Ariana Adkins
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Change; Not a Big Fan of Texas
“Going
to Texas? Wow, that’s a little scary.” I thought to myself as I went into
super-ultra-Flash like-speed on packing (Flash, as in the superhero… just to be
clear). Procrastination was always a problem with me, which was probably why I was
plowing through a bunch of clothes trying to find things to pack. I had put
cleaning my room off until the last minute, and then at the last minute, I
forgot. Needless to say, my room had not been cleaned and it was torturous!
“You have to clean your room before you
leave!” Lisa shouted to me from the bathroom with a mouthful of toothpaste. She
could be such a bitch sometimes. She knew what time my nana was picking me up
to take me to Wyandotte, yet she chose 10 minutes before my nana arrived before
she thought to mention that my room had to be clean before I left for the
summer!
“Uhm, OK!” I managed with compliance in my voice.
She did things like this all the time, just to spite me, so
I couldn’t be surprised. I started shoving everything in random places. I knew
that my nana would not be happy in the least bit, and she was already not a big
fan of Lisa.
“Ok Ariana, you’ve got this. You have what? Let’s say
approximately 12 minutes until Nana Amy gets here, you can do it.” I spoke
out-loud, as if to prep myself for what was ahead. I grabbed my closet door and yanked it back
to expose more space. I then proceeded to take all of my clothes and lunge them
into my closet. I heard the dogs bark as
my nana pulled into my drive-way. I sprinted outside, pushing through Opal and
Indiana who were still barking, and broke through the house, forgetting about
my shoes. My nana was walking to me to get my bags.
“Where are your bags?” My nana questioned as she realized I
did not look ready to go.
“I’m almost done packing, but Lisa said I have to clean my
room before I leave. She told me like, three minutes ago.” I explained,
preparing myself for my nana’s response.
“Are you serious?” My nana said, reacting calmer than I was
hoping. I thought maybe she’d get so mad she would tell Lisa to “F-Off!” and I
wouldn’t have to finish my room.
When my nana and I finished packing and cleaning my room, I
hollered to Lisa to let her know I was leaving and she couldn’t do anything to
stop it. My nana left with some snide remark towards Lisa and we were out of
there. The car ride to Wyandotte was pretty long and boring, and when we got
there I passed out. I remember mumbling “Hi.” To Pa and Grandma Karen then
heading to my favorite guest-bedroom for sleep, but from there to the airport,
my memory goes fuzzy.
“Give me a hug!” Pa said, reaching out for me.
“No way!” I said, pushing him away. He could be so embarrassing. I didn’t want a hug because he always kissed my cheek and his beard always pricked my face, I hated that feeling.
“You should hug him before you leave!” One of the flight attendants cheered.
“No way!” I said, pushing him away. He could be so embarrassing. I didn’t want a hug because he always kissed my cheek and his beard always pricked my face, I hated that feeling.
“You should hug him before you leave!” One of the flight attendants cheered.
People were really starting to get annoying, so I sucked it
up and hugged him, quickly. I made sure to dodge his beard. The flight and I
began walking to my seat.
“So, you really didn’t hug him?” She said, implying that I should have.
“So, you really didn’t hug him?” She said, implying that I should have.
“Uhm… no?” I questioned with a hint of snide sarcasm. She
must not have been looking when we hugged, but I really didn’t want to have a
conversation about it.
10 months later I returned to the very same airport, my dad
and uncle Travis waiting for me at the arrival gate. I was happy to see them,
my dad especially.
“Hey there, kiddo!” My dad said as he smiled to me.
“Hey there, kiddo!” My dad said as he smiled to me.
“Hi, dad!” I said as I stood on my tip-toes to hug him. “Hi
Uncle Travis!” I said as I moved my hug to my also-much-taller-than-me uncle.
“Hey kid! Welcome back!” My uncle responded.
“I didn’t tell you that you could get boobs while you were gone!” My dad said, teasing me.
“Hey kid! Welcome back!” My uncle responded.
“I didn’t tell you that you could get boobs while you were gone!” My dad said, teasing me.
“Yeah, okay…let me go return them…” I said, rolling my eyes
as I repressed a laugh, I couldn’t let him know that I thought he was funny.
