Stress takes all the joy out of life. If you’ve got a lot of stress and it’s bogging you down, hypnosis can help. Hypnosis is about relaxing, chillin’ and creating an inner reality that helps you feel positive. When you change your inner world, the outer world changes too….or at least your perception of it does.
I’ll be doing a free hypnosis workshop in Long Beach on March 3 where you can learn more. For details and a downloadable flier, click here.
The longer the recession lasts, the more creative I become. I didn’t realize what a consumer zombie I was until the credit was yanked right out from under me. Since I’m not spending money, I’m forced to entertain myself with the items I have on hand. I have a lot more than I realized. Isn’t that the American way?
**Went window shopping on Retro Row. Treated my fingers to the feel of cashmere and got two eyes full of the glitteriest costume jewelry in Long Beach
**Wore the sequin-covered vintage sweater I got for Christmas from Warehouse 1333 while shopping, felt “retro”. It added something to the whole experience
**Talked to the man at Via Roller Skates about outdoor skating in Long Beach the 2nd Friday of each month*
P.S. If you like roller skating, come skate outdoors in Long Beach the second Friday of each month with other Long Beach residents. Meet at Via Roller Skates 2218 4th St. (inside Lil Devils) Long Beach, CA (267) 374-9674. I’m putting a note in my PalmPilot to remind me to go on January 9, 2009. Maybe I’ll see you there.
I went to iTunes and checked out some of their other songs and I was impressed. I bought the entire album. It’s old-school underground hip hop with stories from the streets. A slight “hey wake up”, unity, political slant to the whole thing. Great production. The first video is kinda fun and silly on the exterior but the lyrics are deep. The second video is a little bit more intense and omnious. Check it out.
Back in the day I was known as Sheri Olson, AKA “Sheri O.” I was a bit of a hellraiser. I went to punk gigs 3 times a week, I danced in gay bars and I used heavy, illicit drugs. I smoked a pack of Marlboro red box a day.
When I was seven, I wanted to be a roller derby queen and the highlight of my life was the newest Elton John and KiKi Dee “45″, Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart. I remember putting it on the turntable in the back yard and either roller skating or hula hooping the entire time it played. I would play it 5, 10, 20 times in a row. If I wasn’t roller skating or hula hooping I was lip synching or dancing.
The older I got, the more I was scolded for such immature behavior and socially unacceptable music choices. I was trained to be a “proper Christian”. To cross my legs, to wear pigtails and to be skinny. I was trained to be dumb on purpose because “it intimidates the men if you’re too smart.”
I tried to maintain my “self” the best I could. I rebelled against all conformity. But eventually it got to me. The mean looks, the conversations behind my back, the cold shoulders. I was fired more than once just because I spoke my mind and people told me “you’re crazy” for as long as I can remember.
Why bring all that unecessary hardship on myself? I figured it would be easier to just follow the rules and get along.
So I tried to blend in. To be the “me” everyone else says to be. Tried to lose weight even though I love my curves, tried to eat more vegetables, tried not to eat dessert, I made sure to smile just right, to have good breath, to not be too sassy, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
In my 20’s and 30’s I pretty much acted perfect all day then came home and swallowed the refrigerator.
In University I learned how to “say it right, put it in APA format, double-space it and use 12-point font.” I learned big words and a series of scientifically unfounded psychological theories as well as a long list of labels, diagnoses and pharmacuetical cures for all that ails the human mind. I learned to “be professional!” at all costs.
If I was going to maintain this game, I knew it was imperative that I discontinue all connection with night life. Not even time to listen to records. No more time for punk rock gigs. My textbooks were my late-night and early morning reading. My entire life revolved around devouring volumes of research journals and psychology textbooks, getting good grades and regurgitating information the way my instructors wanted me to.
I played the game all the way to the end. I got a master’s degree and I’ll be damned if I ever get a PhD.
What finally happened is that I imploded. I became entirely incapable of performing the act. In some ways, “I” fell apart. The “I” I thought I was that is. I couldn’t do it anymore. Sheri O. was crying out for attention and she was ready to do some crazy shit like roller derby and punk rock to get it. Sheri O. won.
What I want to know is this: are our spunky girls with a creative edge being adequately nurtured these days or are they being stifled by the oh-so-rigorous training for the position of “Queen”?
Are they enjoying and embracing their youth, their skills and their talents or are they busy hating everything about themselves from their eyebrows to their toe nails? Will they have to wait until they’re 40 to realize that being themselves is the easiest and most beautiful thing there is? How many more generations can we afford to let this happen?
The truth is, none of us needs to be a perfect King or Queen, that’s a job reserved for the King and Queen. In England, everyone is very clear that there is only one Queen and Elizabeth is it. Nobody tries to be Queen because they know they can’t be and won’t be. We need to stop trying to be something that we’re not. I don’t say that to defeat progress but instead to encouarge you to be your best self, not some lame imitation of who you think you can and should be. Faking it is a total waste of time, trust me.
If you need help with finding the true you again or if you want to be sure to maintain the real you without crumbling beneath criticism, get my book From Sabotage to Success.
