All I Want for Christmas is You (to Shut Up)

I'm more than a little angry about this one, so if I curse, you'll have to accept it and move on.  I've been an atheist for almost a decade now, so the concept of Christmas as a religious holiday means very little to me, outside of the fact that the Grinch is on TV fairly frequently.  So when I hear this talk of the "War on Christmas", (a term I believe to be copyrighted by Bill O'Reilly), I don't put much stock in it.  Apparently, there are actually people in this country who care whether or not a Christmas tree has a star on top of it and a manger underneath it.  Even worse, there are people who care whether or not a menorah is on display next to the Christmas tree.  Don't you have anything better to worry about?  I hear there's a couple of wars happening, with one brewing.  Also, shouldn't you be looking for a job since you probably are one of the millions of Americans without one?

Now, I can barely stand religion as it is, but my disgust is particularly poignant during this time of year.  

For all you lax-Catholics who think that going to church for midnight mass, Palm Sunday, and Easter Sunday makes you closer to the front of the line for the Rapture Express, stop kidding yourselves.  Going to Church three times a year (excluding weddings and funerals) doesn't even give you the RIGHT to be offended, let alone the OBLIGATION to be offended, when the Staten Island ferry removes its manger scene. 

Want to know what offends me??  As an atheist, I'm offended by your claiming the country I live in was founded on "Judeo-Christian Values" (a term I believe to be copyrighted by George W. Bush), because it wasn't, no matter how much you want that to be true.  Unfortunately, that's how facts work.  There is a pile of evidence that Thomas Jefferson himself was an atheist, and the oft-quoted statement, "The government of the United States was in no way founded upon the Christian religion," is attributed to none other than Captain America George Washington.  Instead of getting mad, how about you take that anger, turn the other cheek, and head to your local soup kitchen and experience those Judeo-Christian values of charity and selflessness first hand.

 

In New York City, there are countless letters being written to countless editors by countless Christmas curmudgeons who are offended, outraged, incensed, and (one would assume) hopping mad that such-and-such a store didn't say such-and-such a thing but instead said some other thing that wasn't the thing they wanted to hear.  How about this solution, chuckles: the next time someone says "Happy Holidays" why don't you just fucking pretend they said "Happy Hanukkah" or "Merry Christmas" instead? 

On the flip side, if someone says "Merry Christmas", don't start crying that you're Jewish or Buddhist or an atheist and that the person speaking to you should be sensitive to your particular situation.  There comes a point when this whiny sensitivity nonsense needs to stop and we, as a country and as a species, have clearly passed it.  Did it really hurt you that the cashier making minimum wage said "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas"?  Did it really hurt you enough to complain and get him or her fired?  Stop making issues out of things that aren't issues.  Trust me, you'll live longer.

And speaking of longer, since when did Christmas start before Halloween?  This has been well-documented so I won't dwell on it long, but riddle me this: who buys the most Christmas presents?  Christians.  Who are the most easily offended by the stores at which they purchase those presents?  Christians.  You can't have your faith and wrap it in a box to give to your wife too.  If the stores offend you that badly, hit them where it hurts the most and stop shopping there.  Besides, you really shouldn't be buying your spouse a $10,000 diamond for Christmas unless you ROYALLY fucked up this past year.  I thought this season was about celebrating the birth of Jesus (who, by the by, was probably born in the spring)?  If you want to get back to the true meaning of Christmas, you need to stop thinking like a capitalist and start thinking like a Christian.  When that happens, remember what I said earlier about soup kitchens.

At the end of the day the "holiday season" is whatever you want it to be.  Personally, I just enjoy the lights, the decorations, the occasional snow, the TV shows, the hot chocolate, the trees, the ornaments, the stockings, the candles, the colors, and the idea of spending two days with people I love.  So why should I care what you call it?  Call it the holidays, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, whatever.  And wish me a happy whatever you want, because odds are I will be happy, and whatever sentiment you extend to me, I'll return in kind.  Remember that the next time you yell at me for wishing you a Merry Christmas because you're Jewish. 

The Metal Master Class, Part 1

I get lots of comments from my students and coworkers regarding metal.  "Adam, how can we be as metal as you?"  "Adam, why are you such an arrogant prick?" "Adam, what the hell is your problem?"  "Adam, can you please turn down your amp?  I'm trying to teach 'Frolic' in here."

Heavy metal is quite possibly the 3rd most pretentious form of music behind classical and jazz.  Its fans are as rabid and knowledgeable about its artists, and are more than willing to put down every other form of music.  But the difference with metal is that the majority of metal fans can (and do) actually attempt to play it with minimal training.  So without further ado, I present this metal primer, largely inspired by a future angel of metal.  Use your new-found powers only for evil.

METAL 101

1) Everything sucks.

2) It wasn't fast enough.

3) It wasn't loud enough.

4) They're playing it wrong.  If they're playing it right, you play it better.  And faster.

5) There weren't enough guitar solos.

6) Megadeth is better than Metallica.  No exceptions.

7) Do as Manowar says AND as Manowar does.

MANOWAR COROLLARY A) Rock, don't pose.
MANOWAR COROLLARY B) Do not wear cracker-jack clothes.

8)  There is no middle voice.  Your vocal options are Rob Halford or Chuck Schuldiner.  Anything else sucks.

9) There's no crying in metal, unless your tears are made of blood (your own or someone else's). 

10) Those that try and don't survive don't hit, 'cause they're wimps.

11) It's not a "venue".  It's a "hall".  And if you're not into metal, you can leave it.

12) The proper stance for metal musicians watching other metal musicians is arms folded across your chest, with a smug look of disdain on your face, especially during a solo by whatever instrument you play.

EXCLUSION CLAUSE: Rule 12 does not apply if you are a drummer watching Richard Christy, a guitar player watching Marty Friedman, or a bass player watching Steve Harris. 

13) Emphasize T's in words, especially meTal.

14) BE ABLE TO READ MUSIC.  In case someone tries to prove that old joke about a rock musician and his or her volume, you can shock the hell out of them when you rip through a single-voice "Ode to Joy" with both the gain and volume on 10.  And the metronome on 208.  