The car ride back to Pa’s was interesting. Most of the time I was just listening to my dad and uncle Travis talk about my uncle’s new car and whether or not OnStar was worth the money. I was super excited to get back to Pa’s house, my sister was there and she had no idea I was back from Texas, yet! We parked and my sister came dancing out of the house, ready to welcome my dad and unlce travis back home. Branwyn came around the back as I was opening the trunk to get my bags. Her eyes got huge, she did a double take and she ran into my arms.
The car ride back to Pa’s was interesting. Most of the time I was just listening to my dad and uncle Travis talk about my uncle’s new car and whether or not OnStar was worth the money. I was super excited to get back to Pa’s house, my sister was there and she had no idea I was back from Texas, yet! We parked and my sister came dancing out of the house, ready to welcome my dad and unlce travis back home. Branwyn came around the back as I was opening the trunk to get my bags. Her eyes got huge, she did a double take and she ran into my arms.
“Oh my God, Ariana! You’re here!” She shouted, squeezing my
harder every time her voice got higher.
“Oh, hey! Miss me?” I said, obviously full of myself.
It was in this moment that I finally breathed for the first
time in a while. It had probably been about 8 months since the last time I had
took a real breathe, the first time I was able to relax. Being back home, even
if I wasn’t really at my house yet, that was all I needed to make things
better. My trip was awful, but I was
home now with my sister in my arms, and nothing else mattered. Everything was
different, everything. It was pretty great.
Artifacts; Butterfly Hugs
I sat high above the road, wind in my hair, sun in my face,
upholstery beneath my fingers, with the colors of summer flying by at 80mph and
the sound of America’s Horse With No Name
surrounding me. The jeep seemed almost bare, for it had shed its winter coat.
At my young age, this was fascinating to me and as soon as it was warm enough
to wear shorts I’d ask my nana if we could take the top of the jeep and its
doors down each year. My car-seat gave me an extra few inches to observe the
beauty of Northern Michigan. Even as young as I was, I was always getting lost
in my thoughts.
I stared down at the road wondering how much effort it would take for me to touch it from my car-seat. From there I started wondering what other people thought about as they flew down the road, confined by their seatbelts and doors. I however, was not confined by doors and felt more free than usual. I studied my surroundings, inside the jeep and out. My eyes found my nana’s necklace that dangled from the rearview mirror the same one that I had always been intrigued by. The necklace was a chocker with a very intricate design in the elastic it was made of. A cute little butterfly connected the two ends of the elastic.
I stared down at the road wondering how much effort it would take for me to touch it from my car-seat. From there I started wondering what other people thought about as they flew down the road, confined by their seatbelts and doors. I however, was not confined by doors and felt more free than usual. I studied my surroundings, inside the jeep and out. My eyes found my nana’s necklace that dangled from the rearview mirror the same one that I had always been intrigued by. The necklace was a chocker with a very intricate design in the elastic it was made of. A cute little butterfly connected the two ends of the elastic.
“Nana, I love this necklace.” I said, admiring the way it
blended in with the colors of summer.
“I
got it from my dad when I was about your age, a little before he died. You can
wear it while we are at grandmas and grandpa’s if you’d like.” My nana replied
without any hesitation.
“How
did your dad die? I thought grandpa was your dad.” I was so confused, but at
the same time over-joyed that I was able to wear this necklace that I had been
admiring for so long.
“Well,
he was coming home one night and a drunk driver hit his car. I was 10 when that
happened, and later grandma met grandpa, so in a way, they are both my dad and
both your grandpa.” She explained to me.
I sat there, perplexed that I had a
grandpa that I never even knew. He was just, gone. I wondered how my nana felt
when she found out he had died, or how my great grandma had felt, how anyone
had felt for that matter! I had never had to deal with any sort of death, still
haven’t years later. People I knew had died, but no one in my family, no one I
was close to, not even a pet. I held the necklace between my fingers, feeling
the loops in its design, before slipping it around my neck. I liked the way it
hugged my neck. Not too tight, not like a boa constrictor trying to cut off my
air flow, and not too loose like those shorts that won’t stay on your hips no
matter what you try. It was more like the butterfly itself was extended its
wings and caressing me as I lived my life.
