If time is relative, then distance must also be. Driving back to my hometown with my sister was a sober reminder of just how mountainous the distance between the stages in a life can be. Even though the sum of actual driving time adds up to about three hours from the smoke-laden bingo parlors and discount auto dealerships of Enid, Oklahoma, to the windy, treeless frontier of the Oklahoma Panhandle, the trip itself seems endless, especially if it's been a while since you last made the journey to the middle of nowhere.
I haven't been here since Christmas, and I've always been divided on the issue of making trips back home. On one hand, I have a grand total of seven relatives who still live in Hooker (compared to the fifty who have, at one point or another, lived here throughout my childhood); on the other hand, a wealth of friends, school teachers, principals, pastors, community theater directors, and church family members still call this area their home. After moving away, I've since felt compelled to visit the people who I feel care so much about me, but in reality, I might just be exalting myself to the status of an overrated celebrity in the minds of those whom I always think bite their nails in anticipation of my return.
Nonetheless, I'm home as of now, at least technically. But what is "home," really? Where you grew up? Where your family is? A broken-down double wide mobile home on the outskirts of a meager town of less than two thousand people? When my friends would ask me where I was going for the summer, I never really said "home." I used phrases like, "going to live with my mom" or "moving upstate" to eliminate the boundaries that come with calling one place this or that. I guess I mean my home TOWN. In an ideal sense, I define home as where I feel safest, which is a number of different places. I have a home church, filled with people who care about me, and a town where I spent most of my childhood, filled with people who take notice of me. People who know my face and whose faces I recall by name. It seems like the more a person is in my life, the more they become a part of what comforts me.
Funny how so much can happen in a year.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Maury Says... You ARE The Father!
The merry month of May. Usually by this time of year, the weather is blazing hot in sunny, windswept Oklahoma. But not lately. We had three tornados on Monday and an entire week of rain and cloud weather. Who's complaining? Not me. Rain or shine, summer just brings a smile to my face. It's the freedom to stay up til 3 a.m. and wake up at noon the next day that really puts me in a good mood, though.
Do you ever have moments in your life when you feel like a character out of a movie? Last night I walked in on my aunt and her boyfriend making out on the couch, and as if the fact that I interrupted their cuddle session weren't awkward enough, they're both in their late forties, which made for an odd situation of role reversal. I felt like a parent who just walked in on a pair of teenagers. Given my aunt's apartment is so tiny (and the situation would've been even more awkward had I stayed) I lied and said I was going to visit some friends at OCU. After some driving around, I ended up parked in front of the apartment, listening to music and waiting for Mr. Online-Dating-Service to leave. I felt like Shia LaBeouf in "Disturbia," which, ironically enough, I watched earlier that day.
My cousin is graduating high school, so I'm driving back to my hometown next week with my sister. We're gonna stay for about a week, which will give me time to catch up with everyone and revisit the people I haven't seen in over a year. I feel somewhat bad for not going back to my hometown more often, especially over breaks during the school year when I had all the time in the world to do so. It's four hours away from Oklahoma City, but I never made the effort to drive out there. Well the time has come to make the seven-hour drive from Joplin, MO (where my sister lives) to the Panhandle of Oklahoma. Straight across the state.
I dislike social security offices. I hate the fact that you have to arrive early, before the office opens, secure a good spot in an already long line, wait for the doors to open, then wait some more in a crowded waiting room full of pamphlets and crying babies and coughing. I went this morning to apply for a new social security card, and thankfully it only took a grand total of three minutes once my number was called. I came prepared, armed with my passport, birth certificate, driver's license, and any other form of credible ID I could find so as to minimize complications. But no need. "Just answer a couple of questions, and I'll record your responses for security purposes." In and out. Simple. My new card should arrive in about a week.
My cousin and I have been watching Maury a lot lately. I remember the days when Maury was an actual talk show and not just a three-ring paternity testing circus. A girl from my hometown went on the show, to (get this) find out if her baby daddy was actually the father of her child. I bet the free trip to L.A., hotel accomidations, and $1,000 spending money more than made up for the embarrassment of making a fool out of yourself on national television. But who am I to judge.
Do you ever have moments in your life when you feel like a character out of a movie? Last night I walked in on my aunt and her boyfriend making out on the couch, and as if the fact that I interrupted their cuddle session weren't awkward enough, they're both in their late forties, which made for an odd situation of role reversal. I felt like a parent who just walked in on a pair of teenagers. Given my aunt's apartment is so tiny (and the situation would've been even more awkward had I stayed) I lied and said I was going to visit some friends at OCU. After some driving around, I ended up parked in front of the apartment, listening to music and waiting for Mr. Online-Dating-Service to leave. I felt like Shia LaBeouf in "Disturbia," which, ironically enough, I watched earlier that day.
My cousin is graduating high school, so I'm driving back to my hometown next week with my sister. We're gonna stay for about a week, which will give me time to catch up with everyone and revisit the people I haven't seen in over a year. I feel somewhat bad for not going back to my hometown more often, especially over breaks during the school year when I had all the time in the world to do so. It's four hours away from Oklahoma City, but I never made the effort to drive out there. Well the time has come to make the seven-hour drive from Joplin, MO (where my sister lives) to the Panhandle of Oklahoma. Straight across the state.
