Sunday, April 2, 2000

For no reason at all I was thinking about long-distance driving. I was pacing about my room and the thought of being on an interstate, surrounded by trees, going 70 miles per hour with music blasting just jumped into my consciousness. It stayed there for a split second and had the persistence of being to be held on to for transcription.

I don't know why I had this thought at this particular moment. Maybe it was the Journey playing on my stereo. I remember listening to Journey once while driving on a highway around a major city somewhere in the southern United States. "Be Good To Yourself" was playing, and I had become so wrapped up in the moment that the combination of the music and the exhilaration of interstate driving caused me to speed up to around 80 miles per hour. I loved it.

When you're driving on a highway, the world seems so much smaller. Despite the fact that it takes three-four days total to drive across the United States, time become irrelevant. Leave one town, another one will be along in ten-twenty minutes; a city appears about half an hour to an hour after that. There's a rest area every hour along the way. On some highways not only can you relieve your bladder and refuel your car, but you can have lunch, get a brake job and play the local lottery as well.

I fell in love with leaving it all behind, I suppose. Years of living in a military family ingrained in me that travel was a way of life. The whole idea was that you never stay one place for very long.

I find myself now, in a place that I have to stay. I can't seem to get out, no matter how hard I want to - no matter how hard I try. It's killing me; I need to get out. I need to get out of Potsdam. I need to get out of St. Lawrence county. I need to get out of the North Country. I need to get out of New York!

I'm sure this cage has a key. I must find it somehow.

Since I didn't have to work this morning, I decided that it would be a good idea to stay up all night. Suffice it to say, watching the sun set and then watching it rise again with no sleep in between rotations has its advantages and drawbacks. Judge for yourself.

The night started with a play. The Tall Guy and I went to see one of the campus theater organization's production of Godspell. In this play, Jesus and his followers are portrayed as clowns. The story of the preachings through to the crucifixion are followed through skits and music, in an almost Sunday school-like way. It was entertaining, but not very well directed. I liked Jesus Christ: Superstar better.

Myself, The Tall Guy and a friend of his went on a midnight coffee run later last night. It was actually around 4:00AM when we graced the convenience store with our presence. Potsdam is a surreal place at 4:00AM - there are no signs of life whatsoever. You could dance in the street for hours without getting hit by a car.

While in the store drinking our coffee, the Tall Guy's friend asked me once again if I was a Goth. He's asked me this before, and I've told him, "no." I gave him the same answer this time.

I had been wearing my black lipstick and eyeliner since before going to Godspell. Also, I always wear clothes that are black or a shade of dark gray. Still, black clothes and makeup do not necessarily a Goth make. I wish people would just drop the subject and not ask me anymore. If you're going to apply a label, apply the correct one: I am a 19 year old male human. Sometimes I'm even a nonconformist.

If he asks again, I'll answer creatively.

The three of us ended up watching the sunrise from the bridge over the pond in one of the campus parks. Since it was cloudy this morning, we never actually saw the sun, but it was a beautiful site nonetheless. The sky just sort of gradually shifted from black to midnight blue, smoothing into blue-gray and apexing with a light bluish white that shone through the cloud cover. Meanwhile, the lamps that had been illuminating the streets and the park on campus slowly blinked off as they sensed the natural light level increasing.

As soon as the sun had come up (around 6:00-7:00AM), somebody began to yell The Tall Guy's name. After a few minutes of confusion, we looked up at the top floor of one of the larger halls on campus. There was a girl there, waving and yelling to us.

"What kind of crazy crack are you on to be at my pond at this hour?" she screamed.

A short, yet loud conversation followed and she went back to bed. The Tall Guy told me about her (what he knew, not knowing her too well). Interesting girl, apparently. I wouldn't mind meeting her.

We all went to breakfast as soon as the dinning hall opened at 9:00AM. I had successfully traversed an entire night without weird looks because of my makeup. As soon as I got up to the counter to place my order, I was greeted with a double take so fast that I thought the person's head was going to fly off.

Maybe my eyeliner was smudged.

JPS resigned from being station manager at WAIH today. He told everyone that there was too much going on in his life to continue his responsibilities there. I don't blame him - I can understand exactly what he's going through because the same thing happened to me in 1990. At the same time, he was the best station manager we ever had, and I have reservations about his replacement.

Tippler Girl is WAIH's new station manager. Needless to say, I am not impressed or excited. In fact, I am very concerned indeed. On more than one occasion she has shown herself to be biased and nitpicky. Overall, she's been a troublemaker at the station causing problems where there would otherwise be none (and believe me, we have enough problems already).

Her major failing is that she is too easily offended and resides in the belief that if she is offended, everyone else should be as well (SEE: Sunday, December 5, 1999 and Sunday, January 30, 2000). She has never displayed that she can detach her personal viewpoints from any statement she makes. I almost feel as if she believes that her ideas and perceptions are the only ideas and perceptions. Someone like that should not be in a high-ranking position such as station manager.

There's also the issue of my first meeting with her (SEE: Saturday, September 25, 1999). She better be much more responsible now than she was then.

I told JPS about my concerns and he told me that I ought to give her a chance before I crucified her. I'll give her a chance, but if she stomps upon my feet, I will bring down the fires of chaos upon her - not only for myself but also for the whole WAIH staff.

In other news as far as politics at WAIH goes, I am still running for music director next semester. I have to post a letter in the station tomorrow outlining my beliefs and policies regarding the position. This shouldn't be a problem, as I am well rooted in my beliefs as far as the music of a college radio station goes.

College radio is an opportunity for new music discoveries. It is an opportunity to be not only on the cutting edge of new music, but to be the scissors on the cutting edge of new music. Artists like Mr. Bungle, Bobby Gaylor, Skunk Anansie, The Eels and kHz would have precious little exposure if any, if not for college radio. Meanwhile, would The Barenaked Ladies, Limp Bizkit, KoRn and The Bloodhound Gang be so big today if it weren't for their humble beginnings on college radio airwaves? ("The Bad Touch" by The Bloodhound Gang was being played on WAIH months before it ever saw the light of MTV's "Total Request Live.")

I would want to continue pulling for lesser-known artists, while keeping the staff satisfied with the playlist at the same time. This would go not only for format hours, but anyone with a specialty (Hip-Hop, RPM, Jazz, Metal, etc.) show.

In reality, the title of Music Director is deceptive. It is really the DJs who direct the music. They control the destiny of the playlist through what the put over the airwaves, and the reviews they write for CDs. All the music director does is to take the ideas and opinions of the staff and make them concrete.

I just want to be able to turn on the radio and hear a beautiful sound.