Wearing this necklace I always had a piece of my nana, even when she wasn’t with me. After our visit to grandmas my nana had allowed me to keep the necklace, so long as I promised to take good care of it. I did everything with that necklace on. When I was five and my little brother was born I wore that necklace while I held him for the first time. That necklace meant everything to me, and it still holds a very special place in my heart today. After wearing it for years, it has gone through a lot of different wear and tear, but it’s still intact and from time to time I’ll wear it just so I can feel like a little kid again. During the time in my life of which I received the necklace, not much mattered, but at the same time so much that does today, did. The little things were important, like the grasshoppers I would play cat and mouse with at my nana’s house, or the pictures I would find in the clouds and the big things were just out of my control and at the time didn’t require my worrying. I wear my nana’s necklace now when I need to stop and appreciate the little things in life, and stop worrying about the big. Whenever I need my nana, that little butterfly will hug me and remind me to embrace the kid that still lives inside of me.
Wearing this necklace I always had a piece of my nana, even when she wasn’t with me. After our visit to grandmas my nana had allowed me to keep the necklace, so long as I promised to take good care of it. I did everything with that necklace on. When I was five and my little brother was born I wore that necklace while I held him for the first time. That necklace meant everything to me, and it still holds a very special place in my heart today. After wearing it for years, it has gone through a lot of different wear and tear, but it’s still intact and from time to time I’ll wear it just so I can feel like a little kid again. During the time in my life of which I received the necklace, not much mattered, but at the same time so much that does today, did. The little things were important, like the grasshoppers I would play cat and mouse with at my nana’s house, or the pictures I would find in the clouds and the big things were just out of my control and at the time didn’t require my worrying. I wear my nana’s necklace now when I need to stop and appreciate the little things in life, and stop worrying about the big. Whenever I need my nana, that little butterfly will hug me and remind me to embrace the kid that still lives inside of me.
Boundaries; Every State Line
Just
the mention of a place, in this case a state, can bring up so many memories and
feelings. Some are memories you unwillingly forgot, some are ones you’re
fighting to forget because the memory is just too unbearable.
Michigan is my home, born and raised. When someone says
“Michigan” I think of family, I think of the lakes, and I think of my
childhood. For me, Michigan is that boyfriend I can’t get over, no matter what
happens, I always come crawling back. I have left Michigan time and time again,
but my roots are in Michigan and that is something hard to leave behind.
You say “Texas” and you’ll see me cringe. You may not recognize
it, but inside of me something is fighting hard to repress the memories Texas
holds. I keep telling myself that to forgive is to forget, and maybe, someday,
I will have the courage to go to that god-forbidden hell hole of a state again.
The state where the dry heat of the day sucks all of the air inside of your
lungs and watches as you gasp for more. The state where the cold of the
personalities that live there taunt you each day until the only happiness left
is forgotten. The state where the sight of a snake could mean life and death,
and the forbidden fruit is the truth. My mother chose to move to Texas after I
had come back home to Michigan and I haven’t been able to visit her since.
Perhaps the state itself isn’t at fault for my memories or the tears that go
with them. Actually, it really isn’t at all, but the people who do hold the
fault will never take responsibility, therefore making it easier to blame
Texas.
“I don’t understand
why we have to leave.” I said glumly.
“Same.
No one wants to leave anyway, it’s just not fair.” Branwyn interjected.
“I
have to say, I agree with those two. This is our home.” Rand chimed in.
“We
are NOT going over this again. Anyhow, if you guys don’t move now I’m afraid
you’ll be in Michigan forever.” Lisa said, trying to justify uprooting the
family to the southern-most part of the continental US from Northern Michigan.
“I’d
like to get off the roof, I’m sick of the snow, Lisa would like to live in
Florida, and you guys are the children so you do as we say.” My father stated.
“I
have left Michigan multiple times, and who’s to say we will be here forever if
we don’t leave right this instance?!” I quickly regretted my statement as I saw
the looks coming from Lisa and my father. They could be so difficult and
selfish sometimes.
“I
think we should at least wait until I graduate.” Rand added, obviously not
aware that we were pushing it by having the balls to argue with our parents.
You see, Rand could get away with this type of thing, but me…no chance in hell
I would push it any further, I knew better.
