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jafreitag · 3 years ago

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Grateful Dead Monthly: Gaelic Park – New York, NY 8/26/71

Fifty years ago today, on Thursday, August 26, 1971, the Grateful Dead played a concert at Gaelic Park in New York City.

Gaelic Park is located at West 240th Street and Broadway, five miles north and east of Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. In 1926, the Gaelic Athletic Association purchased it to host the Gaelic Games. What are Gaelic Games? I’m a sliver Irish (just learned that a few years ago from a cousin who did some DNA stuff), but I didn’t know about such games until I asked the Google machine. Here you go, from the Wiki:

“Gaelic games (Irish: Cluichí Gaelacha) are sports played in Ireland under the auspices of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA). They include Gaelic football, hurling, Gaelic handball and rounders. Women’s versions of hurling and football are also played: camogie, organised by the Camogie Association of Ireland, and ladies’ Gaelic football, organised by the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association. While women’s versions are not organised by the GAA (with the exception of handball, where men’s and women’s handball competitions are both organised by the GAA Handball organisation), they are closely associated with it.”

Some to unpack there. What’s Gaelic football? It’s basically rugby. (The rules are probably way different, but this is a music blog, so don’t judge.) And hurling? Rugby with a small ball and sticks that look like sporty pizza paddles. (Again, don’t judge.) Gaelic handball? Racquetball, except you use your hands and you’re outside, not in some bougie health club from the ’80s. Finally, rounders? It’s actually alot like baseball. Pretty cool.

Why were the Dead there? A 9/2/71 piece in the Village Voice by Carman Moore, now archived on the Grateful Dead Sources blog, said that Gotham promoter Howard Stein, a Bill Graham competitor who booked the Dead to play at the Cap Theater in Port Chester, NY and the Academy of Music in NYC, had turned “the drab little Riverdale soccer field … into a summer rock mini-festival.” (Check out the poster above.) Moore’s writing has an early-70s sizzle, and he refers to his colleague, now-legendary rock scribe Robert Christgau. Here’s an excerpt:

“Last week’s Grateful Dead concert up at Gaelic Park was a usual Dead session, meaning that the band-to-fan-to-band electro-chemical process for which rock music is famed was on like high mass at Easter. Although I think I know most of the time what they are doing musically (Christgau will like this notion); I don’t quite understand them electro-chemically. Like the New York Knicks of two seasons ago, they can do excellent things together though they are not a group of deathless superstars. Garcia gets his songs across, but he can’t sing, and Bob Weir’s voice rises to about average…maybe better when he gets to screaming and the music sweeps him along. I still find it difficult to recognize the Dead songs that aren’t “Truckin'” or “St. Stephen” one from the other. I am not one of their fans, but seem to be one of their admirers. Their music speaks in a special language to their live listeners, and that language has the vocabulary of everybody else, but a convoluted syntax all its own. The note sequences are not completely dependent upon musical factors but are also dictated by how involved the band feels and also upon what kind of heat the audience is giving off. I’m trying to get to some essences of this thing.

The drama of a Dead concert revolves around the fact that wherever the band plays they know that a certain number (several tons) of their partisans will be there and that their crowd knows the Dead potential to excite them, but they also know that the Dead may not get into gear until the crowd begins to apply some heat, and so forth. Both parties also know that the concert will be long enough and informal enough for anything to happen on either side of the footlights, and so audiences improvise (smoke, go to the hot dog stand, kiss and snuggle, cheer, dance, listen like star-struck fools) just like their musician friends on stage (who play light and funny for awhile, retire backstage awhile, stand around, or get lost in a piece and turn on the heavy jets). Like good lovers, the Grateful Dead know the secrets of good foreplay, taking your time, surprising the partner for awhile, and then just reacting for a spell.”

The timing of the show seems odd. The band was on the East Coast in July, but began August back in Cali – LA, SD, Berkeley – before a three-night run at Chicago’s historic Auditorium Theater. Then they trekked back to NYC. Our resident Deaditor ECM explains that aspect: “This show was supposed to be played the day before the Yale Bowl concert on July 30, but some issues with the equipment trucks and/or weather prevented it from happening from the scheduled date. There are a few stories on the web about people who didn’t get the message (no twitter back then!) and dropped some acid only to show up to an empty stadium. Haha!”