15) Be able to hold your liquor (21+ only).  Puking is NOT metal, sobbing is NOT metal, and trying to lead a slurred sing-along of "Sweet Home Alabama" is CERTAINLY not metal.   

16) For all situations not covered by this list, refer to rule 7. 

If you follow these rules, you will succeed in your dream of becoming meTal, and in so doing add to my ever-growing army of the undead. Feel free to suggest additions, even though they'll suck.

Don't Yous Gets No Idears

Unfortunately for pretty much every single person that knows me, two of my favorite discussion topics are politics and religion.  Now, everyone knows the taboo regarding such discussions.  Apparently it's something that shouldn't be done, even amongst friends.  When did this development occur?  I'm fairly certain that America exists because a bunch of rich men, including an author/inventor, a slave-owning tobacco farmer, and a career military man sat around one day smoking hemp and discussing the current political structure of their little system of colonies.  So why, when I bring up the current political structures, do I get a sea of nervous faces, or, occasionally, angry rebukes?  It seems to my somewhat-paranoid brain that this social taboo is part of an effort to reduce intelligent debate that may or may not be critical of entrenched world power structures.  Or, to cleverly reference my own title, "they don't wants us gettin' no idears." 

I think this conclusion is best illustrated by the rampant anti-intellectualism and gradual dumbing-down of people in the United States.  We rank below the top 20 in world-wide education, and that includes K-12 Math and Science (48th, USA Today 9/26/10), Literacy (21st, UN Literacy Report 2009), and Medical Science (37th, WHO 2000).  Even scarier is the fact that, ranked above us on these lists, are countries including Cambodia, Colombia, Malaysia, Slovenia, Chile, Indonesia, etc.  These are countries with notoriously restrictive political regimes, and, in our supposedly free society, education is apparently highly discouraged.  Or, more precisely, the application of education to question/critique the government in a public setting among strangers or friends is highly discouraged. 

Of course, I'm not saying one need be highly educated to discuss politics.  In fact, the opposite is true.  If something the government is doing feels wrong, then it probably is.  Yet the taboo prevents us from piping up amongst our brethren.  It stops us from attempting to organize!  If at a bar I decide to say, "You know what bothers me?  This whole stupid healthcare reform bill that Obama pushed through Congress instead of creating jobs.  It doesn't even work!", the most common response will be "Yeah man, it sucks but what are we gonna do?  Besides, we're drinking, there's no room for that kinda stuff now."  Then we return to watching the Yankees or Giants while I sit there seething. 

My politics are no secret.  If you're reading this, you probably know where I stand on most current issues.  But for posterity's sake, let me say this: I love the Tea Party.  I'll repeat that in case you fainted.  I love the Tea Party.  Now, I hate their message, and I hate their leaders, and I vehemently disagree with almost every single person who belongs to it.  But they organized.  They were unhappy with the government, and they all discussed it, and they all organized.  They ignored the taboo because enough was enough in their eyes.  They rallied behind common leaders and a semi-common message, and managed to get their candidates through a primary against comically-entrenched incumbent Republicans. 

That's the kind of thing that happens when people discuss politics.  They tend to organize and group under a banner, which is a scary thing for an entrenched power structure to witness.  After all, governments are, ideally, beholden to the social contract.  If a government's people aren't happy, that government shouldn't be happy.  I'll go one further and say that if a government's people aren't happy, that government should be scared.  The unwritten social taboo that forbids discussion of politics in public settings, with friends or strangers, needs to go the way of other, similarly-dangerous social taboos, such as women working or men being allowed to hit their wives or people with AIDS being forbidden from drinking at water fountains.  It's common sense that politics are important in each of our lives, and the free exchange of ideas via political debates amongst friends shouldn't fall victim to the culture of stupidity.

Then again, a big part of what I seek rests on people's ability to agree to disagree sometimes.  Maybe this isn't such a hot idear after all...

"Do You Actually Like that Shit?"

The title of today's rather brief musings comes verbatim from a friend of mine who posed that question to me last night.  He was wondering, in that slightly arrogant but unpretentious way of his, if teaching guitar was really musically satisfying to me.  With the annual rock concert looming on the horizon (i.e., tomorrow), I can unequivocally answer that with an emphatic "yes." 

One of the nice things about being pretentious is that you feel a sort of responsibility to back your mouth up.  In my case, that involves being able to discuss French intellectualism while simultaneously ripping a guitar solo.  Even better than that, though, is the fact that I get paid to teach other people how to rip solos too.  How can that NOT be musically satisfying?  The feeling I get when a student lights up with that "Eureeka!" moment is completely unmatched.  It's the culmination of countless hours of lesson preparation and execution on my part alongside diligent practice on the student's part, and his or her ascension to the next level of musicianship is just the coolest thing ever.  You can actually see the fire inside them burn brighter, and you know you've just created a monster.

Of course, it's not all happy-fun-sunshine-time when teaching.  Let's face it: there are some people who have no business picking up a musical instrument, and they are only there to kill time or because their parents are forcing them to go.  HOWEVER, the flip-side of that down-side is when you actually manage to break through to one of those lunatics and they start to get just how awesome music can be.  When the kid who's hated music and lessons for 3 months all of a sudden improves by leaps and bounds and starts asking for more homework, I feel the same teacher-pride as when the naturals finally master that Bach piece or the bridge from whatever ridiculous prog-metal epic they asked me to transcribe. 

And before you try to out-pretentious me and tell me music students shouldn't be learning prog-metal and instead should be focusing on classical/jazz/theory/technique/whatever stupid thing you think is most important, believe me when I say that music itself is the most important thing that a music teacher should teach.  And that's why this job is so deeply satisfying to me.  If I accomplish absolutely nothing else in my life (perhaps as a result of a tragic lawnmower accident), I know that I've inspired more than a few kids to love and share music.  That isn't an arrogance thing either, just in case you were wondering.  Both kids and parents have approached me and thanked me for bringing music into their lives, and unlike most other times I say this phrase, I can honestly say it was both my pleasure and privilege to do so. 

