Halloween, Other Heavy Metal Shenanigans, And Why You Shouldn't Yell At Your Kids For Wearing All Black.

Here's a little unknown fact about me (when I say unknown, I mean most of my close friends and family know this, but others do not.): I. LOVE. HEAVY. METAL. I also love Halloween. So last night I combined those two things and attended the Saints and Sinners Ball hosted by Radio 105.7 (Atlanta's alternative radio station). I wasn't there long because it was crowded and hot, and I was hungry, but I loved it. I had my picture taken with Aly, a D.J. for the radio station. Her main segment is called Under the Covers With Aly - a segment in which she plays nothing but cover songs from famous alternative bands. So naturally, she was wearing her bed costume. Naturally, I am wearing the darkest purple lipstick I could get my hands on.

The band I was wanting to see so badly was Bear Hands. They did not disappoint, especially with my favorite song of theirs, Loving You More. The opening, lesser known band Kiev was surprisingly better in my opinion. I was thoroughly impressed. Foals was the last band to play, although I did not give myself the privilege of listening to them, due to the aforementioned crowded, hot, and hungry circumstances. 

At any rate, my love for heavy metal and mostly dark, twisted, and ghoulish material comes as a surprise to most. For one, I'm tiny. Apparently in order to enjoy heavy metal, one must pass a height requirement. That excuse has always confounded me. The second excuse people say when I sheepishly admit I love heavy metal is "I never guessed you for the heavy metal type," as if because of my introverted and polite nature, people take me for a Country girl, or worse - a Pop fan girl. Nonetheless, my love for heavy metal has always prevailed, and started as a result of "finding myself" my sophomore year of high school which started as a result of meeting my biological sister for the first time. More on that later. 

Here are 5 reasons why I love heavy metal and more broadly, alternative music.

1) Heavy metal and alternative bands are so honest.

Think about it: what other genre writes with such true-to-yourself conviction? One of the number one reasons why the heavy metal/alternative/punk scene has flourished so much since the 90's is because, I think, the artists are real. Real in their lyrics, and more importantly, real off-stage as well as on-stage. 

2) Heavy metal and alternative bands are wonderful to their fans.

In 2010, I went to see Circa Survive play at the Masquerade (a 3-level, Afterlife-themed, concert venue in Atlanta). On top of having the best spot in the venue (right against the stage next to the corner speaker) and getting to crowd-surf and stand on stage next to Anthony Green (the lead singer), but afterward I got to meet the band. And yes, Anthony Green is as wonderful off-stage as he is on-stage. His reassuring statement of "I don't give a shit," when I apologized for taking so many pictures with him was as medicinal as it was effervescent. To this day, that concert remains one of my favorite experiences.

3) Heavy metal and alternative bands have THE MOST loyal fan bases.

Probably due to the authenticity of the band members as well as their lyrics, heavy metal and alternative bands have the most loyal fan bases. I think this is largely because most of the lyrics are relatable. Most of the lyrics involve everyday struggles, conflicts, and emotions. As a result, heavy metal and alternative artists strive to help their fans in this way. I can't tell you how many times Simple Plan's "Welcome To My Life," and Hawthorne Heights, "Ohio is for Lovers," helped me through my emotional and overly dramatic sophomore and junior years of high school. 

The reason why I let it medicate my soul so much was, because, I felt like the lyrics were written specifically for me. And so did other people. While in the company of other people who also enjoyed heavy metal and alternative music, I ended up having incredibly meaningful conversations and ended up building incredibly meaningful friendships with these other fans. Conversations like: 

"Oh, you struggle with (insert addiction-based, self-mutilating, whether psychological, physical or emotional, behavior here) too? I get that." 

"Your parents divorced as well, huh? You don't say."

"Oh, thank God I'm not the only one who thinks in a certain way that's different from my peers. I thought something was wrong with my mind." 

"Wow, you're having a hard time discovering what you believe about God and the Afterlife, too? I'm so relieved to find out I'm not alone." 

Ultimately, these issues have long since been resolved in my life. However, these are some of the staple comments that were made during conversations in high school during those formative years of high school that I had with fellow fans of heavy metal and alternative music. Because these lyrics were so raw, authentic, and relatable, the heavy metal and alternative community felt as if they also could be raw, authentic, and relatable with each other, too. Camaraderie sure had its place. Sounds like a win to me.

4) Heavy metal and alternative bands are also honest about their stories.

