A Drinking Problem (full poem)

by Sadie Marie

A man built out of beer bottles instead of out of water bottles is a man with no life force in him
And there were two of them
First they took my fingers
They pulled them off my hands slowly
One by one by one
By finger by finger
And then the other hand
And I remember actively feeling that I would never again carry anything in these hands
Never again would I pull a man’s hair through my fingers
And all of this was occurring to me as at the same time the inside of my left foot began to itch
Slowly at first
And then more and more
Until I was ripping through my shoe laces and into my socks with every piece of my mind
And the memory of what it was to scratch an itch came bursting through my eyelashes
I pretended I had all ten of my fingers balled into two great fists
And with that in mind I refused to even ask for my fingers back
I alone would hold onto my pride

Next they slowly shaved off the caps of my knees
The right first and then the left
And in this way they ensured that everything in me came pouring out
Through the gap between my footsteps and my womanhood
Both legs exposed and draining they then pulled each strand of hair from my head
One at a time at first and then in great fist-fulls as their hunger chewed at their manhood
My bald head was burning and red as they carved along the sides of my face with their teeth
Chipping away at what was left of my childhood- buried beneath the soft skin lining my cheek bones
They licked my face clean
Their tongues were hot and dripping a melting wax along my forehead as they peeled off my eyebrows
Their transgression cleared my complexion erased my expression and instilled a depression deep within the lines across my brow I hadn’t known how to allow before now.
Bald and cut down I was sinking through a pool of memories my fingerless hands could no longer hold.

But- I was raised right. First I was cut down and then I was raised right. Right back up through the violence right back up through the blood right back up through the silence
And right back through the liquid guilt diverging and converging and transfusing and diffusing as liquids do
I know the properties of liquids. You taught me well
I understand the properties of liquid motion you taught me so well

I learned in school it’s called convection, I learned at home it’s called correction, I learned in church it’s resurrection
But it is all liquid and confusing and unpredictably abusing the natural order of things
As we thirsty animals say
We animals who turn herbivore on Friday
And carnivore on Sunday
Constantly ebbing and flowing as liquids do
Constantly shrinking and growing as liquids do
Constantly forgetting and knowing as liquids do
Permanently transparent and glowing the color blue
The color of life the color blue
The color of strife the color blue
The color of receiving and taking, the color of hunger and thirst
The color of life

Three fourths of our souls are water and drowning into each other we discover the depths we have in common and the shallows that quench our thirsts
And my liquid parents raised me right- right up through the color of life in all its hues all its shades of blues and dripping sinews off their tongues and into my soul that I might swim.

Pulled apart in all directions, my laughter evaporated the water from those foolish men who forgot to bite off my ear so I heard their fear, they forgot to swallow my eye, so I saw them cry, they forgot to chew off my lip so I took a sip.

They must’ve thought I was too little to remember, to small to retain, to underdeveloped to evolve yet into all things woman.
But in their arrogance and their ignorance they left me still able to see the blue. Still able to hear it flow. Still able to smell the rain. Still able to swallow for myself the color of life.

And my sweet liquid parents they always knew what I could do and I am long overdue for a slow swim through that sweet deep ocean blue that lives in me and flows in you
And I am holding onto something powerful.
I’m holding onto something powerful and I refuse to let it go.
They might have my fingers but they cannot dictate what is held within me
They cannot pry open the fingers of my mind
And undo its grasp on the properties of liquid motion

I’m holding onto something powerful and I know because I can taste it
This water power in me is enough to quench the thirst of all the melting children in Africa
This hydro power in me could irrigate crops enough to end world hunger
This water in me could resuscitate the titanic and cool down global warming altogether

I’m holding onto something powerful and
Every time I take a sip I scratch the itch at the back of my throat
And I am reminded of the liquid life force those foolish men forgot to drain from me.
I am bursting
And any day now that little Dutch boy’s finger from our childhood short story
Will no longer be enough to hold up the walls
Encasing my liquid life force
It’s gonna come bursting through as a matter of course
Spraying a truth only I can endorse
I’m just a soaking wet rag behind closed doors
But I dare any man to come and
Wring me out.

