This'll be interesting as its deja-vu all over again... Our area is in need of art therapy (and therapy in any sort, really) because this will trigger issues, latent and otherwise.
For those of us in which this is true, simply stated, go towards good and healthy. Activities and people that increase positive feelings of wellbeing and helps one deal with and transform the anger, worry and anxiety is so needed. Mental vacations occasionally is OK. Deal with things a little at a time and then take a breath of fresh air. Repeat as needed.
Some mental vacations are damaging, of course; I'm worried that some will go toward substances, but the negative consequences that addiction brings will tow its own need for interventions.
On a personal level, the halt of the daily grind, the intensity and excitement is one thing- ya'll know I'm an adrenaline junkie, but I'm tired of cleaning up messes... literally and symbolically.
The whole concert was great~ and it kicked off questions of what brings people to adrenaline laden arenas? It was a blessing to see these folks in the flesh, the beat in your chest, the energy flowing, the electricity in the air the rush in your heart. If I hadn't been so dehydrated, I'd have cried. It felt like home. We met wonderful, giving and sweet people from Mexico City all the way to Louisiana. Ha ha!
But whats been stated before over and over, especially reiterated on Metal: A headbanger's journey , (more towards the end) metal concerts are so much about family and something even more intrinsic, a tribal mentality... a belonging with a group when everyone else, those "out there", seems to be a criticizing force.
"Criticizing force" and the need to get away from it... where does that need come from? Depends on who you talk to. Me? Many things created alienation in my earlier life and then several times later on in adulthood. In adulthood, the number one cause of alienation was ME. Seems sometimes we re-live that which we have not understood enough to change it. This is why, of course, you see children growing up to be abused in adulthood because they don't understand its been passed down to them from years of generational input. Yes, I got on the merry go round, too.
Hmmm... the criticizing force~ the part of my personality that still feels "there" comes from a time where I was a problem child and proud of it. It was said "Where Linda Roberts (my maiden name) went, trouble followed". It was true the tools other people had weren't available to me and what I could do with what I had wasn't good enough. It was really tough deal through a formative time and well, we can't choose what shapes us, right?
My hellraising was inherent, however. My paternal grandmother was a McCoy, as in the Hatfields and McCoys- something about them just made them hellraisers. They fought outside, they fought inside--- they just fought. If society wanted poodles, these people were the bulldogs of the world. There is a sociological reason for this, studies have been done on it, too. (See Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America and Historical Usage of the word Redneck) It has to do with the British invasion of the Scots-Irish and the need to hunker down and thwart off an enemy. Maybe Metal has a Celt tradition? It certainly has a few things in common... But certainly my love of heavy metal is genetic. Go ahead, laugh, I have :).
Seriously, some traits really are genetic, like the ones that bring a person to a metal concert. Like sensation seeking and boredom intolerance, see ADD and Creative Individual Trait comparison. I'd always been an adrenaline junkie- one of Mom's favorite stories is about me begging her to scare me. She'd hang out in the hall or lurk in the closets and jump out and scream. Dad wanted to tie both of us up by our tongues. Gosh, I must've been 2 or 3 at most? But when other little girls liked quiet tea parties, lace and barbie dolls and perfume, I wanted to dance on furniture, read books about Manson and paint "bad" things on the neighbors whirly gigs. Mom wanted so much for me to be into something Victorian and dainty. OK, well, I did like barbies, I guess, too, but rather posed them for portraits (yes, Lisa, I did) and taught them math. Still have the pics :) Sometimes I designed their houses, but always had them dressed to kill.
Anyway, then if you add that in with difficulty being bored (see low boredom tolerance they call it) and causing trouble just to maintain attention span in school.
Some of the practical jokes were pretty bad and they made it hard to be my friend because trouble almost always followed me. It was lonely sometimes because the "nice" kids steered clear and the ones just as wild flocked to me like seagulls after fries. I haven't grown out of it and don't believe I will~ God made me this way and made me this way for a reason. God has made other kids this way, too... but common teaching methods don't reach people like me. Lisa was this way, too, and we both took a bit more patience and understanding.
