wonderlandians, to both help and hinder. 

Alyss assimilates as "Alice" after a few years, but she is suddenly and unexpectedly rescued and returned to a decimated Wonderland to battle Redd for the throne.  Her abilities to use her Imagination have been buried deeply within the young woman, and she must convince herself and everyone around her that she is indeed that Alyss.  She tries and practices, with little success, and discusses it with Hatter before she has the great epiphany:

                It's unconscious.  To will something into being, the willing of it must be so deep down that no self-doubt is possible.  The imaginative power itself must be a given, a thing already proven that cannot be disbelieved.

That's the crux of it, isn't it?

It's not the belief of others, not the faith of the external, that makes something happen.  It's the personal belief in yourself and your own abilities, that what you're doing is so true and real that it can't do anything but BE. 

When I started writing again, I spent a lot of time worrying about what other people would think of my work.  I've written before about my tendency to second-guess myself, whether about the mechanics or the spirit of what I'm writing.  Some things are better than others, certainly, and that's what an editor and the Inner Circle are for, to help me see when there's something that could be improved. 

But, the thing is, I have to write.  Rarely a day goes by that I don't write something, whether it's a blog post for Muchness and Light or The Gracious Whore, a piece for a third-party site, revisions or a draft for the book, an article on a musician, or even a press release for whatever project.  My laptop and I move from place to place and headspace to headspace, finding the right groove to let the words flow.  I notoriously email myself stuff throughout the day, from my phone to my laptop--little bits of wordage, ideas for story progression, or thoughts on a blog post I'd like to do.  In part, I have to remind myself of the oh-so-many things that go through my brain in a day, but it also helps me to flesh out those ideas when I see them pass through my fingers, before my eyes, into type. 

I know several writers, musicians, and artists who've been moved and influenced by Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke.  For whatever reason, I'd never read it until I picked up a copy this past December.  I absolutely see the appeal in what Rilke had to say to Franz Xaver Kappus in his ten letters, dated from 1903 to 1908.  (Interestingly, Rilke comes across to me as distractible and a bit flighty at times, much like the two people I know who most profess his influence on their artistic hearts.)  He hits me right from the beginning with the gist of what I needed to hear in December:

                Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody.  There is only one single way.  Go into yourself.  Search for the reason that bids you write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write.  This above all--ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write?  Delve into yourself for a deep answer.  And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity.

I absolutely must.  What I'm finding is that there are days when I also believe in what I'm writing, when the power of my own imagination overwhelms even me and shows me that I'm pointed in the right direction, that my imaginative path is indeed both true and real. 

I've had a few days lately when I've been so consumed by my own thoughts and words as they flowed that I cried.  I was caught up in the emotion of the unfolding page-bound moment that I shed tears for the intensity of the situation enveloping my characters.  They're imaginary, though certainly based in part on real people I both know and am.  Even the fictional has basis in reality, and I was tapping some deep, long-still emotional wells.  The jostling rippled through me and onto the page.  It was gut-wrenching and difficult but incredibly cathartic. 

Right now, I'm in a place where there's no self-doubt about my writing.  Don't get me wrong: I can always see places for improvement and development.  But today I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, writing what I'm supposed to be writing.  And I can trust in myself enough to let it flow and just be.  All of this could change tomorrow, I know.  I'm hopeful that I've grown enough as a writer and a person that I don't forget the placid confidence, that I have the self-belief to let me delve into my imagination and bring forth some deep answers--about me, about you, about life and whatever--and  the self-assurance  to let them take stand on their own merits and just be.