Say Florida. Hell, just THINK Florida. What do you see? What comes to mind? Oranges? The ocean? Drugs? Vacation? Mangroves? Disney World? Terrible driving? Beaches? Dirt apples? The truth is… Florida and I go way back. My first vacation I went to Disney World with my mother in the third grade, it was great. Then when I was a junior my step-mother and my father decided to move the family to Key Largo. Key Largo, where the smell of mangroves in the morning causes involuntary vomit. If I had to choose a catch-phrase for Key Largo, that would be my choice. I mean, Florida really isn’t that terrible of a place, the ocean reflects light quite nicely and the oranges have a neon tint to them like a fake-bake gone wrong. Sure the people don’t know how to drive, but would you be able to drive with a semi-functional-brain that was fried from all the snow that keeps falling up? …I didn’t think so. My biggest problem with Florida isn’t all the high lowlifes, it’s the apples. Seriously, the apples taste like they were dipped in glue and then rolled in dirt. In order to get a decent apple you needed to buy a Michigan apple (Imagine that! A MICHIGAN apple) that was ridiculously over-priced, or close your eyes and tell yourself it was just an apple flavored clump of dirt and be okay with it. Maybe I’m leading you on to believe that I dislike Florida. It’s not that, Florida isn’t all that bad. The Key’s aren’t all that impressing, however. I suppose had circumstances been a little better while I lived in Key Largo I would have a different outlook on everything that happened down there. Not everything was terrible, the fishermen were fun, work was interesting to say the least, and I had a blast analyzing all of the different personalities I ran into down there. Florida is the last place I have been, so far, that isn’t Michigan and maybe that has everything to do with my feelings toward that poor state. I’d be lying if I said I miss it.
“and every state line
there's a new set of laws
and every police man
comes equipped with extended claws
there's a thousand shades of white
and a thousand shades of black
but the same rule always applies
smile pretty, and watch your back”
--Every State Line
~Ani DiFranco
Candy and Me; Musical Intervention
Enya
I looked up at my fifth grade teacher, Ms. Deering, as she
explained what our poem was supposed to be like. We could choose any topic we
wanted as long as it meant something to us. I knew what topic I was going to
write about right away, life.
“Do you think writing a poem about life would be too cliché?” I had just learned what the word cliché meant from the song I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) from Hercules, and I tried to use it as much as possible for about a week after.
“Do you think writing a poem about life would be too cliché?” I had just learned what the word cliché meant from the song I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) from Hercules, and I tried to use it as much as possible for about a week after.
“No,
I think that is a great topic, I can’t wait to read your poem.” She went over
to play some music for us as she said this to me.
I have always appreciated teachers who
play music for us while we work. Mrs. Ance used to play music and even though I
didn’t really enjoy her taste in music, or her class, the days where she played
music were the best. I have never understood the people who discouraged music
being played while work was being done. My dad listened to music while he
worked and he was on roofs all day, so why shouldn’t we be able to listen to
music while we sit at desks all day? I remember one time playing music in my
room while I did my homework. “She” walked in and said to turn it off because I
needed to focus. I couldn’t understand how she thought that asking me to turn
off my music was a reasonable request.
The whole class quieted down to see what
Ms. Deering had selected to listen to today. I always admired Ms. Deering, she
was my favorite teacher; even now we keep tabs on each other, so to hear her
choice wasn’t very surprising. I knew we had similar taste in music, even though
I was just a little fifth grader; we had many discussions about music that
year. As Enya played I recognized her
voice right away. I didn’t recognize the song, but I was absolutely sure it was
Enya. I sat at my desk, pencil in hand, mind blank. Suddenly a song came on
that I did recognize. It was Only Time
and at the time, my favorite Enya song. As Enya sang I turned her notes into
inspiration that exploded out of my pencil like a big ink mess when a pen
explodes, only instead of a puddle of ink it was just a mess of words scribbled
onto my paper. As I finished the last couple lines of my sloppy poem, I leaped
from my seat and gently placed it face down in the basket for Ms. Deering to proof
read.
The next day during English Ms. Deering called out names of kids and as their names were called, they rose and slumped over to Ms. Deering’s table. When my name was called I didn’t slump over, instead I got up, straightened my back, and sauntered over to where we would proof read my poem. After we made my poem look like a crime scene, blood between many of my sentences, I moved to a computer to type up the corrected version of my poem. After I finished my poem I felt good and sent a silent thanks to Enya for the inspiration she had sparked in me. To this day, Ms. Deering has that poem on display in her room and I hold Enya responsible.
