The Sellout

In my iPod right now: “Everyday is Like Sunday” by Morrissey

Is it just me, or does it suddenly seem like cupcakes are everywhere? Granted, cupcakes are no strangers to mainstream society. They were the perfect little treat for kids to bring in to elementary school on their birthdays. They were a staple of bake sales and cake walks. In my elementary school in Michigan, there were even random cupcake weeks, where we could purchase a homemade cupcake for a quarter to raise money for some cause (this was also a convenient way for my mom to dispense with some of that annoying Canadian change you must inevitably deal with as a Michigander). But cupcakes are now out of control! I saw no less than five bookstore displays this Christmas of cupcake-themed recipe books. I keep seeing cupcake designs on birthday cards and baby clothes.

Sure, it’s nice to know that cupcakes aren’t going anywhere, but I am a little bittersweet. I had this naive notion that cupcakes were kind of my special thing. Turns out they’re everyone’s.

I guess it’s kind of like music. In the early 90’s, I was a big fan of so-called “alternative” music. From Concrete Blonde, to Echo and the Bunnymen, to James. Whatever they were selling, I was buying. But then something happened: alternative became mainstream. Suddenly people were complaining about bands like Pearl Jam and R.E.M. “selling out.” How dare they expand their fan base? Shame on them for making money doing something they love!

Ridiculous, if you think about it. Why shouldn’t bands and cupcakes be successful? If I’m truly a fan, shouldn’t I want what’s best for them? And, of course, without mainstream success, we’d never get to have those bragging rights – those “I knew them way back when” stories.

Side note: The only person interested in these stories is the person telling them. The rest of us couldn’t care less about that person who saw Live at some general admission concert at Wabash College in the Spring of 1993, right before Throwing Copper hit it big. (Oh wait – that person was me.)

But I still can’t get used to hearing “Everyday is Like Sunday” in NFL commercials...

Back in Blog

In my iPod right now: "These Photographs" by Joshua Radin
Competing in my head: "Back in Black" by AC/DC (of course!)

It's New Year's Resolution time, right? Well, I'm not making any. Except that I will try to blog more. I think I said this last year too. Look how that turned out .... In any case, I've seen other blogs that list what the writer is listening to - and I love that idea. I love music. This way, I always get to share without a separate "I Recommend" post. And perhaps the music will give me blogging ideas. Perhaps??

My husband and I just got back from our holiday trip to Denver to visit his mom. And, as luck would have it, three of my sorority sisters (all from my class) live there - and they were ALL around to meet and catch up for awhile. It's always fun to rehash the college stories. My friend Betsy, in particular, reminded me of a poem I wrote in her honor - describing a beer goggled incident in which she stole some poor caterer's sandwich while he was innocently roasting a hog on a spit in the backyard of some fraternity house. Poor guy. But it was damn funny.

Well, I got home and managed to find my journal from the years 1992 - 1996 (yes, I recognize that this ages me - and no, I don't like it one bit). One hundred and twenty-six poems and "thoughts," folks! Most of them Smiths/Morrissey/Cure - inspired garbage (not that The Smiths or The Cure churn out garbage at all, but the sad outlook they seemed to bring out in me was not becoming). However, a few of them weren't bad, if I do say so myself. One entry, in particular, made me laugh. And since I have nothing else to blog about, I am repeating it here, 16 years later (oh God, I'm old):

Untitled:

I think I know why my parents didn't spoil me when I was a child. I wanted all of these toys, and sometimes when I got them, they weren't as neat as the commercials said, and then I never played with them and wouldn't let my friends either. But I liked my Barbie a lot because I only had one - the other ones I had that kind of looked like Barbie were the hollow drugstore kind. But if I had been given as many Barbies as I'd wanted, I probably would have been careless with them, like how my one friend Christine was, because she had so many Barbies and threw them all in a big white bucket with no clothes on. I feel good, too, because deep down I know that my Barbie had it better. It's a good thing I wasn't spoiled like Christine, because if I had been, I'd probably treat people like she treated her Barbies.