Common teaching methods have been called by some researchers a "pathology based system". What creates something "pathology based" is that it makes a person feel bad about themselves rather than good. If we mold and model children by telling them: no, don't do this, you've got to quit doing that, stop this, you're bad if you can't do that, why are you being stupid? All we are going to get are kids that feel horrible about themselves later--- but for now in the teenage years, there is all this energetic hate that builds. Gotta go somewhere.
What would help? Lordy, this is a hard one. Education is a good start. This might help.
What would have made my experience different? Now, there's this thing called "Learning Styles" . I'll post more about it later, but it was good looking it up for now.
Learning Styles and multiple intelligences
Back from Ozzfest! It was MAYHEM, MADNESS AND MISCHEIF. It really was history making, to say the least. What was history making about it? It was the first time Ozzy had Metallica in Ozzfest, the first public playing of their new album- the first outside ears to hear it (besides those nearest and dearest to them), the first metal concert Charlotte (BFF) has been to, first time to Dallas, and first time I'd ever been on a trip with neither husband nor parents with me...
WHOA BOYs, HANG YOUR HATS, THESE LADIES ROCKED THE ROAD! Land speed records, toll booth laws (hey, we didn't have change!) and the Vicksburg Country Club rules were broken. Well~ lets say they had something riding on their golf course besides the cute little cartie-things. (Yes, we did drive on the golf course in broad daylight in a car that read "OZZFEST 2008" on the windshield).
The drive there was wonderful because we went via roads less travelled~ or never travelled for me~ and it was beautiful. The traffic was great, no detours or speed traps.
We got there, the hotel was very nice... complete with concert shuttle service! No need to drive in crazy post-concert conjestion. I've got to say, this was the coolest this Hampton Inn has ever been ;) Tons of metal heads all over the place- waddling, headbanging and evil-eye gesturing to and fro.
but get THIS: We were in the PIT of the main stage at an Ozzfest. OK, take time to say all hail to the Queens :) Yes, the pit... for a while anyway, but we had to get out after a few bands because the heat was too much--- people were passing out standing up because there was no water besides what the security got for us out of pity. We could have been squirted with water hoses, but they had only one on the opposite side of the stage that wouldn't reach our area.
People moshed right behind us, we tossed over crowd surfers, got kicked in the head from those we didn't catch soon enouth, Charlotte's glasses almost took flight out of both our reaches, people were dropped on our heads, I had to shove a guy by the head away from us, we were slammed up against the rail and other people~ it was great. This is what a metal concert is about! We jumped up and down in unison to the thrash metal playing- when we could without passing out.
We were in the pit from 11 am til 4:30 pm, just before Jonathan Davis. You have to read those backwards~ remember, like listening to your old records backwards? CAVALERA CONSPIRACY 3:35 - 4:15
SHADOWS FALL 2:50 - 3:25
APOCALYPTICA 2:10 - 2:40
IN THIS MOMENT 1:30 - 2:00
We really hated giving up our spots, but we opted to get tossed over the the fence-rail for water. We then booked as fast as we could to the nearest water-bearer.... honey, I shoved tatooed, doo-rag wearing monsters aside for some ice out of the beer bottle bucket and I'd do it again, too. Its amazing how instinctual thirst is, REAL thirst. The kind that makes your tongue swell and spots swirl in your vision~ this was heat stroke weather. I was not about to pass out and go to the emergency room and miss Ozzfest.
After we hung out in the stinky air conditioned bathroom (you couldn't drink tap water, it was all hot) and drank the cheapest drink they had in bulk, diet Dr. Pepper, we had a salty pretzel for health reasons. You need salt when you dehydrate.
During Jonathan Davis, we meandered across the stadium to hang out in the shade and I eventually mustered the energy to retrieve nachos while Charlotte nursed her migraine. A hotel breakfast, half pretzel and nachos were our only sustenance the entire day... in some countries, we would be considered wealthy for that, but here, water was gold.
While Hell Yeah played (TOO GOOD for their own good, btw) we ate nachos. When we felt up to it, we looked for a better seat to watch the main shows.
Ozzy's came on with his usual energy and crowd whipping-up... the whole show ended up unusually good~ he took out "War Pigs", something in the other Ozzy concerts I've not seen before, then "Fire in the Sky" and a few others that'd not been done.