Addendum to "Love the Ones You're With"

After some constructive and not-so-constructive criticism, I have decided to post an addendum to my previous blog.  It will be in list form, and it will contain of couple of items, "musical party fouls", if you will, suggested by my musical brethren.  Even though I repeatedly explained to them that this wasn't a list of musical party fouls, and was instead a heartfelt plea for people to enjoy music again, they nonetheless demanded contributions.  So without further ado:

1) "Don't criticize people that are better than you"

I'd like to alter this a bit and instead of using "better", which is far too subjective, I will discuss criticizing people who are more successful than you.  Success is still subjective, but certainly less so that "better".  We have concrete measures of success in the real world (yes, music takes place in the real world, not the hippy-artsy world of feelings and inspiration).  For example, are you an emmy-winning writer/producer of TV theme songs?  Then you're more successful than I am at the moment.  Do you gig 6 out of 7 nights in the week, and some afternoon gigs as well?  Then you are more successful than someone who only plays every other Friday.  Have you been able to purchase a house, car, or support a family solely through musical income?  Then you are more successful than a hobbyist who plays for extra spending money.  Do you own a production company?  Receive endorsements from major musical companies?  Score films?  Then odds are you're more successful than someone who doesn't. 

I'm not saying to live and die by what successful musicians think.  All I'm saying is show some respect, and give credit where credit is due.  After all, they're probably successful for very good reasons, and maybe, just maybe, you could learn something from them. 

2)  Don't ask us to work for free.

This is the one that makes me angry, and it makes pretty much every musician I know angry.  Would you ask a carpenter to build you a bookshelf for free?  Would you ask a lawyer to defend you in court for free?  If you answered no, then stop asking me to play free gigs "because this guy will be there", "for your art", or "because we've been friends for years".  In fact, the only reason to ever ask a musician to play a free gig is if it will be GUARANTEED to lead to multiple future paying gigs (showcases fall into this category).  Charity shows are different.  In those cases we are donating our time to help a great cause, and hopefully bringing out even more people to help that great cause.  But it's an insult if you think that I do this purely for fun, because I (and countless others) worked very hard to be able to be proficient enough to even play decently on stage.

Furthermore, just because we're at a party and you have an acoustic guitar doesn't mean I want to play and entertain you and your friends.  And while I'm at it, DON'T ASK ME FOR FREE LESSONS.  I don't care that I've known you for 15 years, or that you've always wanted to learn guitar and it's been a dream since you were 6.  If you ask me for a lesson, offer to pay.  If I refuse (and I probably will refuse money for one-off or sporadic lessons for a friend), then it's all well and good.  But offer.  Or offer to do something else in return for lessons, such as painting my house or fixing my car. 

Prime example: my dog needed medicine, and the vet wanted guitar lessons.  2 one-hour lessons to pay for my dog's allergy medicine?  Sold.  He probably didn't even have to pay for the medicine himself, so he essentially got 2 scott-free lessons, but that isn't the point.  We exchanged service for service.  God bless America.

In the end, my lesson rates are $50 per hour, so buying me lunch won't cut it, walking my dog won't cut it, and expecting me to do it for free just because I know you will CERTAINLY not cut it.  A night out at the strip club?  Now you're getting somewhere.

3) It's more fun playing music with kids than with professionals.

This one is kind of a no-brainer but I feel it has to be said, and is a synthesis of my experience and the musings of my friend who is in the same boat. 

I fought desperately against participating in the House of Music rock show this year because of school.  Then I went to the first rehearsal, and it was amazing, and I realized how good a time these kids have playing rock music through loud half-stacks.  So I got sucked right back into the madness.  I'm now running something like 10 songs, and all of them are just ridiculously good (yes, even Aces High).  The point is that these kids are exactly the opposite of what I wrote about in my last blog.  They are excited, smiling, prepared, cohesive, and professional.  They've done their homework, don't complain about being at rehearsal, and when we finish, THEY ACTUALLY WANT TO PLAY MORE.  Wow!

And for some of them, this is their 3rd or 4th rock show, and their 20th gig.  They are by no means completely green.  Yet they still have that divine spark, that passion for music that at some point most of us lost.  Playing Bad Romance with a group of teenagers (who learned it better and faster than the band I actually play it with) and Sir Duke with a 10 year old singer who owned the song (but also displayed the beginnings of Diva-ism) rekindled something in me, and I hope it continues every week.  

So there you have it, the three big additions that my friends and colleagues requested I add.  Anything else, you folks know where to find me.

Love the Ones You're With

NOTE:  Though my music is hardly relevant to a blog dealing with my academic life, do me a favor and shut up about that fact. 

DISCLAIMER: Don't be offended by anything I say here.  This is a collection of problems that have been building up for the past couple of years.  If you think I'm referring to you, I'm probably not.  But some introspection probably couldn't hurt either.  

Anyone who's known me for more than fifteen minutes knows that music is a massive part of my life.  It's the profession by which I make 90% of my money, and to which I've dedicated approximately 50% of the time I've spent on earth.  Music has cost me 13 years, thousands of dollars, and a minimum of one (1) relationship.  In fact, I am entirely positive that I would be finishing my Ph.D. this spring if I didn't take a few years off to pursue that whole rockstar dream and in the process become much better at my instrument, the concept of music as a profession, marketing, and panhandling.  

Recently though, I've become disillusioned with everything I do musically (not the first time this has happened).  I'm not bored, per se, but I am certainly feeling like I'm spinning my wheels.  I gig more often than ever, and am learning more songs than ever, but the creeping feelings of inferiority are getting stronger, and the people with whom I'm closest musically seem to be starting to hate what we do.

Allow me to explain.  You see, I'm not very good at guitar.  Ok, that's a lie.  I am a good player in that I can physically find my way around the instrument.  I have an intimate knowledge of harmony and I'm not limited to one or two styles of music.  I'm by no means the most versatile guy out there, but in my opinion (feel free to dispute this privately if you wish), I can hold my own on any gig with any players.  While I may not floor the audience I certainly won't embarrass the band in any way (except for isolated incidents where I hit a Bb instead of an Eb in Purple Rain...ahboo).  I can be technical, I can be loose, but I certainly don't have the chops, the improvisational skills, or the catalog of some people out there.

