Pop Culture is Passing Me By (and I don't really care)

I don't pay for TV. I'll give you a moment to recover from the shock before I go on. Nope. No cable. No Direct TV. No satellite. Do you need more time to mop up the beverage you were drinking? I get five channels pretty clearly, and one that looks like an avalanche.

Every once in a while I surf my five and a half channels to see what's on, and as I return to the first one again I think to myself, "Yep. Nothing's on." I figure I'm saving myself a lot of time. I've heard many a person after they've surfed their two hundred plus channels come to the same conclusion.

I grew up in a house where there was no cable TV. I watched some MTV at a friend's back in the day, but that was about the extent of it. So it never was a real inconvenience for me to be without it later.

Do I feel deprived? No. Not really.

The only thing really coming out of it is that pop culture is passing me by. Show me a picture of Usher, and you'd have to tell me who he is. Same with George Strait, Jonas Brothers, any contestant from American Idol, Nick Lahey, actors from CSI or Law and Order, and most of the cast of Sex And the City. (I'd recognize Sarah Jessica Parker from Square Pegs.) I could go on, but you get the idea.

There are some people that are so ubiquitous that they even penetrate my little cocoon. Even though I'd rather they didn't. For example, I know who Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, Brittany Spears and Jessica Simpson are. And I have to say my life is no better for that knowledge. It may even be a little worse.

I've never seen an episode of Ghost Hunters, Rachel Ray or Sex and the City. Am I shocking you? Do you think I'm crazy? Could be, but as I live my life in ignorant bliss, just remember to speak slowly to me about anything dealing with pop culture. And ignore my confused stare.

I'll be okay. Honest.

Nonsense of this woman’s psyche in the name of motorcycle riding

Today, Ava takes an easy problem and makes a federal case out of it. Over-thinking until it’s almost not worth leaving the house.



Natalie Damshroder, wonderful woman that she is, has forced my hand. She linked to my blog before I was ready! So now my very first entry will be full of complaining and crazy ramblings. (Which really wouldn’t be any different if I had been prepared.) It’s a good thing that I’m such a big fan of hers, or else she’d be in big trouble!

On to other news. I hate transitional hair. I’m in the process of growing out my bangs. First, I need to let you know that I usually go to a hairdresser about once a year. (And by hairdresser, I mean the cheapest franchise chain that I can find.) I cut/butcher the bangs myself for the rest of the year. I don’t have too much vanity about that. But here’s the thing. I’ve realized, since they’re off my face, I use the bangs to hide behind. Now that I’m employing a clip to hold them back, I’m a little uncomfortable. I feel exposed.

Not only are my bangs gone, but I just got contacts for the first time in my life. Now that there are no glasses between me and the rest of the world, that naked/exposed feeling has doubled. How bizarre is that? This is making me think crazy thoughts, like (gasp) wearing makeup more often! I feel the need to create a new barrier. Naked. Exposed. Must cover up!

I didn’t get contacts and grow out my bangs to change my look, per se. I had a practical reason. I got a motorcycle this summer. It’s not my first one. It’s the third that I’ve owned, but I haven’t had one in four years. The glasses get cumbersome with the helmet. But the growing out of the bangs is for ease of dealing with helmet hair. Without the bangs, I can just flip the do when the helmet comes off, and not have too bad a case of helmet hair. With the bangs, a brush, hair care products and a blow dryer come in to play. Not easy. With my looks, I’m a path of least resistance girl. If it’s easy, it’s good.

Vanity doesn’t usually come into play with my personality. But in this case, not hiding from the world with the sheepdog bangs any more, that little grain of feminine vanity that lurks deep inside me is sparking up. It can never be totally squelched. (The magazines on the rack at the grocery store checkout make sure of that as they silently scream at me about all my flaws and how to fix them in five easy steps.) Thus the statement that I hate transitional hair. I know the hair looks bad. So bad, in fact, that I’m tempted to break the one year stretch and go to the hairdresser to see what they can do.

So, do I cave to the pressures of society, and take the plunge? Start going to the hairdresser and applying make up, or fight the power? If I had my way, I’d stay in my pj’s all day, writing. Since that’s not an option, for today, I say fight the power! Shake up the world and go out into public with a naked face! Power to the people!