Born in the USA

First I would like to start this post by saying: IT’S THE WEEKEND!!!!!

You may be wondering why I am celebrating the arrival of this weekend more than I have celebrated the weekends of the past.. The answer is simple: Sorority Invite.

Oh, I know, now you’re excited.

This may seem like a silly thing to get excited about.  Prom you say: Been there.  Done that.  Threw up twice.  But college sorority invites are a special breed of social event.  Here is the night that only comes around twice a semester, where girls and boys of the row look a little nicer and drink a little more.  As if the latter is possible.

Anyways in order to properly start off the night at two in the afternoon, I wanted to listen to a little Bruce Springsteen.  There’s no rock artist that says, “Celebrate your youth.  Go a little wild.  Love America” quite like Bruce.   

Because Bruce Springsteen makes me think of my dad, I had to start off with “Jungleland.”  This song reminds me of my middle school days when I told my father that I hated Bruce Springsteen.  Offended that I could dislike his favorite artist so intensely, he decided to give me a lesson in Springsteen.  That lesson involved driving through our tiny town with the windows down, blaring, “Born in the USA.”  I sat in the passenger seat, crouched down below the window, trying to hide my face lest someone in our 2 square mile town see me and associate me with this man.  And this music. 

When I look back on that day, I smile… At the time, I was mortified.

Needless to say I didn’t share my opinions on Bruce Springsteen with my father again.  Which meant, inevitably, that there was a lot more Bruce blaring out of our speakers at home after that.  Like all good things, however, his music began to grow on me.  So today, with an open mind and open heart, I took a listen to some Springsteen songs that I had never given a chance before. 

And it was then that I remembered why I said I didn’t like Bruce Springsteen. His songs like “Shackled and Drawn” and “We Take Care of OurOwn” were not my cup of tea.

But then I listened to “Devils and Dust,” and there was that damned spark again.  Will I ever be able to decide whether I like his music or not?!  Who knows.  Perhaps one of the problems is that Bruce Springsteen has been making music since the 70s, and he’s been making a lot of it.  Therefore, as one might imagine, I am bound dislike plenty of it. 

What I learned from Bruce today is that you’ll love some artists just because of the memories attached to them.  Even though I can’t say that him and I always get along, there is no other artist who reminds me of my father so strongly.  Or the times he tried to teach me a little bit about life through Springsteen’s songs.  I feel blessed to have both of these men in my life.    

Songs that made me happy today:

Black Cowboys

Thunder Road

Born to Run 

Hungry Heart

Thanks Bruce. 

I'm All Shook Up

On those days when it seems like the world is against you, you need call upon only one man.  He is a rock and roll icon, a beacon in a studded white jumpsuit.  This man has many names: the King, Big El, the Chief and Elvis the Pelvis, to name a few.  You probably know him as Elvis Presley.

Although Elvis didn’t invent rock and roll, he was one of the first popular artists to achieve success in the genre.  He is the embodiment of the beginnings of rock music, a hybridization of blues, gospel and country music.  It is believed that Elvis got his dance moves from African American artists like Big Boy Crudup, and coveted the singing style of Dean Martin.  His understanding of both black music and country music shaped his rock and roll sound. 

            The first 45-rpm record Elvis released shows just how strongly he was influenced by both cultures.  On one side of the record was the song “That’s All Right (Mama)” by Big Boy Crudup.  On the other, a country western song called “Blue Moon Kentucky.”  To start off my Elvis Presley adventure, I gave a listen to both.  “That’s All Right (Mama)” was fun and fast, and even inspired a bit of seated dancing as I listened in Doheny Library.  (Note to self: Don’t listen to spunky rock songs while trying to look studious.)  “Blue Moon Kentucky,” on the other hand, had a much more hillbilly feel.  Although “Blue Moon Kentucky” didn’t grab me as much as “That’s All Right (Mama)” did, I was still a fan.

            There is just something about Elvis’ voice.  It is strong and sultry, with a rumble that makes you want to move.  I was hooked and determined to share my newfound love with my roommates.  Blasting his songs in upstairs Theta, I continued my research with Elvis’ first hit “Heartbreak Hotel.”  With the release of this song in 1956, Elvis achieved national success.  “Heartbreak Hotel” was slow and deep.  I was amazed at how secondary the instruments seemed to his voice.  I don’t know how else to describe it, but it was sexy.  I found myself wishing that I was back in the 50s at one of his concerts watching those hips and lips that caused such a controversy.     

            Sitting on my bed listening to more of Elvis’ songs, I found myself surprised at how many of his songs I already knew.  From “Johnny B. Goode” to “Jailhouse Rock” to “Hound Dog,” almost every hit was recognizable and I began to realize what a huge impact he had on American music and entertainment.  Elvis Presley helped set the standard for what would become rock and roll.  He was a true performer: a dancer, a singer, and a character. 

            As I looked into more of his music, I was happily surprised to find that Elvis had a more emotional side as well.  With songs like “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” Elvis gets slow and soulful.  It is this mixture of upbeat tunes and slower pieces that have shown me that Elvis was a true artist, not just some rock legend.  Discovering Elvis has reminded me that sometimes I just need to turn on some oldies and get silly.  Too often we get caught up in the stress of life and leave impromptu dance parties behind.  With Elvis by my side, I doubt I’ll be making that mistake again any time soon.  