What I do have, and, consequently, why I think I get hired consistently over people who are either better players or better singers (or both), are a very particular set of skills a feverish enthusiasm, intense loyalty, and fervent passion for music, my bandmates, and guitar itself, regardless of what is being played on the gig.  I will play and sing anything (or try to, at least) to the best of my ability, whether I like the song or not, because it's both my job and my love.  I also have a very good ear and an above-average memory for arrangements. 

All of this is just to say that while I may not be the best, I will do MY best to make YOU sound better.  I'll also show up with a positive attitude, ready to work, and committed to the gig or rehearsal.  Out of the countless rehearsals I've done, I can count on one hand the amount of times I've shown up actually (not perceived to be) unprepared, and even those times I've only been semi-unprepared.

Furthermore, I can always be counted on for a successful gig.  If I'm not prepared at a rehearsal, the rest of the band rarely comments on that because they know I'll be more than prepared for the gig.  I can only point to one occasion where a band member chewed me out at rehearsal for a lack of preparation, and, in his words, it was "because I sort of expect a certain level from you and it was weird that you weren't there tonight".  Then we got drunk and two days later played a ridiculously awesome gig.

So what does any of that have to do with other musicians?  It boils down to the fact that recently many musicians I know seem jaded and disillusioned, frustrated that they aren't more successful or better known or being asked to play bigger gigs.  Worse than that, it comes out in stage behavior.  I see people play, or am playing with them, and they are quite clearly not having a very good time.  And worst of all, I get the feeling that at least one of them is going to leave music behind entirely and pursue a "real job" simply because the person feels it's time to "grow up".  Really?  Personally, I've invested far too much effort in my musicianship to quit entirely, and I can't imagine anyone at that level wanting to completely back out. 

It's really tough to show up to a rehearsal or gig slightly giddy and smiling only to have everyone else in the room look at me like I'm some kind of moron for actually wanting to be there.  Maybe it actually is me, maybe I am the idiot for loving playing.  I certainly feel like it more often than not.  Is it wrong that I sort of want to be friends with the people with whom I play music?  Is it wrong for me to be in it for both money and fun?  Is it wrong for me to be slightly nervous at gig because I'm not SO hardcore pro that I think I'll be amazing no matter what (the "I Got It" syndrome)?

Or, maybe, the answer is that I'm just not good enough to hang with the "real players", that enthusiasm, passion, slightly above-average talent, and love of music can only take me so far before you'd rather have a jerkoff on the gig who hates you, hates rehearsing, hates the music you play, and is only there for a paycheck.  He or she WILL floor the audience with his or her grasp of the instrument, but will also play with charts, sit away from the band, look miserable, and fly out of the place as soon as the gig is over. And good luck getting that person to ever return the favor by throwing you a gig. 

Of course, there's sarcasm there.  The most talented "real players" I've ever played with are also the most humble and most excited.  They mess up sometimes, and are slightly nervous like me, but they carry themselves with the same passion and enthusiasm that I like to think I do.  And I'd like to be them someday.  All I'm missing is the 20 years of experience and practice they have on me.

Either way, I'm tired of smiling.  I'm tired of being happy to play music when no one else is.  I'm tired of being grateful and happy for every gig thrown to me when others act like they deserve the gig just for being the amazing musician they are (protip: they don't).  I'm tired of the "I Got It" syndrome.  I'm tired of booking gigs only to have three people tell me they'd rather not play that weekend because they want to go on a picnic or read comic books.  I'm tired of clearing six days of my schedule for a rehearsal only to have someone tell me that they need to have the rehearsal on the only day of the week I can't do because the rest of the band refuses to inconvenience themselves.  Then, when I blow off my previous engagement and show up to that rehearsal anyway, everyone else there is either miserable or unprepared. 

The bottom line is that if what I believe is true, that my passion and enthusiasm get me hired more so than my playing ability, and both of those things are slipping away because it sucks being the only interested person in the room, then music is about to become a very poor career.  Unfortunately, it's getting harder and harder to be excited to play music when everyone around me exudes apathy towards it.  Being happy to play music is becoming more work than the learning and playing itself, and I don't know what the solution to this problem can be.

I Owe My Soul To The College Bookstore

Just a short little blurb today about the crushing student loan debt I suffer under daily.

The skyrocketing cost of college is simply out of control, but this isn't news.  What bothers me is that I'm going to be in debt for the rest of my life because my parents didn't make plans for me to attend college, or weren't rich enough to afford tuition out of pocket.  And people have the brass balls to say that higher education isn't elitist?  My loan bills are proof of the contrary. 

Now, I'm someone who received greater than 90% scholarships, and I STILL owe more than $20,000 in loans, due to book prices, lab fees, "the dean needs a new Mercedes" tax, etc.  Furthermore, I needed loans to finance my graduate education, and guess what?  More than half of those loans are unsubsidized.  If you don't know what that means, you're one of millions. 

What an "unsubsidized loan" means, in a nutshell, is that while you are not required to make payments while you are enrolled in school, you accrue interest.  So if you borrow $5000, and go to school for 2 years, you'll end up paying back roughly $6250 at roughly 9% interest.  The best part?  I say "roughly" because the interest is added to the total amount of the loan, so after 1 year you are no longer paying interest on $5000, but on $5450.  After year 2, you're paying interest on $5900.  Did we go to college in order to not recognize a scam when we see one? 

Something has to give in order for Americans to pursue higher education, especially with the job market in ruins.  I've heard the argument that higher education is a privilege, not a right, and I couldn't disagree more.  We continually wonder why the EU and the UK and Japan and China and Korea consistently outrank us in nearly all educational categories.  The answer is as plain as the "Property of Sallie Mae" tattooed across my forehead.

Twin Tragedies: Thoughts on 9/11

The 9th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks is right around the corner, and, as some of my friends have accused me of being grossly insensitive regarding the issue, I feel the need to clarify precisely how I feel about it (also I love semi-publishing my opinions).  While the attacks were a national tragedy the likes of which I hope to never see again, the use of those attacks as an excuse is an even larger tragedy that began on 9/12/01 and continues to this day.