About 1/2 way through Q-tip’s story about the journey to retrieve his wallet, I am profoundly aware that Petco is offering a $5 in-store coupon. All I have to do is just click on the bright white picture of the Christmas Tree and the dog with the santa hat and it’s mine for the printing. I begin to get distracted. Do I need something from Petco? Do I have cat litter? How about cat food? Check and check. Meanwhile, I miss the part where Q-tip is telling the police about what was in his wallet, “Yo, it was a brown wallet, It had props numbers, it had my jimmy hats, I gotta get it man” he says.
Advertising is a way of life, it will always be everywhere. During this time of transformation in where and how we consume media, we need to be aware of what we’re absorbing and to create our own media channels and our own “news” when possible. In the meantime, I will endure the subliminal advertising from Petco to go over to YouTube and watch this video because it is THAT cool. Q-Tip really has a powerful, rich communication style and watching this song on video gives it another level of depth.
A month after the release of Renaissance by Q-Tip, I finally got to download the album from iTunes and use up portion of the $50 gift card I got for my birthday. It wasn’t all easy breezy. It was a four-step process. It might have been simpler to drive to a store and buy it.
Four Steps to Purchasing Renaissance from Q-Tip on iTunes.
**had to buy the album on my desktop because my laptop didn’t have enough room to download it
**had to get the latest version of iTunes before I could download it because it comes with some super-cool video
**had to agree to the terms of service (luckily I didn’t have to read it
**had to verify that I really wanted to buy it, twice. Answer, yes, YES!!!
But for Q-Tip, it’s worth it. This man has the skills. I’ve been a Q-tip fan as early as Groove is in the Heart.
I know, if you watch soap operas you get the impression that all white people are home in their house on the hill, eating gourmet food off their finest china and wiping their hands on the finest linens. They are discussing the stock market, financial planning and pharmacueticals. They dab the corners of their mouth with the aforementioned linens. Everything is Martha Stewart “perfect.”
I hate to burst your bubble but T.V. does not equal reality.
Here’s how a few old-school punks celebrate the day.
I do most of the cooking. I start the night before chopping celery, olives, garlic and onions. The next morning, I drain all the corn juice out of the corn and set it aside. I replace the liquid with chicken broth. Everything I cook is soaked in juice: apple, olive, corn or chicken broth, for hours on end.
I cleaned and stuffed the turkey, beat the potatoes with an electric mixer and neaded the stuffing, gradually adding my onion, garlic, olive compote to find the right combination, not too oniony but clearly seasoned with natural spices. I cut away my birds skin, pressed compote between the skin and the meat and sewed that baby back up. I slathered it with butter then covered it in cheesecloth. After all was said and done, I made gravy with the drippings.
Here’s the bird straight out of the oven. The skin was crunchy but the meat was tender and juicy.
We watched two episodes of Third Rock from the Sun. That is, after Michael and Michael Jr. got the correct audio-in jack connected to the correct audio-out.
After a couple of Third Rock episodes and choice between pumpkin or apple pie, we transitioned to watching the Naked Raygun “What Poor God’s We Do Make” DVD. I had to gloat about how my old gig flier is the exact one in the movie…”right there…look, that’s MY flier”, I tell everyone.
You gotta realize, this is the family that were ‘Zed Records – Back in the day’. People like this don’t listen to top 40, and wear designer clothes. Topics like plastic surgery, fake tans and bikini waxing are just…plastic. We talked about Obama, the family and the movie Eyes of an Angel with John Travolta. I got my husband sufficiently curious enough to search for the trailer on YouTube so we could all watch it. If you love animals or kids or both, this movie is irresistable. Based on a true story.
Everyone enjoyed the food and music. I sent my in-laws home with two Ziploc bags filled with turkey, and plastic containers full of potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, corn and dessert. They will easily have enough for some nice leftovers tomorrow.
This is the first Thanksgiving in years where I did all the cooking. I got burned out a few years ago, sick of always being “the one in charge.” I essentially went on strike. For three years in a row, we went to Kourhy’s Restaurant, stuffed our guts at the buffet then wheeled ourselves back to our respective homes. Not the most festive way to celebrate the holiday.
This year I wanted the good old feeling of Thanksgiving back in my home. I wanted the smell of garlic and butter to saturate the walls and knock you over as you walked in. I wanted to hear the words, “this turkey is great.” I wanted to share my cooking secrets and I wanted to hear extended versions of what everyone’s been up to.
Mission was accomplished. We listened to music, we ate, we dozed off in our chairs, just like the good old days. Here we are at the end of the night, sufficently stuffed and glad to share each others company for the evening.
In the meantime, enjoy this video by A Tribe Called Quest or buy Stressed Out on iTunes.
Back in the day I was known as Sheri Olson, AKA “Sheri O.” I was a bit of a hellraiser. I went to punk gigs 3 times a week, I danced in gay bars and I used heavy, illicit drugs. I smoked a pack of Marlboro red box a day. 
(Here I am at the 
So I tried to blend in. To be the “me” everyone else says to be. Tried to lose weight even though I love my curves, tried to eat more vegetables, tried not to eat dessert, I made sure to smile just right, to have good breath, to not be too sassy, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. 