Moore said that the show reminded him of “a high school stadium I used to know – low stands, unfulfilled infield grass, mud holes here and there, beer sold at one end in some quantity.” He continued:

“The formal shape of the concert was a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end – not a shooting-star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate…the goods delivered as promised…sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place. I did not enjoy their country-westernish opening tunes; maybe they didn’t either, because the pieces were awfully short. But by the three-quarter mark they had involved themselves, the crowd, and me too.

First they got the rhythm engaged and finally, courtesy of Jerry Garcia’s lead and interplays with Lesh and Weir, they went into the soloing and jamming which are the real magic music territory of this band. Much is made of the Dead soloists, but it became clear to me by last Thursday that bassist Phil Lesh plus those two drummers create the atmosphere that makes the Dead thing possible. The drummers were exceptionally understated, but Lesh kept bopping and thrumming away, heavily at all times, until his patterns were consistently getting the other players off. In the middle of “St. Stephen” there was a special coming together: Lesh had found a nice ambiguous but compelling set of licks; Garcia eased into a solo; Weir strummed a cross-time lick over all of it; it built; it quieted; Garcia started to play strange classical kind of lines; the drums dropped out; the audience got quiet; nothing at all could be predicted for a minute or so; then Lesh began to grope his way out with two chords and rhythms which began to regularize; audience began to jump and then to clap; guitars began to straighten out; the band came home to the cheers of the fans. Good music-making. The listener goes home without a little tune to whistle, but he hears music. As if they were finishing off some personal solos based over the last riffs heard, the fans went out of Gaelic Park without a thousand encores and without a lot of fuss on the streets outside.

It’s all very interesting, surprising, and I guess mystifying as before. All I know is that the Dead, or their fans, or the combination of both lure you into planning to return when they’re all assembled and back in town again.”

Apparently, there was some grief about bootlegs at this show. The GD Sources blog has a post that archives a 10/6/71 piece by the excellently-handled Basho Katzenjammer (Basho, the 17th Century Japanese haiku master; Katzenjammer, the German word for hangover) that gripes about an army of 200# “muscle freaks” at the direction of tour manager Sam Cutler liberating a handful of tapes from 100# weakling Johnny Lee. It’s a truly fun read. An excerpt:

“The biggest piece of shit spewing from Cutler’s mouth is about the reasons the Dead have for being so pissed off: they don’t like the quality (remember Garcia’s line in “I Got No Chance of Losin”? He says, “I’m only in it for the gold.” Yeah, music has a way of being more honest than the artist intends it to be at times…) The “quality”? Anyone who has bought a bootleg recently will know and agree that the bootleg stereo album called “Grateful Dead” is one of the best underground products yet. The tape was taken from a concert the group did at Winterland, on the coast a few months back. Yeah, Garcia fucks up a bit on “Casey Jones,” and Pigpen’s ego may have been deflated a bit by his voice coming over poorly on “Good Loving” but that was a concert. You do a concert and you stand by your performance, good or bad. That’s show business.

This effete artistic bullshit doesn’t matter anyway … When you’re out to get all the money you can out of your gigs, like the Dead seem to be (like all the groups seem to be) you might be accused of being a bit piggish; when you use strong-arm shit to insure that you get every last penny that you deserve — by making Amerikan standards — you are a Pig. Jerry Garcia, is that you?

Nobody buys that anti-bootleg shit about the artistic integrity of the artist in saying what goes out. One, you stand by your performance; two, even if you don’t want to, Jerry, somewhat, and say “all your private property is fair game for your brothers (especially when they sell records of concerts that don’t compete with coming releases) and your brother (who’s gonna continue to dig you as we live off your comets we’re gonna keep ripping you off because it is possible. As simple as that.” If you and Cutler and Stein continue your shit, though, we’ll just have to sing the song the same old way, you guys being put in the position of being the same old reactionary establishment that we’re all ripping off. It’s all around. You break your back playing gigs for ten years and suddenly success is staring you in the face. Bread: lots and lots of bread. You turn your back on your poor, ripping ’em off roots and start to tighten up. You’re in the biggest rip-off industry around, but no one cares as long as they’re having fun.