I dislike social security offices. I hate the fact that you have to arrive early, before the office opens, secure a good spot in an already long line, wait for the doors to open, then wait some more in a crowded waiting room full of pamphlets and crying babies and coughing. I went this morning to apply for a new social security card, and thankfully it only took a grand total of three minutes once my number was called. I came prepared, armed with my passport, birth certificate, driver's license, and any other form of credible ID I could find so as to minimize complications. But no need. "Just answer a couple of questions, and I'll record your responses for security purposes." In and out. Simple. My new card should arrive in about a week.
My cousin and I have been watching Maury a lot lately. I remember the days when Maury was an actual talk show and not just a three-ring paternity testing circus. A girl from my hometown went on the show, to (get this) find out if her baby daddy was actually the father of her child. I bet the free trip to L.A., hotel accomidations, and $1,000 spending money more than made up for the embarrassment of making a fool out of yourself on national television. But who am I to judge.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
The Brink of Warm Insanity
Finals are over, classes have ended, and people are packing up and moving out of their dorms. I can see the anticipation in their faces as they spend all their unused Stars Cash buying boxes of overpriced Norwegian bottled water and as many bags of chips as their arms can carry. Everyone is trying to tie up the loose ends of their year before summer actually hits and they ship off to wherever they're headed for the next three months. Performing arts majors find summer jobs in the most interesting places--local community theaters, cruise ships, theme parks, opera companies, musical theater venues, Shakespeare in the Park. Some people are shelling out more money for additional training in summer music programs in places like Florida, Salzburg, and Spoleto, Italy. My thoughts on that: If you have the money, then by all means, go for it.
I spent my entire high school career doing stuff like that, so I'm taking a break this summer. As of now, I'm getting paid to be a temporary rehearsal accompanist for a community theater production of "Smokey Joe's Café." The music is relatively easy, and the pay is $15 per hour, with three-hour rehearsals five nights a week, including Saturday rehearsals from 1-5. I feel really blessed to be able to fall back on something that comes naturally to me, like playing piano. Everyone's in need of a good accompanist from time to time, and most are more than willing to pay. At the end of this month, I'm going to be moving upstate to live with my mom and sister and work at a restaurant where my mom works. She's already got a job lined out for me, apparently, and she says I'll be able to perform at different local venues, which will be nice, since I'm not doing any other sort of performing this summer. It's just going to be me, a piano, and a tip jar. What could be more beautiful than that?
Apart from the fact that school is out, other distinguishable traits of summer are popping up left and right. From the warm, sometimes abrasive rays of sunshine spewing down upon half-naked sunbathers lying poolside and oiled up from head to toe, to the extra sense of refreshment one gets when constant indoor air-conditioning cools sun-warmed skin, summer is slowly becoming more real. I'm actually wearing my swimsuit underneath my clothes as I type this.
People keep saying that they're so anxious to leave the school and go home, and I respect that. But I can't help assuming that after a couple languid summer weeks have passed, and all there is to do is sit and home and watch Vh1, people are going to want nothing more than to get back to school where all their friends are, where there's always another show to prepare your audition cuts for, where there's always an exam to be studied for. It's an insane life we lead, but we wouldn't have it any other way. It's summer's job to remind us of that.
I spent my entire high school career doing stuff like that, so I'm taking a break this summer. As of now, I'm getting paid to be a temporary rehearsal accompanist for a community theater production of "Smokey Joe's Café." The music is relatively easy, and the pay is $15 per hour, with three-hour rehearsals five nights a week, including Saturday rehearsals from 1-5. I feel really blessed to be able to fall back on something that comes naturally to me, like playing piano. Everyone's in need of a good accompanist from time to time, and most are more than willing to pay. At the end of this month, I'm going to be moving upstate to live with my mom and sister and work at a restaurant where my mom works. She's already got a job lined out for me, apparently, and she says I'll be able to perform at different local venues, which will be nice, since I'm not doing any other sort of performing this summer. It's just going to be me, a piano, and a tip jar. What could be more beautiful than that?
Apart from the fact that school is out, other distinguishable traits of summer are popping up left and right. From the warm, sometimes abrasive rays of sunshine spewing down upon half-naked sunbathers lying poolside and oiled up from head to toe, to the extra sense of refreshment one gets when constant indoor air-conditioning cools sun-warmed skin, summer is slowly becoming more real. I'm actually wearing my swimsuit underneath my clothes as I type this.
People keep saying that they're so anxious to leave the school and go home, and I respect that. But I can't help assuming that after a couple languid summer weeks have passed, and all there is to do is sit and home and watch Vh1, people are going to want nothing more than to get back to school where all their friends are, where there's always another show to prepare your audition cuts for, where there's always an exam to be studied for. It's an insane life we lead, but we wouldn't have it any other way. It's summer's job to remind us of that.
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