The next day during English Ms. Deering called out names of kids and as their names were called, they rose and slumped over to Ms. Deering’s table. When my name was called I didn’t slump over, instead I got up, straightened my back, and sauntered over to where we would proof read my poem. After we made my poem look like a crime scene, blood between many of my sentences, I moved to a computer to type up the corrected version of my poem. After I finished my poem I felt good and sent a silent thanks to Enya for the inspiration she had sparked in me. To this day, Ms. Deering has that poem on display in her room and I hold Enya responsible.
Sarah McLachlan
I walked over to the window to see what
the night had in store for me. When I was younger I used to think that by
looking outside I could figure out how people would be behaving. Like the
weather was the only variable impacting their mood, and that way their mood was
always justified, because nobody can do anything about the weather. Tonight was
beautiful though, I found it hard to believe that anyone who saw tonight would
be able to stay in a bad mood. The moon lit up Earth much like how I imagine
once single light would light up a football field. With the moon helping a
street light out on the corner, I could see everything. The snow on the ground
reflected the moon so beautifully, and in the window I saw our tree and the
candles lighting up the living room much like the moon and street light working
together outside.
I strode over to the couch, careful not to be noticed by the
woman dancing in the middle of the room. I watched her as Sarah’s lyrics moved
her. She looked like a jellyfish flowing with the energy of the ocean. As the
energy coming from Sarah’s voice moved the dancing woman, my father came in to
interrupt. She hardly gave him a chance to say anything before she took him by
the arms and moved him like a marionette. My father doesn’t know how to dance,
she knows this. My father is one of those odd people who can appreciate music,
but not quite connect with it; I still have never fully understood this type of
person.
She releases him and continues to dance as if my father’s
two left feet were a mere inconvenience to her. Me on the other hand, I am
utterly embarrassed by my dad’s lack of rhythm and just as I’m about to tease
him about it, my favorite Sarah song comes on. The C.D. playing is a mix
between Christmas Enya, Sarah McLachlan and Kathy Mattea. Christmas is the only
time this C.D. is played because, “if you listen to it at any other time it
loses that special Christmas quality.”
“Can you please put it in? Just this one time, I promise I
won’t ask again.” I have time to go over every single word I just spoke as she
sighs before she speaks.
“Ariana,
you know the rule. I have explained it enough times that I shouldn’t have to
repeat it to you.” She says this as sincerely as she can manage, with just the
slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. She is so stubborn when it comes to
what I would like. I’m sure if anyone else had asked she would have performed
the task with a smile on her face.
“Christmas break starts next Friday; I’ll play it after dinner on
Friday, but not before. You know that if you listen to it at any other time it
loses that special Christmas quality.”
I’m not sure if it’s the weather, or the fact that this is
the first time since last Christmas that I have been able to listen to this
C.D., but shortly after my dad’s interruption, the woman swimming in the middle
of the room exists to put her daughter to bed. I stand up and run in front of
her to kiss my five year old sister on the forehead before she is tucked in. I
pass the woman and my father on my way out and make my way back to the living
room, feeling cool having a sister six years younger than myself. I lay on the
bigger of the two couches and watch as the candles flicker on the walls, as if
to be moving by spirit and not by wind. I check to see if any window is open,
but the warmth of the house is safe because all windows remain shut. I close my
eyes and let Sarah’s voice put me in a state of peace as I carefully absorb all
the words she is singing.
My goal is to memorize all of her lyrics, as well as each chord
that is played and every note that is hit. If I can sing it, then I can listen
to it at any time I’d like. My eye lids are no longer floating above my eyes,
but wrapping around them making it impossible to open. As I drift off, goal
unaccomplished, the last thing I hear is the crowd as they cheer for Sarah when
the song is over.
Ani DiFranco
“I just got a bunch of songs onto my phone, do you have any
more Ani, because all of mine got left in Washington.” Sarah and Laurie were
talking in the front seat while Alanis played for me throughout the car.
“Uhm,
I don’t think I do, I think I left all my Ani in Washington too, Ariana, do you
like Ani?” Laurie’s question had Sarah staring at me, waiting for a reply. What
was an oni? Or was it onni? I’d have to google it when I got home.