Like pretty much everyone who lives in the tri-state area, I remember precisely where I was nine years ago.  It was a Tuesday morning, and I was a freshman at Wagner College, sitting in Music Theory class.  The professor heard what had happened, and informed us that he would not be ending his class early but anyone who wanted to leave was free to go with no penalty.  I stayed for two reasons: first, I'm a music nerd.  Secondly, I was unable to grasp the enormity of what happened because I didn't see the images on television like many, many others had. 

When the class ended, I made my way to the parking lot.  People were literally running to the highest point of the campus (which I had to walk through to get to the parking lot) to see what they could see.  When I looked and saw the massive plumes of smoke rising from downtown Manhattan, it still didn't hit that something very bad had happened.  I made my way home to find my mother and close friend glued to the television, saying a second plane had just crashed into the towers, another hit the pentagon, a fourth crashed in PA, and that this was obviously some sort of attack that rivaled Pearl Harbor.

The next few hours sort of went by in a blur, but I imagine it's a similar story to thousands, if not millions, of others.

We eventually found out a close family friend, who I called Uncle, was killed (he was a firefighter, part of the very first company to arrive at the towers).  I add this line just as a buffer to what I'm about to say.

Nine years, two wars, two presidents, 5696 dead and 50k+ wounded soldiers later, I look and listen to find that the national character has been seemingly irreversibly damaged by this event.  Politicians use 9/11 as fodder for false patriotism while religious leaders use it to call for contemporary crusades.  The attacks have been cited to support institutional racism, they've been used by con-artists to prey upon the good will of our neighbors, and they were used by the federal government to justify espionage against its own citizens.

George W. Bush allowed the FBI to quite literally spy on whomever they wanted, and Barack Obama spends the first year of his presidency further ruining healthcare while 9/11 aid workers suffer and die from a myriad of lung ailments because they are not entitled to proper care under either the current healthcare system OR Obama's version of the same thing.

George W. Bush sends our nation into an unnecessary war based on non-existent WMDs then prematurely ejaculates all over an aircraft carrier declares mission accomplished.  Barack Obama announces the end of combat operations while leaving 50000 troops in harm's way in Iraq.  Furthermore, Obama gives our troops a deadline in Afghanistan, which is closer to the source of the problem than Iraq, but doesn't give them any better equipment to reach their goals because he's too busy spending money on anything other than our soldiers.

Our nation, a nation "conceived in liberty", is mired in partisan politics and feelings of anti-Islam and xenophobia (I hate the word Islamophobia, because it implies fear instead of hatred).  The partisan politics are a direct cause of Islamic hatred, and that's where the damage to our national character is most pronounced.  I'm of the opinion that people desperately want to move on from 9/11.  They want to remember their loved ones, and they have the right to be angry when remembering that those loved ones were cruelly taken away far too early.  But they also want to keep on keeping on, to remember the events in their own ways and do the best they can to honor those who perished by living full, productive lives.  Yet how can we move on when both of the major political parties in the country use 9/11 to justify whatever asinine policies they're introducing at the moment?  How can we move on when the media constantly reminds us that Muslims are the THEM to our US? 

The most relevant issue that reflects this obsession right now is the community center being built blocks away from the WTC site.  Dozens upon dozens of stories about the imam in charge are being printed in countless newspapers across the country and documented by several tv news shows.  There is no fine line between camps either, no one espousing moderate solutions.  All sorts of politicians are weighing in, even those who ruined their careers by driving drunk from their mistress' house in Virginia where they saw the child they fathered with that mistress, and those who make more money by breathing than most of us do by working 90 hours per week.  All sorts of pundits are weighing in, even those who have been busted for outright lying on several occasions and those who compare themselves to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. even though they base their oratory in fear-mongering instead of brotherhood.  And we all watch, and listen, and agree with one side or the other because they say that these are the only two opinions we can logically have.  After all, it's much easier to live when other people think for us.

Why is an interfaith community center that will be built blocks away from ground zero even in the news?  Why aren't we concerned that a democratic congress GOT ABSOLUTELY NOTHING DONE WITH A FILIBUSTER-PROOF MAJORITY?  Why aren't we concerned that OUR UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IS ALMOST 10%?  Why aren't we concerned that CEOs who run companies into the ground RECEIVE MULTIMILLION DOLLAR SEVERANCE PACKAGES WHILE ELDERLY PEOPLE WHO WORKED THEIR WHOLE LIVES LOSE THEIR HOMES?? Why are we supporting a religious leader WHO WANTS TO BURN BOOKS??  WHY AM I SHOUTING SO MUCH?

It's because I remember how I felt on 9/10/01, and it's largely the same as I feel on 9/9/10.  And more pertinent to what I'm really railing against, I'm shouting because in being sensitive to the survivors of 9/11 victims, we are forgetting that on 9/10/01 we were a more inclusive, tolerant society.

It seems to me that this country learned absolutely nothing from these attacks except how to more efficiently hate a culture that's different from ours because a bunch of people on tv and another bunch on Capitol Hill say that it's the American way of thinking.  Glenn Beck, Keith Olbermann, Nancy Pelosi, Mitt Romney, Mike Bloomberg, Sarah Palin, John McCain, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama should not be allowed to make up your mind for you.  We are on the verge of tolerating institutional racism again. 

It's not un-American to think it's ok for Muslims to worship where they want.  It's not un-American to think that it's not ok for the FBI to wiretap you because they got a tip that there was a sleeper cell operation within a 1200 mile radius of your home.

And it's certainly not un-American to believe that 9/11, as enormous a tragedy as it was, has run its course as an excuse for the federal government and the media to tell you how to think and how to behave, to tell you which policies to support and which to dislike, to tell you which religion to support and which religion to hate.

"Before you seek revenge, dig two graves." -- Confucius

And So It Begins

Aside from the fact that my two-way commute turned out to be longer than both of my classes combined, I would say my first week at Hunter was a resounding success (prophetically speaking, anyway). 

First, some background of the past month: right after the band camp debacle, something snapped in my brain and reminded me why I used to love psychology.  So I spent the remainder of August reading every book I had on the topic.  Since most of them are text books, I got through two (a survey book for an intro course and Cozby's Methods in Behavioral Research, if you must know).  In addition to that I spent a rather large amount of time trolling PsycINFO and JSTOR for any research articles I felt I could grasp (not many, but enough). 