One of my favorite musician testimony is the testimony of Korn's lead guitarist Brian "Head" Welch, as he journeyed from being one of the famous heavy metal musicians in history to finding Jesus. You can read his story here.  I first heard his story on the documentary-style film, Holy Ghost. It's nothing short of phenomenal.

5) All black, everything.

It's no surprise to anyone that heavy metal and alternative bands and fans alike are enamored with wearing all black, all the time. I'm not sure where or how the culture staple got started. If any of you know, feel free to comment below. Perhaps wearing all black creates solidarity within the heavy metal and alternative community. At any rate, black is my absolute favorite color (actually, non-color for those of us who are Physics taught) in my wardrobe. It's also such a simple color. The heavy metal and alternative community was smart to pick black as their solidarity color. I mean it goes with everything...

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Well that was fun. What I want to briefly talk about before I let you go, is this: 

Parents, please stop making a big commotion over your children wearing all black.

I remember when I first started wearing black in high school. First, out came the dark black, heavy eyeliner. I mean, seriously. I applied so much under my eyelids, I looked like a hungover, stargazed teenager who had just gotten high for infinity. The actual truth was that I never did any drugs nor did I ever drink any alcohol during high school. Instead, I played a lot of sports and was involved in marching band. 

Second, out came the gradual all black, everything wardrobe. Needless to say, my mother had a fit. She didn't understand what was happening to me. She treated my all black obsession as well as my heavy metal and alternative preference as though it were a disease. No joke, this was part of the reason I was put into therapy my junior year of high school. 

At any rate, through all of my feelings of being misunderstood as a teenager, I want to share this word of wisdom to parents. Parents, if your child has decided to wear all black, and listen to heavy metal and alternative music, he/she has nothing "wrong" with him/her. He/she is not diseased. 

Rather, he/she has most likely found a community that not only provides solidarity and support, but also values him/her for who they are and accepts their humanity. Do you know how rare those traits are to find in a community nowadays? 

The church my parents and I went to as a teenager was very conservative. A few of my friends at church were into the all black, heavy metal and alternative community as well. I'll never forget hearing my then youth pastor and one mom of a youth group member talking about how she was worried about her daughter because her daughter decided to dress in all black. My youth pastor was admonishing this young woman's mother for slipping in colored clothes into her all black wardrobe. The hope was to eventually weed out all of the black clothes by replacing them with colorful clothes all the time. This was not only deceptive; it was cruel and devaluing to her daughter. The message she was sending was "you're only good enough to earn my pride when you're wearing colorful clothing," I distinctly remember cringing when my youth pastor referred to this behavior as "breaking her (the daughter) of it (wearing all black)," as if wearing all black was the equivalent of snorting cocaine on the reg. 

Now, I'm not a parenting expert, nor do I play one on TV, but as a teenager who grew up in a conservative, misunderstanding culture, I'll say this:

Your child should be celebrated for who they are and what they like, even if that means that they are a different person with different interests than what you hoped they would be/have. In fact, you should probably admonish your child for being involved in a heavy metal and alternative music community probably because:

1. your child is being supported

2. your child is making friends

3. your child is not alone and doesn't have to feel alone in the world

4. your child is loved -> by you, and by their community

By accepting what we don't understand, we promote tolerance, love, and respect. Your children need that from you in their formative years more than ever. Please don't misunderstand, if the community your child is involved in deals with drugs, alcohol, or self-destructive/community destructive behavior, then by all means, remove them from that particular community. But don't miss the forest for the trees (or however that sentiment goes). Don't associate all black and the heavy metal and alternative music community with the bad sub-communities. By learning to accept what we don't understand, we can be a people who generate love, kindness, and compassion to all people, and in return, generate love, kindness, and compassion to ourselves. That's the kind of world we want to live in, right?

Rock On.

The Goodness: How to Remain Patient in Your [Painful] Singleness

I don't know about you, but I find that God speaks to me through music. I guess it's because I'm a musician and a worship leader. I guess it's because of all the endorphins released when music is played, like oxytocin and serotonin. But most importantly, I believe it's because God moves to the sound of our worship. Like a pleased Papa, he sways to our worship of him. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about is the goodness.

The goodness can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Maybe for some the goodness is being surrounded by the ones that you love. For others, it may be soaking up those few and far between alone hours. I'm in a particularly hectic season right now. I work 30+ hours a week as an insurance Claims Coordinator. I create, edit, and revise approximately 30-60 claims per day. Some I write myself, but mostly I'm reviewing fellow team members' work and coaching them on how to do their very best work. I'm also taking an 84-hour accelerated Paralegal Studies course at the University of Georgia. It's basically like going through a whole graduate semester in eight weeks. All for what, a certificate of completion so that I can work in the legal field once I'm finished. To say that the goodness for my life at this very moment would be for me to soak up those few and far between alone hours would be an awful understatement.

