Mae’s First Concert Rule

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been places I don’t belong.  Usually it’s not so much that I truly don’t belong, as much I don’t appear to belong.  I am sort of an old soul chameleon.  I enjoy having different hobbies and interests that don’t necessarily mix amongst themselves.

When I moved to California and became involved in a few different scenes, whether it was music, surfing, desert camping or antiquing, I found that as long as you play the part and believe that you belong, you can generally avoid standing out.

The first time I met the Red Hot Chili Peppers, I was at a charity event with a friend/date; I’m not sure what he was, honestly.  I bought my way into a small show, but there was a clear segregation between invited celebrities and ticket holders.  My “date” was clearly more interested in mingling with the bartenders while I was interested in making my very first attempt to score a couple minutes with the Peppers; any of them would do.  So while my “date” and I went separate ways, I found myself locking eyes with another fan who did not dress the part.  I mean, I had clearly been prepared in a sparkly pink sequin shirt, leather pants and spiked heels.  He was in a Chili Pepper t-shirt and Dickies.    Still, as I stood alone, as did he, at least we knew we had something in common; Chili Peppers.

After the usual introductions, he quickly asked if I’d been into the forbidden area of the evening; the main house.  I likely replied with something goofy like, “but we aren’t allowed in there”.  Fan Boy had a hint of trouble in his eyes, said “come on” and grabbed my hand.  As we approached a kitchen area, which had a wide open door to the back of the mansion, he stopped me and looked me dead in the eyes and said “if you act like you belong here, no one will question you.  Act like you own the place”.

So in the door we went, amongst buzzing kitchen workers, up the back stairs in stilettos I could barely function in and there we were.  We were in.  This was my first concert rule that I’d keep branded in my mind for all time; act like you belong and no one will question you.  It works because we clearly did not look the part, but we acted like we did…until we approached the band Continue reading

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Feminists Are Going to Hate Me

First, let me say, I am not ungrateful, Susan B. Anthony and all the bra burning women out there.  I am very aware of what women in history have suffered through and accomplished to allow me to live life freely today.  This is not meant to be disrespectful.

That being said, where is the middle ground?  Sure, I yearn to be more than a grocery shopper and dishwasher but being a good wife is no longer enough.  Since women have been allowed to enter the workplace and do as the men do, the option to do so has instead become the expectation.  Women today are still expected by many men to keep the house clean, cook and keep order but also to bear children and still work to support the family.  When did being a wife and mother stop being enough?  Is it because Americans live more lavishly that we can no longer depend on one income, or have we as women pushed for our right to choose so hard that the option to find happiness in being a wife and mother is oudated, unexpected and resented?

Of course I am glad I have the opportunity to pursue my dreams and work at any position I choose, but I also get looked down upon by society if I quit being a 50/50 contributor to our household income.  I can’t tell you how many women I know that basically work to offset child care, because it is expected.  How is it beneficial to work full-time to pay someone else to raise your children?  If you need to get out of the house and enjoy working, that’s one thing but many of them seem perplexed about it themselves.

Every family has their reasons and I am certainly in no place to judge how people manage their lives, but there are times that I wish I could stay home and bake my husband a pie, or get all the laundry done before it gets out of control.  That is the old fashioned part of me.  Being a career woman is a blessing and a curse because it is hard to contribute our best to both sometimes, though I want to.  I’m not asking to lay on the couch eating bon-bons.  (Did people actually do that anyway?)  I suppose I like the romantic concept of being taken care of and having the option to rely soley on a husband, but without guilt because that is so rare these days.  Then again, when it comes down to it, who cares what people think?  As long as it is not my husband that resents my choices and we find happiness in the way our dynamic works, I think I can be ok.