Furthermore, I'm in the process of starting up a new agency-level band while maintaining my gigs with the 3 Staten Island-based bands with which I'm currently involved (Roundhouse Kick, The Bad Mouth Betties, and Weird Science).  This means I needed to find time to learn tons of new material, maintain my chops, put together set lists, perform, teach, and deal with bar owners.  Even still, as Homer (Simpson) would say, "I still managed to fit in 8 hours of TV a day."

Following from these snippets of my mental and musical activities recently, English literature was quite possibly the furthest thing from my mind as I got off the bus a full ten city blocks from Hunter and began the trek. 

Monday's class was "The Comic Alternative", featuring Professor Persky (hope I spelled that right).  It was really, truly interesting how he chose to run his class, and quite different from anything I've ever experienced.  He does not want to give any exams, and would prefer to NOT have us write a paper.  He wants to base our entire grade on class participation alone, which is perfect for someone who loves the sound of their own voice (i.e. me).  Of course, if no one participates, he is going to give multiple exams and include a paper in order to see where we stand on the topics raised.

More importantly, though, is that he seems to be interested in finding comedy elements in non-traditional comedies, including (but not limited to) "The Iliad", "The Odyssey", and the New Testament.  Yes, friends, Professor Persky considers the New Testament to contain elements of classical comedy...I like him already.  He's also rather noticeably brilliant, able to recall passages of Aristotle (in Greek) without notes.  And speaking of Aristotle, I'm going to run into him and good ol' Plato again this semester.  Somewhere, Dr. Danisi is smiling (forgive the inside joke).

Today's class was far more traditional...three short papers, one medium, one long blah blah Milton blah Paradise Lost blah blah sonnets blah England.  Or so it might have been, had not Professor Greenberg been more excited to teach this course than anyone I've ever seen anywhere for any reason (keeping in mind I've been to both Disneyland AND Disney World).  Her enthusiasm literally shocked me, because a good 90% of people I've met in graduate school (professors and students) are some combination of jaded, miserable, and holier-than-thou.  She actually made me WANT to read Paradise Lost (now seems as good a time as any to say that I never made it past Book IV this summer), just to see if maybe I can share in a bit of that happiness.  We engaged in a bit of discussion on Sonnet XIX, which she considers a "mini- Paradise Lost", a judgment I share thanks to her rather convincing explanation.  Overall, a second class that interests me greatly.

So Hunter in week one is 2/2.  Both professors actually have me interested in their material, and, above all, THEY ARE INTERESTED IN OUR INTEREST.  There's still a long way to go, but hey, we're off to a good start. 

Jim Morrison Is Dead, Long Live Jim Morrison

I am officially less than a month away from the start of the semester, and couldn't be more excited.  Sure, there's a tinge of nervousness in there, but overall, I'm very much looking forward to beginning classes at Hunter (not to mention FINALLY being able to have an opinion on commuting)!

Most of my July was spent teaching the summer band camp, which is approximately 100% more fun than it sounds.  This isn't your typical marching band camp.  Our students are thrown together in rock and roll bands and have three weeks to prepare for a gig.  Awesome, huh?  A sampling of my students' band's set list: Holy Diver, Heart-Shaed Box, Evenflow, Footloose, and Chop Suey.  I defy you to find me a summer band camp with a more bad-ass list of tunes.  I'll wait.

........

........

........

That's what I thought.  You can't do it.

The kids were amazing, wonderful, impressive, and other such adjectives.  They were dedicated and spent a good deal of their free summer vacation time rehearsing and practicing.  It was all worth it in the end when they put on a rocking, controversy-free show.

Just kidding!!!!

The kids chose a song called American Idiot, by Green Day, released at the height of George W. Bush's administration (and I stress that the KIDS CHOSE THE SONGS).  The song contains two lines that could be considered controversial:

1)  "Subliminal mindfuck America"

2)  "Maybe I'm the faggot America"

Should I have allowed the kids to even do that song, knowing it might offend listeners?  Yes.  I am NOT in the business of censoring art in any way, shape, or form.  Furthermore, the history of rock and roll's involvement in activism can't and shouldn't be ignored.  My politics aside, I have zero problem with the message of any song, unless that song incites violence or bigotry.  There is nothing bigoted or violent about "mindfuck", and the word "faggot" in this context is used as a counterpoint to the later line "I'm not a part of a redneck agenda".

That being said, I asked the singer (who is 14) to alter the words, since there would be children in the audience and I would rather not have them running around screaming "mindfuck" or "faggot".  Having done the song in the past with kids of that age who had no issue altering the words, I left well enough alone and went on with my rehearsals.

Long story longer, at the gig, the singer did not alter the words, and, from what I understand, two elderly people were upset and complained to the person in charge (not me).  Now, here's the kicker.  The woman who complained was not upset by "mindfuck", or even the fact that the singer altered the emphasis so it became "mind- FUCK AMERICA" instead of "mindfuck America".  The elderly people were upset by the concept of a 14 year old using such language, which, though I disagree, is a completely rational position.

Quote from the sweet elderly woman with whom I spoke:  "I understand I'm not a part of this generation, and that these kids have a different worldview than I had and have!  I don't have a problem with the message, I just think it's a bit inappropriate for a 14 year old to use such language with kids around!"

She was also smiling when she said that, and thanked me for the great job I did with all the kids.  I apologized that she was offended (but NOT for what the singer said), she told me not to worry about it, and we both went on our merry way, elated that the kids had such a great time playing music. 

You see, dear readers, structuring an argument in that manner allows for both sides to feel that their opinions are valid.  When I saw her waiting for me I fully expected to be blasted again (having already been blasted moments before by the person whose name was attached to the camp), and she completely disarmed me by appreciating where the kids were coming from, even though she disagreed.  I thought I was going to need to explain that art shouldn't be censored, that kids have minds and opinions of their own, etc., and she anticipated and answered all of my arguments before I even made them with one sentence of wisdom that only a lifetime of experiences can provide.