Much of his latest album was played (yes!!) and Zak ground out his stellar solo. (Folks who know Zak Wylde knows that he slept during school and practiced guitar all night long. God knows what He (She) is doing, so, teachers, please don't pick on *those* students, they may end up in good places afterall).
After everything was said and done for Ozzy, fireworks went off. In between our neighbors pot-puffs, a few good songs played while we waited for Metallica... Disturbed, a few others. Then the lights went down. A few teasers from the crew trying out the guitars and drums. Silence.
Out cranked the heart shaking base of "Creeping Death"! Lights flew up and Metallica mastered the stage with a vengence and verve that matched the hype of all previous concerts put together. Everything was as good as the rumors preceding them said they would be and all my years of waiting for the show was worth it. "Harvester of Sorrow", "Sad. but true", "Master of Puppets", "And Justice for All"--- I've never seen that many fists pumping in the air in unison ever.
Oddly, they ended when I originally quit listening to Metallica. My most favorite band had been "abandoned" after the black album because I picked up the conservative battle, trying to look like a respectable something or other. (I'm sorry... honestly, I didn't know any better.) After an outstanding war-like pyrotechnic "One", they introduced one of their first band members (Lord, was I hoping for Dave Mustaine!) but instead brought out one of their best friends (or Lars's best friend, ego maniac that he is) King Diamond to do something from Garage Days. I didn't recognize it- or him- but tolerated it to wait to see if they'd do something from Load or Reload. Nope... "Seek and Destroy" was the end.
After a near fist fight to get a cab (hey, she knocked us out of the way, so I knocked her back and Charlotte cussed her) we made friends with her embarrassed friend. Ironically, we were going to the same hotel, but the cab driver didn't want to pick her up, so he took off.
We zig zagged through double cab fares to stumble upon our original cab driver that got us there: a Brooklynite named Ozzy!!! Angels were guiding us. Yaaaay Ozzy-Ozzy-Ozzy!!! This guy made the cab drive almost as exciting as the concert. He honked people to get out of the way while we cheered him on.
The Utah girls in the back said this was their first cab ride... I said, poor future cab drivers, its all downhill from here. This is the coolest cab rides we've ever had! LOL, extreme cabbies :) An ambulance behind us had trouble getting people out of the way, but not Ozzy~ the NY horn from hell kept honking til they got out of the way, clearing the path for the ambulance. I guess they thought we had an emergency. Well, technically, we did- with no where to go to get out of the way, we did help the ambulance.
When we made it to the hotel, we b-lined to the juice bar (no booze for us) and rehydrated with glass after glass of water, apple juice and cranberry juice. Up to the room then, we laughed til we hurt at what photos we could get on the lap top. We both laughed til tears rolled down my cheeks! We were so exhausted we crashed without showers or undressing.
Getting up to drive home was haaaaard.... we waddled down to the breakfast area where hungover and half deaf metal heads were stumbling about. An 8 hour drive back home and voila, here we are. More will come later, but its taken me a while to just piecemeal this together through the odd jobs that keep calling my attention. It was hard to get back into the swing of things, but it was great to get home to Stephen. I missed him terribly. I couldn't sleep until I got home :)
Once upon a time, long ago I wanted to go to an Ozzy/Metallica concert. Well, actually, wanting to wasn't even in the cards for me because that was a fairie tale that only happened to other people <wink>. But, here we are... 20 or so years later and the duo are back together again at this year's Ozzfest. How can I not go??? This is the type of music that saved my psyche, its a must :)
So, one of my bestest friends in the whole world is going to Dallas, TX with me- we're going to have a blast, just two gals letting our hair down and putting our feet up (and fists in the air, too :)
A wise lady once told me that we have to hit all our milestones (ages, years, ect) no matter what order they come in. I never got to be a teenager... so teen angst is still evident in this rocker's soul- altho the angst may come and go, the rocker is here to stay.
Have a good weekend, ya'll. Love and rock on, Linda
No matter who you are, different forces pull you apart. Man verses nature (Katrina) Should I stay or should I evacuate? Authenticity verses acceptance, the drive to stand out artistically or fit in and be accepted. Sometimes the pull is how deep can I take a subject before it becomes unhealthy? Leave it alone or push further?