Money. That’s the whole story, isn’t it? If these were other times, in another land under a different set of rules maybe you could justifiably complain about the people who want to give your recorded performances out free because you didn’t screen them and pick out the sections you didn’t like and do them over for the cat, ’cause no one charges for their music, and because the means of production belong to the people, and they can turn out all the good sounds they can, and you have a natural right to screen all releases. But we’re here. Now. You guys are making millions — or soon will be. Money is power, especially as the concept of money is crumbling nation-wide and power freaks like Stein are cornering the market on it. The channels that the green-power the Dead bring in travel aren’t the healthiest for the generations of revolution to come. Stein is one of these hopeful images of a freak with a chance to change things positively gone sour, who uses all his power to consolidate his power; who’ll go to any extremes to insure the natural expansion of that power. Fuck him. Fuck you.”

Speak, Basho! Quaint that the beef about bootlegs back then was sound quality, rather than copyright. Stuff got figured out at some point, I think. Like when Bobby shut down the LMA, lmao.

Ed featured part of this show in the 2016 edition of his epcot 31 Days of Dead project. Here are his listening notes, which are typically spot-on (and better than than the not-quite-on-the-bus commentary from Mr. Moore):

“Less than three weeks after Pigpen’s definitive performance of Hard To Handle at the Hollywood Palladium (8/6/71), the Grateful Dead play the final date of their summer tour in 1971 at Gaelic Park in the Bronx. It will be Pig’s last show until December and the last time the band will ever perform in their original quintet configuration of Jerry, Phil, Pig, Billy and Bobby. By September, Keith will be rehearsing with the band to assume a full-time role on the keys. Perhaps anticipating his absence, Pigpen leads the band through 6 of his songs including the rarely-played Empty Pages and the last Hard To Handle. It is also one of the last performances of Saint Stephen, until the band revived it in 1976 with a major facelift, never to be played the same way again. When you consider these historical milestones along with the departure of Mickey Hart and the closings of the legendary Fillmore East and West earlier in the year it makes you realize that this concert carried a little more weight than anyone could have ever foreseen at the time. It truly was the end of a chapter in the life of the Grateful Dead. As you listen to each song you can’t help but feel a certain degree of nostalgia.

For me, the hidden gem of the show is the outstanding version of Uncle Johns Band. Jerry’s first guitar solo is an absolute joy to hear. His notes sing with irresistible melody and happy sunshine which perfectly capture the nostalgia of those carefree early years. If you listen closely you can hear Pigpen playing the wood claves.”

Speaking of Pig, this show features the second and final performance of Empty Pages. The NYS Music blog, which has a nice write-up of this show, describes it as a McKernan original that “pairs his traditional crooning style with a slow blues jam that’s nicely peppered with fiery guitar licks from Garcia. It’s a true rarity and a shame that the band wouldn’t be able to further develop this one.”

youtube

I feel like this was a try-hard post. It might be tl;dr, idk. Here’s the true goodness…

Transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording HERE.

More soon.

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curious-minx · 4 years ago

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Robbery @ My Former Dunkin

Prior to giving up my dream of the silver screen I was giving up on a whole different kind of dream. A dead end dream at one of my last “real” jobs where I partially served as and adjunct assistant manager. Honest, hard, and legitimate work. That’s fast food work. Unfortunately, these skills do not effortlessly translate over into working in a chic boutique pulling the espresso bean third wave bars in Brooklyn, but it was a pleasure to sling swirls of chemical confections at a wayward and loyal public. Recently this Dunkin that I used to work at has experienced an attempt of robbery by a white man wearing a face mask, a grey hoodie and gym shorts. This is my Marky Mark Wahlberg styled what if I was on the 9/11 Flight story.