What could have turned into a second shouting match instead reinforced what the band camp was all about: kids exploring their own musical ideas, studying the musical ideas of others, and understanding that music, even when it's controversial, provides a way for people to come together and appreciate each others' points of view.  I learned just as much from this scenario as the kids learned during the 3 weeks of camp (at least I hope they learned something).

Now all I have to do is understand why no one had a problem with the word "faggot", which, to me, is FAR more offensive than "mindfuck America" or "mind FUCK AMERICA".

Addendum to "State of New York VS. Intelligence

A local newspaper printed a story discussing grade inflation in the NYC Public School system. 
http://www.silive.com/news/index.ssf/2010/07/study_hits_grade_inflation_in.html

On Creating the Heavens and the Earth

When I was a child, I was always upset that I couldn't draw well.  I had all sorts of incredible pictures in my mind.  Vast fantasy landscapes with multicolored, talking trees, monsters, superheroes, and a myriad other crazy concepts floated through my brain (and this was WAY before I even knew what drugs were).  Alas, no matter how hard I tried I could never get the pencils to do what I wanted, and so every single thing I ever drew ended up as a wadded up ball of paper in a trash can.

Then, enlightening struck.  At some point just before high school, I realized I could use words to draw the scenes I had experienced as a child, and immediately began flirting with creative writing.  Before I had a computer, I would spend hours with my mom's old electric typewriter, frantically churning out page after page of my soon-to-be fantasy epic until I ran out of correction tape and had to white everything out by hand.  I knew that if I could just get it finished, I would rival Tolkien and Lovecraft as creators, and, like them, be a god in a universe of my design.

However, right around that time I discovered the guitar, and everything creative that was non-musical went bye-bye for the next eight years.

Flash forward:  It's the start of my sophomore year at Wagner College.  I'm still playing guitar relentlessly, and reading voraciously.  I had just switched majors from Behavioral Psychology to English Literature because I refused to experiment on hermit crabs (I kept them as pets and loved them.  Also, I don't need to make animals do what I want them to do to get my rocks off).  Throwing myself deep into the bogs of critical theory, I all but forgot about creative writing and focused instead on unwrapping and analyzing other authors' universes.

Here's the kicker: I find the acts of analyzing literature and writing critical pieces to be on par, creatively, with writing fiction, or poetry, or music.  It is certainly a different breed of creativity, but it is nevertheless brought about through the creative process.  While I might not be creating my own world in which my original characters live and think and act, I am without a doubt composing an original argument consisting of ideas that are completely mine.  These new ideas relate to either the literary work itself or an earlier critical piece with which I intend to disagree, and the creativity comes into play  when I begin toying with those ideas to see how they fit into the universe created by the author whose work I'm studying. 


I've been told quite a few times that being a literary critic is uncreative, and that being a literature professor is mainly a job for failed writers.  First of all, I'm a failed musician, get it right.  Secondly, the notion that constructing a critical argument using original ideas is somehow uncreative is both asinine and insulting.  Third, insinuating that a college professors, who routinely present papers filled with original research at academic conferences around the country and world, lead "uncreative" lives is beyond absurd. 

The bottom line is that being able to spot, analyze, discuss, and understand the behavioral patterns of characters in a novel or how a poem's meter reveals different linguistic or literary conventions of a given time period without doubt qualifies as creative.  Taking it one step further and writing about your discoveries so others can argue, discuss, and further your arguments is akin to writing the fantasy novel I always dreamed of drawing.

Who Do I Think I Am?

It struck me that I've made an introductory post, an anti-government post, and a chocolaty post about Milton without ever mentioning what gives me the balls to do this.  So I'll use this post to talk briefly about my favorite subject: myself. 

As the little blurb at the top-right of my page indicates, I am a full-time musician, a full-time graduate student, and a part-time teacher (though tutor is probably the better word, it sounds less professional).  Musically, I play guitar and bass in a few different bands.  But that isn't really relevant to this particular blog.

No no friends, what IS relevant is my academic past which will hopefully lead me headlong into my academic future.  I received a BA in English Literature from Wagner College, a small liberal arts college in Staten Island, NY.  Feel free to ask details, but suffice to say I did very well because my professors nurtured the particular interests I had in literature at the time, and as such allowed me to dive deeply into a couple of research projects of my own choosing. 

After graduation I took a couple of years off to achieve my dream of being a rock star.  Having met Dave Mustaine of Megadeth at a McDonald's in California, I considered my goal fulfilled and decided to return to school to pursue my slightly less realistic dream of achieving a Ph.D and a career in higher education.  

I took the required tests (GRE General and Subject Test in Literature in English) and did extremely well on one and not so extremely well on the other (I'll let you decide which is which), resulting in a hearty chorus of "Thanks but no thanks" from every single Ph.D. to which I applied.  I spun into a spiral of depression, drinking nearly three cases of Coca-Cola per week while raiding Illidan the Betrayer repeatedly.  I also studied Shaolin Kung Fu, in case Illidan or Kil'Jaeden ever became real.  Fortunately for them, they remained in Azeroth.  Realizing that my senseless beating of bricks was getting my career nowhere, I once again dove into school.


I decided to start smaller, and began pursuing an MA at CUNY College of Staten Island.  Two years and $5000 of debt later, I realized that there was no way I could succeed at a school whose English MA program was geared entirely towards training Department of Education "teachers".  That isn't to say I received poor grades.  On the contrary, 4.0 for four straight semesters (/backpat).  However, I found the material exceedingly easy and out of the seven different professors with whom I took classes, six asked, in varying ways, what the hell I was doing at CSI.

I applied to, and was accepted by, CUNY Hunter, a school of much higher repute whose English program would, in all likelihood, result in my being accepted, finally, to a Ph.D. program, provided I put in the requisite work.  And so here I am, beginning this blog to document my journey through CUNY Hunter to wherever my road through life leads me. 

Oh yeah, in between all that schooling, gigging, raiding, and Kung Fu-ing, I also am responsible for supporting a household.  But that's boring stuff.  I know you would all much rather read my thoughts on Milton or whatever other nonsense I plan on flinging at you.  Excelsior!

