Commercial Presentation

While I have gotten used to paying an exorbitant amount to see a movie in theatres, there is part of me that will never truly accept the amount of commercial bombardment that goes along with it. After paying four dollars for candy and selling one’s soul for a jumbo soda is it really necessary that a moviegoer sit through an advertisement for the latest spinning toothbrush? I am pretty sure that dental hygiene falls low on the list of interest when someone steps into the movie theatre. Furthermore, if I have to see that clip about Rosa Salazar and her Facebook friends one more time I might just boycott social networking sites all together. The bottom line is, I venture to the theatres to enjoy the MOVIE, not to feel like a captured case study for the world’s worst commercials. Many of us can remember a simpler time when the safety announcements for the nearest exit were the only thing between the viewer and the start to the much anticipated previews. Then came the rather obvious no smoking messages and reminders to silence your cell phones, pagers and noise making devices. The rest is just a downhill slope into a world of commercial overload. It seems we should all just do ourselves a favor and take the movie show times as strictly suggestions and arrive a good twenty minutes after the printed start time. Personally, I know that the desire to see a movie on the big screen will never fade so I’ll see you all out there- just don’t worry about making it on time!

The Life of Warren

Similar to growing older in people years, the lifespan of a car can be directly linked with its corresponding quirks. Take for example my ten year old car Warren. Named for the county in which this speedy Toyota Camry gained two tickets, this car is starting to show its age. First there was the trunk that mysteriously stopped opening and can now be accessed exclusively by the lever on driver’s side floor. Then came the check engine light that has a mind of its own and despite the investigation of several mechanics, has decided to add its own special glow to my dashboard on a permanent basis. Add in a door handle that snapped off in the dead of winter and you have a car that is in need of some assistance. Yes, I am lucky to have a automobile and one that performs so well however, there’s nothing like getting sketchy glances in a parking lot as you try to jimmy your way into your own vehicle’s door or trunk. This car was handed down to me by my father who as everyone in my family is well aware, keeps his cars in “excellent condition.” You will not find a shred of tissue or even a straw wrapper in his current car and while Warren may have encountered some growing pains since he was handed over to me, I will say that this knack for cleanliness was also passed down. Despite the mentioned battle wounds, I have been known to surprise people with the spotless interior of this vehicle. Yes this car may be ten years old but in some ways, he does not look a day over four. Lights and lock ups aside, Warren has been a reliable transport and I am hoping that the speedometer has many more ticks before this ride is retired. See you on the road- but please be advised that if you are driving behind me in Warren County – do not expect to cruise higher than five miles over the speed limit.

Guitar Dreaming

Since my Washburn and I have been involved in a steady relationship since 1994, the thought of throwing myself into guitar shopping seemed more then foreign. I am not quite sure why this thought did not occur sooner, but nonetheless- I have started guitar dreaming. Some magical passageway has been opened and I find myself suddenly thinking of new gadgets and wondering, I would like to know what this does. Actually practicing this instrument would be helpful as I do not wish to sound like one of those ridiculous Creed-bashing videos but still, the interest has returned. This inspired thinking reaches past my currently quiet experience with acoustic guitar playing. Thoughts of my electric guitar currently residing in Baltimore make me think of my early days of musical exploration. I was given a bright red Fender Strat for Christmas one year - complete with a practice amp, and to my delight- a whammy bar. For the weeks to come, the sounds being attempted in my room seemed to mimic those of a low budget 70’s film production. My parents, who also were the gift givers of this awesome piece of craftsmanship, were more than patient. It was interesting though how quickly a pair of huge headphones were placed on my bed as a subtle hint. Hey, you have to start somewhere even if that means playing Tuesday’s Gone like it was going out of style. May have missed the boat on that one but in my mind, I was ROCKING. In the years to come, I had a guitar teacher with obscenely long finger nails and I performed at our high school Friday night Coffee House. A few can recall noise complaints surrounding loud versions of select Weezer and Radiohead jams in college dorm rooms. The ice blackout freshman year was the perfect time for an impromptu serenade and my performance was greeted with loud noises against wall next door- obviously out of appreciation. I do realize that I need to break through the comfortable set of chords that I have regurgitated over the years and branch out into more challenging assignments but rest assured, I am always available for a spur of the moment crooning.