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Simo, the Moroccan manager, is fasting and lifting weights in the donut, proteins and tots walk-in freezer, frost panes his glasses. Perennial opening shifter Mamadoo is praying on a promotional pop-up deal mat as a makeshift prayer rug. He is surrounded by paper products and plastic cups. An acoustic “Sirius coffee shop” cover of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” performed by the Missing Jonas Brother is playing softly overhead. Business as usual. I am busy memorizing the finer details of the “Charli” hoping that the Tik Tok sensation will drive up past this random Western North Carolinian Dunkin Donuts and feel drawn like a moth to the sucrose. I don’t have a tik Tok account and shame the rest of my kindergarten coworkers who film themselves on the app doing dabs and blowing smoke through donut holes. A young blonde co-worker has quit today and shamed me for being in my late twenties working at a Dunkin Donuts.

One of my beloved customers, and stalkers, Ames, a taller than average in height woman always seen wearing jogging clothing and sun glasses. When I felt her presence bump behind me at a local concert Tune-yards concert I turned around to confirm that it’s her, and yep, she’s still wearing her sunglasses even inside at a dark concert, and when I turn around to clock her presence again she had already moved to the complete opposite side of the theater. Ames, in general, had been causing controversy since the pandemic by trying to order exclusively while riding on her hover board, insisting that she was trying to boost staff morale. When she got up to the window she would awkwardly light up a joint and make sure to shake it all around to make the smoke’s presence known and then blow smoke into my face through her face mask. She wanted pumpkin flavoring all year round and would encourage me through excessive tipping to hide pumpkin syrup inside the storage room walls so that I could slip some in her iced latte. Then without fail after receiving the drink, she then pretends that she has forgotten that she no longer likes the taste of the pumpkin flavoring and bats her eyelashes for another drink. Turns out that she truly wanted the salted caramel and molasses Dunkachino with two room temperature shots of espresso, and sometimes she would order exactly what she wanted, but other times , like today, she was in a mood to play.

Before Ames has a chance to get up to the window, her kneepads clacking together as she struggles to stay balanced on her hover board. A man who refused to leave the cordoned, blocked off former lobby seating area. He ordered a black coffee with twenty creams on the side and kept getting up indicating that he was about to leave, but then set back down on top of an overturned chair. Suddenly, he gathers momentum and approaches the cash register, both hands shoved into his hoodie’s front pocket cradling a pistol.

“Open up the safe and empty everything into this bag. Be careful, it’s a sentimental mesh. Oh yeah, also, I have a gun!”The man widens his own eyes as if he’s surprised by the possession of his own gun and tries to stare down my coworker Afternoon Honey (actual name). She’s about to beat him down, but thinks better of it and hits the under the panic button inside of the base of the Coolatta machine.

Officer Casey Chowderfell, an over bearing cop that has been driving up to this particular Dunkin for decades holding his mouth open to have scalding hot coffee poured down a funnel into his mouth, quickly arrives. According to Officer Casey he tried to eat a taser mistaking it for a Ham and egg salad and ruined the lining of his mouth and can only taste the hottest coffee possible. He is pulling up behind Ames ready to honk and harass her, but because she was a harmless wealthy white woman he gives her another one of her infinite warnings, before his cop car sirens start bleeding ears. The cop car itself appears to be fuming steams as if outraged by the act of attempting to rob a sacred temple of coffee and donuts.

I am attempting to get Simo to listen to me about the robbery that is in progress, but the manager, and fellow Moroccan, Aziz is speaking to him in a musical Arabic language and all I can do is wait patiently. They begin to playfully wrestle each other, they abruptly stop, and put on face masks and resume the wrestling. Fellow co-co manager, the towering beanpole Dickies, tries to get into the wrestling fun, but Simo and Aziz stop and look ashamed at themselves and resume speaking to each other, but at a barely audible whisper volume, and go into the office and lock the door. Money is being exchange, insider Dunkin secrets are being slipped away.

“Gosh Dickie you can never really tell with those guys.” I start cracking myself up. “Oh yeah, someone is trying to rob the store.”