Cheesy Title

Rock stars love mac n' cheese.  (Rock n' Roll, Mac n' Cheese.. see the connection??)

           When I realized I could do another open blog post this week I thought to myself, “Shit.  I already wrote about my chosen topic and my philanthropy group.. I can’t talk about Kappa Alpha Theta… No one will take me seriously…”  Then, the solution to this problem, actually the solution to all problems perhaps, dawned on me: macaroni and cheese.  Mac’ n cheese?!  What an anticlimactic answer you might think.  But no, let me tell you, mac n’ cheese is the solution to many of the world’s problems (obesity not being one of them).  If people ate as much mac n’ cheese as I did, they would be happier, more relaxed, less productive and world hunger would definitely not be a problem.

            Since I was little, mac n’ cheese has been my food of choice.  What kind of mac n’ cheese, you might be wondering.  Is it Velveeta?  Annie’s?  No, my friend, I go for the classic, most sophisticated brand of cheese flavored pasta available: Kraft Mac n’ Cheese.  But not just any kind of Kraft Mac n’ Cheese, the kind that’s in shapes.  For those of you who are not mac n’ cheese connoisseurs, let me explain.  Some kinds of pasta come in fun shapes, like Scooby Doo or Spongebob Squarepants.  Obviously meant to attract an older crowd.  I’m not quite sure what it is, but I swear the macaroni that’s in shapes has more surface area and therefore retains more cheesy flavoring.  It’s delicious. 

            Mac n’ cheese has always been my favorite meal.  My mom immediately recognized that it was her picky daughter’s go-to food and made it for me on the regular.  Because of this, mac n’ cheese is my comfort food.  To this day, whenever I’m feeling sick or tired, I pop in The Little Mermaid and open that magical blue box of Kraft…  I know, I know, you are taking me very seriously right now.  Thank god I didn’t write about my sorority.

            But seriously, nothing takes me back to the simple bliss of childhood like Kraft Mac n’ Cheese (Is this an infomercial? You’re starting to wonder).  It makes me think of the long afternoons I’d spent lounging with my dad on the couch watching movies.  My first date with my 9^th grade boyfriend when I cooked him… You guessed it, mac n’ cheese.  Let’s just say it was not my culinary expertise that drew him to me.  It also makes me think of my best friends and the time we tried to make a huge tub of mac n cheese in the microwave.  It pretty much resulted in a lot of cheesy water and half cooked pasta.  But we were satisfied. 

            You might think that I’m a little too obsessed with Kraft Mac n’ Cheese.  I myself am starting to doubt my own sanity.  But you’ll be glad to know that my love for macaroni and cheese has expanded beyond the walls of my favorite little cardboard box.  I often order it at Seeds (much to my body’s detriment) after particularly long nights out.  The CPK macaroni and cheese is also quite delicious but a little overwhelming.  It’s the kind of mac n’ cheese that you have to mentality prepare for because there is so much of it.  

           Regardless of its shape, size, or the consistency of its cheese, however, I am always down for some macaroni and cheese.  If mac n' cheese be the food of love, eat on... Shakespeare really knew what he was talking about.   

     

TC Love

Rock stars also love working with children!  Who knew?

"As a rock star, I have two instincts, I want to have fun, and I want to change the world. I have a chance to do both." -Bono

Lest this be a wasted opportunity to blog about absolutely ANYTHING, I ‘d like to write about USC Troy Camp. In case you don’t know what Troy Camp is, it is USC’s official philanthropy and one of the greatest organizations that I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. We work with children in the schools surrounding USC, tutoring them and eventually, taking some to camp in the summer. Unlike a sorority, TC is not something that requires you to pay dues to participate. It is a philanthropic organization that only wants your time and love of children.

I joined Troy Camp my freshman year. And I’ll admit, I wasn’t always the most dedicated member. The driving force behind my involvement during that first semester was the crush that I had on my Big. Scandalous I know. Eventually though, I found myself attending TC events just to see the kids I had bonded with, and to hang out with my fellow counselors. By the second semester, I was in deep and I knew that I wanted to be a cabin counselor at camp that summer more than anything.

Unfortunately, my dream did not come true. My poor attendance at the beginning of freshman year had been noted. Although I did get to go to camp, I did not have enough points to be a cabin counselor. I did get another job though! Oh, what a job it was... That summer I was the Co-Director of IMPACT, our community service recreation station at camp. What a glorious title, you might think. Well let me tell you, it was not an exciting position. I had the job of making community service fun, and believe it or not, it is not easy to convince small children that helping the world is the cool thing to do. No, they want to play sports, not pick up trash. Despite the difficulty of the job, the week passed by far too quickly. I had truly enjoyed having the opportunity to work with all of the kids at camp.

