Category Archives: Pop Culture

Print Lives: Help us relaunch Hip Mama, a feminist parenting magazine!

Before I met her (and Jen!) at a writing workshop, I was a fan of Ariel Gore. When I was pregnant, I bought copies of Hip Mama at the checkout of our local co-op, usually with Brain, Child or Mothering or Bust. I read her edited story collection, Breeder, which taught me more than I wanted to know about pin worms and made me think that maybe it was possible to be unconventional and a good parent. I loved — love — the idea of having baskets of old magazines lying around so the girls can find them, read them, and learn ideas that I think are pretty great without it being all “HERE IS WHAT I, YOUR MOM, THINK ABOUT LIFE, SEX, MOTHERING, and BODIES.” My Mom’s old copies of Our Bodies, Ourselves and other hippie women’s health books totally informed me in a powerful way. I was saddened when Mothering went all-digital because I wouldn’t have those circulating in our house, sparking conversations, being stashed away in beds, adding to the print culture of our little domestic lovenest.

I’m a huge digital fan. I love blogs. I love chatting. I love drawing on my iPad. But print matters. Print is soft and beautiful and you can hide it. You can pass it around. You can dogear and write on it. I need print in my house. Print lives.

image-256955-fullAriel is relaunching Hip Mama as an awesome, wonderful, open-hearted, feminist parenting magazine. She’s broadening its original audience and mission to include rad dads, and generally expanding its awesomeness in every way. Check out this mission statement:

We’ve regrouped to establish a sustainable plan to move forward and to bloom. IN PRINT. Teen Mom NYC blogger Gloria Malone, political editor Victoria Law, and Rad Dad Tomas Moniz are just a few of the visionaries on board to relaunch Hip Mama.

In the first four issues of the new Hip Mama, we’ll bring you expanded lifestyle coverage including…

• Creativity Bootcamp: Songwriter Amani Malaika on Getting Back Into Your Creative Groove

• Airstreams, Sailboats, and Tiny Houses: Living Small with a Family

• Not Now, I’m Working on My Children’s Book: New Yorker Cartoonist Shannon Wheeler Teaches You to Draw Even With Kids Crawling Across the Table (Hint: It involves a lot of coffee)

• Sushi for Superheroes: New Study Shows that Wearing Costumes in the Kitchen Makes for Better Dinners!

• School Lunch Revolutions–Organics Aren’t Just for Rich Kids Anymore

• A Queer Argument Against Gay Marriage

• Radical Cupcakes with Inga Muscio*

• Concrete Ways to Help Families in Social Justice Movements

• Nomadic Teen Moms With Superpowers

• And in every issue, AT LEAST ONE PIE.

Ariel has a modest Kickstarter campaign that’s nearly fully funded, and for a mere $20 you can sub to the first year of the new magazine. There’s also a wonderful video with a lot of the featured writers, including my friend/doula/colleague Shell speaking from her hot tub. That’s 4 beautiful mags full of life’s promise to put in a slouchy wicker basket next to the easy chair for my eight year old to read in about 3 years’ time. If you worked an extra shift or just love getting magazines in the mail, you should kick some cash her way. They have an option to donate even $1, and you get stickers!!! COME ON!

 

* Jen and I are taking Inga Muscio’s online writing course this summer as well. There are some seats left. Sign up! It’s an online class about writing through tough times.

Comics for Girls: Summer Reading!

Spring! Sweet Jesus it’s finally fucking spring. We planted our seeds on the second decently warm afternoon in May in a 40mph gale but who cares: we planted seeds (sunflower, zinnia, sweetpea and echinacea). The dandelions are getting all leggy and knock-kneed and I’m realizing too late that I should have signed up for swim lessons. My brain is off to the races in sunshine mania and although I’ve started four or five books in the last month, I’ve finished zero. This is where graphic novels come in.

I’ve done the obvious action/adventure thing (V for Vendetta, Watchmen, Transmetropolitan — all excellent); the macabre (Walking Dead, which I hated); but my favorite graphic genre is memoir.

Stitches by David Small

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

I just finished Marbles by Ellen Forney, which was so good I will probably reread it very soon, and relevant to my life in about 100000000000 ways right now.