Full interview with The Potential Lunatics

The Potential Lunatics is a brother-sister punk rock duo, Emma who plays guitar and sings is sixteen and Isaac, the drummer, is fourteen. They’re young and full of passion and talent. I remember seeing them at the Viento y Agua open mic back in 2008 (yeah, when they were twelve and ten) and could tell something really special was happening. When I saw them play last night at MADhaus, they were by far my favorite band of the night. Emma’s lyrics and stage presence are captivating, and the musical chemistry between her and her brother is undeniable. Her voice gets gritty and reminiscent of Courtney Love or Brody Dalle and her lyrics are punk rock pith. Go to a show, buy their albums, wear their merch, read this interview- Support these Well Trained Youngsters!
-Maggie Boles

Interview by Chris Kramme of Garth’s Jelly Donut

CHRIS: You have a new song called Girl Goddess #9. I’ve been trying to figure out if you’re saying that the character in the song is a Libber (as in women’s lib) and a writer or if she’s liberated. I like the idea of two meanings and the play on words, but what’s actually going on here?

EMMA: Hahaha, I actually didn’t mean for the character to be a writer, but I love the accidental double meaning that you’ve found in the song. I had written a song before I wrote “Girl Goddess” and I wrote a verse about liberating yourself in public. I scratched the song but I kept a similar message. Sometimes it’s hard to get yourself out there. You need to liberate yourself, your whole self in private before you can fully grasp this large thing you’re aiming towards. Feeling comfortable in your own skin is hard sometimes, it takes some time to find yourself, see where you are, start loving yourself, and be liberated.
A lot of the thought process, for me, went on when I was laying in my bed at night. Which is why I talk about twisted sheets and fancy dreams.

CHRIS: Some of your songs are about sexism and gender roles. What have you found to be effective tools against sexism in the music community? How do you feel about the emergence of several feminist music events and organizations, such as Ladyfest IE, Ladies Rock Camp, Rock & Roll Camp For Girls LA and OC? Is it more important to change the existing culture or to proclaim one’s own, or both?

EMMA: Both! I say take it all! I love Ladyfest IE, Grrrl Virus, Rock n Roll Camp For Girls, and all of the emerging feminst events and organizations. It feels really rad to be a part of something that’s been growing for so long, on a new branch of folks who the tradition has been passed on to.
Effective tools against sexism in the music community would be just being in the music community!

CHRIS: As a visual artist and someone who engages her audience during a performance, do you see yourself getting involved with set design for your shows and finding new ways to involve the audience as a participant in the show?

EMMA: Yes! I love finding ways to involve the audience. I love going to a show and feeling apart of the whole thing, and would love to bring that energy to our crowd. As for set design I’m looking forward to a shipment that’s going to come in.. It’s stonehenge and it will be placed behind us. We’re also planning on coming out of alien pods.

CHRIS: Your drumming style…It’s punk rock for sure, but it has a metal edge… no, wait, an element of metal (Iron?)… it’s rad and I dig the solos a lot! Which drummers have influenced your style? How does a good audience affect you when you’re behind the kit?

ISAAC: Thank you! I’m not really sure, there wasn’t ever really one band that I listened to. I think because I grew up listening to so many kinds of music that i can’t really say who it was specifically. I listened to celtic music, zydeco, classic rock, punk, folk, riot grrl, world music, classical, some pop music, and hard rock. Now, when I write my part of the music, I just go with whatever feels right.
A good audience really makes feel very energetic, so a lot of times the better the crowd is, the faster I play. I tend to want to show off a little more when there’s a lot of enthusiastic people.

CHRIS: Rumor has it that you moonlight as an opera singer. Is there any truth to this?

ISAAC: Kind of. Although I do enjoy singing opera style, I don’t do it anywhere but the shower.

CHRIS: Do you have any advice for aspiring drummers?

ISAAC: I do. It might not be easy at first, but if you really want to play drums, practicing really makes a difference. when I first started playing drums, i had no idea what I was doing, but as i played more and more I really improved.

CHRIS: Your new songs have a gritty, fuzzy, let’s-run-around-and-jump-
into-the-drum-kit sense of immediacy to them. How has your music and your writing process changed in the short time since Well Trained Youngsters? What or who is inspiring you these days?

ISAAC: I have developed more with my drumming, and i learned to accommodate more of the set, as well as playing faster and being more creative.
I listen to a lot of Kimya Dawson, but a lot of her music does not include drums. I listen to Hole and Sleater-Kinney, I also listen to Patsy Cline and Florence and the Machine, but they inspire me to do more visual art than play music.