Sophomore year, I was determined to become a cabin counselor. I attended all of the TC events and helped out outside of events when I could. That summer, I got to be a cabin counselor for a group of 10 third grade girls. I was ecstatic. Images of a fun-filled week with little cherubs filled my dreams…

They tell you that being a counselor is hard work, but I still wasn’t prepared for the week to come. Hanging out with the kids 24/7 (save your one hour of “relief”) was absolutely exhausting. The girls were always tired or hungry or homesick. When one wanted to go to bathroom, they ALL wanted to go to the bathroom. When Jada decided that she was going to undo all the braids in her weave, I spent the next few hours braiding it back up for her. Ariana would get angry when people wouldn’t pay enough attention to her and she would become inconsolable. Chelsea disliked other girls in the cabin for apparently no reason. Who knew 3rd graders had so much attitude?! After this experience, I could only look at my mother was a sense of awe. She had dealt with me all day, every day, for much longer than a week.

I have to say though, although there were struggles- I have never had a more rewarding experience with children in my life. Despite the optimistic description of camp that I provided above, it was really a beautiful thing. For a week, I had the honor of getting to know 10 young girls and influence their lives forever. For the first time, Martha was asked what she wanted to be in the future. Yamit got to ride her first horse. We helped teach Diana how to swim. And Aisha told me that it had been the best week of her life. I laughed with them, read them bedtime stories and went on adventures with them. I grew to love these girls. I can’t wait to be reunited with them this Sunday for our first Troy Camp event of the semester.

Hello Blogosphere

Possible blog names:
- The Missy Hendrix Experience
- Blackbird Fly
- Guns N' Posies

Flashback to April of this year: Coachella 2012. I’m in the middle of a throbbing crowd. Literally, throbbing. With the intention of seeing Calvin Harris up-close-and-personal, I have risked any and all personal boundaries to have my nose shoved in a stranger’s sweaty back while the DJ plays “Feels So Close” only a few feet away. The friends I came with to this concert have recklessly abandoned me to push themselves a few inches closer. Those traitors. So I have been forced to take refuge in the protection of a nearby couple. The disgruntled look on their faces only portrays a sliver of the pain and distaste I feel as my hair is pulled by some overly aggressive middle-schoolers clamoring for the front. The moment left something to be desired. I realized then that although I loved the Coachella music, I was much more of a Stagecoach personality.

Perhaps my deleterious spiral into the country realm began when I moved to the lovely city of Bakersfield, California; perhaps it began before. Regardless, I have been rocking country boots to the honky-tonk Crystal Palace since the ripe age of 17. I can’t imagine ever losing my love for rednecks or line dancing. At country concerts, I typically find myself leisurely embracing the company of some new tattooed comrades with an affinity for cheap beer. At the Coachella Musical Festival, on the other hand, I battled for my life. Furthermore, I found myself missing the sweet, simple lyrics of my country songs that been replaced by booming techno beats. The line had been drawn and I knew which side my high-waisted Levi shorts were headed to.

Beyond a love of country, I listen to everything from Rihanna hits on the radio to lesser-known indie bands like the Head and the Heart. I jam out to the oldies of Marvin Gaye and participate in screaming contests with Coheed and Cambria while I’m stuck in traffic. My passion for meaningful lyrics and harmonious beats has lead me appreciate almost all musical categories. Because of my broad tastes, I often like to think of myself as a musical-Renaissance Man, if you will.

The other day, however, when a friend asked me how I felt about classic rock, I was embarrassed to find myself asking exactly what he meant. This was a territory I had yet to explore, and seeing as I was newly single (in other words, full of free time) I decided that discovering rock music was an adventure worthy of embarking upon. It would be deliciously simple, gratifying and a hell of a lot cheaper than buying an Annual Pass to Disneyland.

To say that my new desire to discover my inner rock goddess was purely driven by copious amounts of time and an empty wallet, however, would be a cheap simplification of the real reason I’d like to take a trip to into the Rock n’ Roll past. As I travel the rickety path towards adulthood, I find myself feeling less and less confident about my passions and goals. “That’s a typical 20 year-old dilemma,” a wise reader might say. But I would counter that with the fact that my dilemma has been magnified by my relationship of two years, during which I formed my identity as part of a unit, but not as an individual. Upon realizing that so much of what I thought of myself was based on my relationship with a boy, I took what might be seen by some as an extreme measure, and broke up with him. If there was any time to get know myself, it was college.

I have decided to embark on a mission of self-discovery. I want to know what makes me, Missy Hendrix (name open to suggestions), tick. Listening to rock music, the tunes and ballads that helped shape generations, created social change and brought about a new era of music and culture, would surely be a worthwhile guide on my own journey. I want to hear lyrics that teach me, not only about myself, but the generations of the past who struggled to find themselves much like I am now. No more techno beats for me, thank you. Also, who needs a man when you have The Beatles and The Rolling Stones?! I feel overwhelmed by these attractive, talented men already.

As Walt Whitman says in Leaves of Grass: “All music is what awakens from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and cornets. It is not the oboe nor the beating drums… It is nearer and farther than they.” I think what Whitman meant was that music awakens something within us, and I can only hope that a little Rock n’ Roll will assist me in my own awakening.