But also, the goodness also brings something else to my mind in this season of my life. This particular piece of goodness carries a profound overtone of sadness with it. A sadness because this piece of the goodness is currently missing from my life. A sadness because I want so badly to have this piece of the goodness to complete my life, yet I'm stuck without it. 
Yes, stuck. That's just how I feel. 

I'll be 28 at the end of this year. That's 196 in dog years and a thousand in Old Maid years. In society, single [men] and women are treated like the diseased. We don't get invited out. We don't get mentored by the cool, older, married couples. Instead, we get tossed aside; left to mingle with other forever single people to be mentored by cool, older, forever single adults. And because everyone is so damned afraid of commitment these days in order to oblige to the FOMO syndrome we are all addicted to, it's no wonder nobody is getting hooked. We're all just hooking up, instead.

I'll admit, I always looked down on forever single older women. I always pitied them, felt sorry for them. I thought, what's so satisfying about spending all of your time alone? What's so satisfying about never HAVING SEX? I pitied them because I thought they were missing out life's most beautiful gift to humanity. I pitied them because they had to face the agony of loneliness and also the burning desire of wanting to have sexual needs filled with no [healthy, appropriate] outlet. But most of all, I pitied them because deep down in the darkest recesses of my soul, I was absolutely terrified of it happening to me. 

And it has.

So what am I doing in the meantime to "trust God?" Moreover, what does it fully mean to "trust God" in this season of my life? 

It means that I have to embrace the gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach when I kiss little hands and feet that aren't mine. I have to embrace the heartache of knowing I have to give precious little boys and girls back to their respective moms and dads when I've just spent all day playing with them because their parents grew tired of them and just wanted one minute to themselves. It means that I get to silently resent said parents for wanting time away from these precious gifts from God when there are women like me who are dying [inside] from the nagging thoughts of "this may never happen for me." It means that I have to stifle back steaming, hot tears from knowing that the decisions I made in early adulthood, which led to decisions made on my behalf against my consent have more-than-likely caused me to never be able to conceive a child. "This will never happen for me," doesn't become a passing thought. It becomes a mantra.

It means that I have to smile and pretend every part of my life feels whole and complete, even though I know that no worthy man thinks I'm fit to be his queen. It means that while everyone around me [it seems] is holding hands, getting engaged, and planning weddings, I get to twiddle my thumbs, engage in introverted activities alone in my room, and plan my meals and outfits for the next week. "This is the goodness," I think to myself, "this is as good as it's going to get." 

But I'm conflicted. Because, on the other hand -- 

It means that I get to sleep all across the bed without worrying that I'm suffocating anyone. It means that I get to eat all of the chocolate, french fries, and pizza without having to say "no, you can only have just one." It means that I get to go wherever I want, whenever I want. It means that I get to be successful at shattering glass ceilings by myself without having to "one-up" my partner within the replies of, "how was your day?" It means that if I want to take off to Italy for a year, I get to take off to Italy for a year. It means that I get to eat all of the Halloween candy without trick-or-treating for it. Or, if I want to trick-or-treat, it's okay if I do because I still look twelve, and therefore, no reasonable adult would question why a full-grown adult would be trick-or-treating at this stage in life. "This is the goodness," I think to myself, "this is as good as it's going to get." 

Moreover, it means that in the eyes of God, I am a prize. I am THE Prize he bought with the price He paid. It means that I don't have to be a man's queen because I am the Queen of Heaven (I know this because this has been prophesied over me a couple different times from a couple different people). It means that while I'm not tied down to the financial, sexual, emotional, and physical well-being of another person, I am free to serve God in so many vast ways. In so many, many places. Heaven is the limit. 

But there's still a longing.

And to tell you the truth, the longing will never go away. It will always stay there. Even when [NOT if]  I get married and have children, the longing will still exist. But instead, it'll be a longing for Heaven. For my real home with my real Father. 

So, in the meantime...

I keep hogging the whole bed and eating all the food. I keep shattering glass ceilings. I keep playing kickball with the little boys and drinking tea with the little girls. I keep counting little fingers and little toes and inwardly lament upon returning them. I keep eating all of the Halloween candy and trick-or-treating at age 28 because, "this is the goodness," I think to myself, "and this is as good as it's going to get." 