EMMA: I’ve been listening to a lot of Hunx and his Punx, Shannon & The Clams, a lot of stuff off Burger and Hardly Art. Of course I’m still really into my favorite riot grrrl bands i.e. Sleater-Kinney, Bratmobile, Cool Moms, and lots of Nirvana is still happening here..
In the studio we recorded the new songs (for our EP we’re releasing, only at shows) live, I was jumping around a lot when we were recording so I guess that sort of shone through.. My writing has changed a lot since we released our first record. All the newer songs are really personal.

CHRIS: What’s the most bizarre show you’ve ever played?

ISAAC: We played a cat rescue benefit in somebody’s front yard once. that was pretty weird..

EMMA: Yeah, the cat rescue one was pretty bizarre. It was part yard sale, part cats, all Taylor Swift.

CHRIS: What’s the best food to eat after a show?

ISAAC: I really enjoy Denny’s after a show.

EMMA: Denny’s

CHRIS: You’re going on your first tour this year. Tell us about it.

EMMA: We’re going up to Seattle and we’re extremely excited! It’s totally a D.I.Y. tour, we’ll be eating pb&j out of our van, sleeping on other bands floors, and I think it’s going to be the bee’s knees. We don’t have all the dates secure yet, but they’ll be up on our website asap!

You can find The Potential Lunatics on facebook and at their website

The Potential Lunatics will be playing an all ages show at DiPiazzas on 4/29 with Bonfire Madigan, Evan Greer, and Anna Oxygen!

This is 2012, this is a blog post, this is Maggie’s brain in rant mode

It’s mid-March. Right now I’m revising the last blog post I attempted in mid-February when I was really stoked on the new year and how great I was going to be at work and school and the zine and my band and my life. Actually, re-reading it now I can see that this is the beginning of my descent into the ball pit. I’ll explain that later.

I wrote:

I had promised to write a blog post about a super awesome feminist book store I visited in Portland over New Year’s, but alas, I never wrote it. I took some photos which I can no longer access and I thought about it for a while, but as I am a hopeless procrastinator and bullshitter, it never happened.

What the fuck, Maggie? I didn’t make any resolutions about being better at this sort of thing because I just wanted to do it. No bullshit. None of that “write your flaws on a piece of paper and throw it in the fire.” I wanted to just be better. After all, these are habit-forming years and I am 22, which feels kind of old considering the artistic tendencies of Mozart or T.S. Eliot or Picasso or I dunno other prodigious geniuses. Why hasn’t my life resulted in some fantastic opportunity? Why is nobody saying I’m brilliant? Aren’t I? Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you why I am not being biographized yet.

Here are the top 4 reasons:

1. I don’t try hard enough.
2. I am the most indecisive human that has ever lived.
3. I drink a lot.
4. I really enjoy sleeping.

Reason number 5 might be mediocrity. It is my ultimate fear. And it’s paralyzing. It sounds stupid when I say it or maybe arrogant or something, as though I think I am in any way deserving of a life grander than that of a bug approaching the windshield of an 18-wheeler carrying 3 tons of cow manure. Maybe I am aiming too high. But then, as I approach the end of my undergraduate education, it’s completely terrifying to think back on all of the belly-sliding and gutter-licking I’ve done. So I must not be aiming that high. Or I’m trying to trying to kill a moose with a Nerf gun.

And so here I am, in an “early life crisis,” both internally and externally. Besides my frustration at my own shortcomings, I’m also just really fucking angry at people. The good ones: I want them to care more, work harder, love truer, do less drugs, drink less, never watch reality TV, get off Facebook, show up for things, read books, believe in themselves, be less narcissistic and self-centered, go to class. The not so good ones: I want them to stop gambling, stop lying, stop stealing, stop hating,  stop imposing their religious beliefs on others, stop calling women who take birth control sluts, stop killing, stop hurting, stop building nuclear weapons, stop waging wars, stop stoning kids to death for the way they dress and wear their hair, I can’t believe the lack of humanity. And somehow I simultaneously fucking love people: my preschool kids interpretation of butterflies flying, the woman behind me in line who bought my coffee because I left my wallet in the car, my dad’s humor, my mom’s work ethic and love, my sister’s chutzpah, my step-dad’s strength, my family’s unbelievable generosity, the woman who backed me up when some teenagers snaked my spot in a parking structure in Santa Monica and made them move, kissing, hugging, puns, dogs wearing clothes, bell hooks, Cornell West, Merril Garbus.