“Uhm,
no…what’s that?!”
“Well,”
Sarah began, “she’s a singer, she’s really great and I think you would love
her.” Laurie then added, “Considering your obsession with Alanis, I’m surprised
you haven’t heard of Ani already, you should listen to her, I think you’ll
really enjoy her music.” Laurie was hardly ever wrong when it came to things I
might like.
When I got home I typed “Oni” into the
google, and “Did you mean Ani?” came up, I clicked on that, assuming I had in
fact meant “Ani”, and several YouTube videos came up. The first song I listened
to was Untouchable Face, of course I
really enjoyed all the F Bombs she dropped and continued my research. I must
have spent two or three hours just listening to song after song after song, I
couldn’t get enough. It amazed me that I had been in the dark about Ani all
this time, was it a conspiracy? I was sure everyone in my life was in on this,
so I texted my mom to see if she had ever heard of Ani.
The reply I received from my mom was unexpected, to say the
least. My mother had actually been offended that I asked her this question. She
replied with something along the lines of “Are you kidding me?!?! OF COURSE I
know who Ani is. I listened to her all the time when you were little; I can’t
believe you are asking me that.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Did she
really think I was in control of what I did and didn’t remember from my
childhood? Why was she listening to Ani around me at such an early age anyway,
should I be concerned about that? Instead of getting into an unavoidable
argument by telling her Laurie had turned me onto her, I asked her what her
favorite songs were. It was funny to see how much my mom and I had in common,
even if it was about just one singer.
After I was done discussing my favorite Ani songs with my
mother I decided to make a project for myself. I have always been incredibly
nosey, wanting to know everything about everyone all the time. I feel like if
you know enough about someone then you should be able to connect with them no
matter what. So I picked a few of my favorite Ani songs, whether it was because
of the lyrics, the guitar, or her unique choice of when to breathe during her
performances, and this left me with a handful of songs that I was going to tear
apart and analyze. My goal was to figure out who, what, when, where, and why
about all the songs I had selected. I love to make my own connections with
songs, but I also love to know about people, and I wanted to know more about
Ani. After analysis after analysis, I decided that the main reason for Ani
doing what she did was for the sole purpose of wanting to. I could get into
that. I liked the sense of freedom her songs held, like as long as I was
listening to Ani, I’d didn’t have to take crap from anyone. Doing what you want
regardless of anyone else’s thoughts had always been appealing to me –to a certain
extent- and Ani had that down.
It was my first day of work at Coconuts in the keys, what
better music to put me in a good mood and boost my confidence than Ani
DiFranco? This was only my second job and to be completely honest, I was a
little intimidated by most of the personalities down in the keys, people were a
lot different than in Michigan, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
You never knew what you were going to get with each person, and being the over
analytical person that I am, I had fun all day trying to figure these crazy
people out. A tide must have come up and left a bunch of the ocean floor on the
shore, because I was overwhelmed by the smell of mangroves in the evening as I
made my way. The mangroves are disgusting, it’s the one place where everything
in the ocean goes to die, or at least that’s what it smells like.
Once I got to work I had finished my Ani session and felt
invincible, and I was. I was ready to meet all the people who’d be graced with
my presence every weekend and start my analyzing. I felt like a scientist and
all the people running about were my little rats, I had to see what triggered
them, what topics to avoid, and who would find the cheese the fastest. The girl
training me I liked right away because we began a discussion about music. Ani
and Alanis being the first thing anyone hears come out of my mouth, this was
perfect. Although I assumed that I’d have more luck finding people in the keys
to relate my Ani bond with, I had a hard time in doing so. I thought being so
close to Key West I’d at least find one person who shared my interest in her,
but this girl was not it. She knew who Alanis was, kudos for that, but she
hadn’t heard of Ani and that offended me.
As my life in the keys continued I was constantly in search
of someone who shared the same music interests as me. I found several people
who were fans of Alanis, not as big a fan as I was, but nonetheless, a fan. My
time in the keys was short and I only found one other person who admired Ani
the way I did. He was a middle aged man that my siblings and I would play
Frisbee with in the park every night after his tennis session. This man was a
musical genius. I found myself engaged in conversations with him all the time
about the guitar, seeing as he was very talented in that department and I had
just decided I was going to become a kick-ass folk singer, much like Ani. My
disappointment in the keys had a lot to do with peoples taste in music (as well
as the mangroves) and music being everything to me, it was nice to have him as
my musical outlet.