Via some wikipedia surfing, I discovered Filthy Figments, erotic comics by women, which I look forward to perusing when not at my place of employment. Bitch has a few neato sexy comics going as well.

What is it about spring and graphic novels for me? I think I just crave more stimulation, something quicker, something more immediately engaging. I can zip through a graphic novel and have it linger for days. I start imagining drawings that could capture my own narratives. (Too bad my drawing is still cartoonish and amateur… but whatever!)

Robin has been very excited for me to read a picture book. Last night she squealed in glee when I pulled out Marbles and said it was her favorite book. We spent quite awhile discussing the drawings and speculating about the story. I kind of loved that. It got me wondering if there are any good comics for young girls that would be remotely age appropriate. Robin has also been into watching (age appropriate) anime shows, so maybe this is a good time to introduce her to a good series. I found this list on Amazon. I also found this one, which includes a comic about a girl named Robyn! Anyone else have suggestions? Zita the Space Girl looks pretty great. Where are the awesome feminist comics for young girls, world?

Here’s the thing I hate about graphic novels and/or comics: access. Our library is small and has a limited graphic novel/comics section, mostly focused on teen readers. That’s okayish for me, although I couldn’t find any of the above books in our catalog (but maybe I can finally read 100 Bullets?). But if there’s a series we are very excited to try, we’ll have to either borrow it (dicey) or buy it (pricey). Drag.

Nonetheless, I like the idea of lying around in a shaded bedroom on a summer afternoon reading comics with my girls.

The 10,000 Hours Rule (Creativity Tuesday)

Confession: I’m slacking on my drawing. This means Creativity Tuesday is a lot less pretty than it used to be. The two creative pursuits I’m spending the most time on lately do not translate well to the computer screen: writing (dribs and drabs, and now my laptop is messed up so !!!!) and singing (the girls and I joined a secular, intergenerational folk choir).

I think I’m gravitating to these outlets because they’re so comfortable for me, even though they don’t challenge me in the ways that drawing does. I’ve been in vocal music for most of my life, and I’ve been writing (whether journal, academic, or creative) just as long. We harsh on the Tiger Mother philosophy but she does have a point about enjoying creative pursuits: it really is more fun when you’re actually good at them. Learning is hard, practice is tough; but once you get some mastery down, you can experience creative flow that’s profoundly rewarding. Also, you get good faster when you’re picking something back up, rather than trying for the first time.

As has been well-documented, I like instant gratification a lot. And as has also been documented, I just don’t have a lot of time to dick around, and I am craving creative outlet, and I can write so much more in an hour than I can draw. I can sing so much in my car, and get good (again) so much faster. I was singing in the car on the drive home after seeing Mike Daisey’s transcendant “American Utopias” performance, and I felt myself move to the next level of singing ability: high notes were suddenly easier to reach, my lung capacity has grown just a little, my voice is more nimble over notes than it was a month ago. I love that.

I’m pretty sure that singing and writing are the only things in my life that qualify for the 10,000 hours rule.

So that’s what I’ve been doing. I guess I feel like these pursuits have a better chance of going somewhere, of having something new emerge from them, than do creative things that are fresh and new. I still doodle with the girls. I’m still practicing my lettering here and there. But mostly I’m trying to get a book draft going. And learning harmonies to “Seven Bridges Road.”

30 Day Photo Challenge: Color

Photo Prompt: Color

Soundtrack: Blink 182,  All the Small Things

Jumble of princesses, mermaids, and Polly Pockets.

 

Wonderful Human Things

  1. People sharing images on Facebook of individuals trying to find their birth families, and it starts working.
  2. Mini-movies based on the children’s stories, like Fire City, and Scared is Scared.
  3. My almost-five-year old offered to rub my neck when I said I was tired after a night of being up with a puking little, and still fighting a quasi-cold.
  4. When everyone pulls over for ambulances.

 

Secular Christmas — It’s Merry!

It was about this time last year that I decided that, yeah. We’re raising our daughters as non-believers, or, more accurately, free thinkers. We’re not going to teach them that there is a God (how my husband was raised), nor are we going avoid teaching them so that they’ll tacitly come to understand that there is a God (that’s kind of how it worked for me). It was a Facebook argument about Elf on the Shelf that finally did it.