It’s a pendulum swinging perpetually between utter hopelessness and unconditional love. When it’s good, it’s like crowd surfing and everyone’s hands are made of memory foam and no one is trying to grab your butt. When it’s bad, it’s like being stuck in an adult-sized ball pit at McDonald’s and all the balls have been infected with plague and the exit is on the ceiling.

I’m trying to avoid the ball pit.

I’m trying to get back on track. I’m trying to be somebody worth the oxygen and food and water and electricity and coffee and tacos and knowledge I consume daily. I’m trying to do something positive, to counteract the all the negative that is out of my control and stomp the negative that is within my control like a poisonous spider.

Big boot. Soft hands. Big boot. Soft hands. Wish me luck.

What Not to Wear to a Home Invasion: Leonard Peltier Walk for Human Rights

by Adja Winatum

Home invasion is a crime, yes? Not anymore. Home invasion today may be perfectly legal, depending on who does the invading and whose home is being invaded. As Americans have learned from important educational programming such as How Do I Look? and What Not to Wear, it’s all about the outfit. For a legal home invasion, riot gear is considered appropriate attire, accessorized with heavy weaponry and that latest trend in law enforcement, the No-Knock warrant. As the name implies, it authorizes police officers and SWAT teams to enter without knocking or otherwise announcing their presence.

When planning a legal home invasion, remember the real estate mantra: location, location, location. Good targets for honing home invasion skills include minority neighborhoods and Indian reservations: for example, the home of Vanessa Guerena of Pima, Arizona. Mrs. Guerena had lost members of her sister-in-law’s family due to a criminal home invasion in 2010. So last May, when she saw a man standing outside her bedroom window with a gun, she woke her husband, a night-shift worker, and grabbed her baby, then watched as members of a SWAT team with a No-Knock warrant fired 71 shots at her husband in the space of 7 seconds. Twenty-two of those bullets entered his body, killing him instantly. He had no criminal record and nothing illegal was found in their home.

Another No-Knock warrant was delivered on the Oneida Indian reservation in Wisconsin. “I told my son I did not want him to find out about it this way, but the things that were going on at the Pine Ridge Reservation in 1975 are still going on today,” Dorothy Ninham, an Oneida elder and activist, said recently. Ninham is the coordinator of the Leonard Peltier Walk for Human Rights, which started on Alcatraz Island on December 18, 2011 and terminates in Washington D.C. next May. Ninham was a friend of Peltier’s before he was incarcerated for the murder of two FBI agents in 1975. The death of an Indian man, Joe Stuntz, killed by a BIA sniper in the same incident, was never investigated or prosecuted.

As described by Dorothy’s son Geronimo, “I had my 18-year-old sister and some guests staying at my house. They had two small children, one and three, and a SWAT team- in full riot gear- broke through the front door and started yelling at us. They made everyone get down on the floor and they handcuffed us and put guns to our heads. Every other word they said was fuck. One of ‘em grabbed the three-year-old by one arm and stood there holding the kid in one hand and brandishing his gun in the other.”

Dorothy felt helpless when she saw her son’s home, which is next door to her own, surrounded by police cars. “They told us we couldn’t go in. We waited and stayed up all night, trying to take care of everyone. We took the baby to the emergency room because they had left bruises all over his arm and shoulder. When the officer grabbed him, he was crying, ‘Don’t shoot my daddy!’ He was traumatized.”

Geronimo remembered, “The next day that little boy was walking all around yelling, ‘Shut the fuck up and get down on the floor!’ “

Nothing illegal was found in the home. Justification for the No-Knock warrant? As stated by Geronimo, “My adopted brother had missed a meeting with his parole officer.”

“Leonard agreed we could walk in his name if we made it clear that it’s not only for his cause that we are walking. Everyone’s human rights are in danger right now. It’s not just Indian people. It can happen to anyone,” Dorothy said. The walk started December 18 on Alcatraz Island, site of a 1969 Pan-Indian takeover and political protest. In San Francisco, walkers were joined by Danny Glover. Following a night of rest and a traditional sweat in Central California, the group continued on to Fresno, then moved southward on its journey. “Young people today don’t know who Leonard is,” Dorothy explained. “He should not be forgotten.” She hopes that stopping at reservations and participating in sweats and prayers will help the walkers keep up their spiritual strength as their journey continues over the next six months.