When I came back home I quickly found people who adored Ani,
much like myself. Sure, they were usually around 30, mostly friends of my mom
or random people that had been placed in my life, maybe a teacher here and
there, but they understood. I had begun to get used to the fact that I wouldn’t
have the same musical interests as the kids from my generation, so any outlet
was more than enough. I have to say that Ani is the one kick-ass feminist that
everyone woman needs to hear once in a while, and having another kick-ass woman
like yourself to embrace her with is pretty awesome. I you’re an Ani fan, you
understand, if you’re not…you’re missing out.
Alanis Morissette
Alanis Morissette was born June 1st,
1974 in Ottawa, Canada. She is married to Mario “Souleye” Treadway and has a
son, Ever Imre Treadway-Morissette who was born on Christmas in 2010. Alanis
has a twin brother, Wade Imre Morissette, and older brother that I’m not quite
sure really exists, Chad Morissette. She also has two parents, who are both
teachers, her father is French and her mother is Hungarian. When her father was
a little kid he went up to her mother on the playground and told her that he
was going to marry her, several years later…they were married. (I know! It’s
pretty amazing.) This is just a fraction of what I know about Alanis, I could
go on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on about Alanis and everything I
know about her, just from memory.
Alanis has always been a big part of my musical history. I
have been hearing her for as long as I have been alive, but it wasn’t until I
was about 11 that I actually listened. I was watching an early morning episode
of Jump Start on VH1 when Alanis’
song You Learn came on. I instantly
fell in love with her voice. I had to hear more, I found Still from the movie Dogma
and I knew that from that point on, my life would never be the same. I quickly
googled Alanis so that I could find everything that there was to know about
her. I watched every video on YouTube, read every interview available, rented
every movie she was involved in (as well as a very boring documentary that she
had narrated), and found a list of every song she wrote. I was obsessed.
I never knew anything more beautiful before I heard her
voice. I felt like the Christopher Columbus of Alanis Morissette, I mean
obviously I wasn’t the first to discover her. After this people started
associating Alanis with me, it was great! My obsession began to grow old in our
house around 15. Alanis would always be playing in the house, and the five
other people living there had heard enough, but this only strengthened our
Artist-Fan bond. Not until recently did our bond begin to fade. My little
sister Branwyn even started to get into her before I left my family.
“I miss you SO much, how has your summer been, how has
Florida been, how has school been, how have YOU been?!” I needed to know
everything I had missed.
“Florida
is the same as it was before you came back here, school is okay, and I miss you
and Michigan a lot.” She didn’t sound sad, she just sounded matter-of-factly.
“Well
I missed my little sister, and I’m glad you got to come visit your home for a
little bit, how was Camp Daggett?”
“Oh,
camp was really fun. Rand was a little upset since he’s too old to go now…but
no one cares about Rand.” She paused and laughed, it made my heart sink to see
her smile because I had missed her so much. “After you left I took all the
Alanis that was on the computer and I put it all on my iPod, I listen to it
every day.”
“I’m
so glad! She really is wonderful. I feel like I’m drifting away from her a
little, the latest album was a bit disappointing.” Neither of us could believe
the words coming out of my mouth.
Me losing my bond with Alanis? Things really had changed…
The next few hours were what made this day the best day of my summer. Unless
you have a sister, you don’t truly understand the sister-sister relationship. Being
away from your sister is like that worm you cut in half as a little kid, where
both parts of the worm are living but each missing it’s other half.
The next day I drove my sister to our grandma’s house in
Bliss so that “She” and my dad could pick her up. The car ride home was a long
one, I kept thinking about how things would have been if I stayed in Florida
with my sister, and then I thanked Alanis. I did this because I suddenly
understood the purpose of my bond with Alanis. Alanis helped me through a lot
in my life. I have always been a firm believer in music as the only real cure
to anything. Now that I had been cured time and time again, my sister’s ache
for me could be cured through her voice as well. This is the best bond between
a fan and an artist. Now whenever my sister listens to Alanis, she’ll always
have a piece of me, I couldn’t have asked Alanis for anything more.
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