Sometimes the wisdom and answers are worth it. Sometimes the pain and torment isn't. Sometimes the answers are one in the same. Surround yourself with strong, supportive wonderful women. Be like a thirsty sponge and soak up all they offer, then support and uphold strength in the women in your lives. And, all things considered, limit exposure to toxic substances- gas fumes, radiation and people. Thats the point... end of story.
But, then again, if we stopped our thinking processes there, art would never happen :) Art happens when you continue and push further, shove against the seed hull, plant thought provoking roots that burst forth out of fertile ground into the moist, sunny air.
"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."
-- Aristotle (384-322 BC)
Its one thing to understand what causes a thing, a phenomenon, but its another for that reason to justify its being. Understanding why someone can hate someone else cannot excuse the cruelty~ no matter what drive it was caused by. (My theory, society villainizes the drive without understanding, but the drive itself isn't evil and understanding it is key to knowing what is poisonous to the psyche... ignore it at your own peril. To stifle drives is to remain ignorant sheep in a world of wolves.)
Its so hard to realize that sometimes, in real life, there really is no justification for something- no matter how understandable it is. Think about it all day long, but it doesn't make it any better. Hate it as it is, fight the helplessness that erupts within, but the allmighty IT just *is*- as annoying and wrong as it feels.
What got my hair kinked up is sexism~ not the man against woman variety or the other way around, but this is a hatred of women from other women. You've seen it most likely whispered over sugary desserts under frilly hats in churches, lunches with your sisters' friends, the visit with the auntie that really gets on your nerves. Hopefully not from your Mama, but sometimes from there, too. Many times, this comes across as envy, but it is poison to the sacred self at both the loudest and most silent ways no matter from what direction because what is said about one woman's success is a stab at all women's successes.
I ran into someone who just couldn't believe I made this website. I was angry~ learning from it to stay away from this person, but the sadness of the situation still effects me. Its not that one thing, many other barbs have been thrown at other women just shoot around her conversations, having to do with successful women who should submit to some masculine authority.
Her past tells the story of why women end up being the eternal villains. In her world, being on the same intellectual level as men- or your personal man- is evil, more than a faux pas. Maybe in her world her significant other can't handle the competition? Maybe this is the safety net. Painful sounding, sad.
I wondered if she was really ok with a limited existence... and how many of us fall prey to the same cage. What do we cut off to make someone else feel good? To muffle insecurities. What has Stephen given up?
Gotta admit, I've dumbed down, how about you? Probably will again without even knowing it. Get around someone you know needs to feel needed and maybe even macho--- and you step back and let him put up the painting for you. Its just thought of as being polite~ but is it, really? And sincerely, as brilliant as I think Stephen is, I would hate to be limited by him. He loves me and would hate that, too.
Either way, the question inevitably came up that maybe it has something to do with generation, age, social class, societal values or the like. Yes, maybe so... some of it. But not enough to justify it or to lessen its insidiousness. We're not that different in any of the above, but she does like to blame it on that I'm an artist- ooooh, you know those crazy artists ;o)
Oh, and YES I am. All that and more. Been a construction worker (welder, pipefitter's helper, firewatch, holewatch, cutter, ect) and the fight with the men for the right to put food on the table in that manner was an uncoordinated dance at best. Other things, too, but life feels like its just starting. There's more to come.
I am humbled to tears by strong women, stories Lisa tells of Annie, her Grandmother- a pioneer stewardess on some of the first airlines and a photographer, too; how her Mom picked up the tab and ran with "the pants" when her parents split- and she's an old fashioned southern Lady, too, so that couldn't have been easy. Lisa picked up the backbone and "the pants", taking care of 3 kids and damn well, I might add. My mom, splitting from a controlling and abusive man who took her self efficacy and esteem, to give the same strength of character to the women at AA for 20 years.
Jackie Webb, Donna Joseph and Betty doesn't know how much they've given me and others by just being there to allow thirsty sponges to stand nearby, learning from example.
But the painting that keeps popping up is the one about the bird caged by the things she believes are true, things she's been told. The topic just keeps popping up: when doing the research for last Thursday's therapy session, authentic self and self esteem, the question sang out~
Who were you before other people changed you into who you were not?
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