Meanwhile, up to 80,000 No-Knock warrants are being issued each year. Is your home next?

To support the walkers, check out their Facebook community or follow them on  Twitter.

Author: Adja Winatum lives in the Central Valley of California. Yes, Virginia, there are people living in the Central Valley who read and respond to Yonic South.

Oh My God! OhMiBod!

by Alyssa Roma

Music is an aphrodisiac. The right tune has the potential to put even the most dispassionate lover in a saucy mood. Marvin Gaye, anyone? All right, imagine a nightclub, “Let’s get it on” is playing. Feel the vibrations stir at your core. The bass is thrumming through your body. You feel your heart begin to pound. Soon, you’re no longer in a nightclub at all. You’re in a primal den, where every move you make is an alluring bid to seduce your partner. When that wave of music flows through you, your spirits lift. And if it turns you on enough, my bet is you’ll beg for your skirt to lift too.

Well, modern man has recognized the age old connection between music and sex, capitalized on it, and brought it to its full potential. Ladies and gentelemen, I present to you: OhMiBod, an invention that shares the pleasure your ears get from music with the rest of your body.

OhMiBod is a series of sex toys (wired and wireless) that are specifically designed to sync to the music on your mp3 player. So if you have one of those crazed fan crushes on some mega rock star that you want to strip naked and have your way with, this is probably as close as you’re going to get (unless you don’t mind risking the restraining order).

The product line includes the standard full-sized OhMiBod or the travel-sized Naughtibod for maximum utility. These vibrators are also ideal toys for musicians and their lovers. For example: a guitarist can connect OhMiBod to their electric guitar and voilà! Their lover’s body becomes an extension of their instrument.

“But what if my musician lover doesn’t play an electric instrument?” you ask. “What if he or she’s a drummer, a jazz flautist, a DJ or a beat boxer? Is there an OhMiBod product for them too?”

Don’t worry! There’s Club Vibe: a smooth velvet bullet vibrator designed for clitoral stimulation. It has a microphone in the remote control that picks up the ambiance of the room. It will even respond to the sound of your voice.

So if you’re at a party, and you’re starting to get randy . . . Don’t forget the musical toy that can move that party to your pants. When you get home. Or in the bathroom (please wash your hands).

#occupyeverything

by Richard Booth

By now, you’ve heard those grumpy cynics decry the continuing #occupation for a lack of realistic demands. But there are plenty of demands. The problem, for those who see none, is that the demands are impossible within the status quo. And that is precisely the point. The #occupation is fundamentally a rejection of things as they are.

Even those critics who can see this, even those who are otherwise sympathetic, have called the occupiers idealistic, naive, and childish. True, there is a youthful predominance among them, but this is only another mark in their favor. They know that these are new times.

We have already entered an era of climate degradation (the question is not whether it may be postponed, but how much damage we’ll end up doing). The disparity between those who have and those who have not has soared to unthinkable proportions. There are new walls being erected between peoples. Neoliberal policies, in the name of ‘free trade’ have benefited investors and left whole domestic economies in obscene debt peonage. Our government colludes with private firms to build walls and omniscient eyes around information in the name of security and morality. The brute force of the law falls on those without much, while wealthy and influential men responsible for torture and the assassination of American citizens without trial are free to sign book deals and retire in the country.

To paraphrase Slavoj Zizek, Slovenian philosopher and critical theorist, it is not the occupiers who are naive and idealistic. They are not the dreamers. The true dreamers are those who think things can continue on as they have. But you’ve known all of this. The question, is, what do we do?

Yes, yes, I’ve seen the drum circles, the tie-dye, the nihilistic black bloc. And it’s obvious that the #occupation is not the ultimate answer to the aforementioned problems. How could it be? But it is the answer to the bootless way we’ve been dealing with these problems. We’ve been playing by the rules for too long. You know how you’re supposed to do it, don’t you? Request a permit from the city! Gather five of your friends and stand on the Boardwalk! Wave your signs for at least two hours and ask the powers-that-be to be nicer! Then, every four years, you get to vote your preferred stooge into office. And where has this left us?
This is why the #occupation is an answer. The occupiers reject not only incumbent politicians and institutions, but also the social conventions for dissent. With this civil disobedience and direct action, we are forced to ask all kinds of uncomfortable questions. Whose parks are these, after all? Are the people always allowed their First Amendment rights? Is another currency or system of debt / power relations possible? Why should we submit to arbitrary hierarchy and domination in our everyday lives?