Simo and Aziz burst out of the office the widescreen security camera frozen on the gym short wearing assailant in the lobby.

“Someone is robbing the store! Grab the safe Simo!”

“No one is robbing the store on my watch. Hush Aziz! Let’s get you a cruller and get you on your way. I’d hate if you brought corporate into this mess. Dylan and Dickie what are you standing around for? Go help Afternoon deal with this robber man!”

Afternoon whizzes past us and swings open the back exit. She mumbles, “The cops are already here.” She runs out to the parking lot and gets into her car and drives away to another parking lot to lay low.

I take Dickies’ hand and we both quietly creep up to the front of the store where Officer Casey, Deputy Bumkiss, Sheriff Huffer and the German Shepherd drug enforcer and community outreach supervisor Buttercup. Buttercup is finishing up leaving bite marks on the attempted robbers testicles, it’s her signature touch. Officer Casey rips his face mask off and thrusts himself over the counter. He pushes me out of the way and starts pulling coffee pots out from their stationed burners and drinking the coffee liquid as it pours straight from the percolator. A filthy metallic spigot that has never been properly cleaned in the history of its installation. He goes back around the counter, swinging his hips, and takes the attempted robber by the scruff of his neck. Around the neck of the would be robber is a necklace with a dangling vial of some kind of brightly red colored gas. Buttercup barks at the gas and immediately inhales the vast majority of the gas cloud. The dark lies limp and urinates on the floor. Simo stifles a moan of disgust and tells me to go get a mop bucket ready.

Buttercup goes on a rampage and does not stop until she finishes eating the most vital organs out of each of the three police officers. And none of us doing anything about it. Once Buttercup snaps down on Officer Casey’s heart she’s thrown out of her rage induced trance, whimpers and runs away darting away from traffic, sprinting into a thickly forested area lining the nearby high school. The robber takes the guns out of the police officer’s holsters and looks at us and then starts running away from the Dunkin, but he is stopped by Ames on her hover board. She demands that we name a new drink after her, an official Dunkin drink that gets announced on the company’s social media page. She’s given more to Dunkin than any pre tween starlet!

Simo gnashes his teeth and thanks Ames and tells her that he’ll see what he can do. The Dunkin closes early for the day for a deep cleaning. I am my hands and knees mopping up cop blood off of my Dunkin Donuts lobby. Fast food is real work and it is hard work that goes beyond the essentials.

#dunkin #Fuck corporations #tik tok #robbery #short story #fiction #short fiction #memoir #food #fast food #tater #coffee #barista

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stcrr · 5 years ago

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elle fanning. cis female. she/her. ／ lorelei “lorrie” gunther just pulled up blasting which witch by florence + the machine — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty-three year old musician, i’ve heard they’re really -reclusive, but that they make up for it by being so +observant. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say chipped glitter nail polish, a silver gilt mirror, losing yourself in the beat of the music. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( ally, 22, est, she/her )

me: i don’t have a type when it comes to muses! also me: unveils this new muse that is also introverted and anxious but this time with more glitter. anyways, meet lorelei, starr to her fans, and lorrie to her friends, an observant girl, gifted mimic, misfit, mirror, and musician. kind of a jem and the holograms/hannah montana/perfect blue hybrid. details under the cut, like for me to hyu to plot !!

(also her pinterest im really proud of it you guys)

statistics.

full name. lorelei amelia gunther. nicknames. lorrie. aliases. starr. occupation. singer-songwriter. age. twenty-three. date of birth. february 1st, 1997. nationality. american. ethnicity. white (austrian and irish). gender | orientation. cis female | queer. hometown. boston, ma. zodiac sign. aquarius sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising career/voice claim. lorde.

height. 5′9 weight. 120lbs build. willowy. distinguishing features. wide eyes, full lips, constant bags, probably has glitter in her hair. health. 7/10; has no major illnesses but eats like shit, has a whack sleep schedule, is a dysfunctional adult basically. she’s also big depressed but you know how it be.

positive traits. ambitious, intuitive, observant, imaginative, independent, neutral traits. talkative, intense, impressionable, negative traits. anxious, avoidant, moody, secretive, resentful, aloof,

likes. the nighttime, storms, baggy clothes, mountains, weed, lsd, books, blanket forts, lying on the floor, singing, cryptids, cemeteries, dislikes. being herself, deadlines, dolls/puppets, the paparazzi, social media, planning ahead, the outdoors, conflict, the beach,

history.