Someone PLEASE Take Me Down to the Paradise City

Throughout most of my academic life I've avoided poetry from England's Restoration period like the plague (Get it?  Get it??  Ahh never mind...).  So as I find myself ready to embark upon my latest higher-education endeavor at CUNY Hunter, I realize that I registered myself for a course on Milton.  Oh why must I be too proud to drop a class??  And why, WHY must I register for classes drunk?!?  (In case you're wondering, the answers to those questions are stupidity and tradition, respectively.)

Now, Milton and I have a rather tumultuous relationship.  I'm fascinated by nearly all facets of Paradise Lost, from the Romantics' viewing of Satan as the epic hero (and, much later, Paul Stevens' placement of Satan as one of literature's first anti-heroes), to the more modern viewpoint that the epic is most likely an offshoot of Milton's own revolutionary tendencies.  Furthermore, the story of the fall of man is simultaneously one of culture's earliest and most consistently pervasive "official" positions of misogyny, and with my interest in gender theory and feminism, I simply can't avoid interest in anything dealing with the topic.  And, of course, given that I'm quite literally in love with the English language, particularly it's rhythms in blank verse, how can I not be interested in what is the first true epic poem composed entirely in that language and meter?

As you can see, all the pieces are in place for me to devour this text with the voracity of a badger in Santa's Little Helper's doghouse.  Unfortunately, each and every time I've attempted to read Paradise Lost, I inevitably sigh with confusion, frustration, and boredom somewhere around the bit about a "Heav'nly Muse" singing about something or other (how that reconciles with my decision to get Satan's speech that closes with "That glory never shall his wrath or might extort from me." tattooed on my body is up to you to figure out).

I've made it through Book I on four separate occasions, and Book II twice.  I've never once gone beyond that until now, when I've finally reached Book IV.  I simply can not account for why this is so.  I've read far less interesting works of greater length, including the entirety of Tolkien's legendarily boring The Silmarillion (based in no small part on Paradise Lost), along with dozens upon dozens of dense, turgid prose pieces dealing with everything from Victorian life-writing to whether ideology itself is a self-defeating concept in modern society.  Why, then, can I not find the discipline to sit and read one of the greatest works in the history of written English, and, arguably, in the history of the written word, especially when its subject matter is of great interest to me?

I suspect it has something to do with my general avoidance of this particular period of English poetry.  Regardless of how influential a work it was, or how subversive/revolutionary it proved to be, or whether it could make or break me on the GRE Subject Test (thank you very much, 2007), it's technically part of the Restoration.  That places Milton firmly with the insufferable bore (and accused plagiarist) John Dryden, the so-offensive-he's-funny-then-pathetic misogynist Robert Gould, and countless other court poets who preferred rhyming couplets to anything interesting.  Aside from Pope and Swift, most other Restoration poetry actually makes me a little nauseous. 

That's the only solution I can think of, unless I'm truly not sophisticated enough to grasp Milton's epic (an entirely possible a preposterously unimaginable scenario).  Hopefully this fifth attempt at finishing the epic will succeed, and will provide a decent-enough groundwork with which to begin my studies on the poem in the fall.  All I can do is request that my Muse "What in me is dark / Illumin, what is low raise and support..."

The State of New York vs. Intelligence

One of the nuisances benefits of being an in-home tutor is that I get to see all the wonderful standardized tests my students have to suffer through year after year.  These include the TACHS exam (for entering Catholic high schools), the city-wide and state-wide tests in social studies, mathematics, reading, and science, the multi-subject regents exams, and, to a lesser extent, the SAT, SAT II, and GRE tests.

None of those tests are necessary.  However, I'm forced to teach methods of succeeding on these tests instead of actual knowledge that a child can use in life (like why they shouldn't major in the Humanities).  The same problem exists in the schools on a macro level.  Teachers are forced to teach for tests instead of teaching critical thinking/research/writing skills that can benefit ANY student of ANY skill level regardless of the field they eventually choose.

This limits both the intellectual growth of the student and the professional growth of the teacher.  Imagine, if you will, that you're a biology teacher in a high school.  A student asks a question about cellular chemistry, and you don't know the answer.  Instead of telling the student that you'll do some research and answer his/her question the next day, you're essentially forced to say, "Well I don't know.  But don't worry, that type of question won't be on the regents".

This doesn't mean you won't research it anyway (which, if you're a genuinely arrogant person like me, you would), but you have zero motivation beyond your own thirst for knowledge, and then very limited opportunity to expand your class beyond the specifics of whatever standardized tests your students need to pass to move on.

The end result is a crop of students who may do wonderfully according to the standards of New York state.  But what about the standards of the modern educational environment?  What about the standards of the myriad fields of interest available to students once they reach the college level?  What about MY standards when I'm teaching my supplemental education courses?  Why can't I teach a high school student about the Elizabethan world so he or she can better understand Shakespeare, or how and why Victorian England wasn't as prudish as we tend to think? 

In short, it's because the state of New York has decided what students need to know, and whenever government decides precisely what people (and yes, students are people too) need to know, we're entering dangerous territory.

I didn't even touch upon the fact that some students are just naturally bad test-takers.  I'll leave that for another time.

So It's Come to This

I made a conscious effort to avoid blogging for as long as I can remember, mainly because I didn't believe my opinions and thoughts to be important enough for so huge a social juggernaut as the internet. Then slowly, ever so slowly, it dawned on me that if I truly wanted to embark on a career in academia, then I should...nay, MUST...believe that not only are my thoughts important enough to be published anywhere and everywhere, but also that the internet, indeed the very world, would be intellectually poorer without them.

Oddly enough, the very second I began believing that, and acting on that belief, I lost most of my friends. Weird.

Loneliness aside, the fact remains that this blog will be a repository for my ideas on literature, music, culture, and the relationship between the three (with some original poetry sprinkled amongst the ruins).

Now, a couple of guidelines:

1) Always enjoy my blog on a full stomach. This will allow you to avoid my subtle attempts to influence your tastes in music and literature by describing things I think you should like as "mouth-watering", "delectable", and "chocolaty".

2) My blog is both delectable and chocolaty.

As long as you remember both guidelines, you'll be fine.