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Unnecessarily Deep Thoughts Inspired by Silent Hill (video game)

Warning: this entry contains spoilers for video games you will probably never play and likely don’t care about.

I’m writing to confess something so dorky I can’t quite believe I’m admitting to it publicly.

Lately, I’ve been watching video game walkthroughs on youtube.

I know, I know, this is possibly the only hobby geekier than actually playing video games. When I told this to Brian, he looked at me like I was nuts. It all started on a particularly slow day at work when I was reading Cracked articles in between planning appointments. It’s so easy to get sucked into a vortex of hilarity reading about The 5 Creepiest Urban Legends that are Actually True, or The 6 Scariest Places on Earth, and somehow I ended up reading article after article about scary video games and got curious about what they were actually like.

Found in NYC Neil Girling via Compfight

I found theRadBrad’s walkthrough channel on youtube and watched his let’s play of Silent Hill 2, which kept popping up as THE CREEPIEST HORROR GAME EVAR. And then I watched Silent Hill: Downpour. And then I watched some fucked up Indie games that kind of gave me nightmares, so I quit watching them. Now I’m watching Resident Evil 6, which is basically a “long rendered movie with some interactivity thrown in” as Cracked columnist David Wong opined. (Brad makes these fun because he’s not a perfect player, and he’s very funny, although sometimes his comments are off-color.)

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Rock Stars

When I was pregnant with Dorothy, I had two CDs in my car that I listened to over and over: Weezer’s The Blue Album and Springsteen’s Born to Run. Back out of the driveway, put on my seatbelt over the awkward big belly, down the hill to the highway, music blasting out my windows into my otherwise quiet West side neighborhood: Say it ain’t so, My name is Jonas, the Sweater Song. Lying on the floor! Lying on the floor! I’ve come undone!

On the way home, bumping down the brick streets away from the warehouse/office/greenhouse, singing Thunder Road: Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night—you ain’t a beauty, but hey, you’re alright…

All the pregnancy books tell you that your baby is absorbing sound and rhythm before she’s born, learning to recognize your voice, getting smarter as muffled waves of Mozart wash over her. I wonder if there are long term studies on the effects of Weezer and Springsteen, if Born to Run babies grow up unafraid to ride motorcycles into some dark night. When an old friend’s band came through town I declined the offer of earplugs, needing to feel the sound full on, hoping the baby could feel the intensity of that show: Turn off the lights and watch it all melt down, Napoleon slow, to the bottom of this town.  Am I a bad mother if I secretly hope my girls absorbed a little bad boy rock star in utero?

T has always been resolutely opposed to kid-oriented music: in his car, the girls listen to Phish, or jazz, or the local radio station that makes me batty because you never know if you’re going to get Ani DiFranco or Celtic folk or terrible low-key techno, bass thumping under some weird repetitive phrase: Ambient! Technology! AMBIENT! TECHNOLOGY!

I’m more lenient. Laurie Berkner Band, Muppets soundtrack, even the dreaded Kidz Bop, with its kid safe versions of pop songs that can’t possibly hold any meaning for my kids: The Chipmunks singing Party Rock, a shiny clean version of Call Me Maybe: Your stare was holdin’, ripped jeans, smile showing, where do you think you’re going baby?

Most days, though, we listen to the Fresh Beats. When we started watching the show on Nick Jr, D was immediately hooked: the plots and jokes are a step up from Dora and Wonderpets, the music is insanely catchy, and the mix of fantasy and pseudo-reality is weirdly engrossing. And then she noticed the commercials for the Fresh Beats LIVE IN CONCERT. Kids dancing in the aisles, Kiki rocking out on guitar on stage: Mom can we please go tomorrow?

Live music, lesson one: let’s check the tour schedule.

Indeed, the Fresh Beats were coming to our very town, and the tickets were outrageous.

Live music, lesson two: sometimes it’s worth it.

I ended up buying scalper tickets through Stub Hub, guessing that the small mark up would be worth it to get close to the stage. I’m a front row junkie. Live music was a central part of my identity and my relationship with T in our 20s (our experience seeing Phish at Coventry was the pinnacle of this). I proposed at a Phish show. The fact that it was the Fresh Beats didn’t so much matter – I wanted the girls to have a taste of the magic, the intensity, the awesomeness of rocking out in the presence of a band you love. Front row seats were hundreds of dollars and could only be bought as part of a package including a backstage party with healthy snacks, but I got us on the main floor about 15 rows back.