It’s while we’re all struggling to answer these questions that the real work, the creative work, can begin. So yes, be realistic. Demand the impossible.

Issue 6 on its way AND exciting news!

My oh my, how the time flies! As the year draws to close (ok, not yet but it will in a blink) we, at Yonic South, have been doing some soul searching, some heavy drinking, and pulling some all nighters. It seems like everything is in a state of life-altering transition, and we, the youth, have the ability to be leading the movement. It’s an exciting time to be alive and awake and alert and creative and skeptical and passionate.

In order to allow enough time for self-reflection, finals, juries, Channukah, Christmas/Chirstmas-esque holidays with no mention Jesus or 3 wisemen, Boxing Day, New Year’s Eve, and maybe a nap here and there, we will be releasing the next issue in January 2012. Check the Submit tab for details.

We want to embrace every person’s creativity and passion, so as a result, we’ve opened up submissions to men. We have received so much support from men and women alike, that it just didn’t seem fair to prohibit the contributions of interested and willing parties based solely on their gender. In our nascent phase, we asked for support from our friends and acquaintances to allow us to create a comfortable space for women to express themselves and they complied. Now that we’ve established our intentions and our goals, it seems appropriate to expand our horizons.

Our current issue, no. 6, will be released on Saturday at the Speakeasy Art Gallery. The gallery will feature three artists that have contributed to our beloved zine in the past: Eydie McConnell, Jamie Karson, and Carina Downing as well as some other very talented Long Beach artists: Zell Thomas (featured in the upcoming issue), Bryan Walton, and Chris Lyles.

*The Speakeasy Art Gallery was founded by Brian Coil and Stephanie Libanati and is located at:
1679 West 9th St.
Long Beach, CA 90813

Check out issue 6 for an interview with Stephanie.

Cool stuff, you’re cool, etc.

OMG! WE ARE SOOOO SUPER EXCITED ABOUT HOW MANY
FABULOUS CONTRIBUTIONS WE GOT THIS MONTH! SO MANY, IN
FACT, THAT WE HAD TO ADD PAGES! OMGAAA OMGAAA OMGAAA!
SERIOUSLY, WE LOVE YOU.

NEXT MONTH’S THEME WILL BE MUSIC. PLEASE SUBMIT ANYTHING
THAT YOU FEEL RELATES TO THAT BROAD SPECTRUM. WE ALSO
HOPE IT’LL SERVE AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO HIGHLIGHT AWESOME
FEMALE BANDS, BOTH LOCAL AND WIDESPREAD.

WE HAVE WEEKLY MEETINGS AT ROSE PARK. EVERY. SINGLE.
MONDAY. AT 6PM. ROSE PARK IS ON 8TH AND ORIZABA. WE’D
LOVE TO SEE YOU THERE. WE’D LIKE TO GET YONIC SOUTH
MORE INVOLVED IN COMMUNITY ACTIVISM, SO IF YOU HAVE ANY
IDEAS, PLEASE COME TO A MEETING OR SEND US AN EMAIL AT
YONICSOUTHZINE@GMAIL.COM.

Cool thing to check out:

PEACE PRESS GRAPHICS 1967-1987: Art in the Pursuit of Social Change
At the University Art Museum on campus at CSULB from
September 10 – December 11, 2011

The exhibit features a collection of posters created by Peace Press, an artist/activist (artivist, if you will) group founded in 1967 that was dedicated to printing and publishing “alternative everything.” The posters address issues like feminism, workers’ rights, civil liberties, nuclear disarmament, environmental rights, and war. I went last week and it was very inspiring, so go! The UAM is also working with a larger project called The B-Word, which focuses on censorship. These groups are bringing some really interesting events to campus that I will talk more in detail about on the blog: yonicsouth.wordpress.com

The museum is free for CSULB students, faculty, staff, and children 12 and under; $4 general admission

Museum hours:
Tuesday-Sunday: 12 to 5pm
Thursday: 12 to 8pm
closed Mondays and all university holidays

(More info coming here very soon)

I am from…

by Alyssa Roma

I am from suburbia,
from loving shelter and over-protection,
From my bedroom
where I spent my many lonely weekends
scoffing at teenage ragers
full of drunken potheads
who used to make me smile
with their compliments and invitations.