An (Inconsistent) Intro

I have always been driven by doing the right thing. I've always taken, "the high road." When the going got tough, I was always the one who kept it going. This mentality has been evidenced by my paying for (almost) the entirety of my University career (minus my Senior year, because who in the world raises tuition by 5 times over the course of one summer?). This has also been evidenced by my hyper people-pleasing persona, by going above and beyond to take care of those around me while at the same time always neglecting myself. But most importantly, this has been evidenced by my unwavering, and perhaps overly pious, Christian faith. 

My faith has always been a blessing and a curse to my analytical reasoning. A blessing because when life kicks your face in the mud, the only sensible thing to do would be to rise up. A blessing in the fact that I've used my faith as a foundation, a sounding board, and a diving board for every house I make, song I write, and body of water I jump into in life. My inner monologue usually goes something like, "do I want to take my lunch to work today or do I want a double cheeseburger from McDonald's? Well what would Jesus have done in this situation?" A blessing because I've been gifted with an incredible fount of knowledge and can believe in things like science and religion at the same time and still feel like a grounded, intelligent human being. A blessing because my faith has allowed me to stand out and stand (inner) strong among my peers. I'm the go-to for advice. I'm the go-to for support and comfort. I'm the one who always has the right thing to say at just the right time. I'm the one who loves love and who wants to create warriors out of weaklings. As an introvert, I'm really starting to hate that... In fact, my faith is so important to me that I wrote an entire book about it which I self-published and sold on Amazon. You can buy it here.

A curse because I get caught up dreaming about what could be instead of what actually is. A curse* because I feel an overwhelming tidal wave of guilt every time I say, "god damn it" out of frustration, even though it feels really fucking good to swear. A curse because I fight so hard to hear the voice of God and cry angry tears every time I'm forced to wait on something good. But more than any of these things, my faith is without a doubt my favorite part of Me. 

When I need direction, faith is like an intimate lover whom I can lean on and cuddle with. Who guides me and instructs me and always keeps me accountable. My friend.

*pun not intended, although still pretty clever

My justification for explaining in semi-odd detail is, in a way, to tease the segue into the reason why I've decided to write this (messy) not-so-thought-out, and most certainly inconsistent blog. Although deeply inspired by the book, "Not That Kind of Girl" by Lena Dunham, which you can buy here, my main focus in writing this blog is two-fold. 

First, because "Not That Kind of Girl," is truly a remarkable read. The book will make you feel for the feminine population as well as help you find your own voice as a female - which leads me to my second fold. 

Second, because now that I've found my voice, I choose not to be silent any longer. I'm not talking about the kind of voice that breaks the silence by shouting, "I'VE BEEN TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF BY THE SYSTEM AND I'M GONNA GET EVEN BY BEING ANGRY ALL THE TIME whichwillthenallowmetopostpassiveaggressivesubtweetsinexcesstoprovejusthowangryexhaustedandoverititrulyam." 

Seriously, we've all met those "feminists." 

But rather, the idea of breaking the silence with bravery. Breaking the silence by telling my story. Breaking the silence by finally speaking up about the injustice I've endured simply because I am a woman. And, in return, rallying around other women and encouraging them, because yes, you are just that beautiful. You are just that strong. And Sweetheart, you are worth more than any act of selfishness intended to cause you pain ever was. 

I want to be a sounding board for women. I want to be the one who goes running wildly through the avalanche of fiery darts that the world tries to fling because of its intimidation of a world dominated by women causes it severe anxiety and rage. 

I want to do so with love. And, I must warn you that, just as the title suggests, the content of this blog will be very inconsistent. One day I may choose to discuss the injustice I've endured. The next day I may choose to talk about my love for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, while over-using too many Bible verses. And then over the weekend, I may choose to write an overly-dramatic monologue with way too many swear words because I've had a bad day.

Talk about being on your period.

Why? Because this is real life, and real life ought to be shared - with no strings attached and no restraint. The world has kept me small** long enough, and I refuse to diminish quietly into the background, joining the circulation of atoms buzzing through the atmosphere. 

**I say small in a serious but humorous way because I am, in fact, only 4"11.

I bade adieu to professionalism; I'm going for it.

I write in hopes that I'll inspire, motivate, and protect even more by sharing my experiences. If that ends up being the case, I welcome you. This may not be for everyone. Someone always has something to say, regardless of how powerful, inappropriate, or trite. I welcome that too. 

The world has had enough angry women. I choose to be one that loves. I hope you will be, too. 

But hey, if you don't and you want to continue to sit at home and postpassiveaggressivesubtweetsinexcesstoprovejusthowangryexhastedandoverityouare then hey - who am I to judge?