Hey girl shout it out– Put your hands up! Put your hands up!

Live music, lesson 3: Vocab

I may have been the only parent there who used the words merch table, opener, set break, cover, and encore. The 2 year old next to us spent most of the first set quietly weeping. Some kids appeared overwhelmed; others seemed underwhelmed. But D and Lucy really loved it: maybe because of my dorky prep, they were expecting a concert, not a live version of the tv show, they were psyched to be close to the stage, and they stood up and danced spontaneously to their favorite songs. Afterwards, they were bursting with excitement, wanting to rehash their favorite moments, excited to talk about the new songs, stoked that the band played some old favorites. When the songs we heard live come on in the car, they talk about the show: “Remember when the monkeys came on the screen and we all yelled GO MONKEYS! GO MONKEYS!”

I want them to love Weezer like I do, and Phish, and the Killers, and Regina Spektor. I hope that those months spent floating in the belly listening to Born to Run mean they learned the Boss’ voice along with mine. But for now, it’s okay with me if they love the Fresh Beats and Carly Rae Jepson. After all, my first concert was New Kids on the Block. I want them to know the dorky joys of fandom, the thrill of unrolling the poster from the concert and taping it up on your bedroom wall. I love that they know all the words to their favorite songs, fantasize about being rock stars with their own bands, put on shows in the living room. A couple days ago, D said from the backseat while we were listening to a Fresh Beats cover of I’m Yours, “Mom, when I grow up, I want to have a band, and I will sing, and there will be guitars and drums and a banjo and a washboard and Jason Mraz will play the keyboards.” Maybe it’s time to start those guitar lessons: we’ve got a couple rock stars in the making here, and they’re already imagining their heroes singing back up.

We got the beat!

I’m blogging every day in the month of November as part of NaBloPoMo at Yeah, Write– check out the other amazing talented bloggers who are also on this crazy train!

Hipster Mixtape: Robin and Holly’s Favorites (from our collection)

Now that we’re listening to my old iPod and CDs again, our morning commute fare has turned away from popular hits to the obscure and hip. Although I often lament the insufferability of hipsters, I confess I share musical taste with them (us? agh! identity crisis) and my kids are getting their dose of B-sides and 90s indie college rock early and often. Here are their favorite hipster tunes, to which they rock out in their temporary tattoos and toddler stretch skinny jeans*. (My friend R. from Small Things Grow will recognize a few of these from a digital mixtape she shared with me before Robin was even born.)

Jester's Court, PA. Explored Conor Keller via Compfight They were into this before it was cool to be a brainwashed hipster toddler.

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FM Mixtape: Robin and Holly Favorites

Back in May, when I made an epic solo car trip down south with the girls, they stuffed my CD player with a dozen CDs (and a penny!), effectively destroying it. Since then, we’ve been listening to FM radio (interspersed with NPR, but sometimes I just can’t handle the BBC World News). At first, we did so begrudgingly, but we came to appreciate the repetition and surprises FM radio still brings to the table. And Robin and Holly learned to sing along with the McGrath Kia commercial, which features Presidential impersonators and “You should be driving a Kia from McGrath Kia!!” shouted to the tune of La Bamba (a quick google search reveals how universally hated this commercial is in the Corridor area!).

Just before my birthday last month, my husband surprised me by purchasing and installing a new CD player/radio in the car. This one even has a USB to connect an iPod, which inspired me to (a) find my old iPod which was (b) at the bottom of a tote bag I used 3 years ago for teaching and (c) had not been charged in about that long. It worked! Since then, FM radio has fallen by the wayside as I surf my iPod remembering songs I downloaded and obsessively listened to the winter before Robin was conceived, and play the new Neil Young album that the lovely Strph sent. And so I offer this tribute to FM radio, which brought new music into our lives and taught us about our children’s emerging aesthetic preferences (dominated by infectious beats and the shouting of I LOVE and/or I WANT ROCK AND ROLL).

Rock'n'Roll Stéfan via Compfight

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