I am from restlessness,
from wander-hunger and cravings for experiences.
I am from fear of being too impatient,
from fear of being trapped and wasted,
from fear of waiting too long,
and worst,
from fear of a life not tasted.

I am from the Shut the Fuck Up!
From Wake up from la-la land
And Bullshit! Just do it already.

I am from developed talents and endless potential,
and from hiding behind my library of books
from shutting out shallow gossip-mongers
and braindead narrow-minded assholes.
I am from I need to get the hell out of here
and meet people who’ll appreciate me.

I am from the sky’s the limit,
from I’ll make the best of me.
I am from no more regrets,
and don’t let my inner child down
or tempt her to try to beat me.
I am from always try to follow your dreams,
Plan ahead and choose carefully
and from never stop believing.

YOU-DENTITY

I want people to like me. I want them to respect me. I want them to think that I’m unique, but not too weird. I want them to find me interesting, intelligent, creative, compassionate, and cool. I realize these are pretty common feelings. But when I actually get positive attention, my stomach jumps with excitement, then writhes with discomfort, and finally, it plummets into a pit of self-deprecation. “They’re wrong.” “They don’t really know you.” “Great, now you’ve got expectations to meet.” “See how long that lasts.” “They must have really low standards.” etc etc etc
It’s because of this wanting people to like me thing that I’ve had a really hard time distinguishing between what I like and what I think I should like. For example, I willingly saw Dave Matthews Band play. Twice. They were my high school boyfriend’s favorite band of all time, so I tried to make them my favorite band too. He burned me a copy of every single album they had ever recorded, in the studio and live. When we broke up, I never listened to them again. Not out of spite, but because I didn’t really like them.
Looking back at my tastes through the years, I see that I had mostly been taking on the interests of the person I was dating. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a positive thing to try to like what your partner likes. That makes sense. It’s good to relate to the person you’re sleeping with. But when those former relationships ended, I realized that I had spent a lot of time and energy feigning enthusiasm for things that I felt totally indifferent toward. That made me wonder how much of my time I was wasting. (note: This is NOT true now. My handsome boyfriend and I actually have a lot in common, and I still refuse to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy.)
We all waste our time sometimes doing stupid things like bringing our laptops into the bathroom when we poop, making stupid rage comics about bagels, attempting to make wine from grapes, and translating the bible into the LOLcats language (read: Kitty Pidgin English). But when our time wasting directly affects the formation of our identity, it has the potential to transform into a more serious problem.
The time I wasted on things I didn’t really like resulted in a second-guessing problem that I still struggle with today. When I see bands play, I completely reevaluate my musical voice. I think: No, Maggie. THIS is the kind of music you should be making. Then the next band: No no no, THIS is the music you should be making. And so on and so forth until I’ve turned my guitar into a cactus pot and I’m singing through a bendy-straw about Margaret Thatcher’s secret love affair with Nancy Reagan.
I still can’t seem to distinguish between the development of my taste and the realization that it wasn’t my taste at all. Throughout my life, people have said to me, “Maggie, you’re so grounded. You really know who you are.” And though I never do, I always want to reply, “WTF are you talking about? Have you seen me??” I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I’m going to school because I’m supposed to. I love learning, but I’m dragging my feet through a music degree. Dragging them through a simultaneous English degree. All the while sweating profusely when someone asks, “What are you going to do with that?” I have no fucking clue, people! I am a musician who doesn’t practice nearly as much as she should. I am a writer who doesn’t read or write enough. And often these feelings of what the hell am I doing with my life? and who the hell am I? seem like a reason to drink ‘til I forget my name. But reading through the submissions this month and talking to some really wonderful people has made me realize something that can be sad, but is definitely comforting: Nobody really knows. Nobody has any fucking idea. They’re just doing what they love (hopefully) and figuring it out along the way. I’m going to try and be myself, whatever the hell that means. Thanks buddies.

-Maggie Boles