(tw suicide mention, anxiety attack) (tldr at the bottom)

her mother called her lorelei after the sirens of the rhine; she insisted her first cries were the sweetest song. and lorelei continued to have a beautiful voice; she sang more than she spoke. but only at home.

she never responded to lorelei, though, not really; it felt too grand for her. she was a chicken-legged girl who liked overalls and goosebumps books. she was just lorrie.

she grew up in a lower-middle class region of boston, ma. her father was a salesman, and her mother was a travel agent.

for a while, at school, she didn’t speak at all. she was diagnosed with selective mutism at age five, and it took until she was thirteen to overcome it completely.

this was not at all helped by the fact that her parents had a nasty divorce when she was seven years old. her father used her mother’s ten-year-old suicide attempt against her in court to prove she wasn’t stable, and gained full custody of lorelei and her two older brothers. her oldest brother, matthias, sided with their father, but the middle brother, jeremias, sided with their mom, and tried to run away to his mother’s house basically every month. he ran away for good when he was fifteen, living with his girlfriend’s family.

what helped her overcome this selective mutism, at least at first, was her middle school drama class. at home, lorelei had always been an excellent mimic. she did her favorite impressions for her drama teacher, and she encouraged her to try some monologues and scenes. as she got better at acting, she realized that she didn’t have to be herself; she could be somebody else. and that made talking all the easier.

by high school, she was no longer selectively mute, but was still anxious and shy. she was, however, a total drama kid, and still loved to act. she could be outrageous, incredible on stage; she wasn’t being herself, after all, so if people were judging her, it was the character they were judging, not her.

still she was def the kind of girl who had a mental breakdown every four months and dyed/cut her hair/gave herself bangs. she could never quite shake the feeling that she was an outsider looking in, separated, different.

she still loved music, and as she grew older, she started to write songs. it was her secret dream to be a musician. one of her theater friends talked her into singing one of them when she was sixteen, and then encouraged her to try out for the talent show. she was able to get through the audition, though she was a little nervous, but she knew it would be fine. she was on stage all the time, this would be fine.

but this time, she had to be herself in front of the entire school, and she froze up, not a sound leaving her lips. she doesn’t remember leaving the stage; only remembers that suddenly, she was in the girls bathroom, sobbing her eyes out.

her friends comforted her that night, partying in their basement like they always did, but thats when lorrie had an idea. what if she didn’t perform as herself?

that’s when a starr was born.

as lorelei dressed herself up in all the holo and glitter she had, she created starr in her head; she was born beloved, charismatic, fearless, this glitz and glamor girl who had it all, but what now? even at the top, she found emptiness. she was a beautiful supernova, so breathtaking you forgot she was really a collapsing star.

starr was lorrie’s ultimate muse; she wrote song after song for her in the next few months, until, finally, she asked some of her friends to help her record a music video. she didn’t expect this music video to get 60 million views in a matter of weeks.

royals, of course, blew the fuck up, and she had people calling her house to get her to sign with this record company or that record company, and her eventual producer flew her out to la with her dad. and, of course, the rest is history. (her dad also blew a lot of the money she earned as a minor but she got rid of him and that’s neither here nor there.)

however, as she got more and more into the la lifestyle, she began to rely more and more on starr as an alter ego. people liked starr, after all, and lorrie didn’t even like herself. she played the part of the dignified, wise, and eccentric former queen during interviews, when recording, at after parties and award shows.

even her first major relationship she got while acting like starr, someone fearless and fun, basically a manic pixie dream girl. if you’ve ever listened to the album melodrama, then you know how badly that ended.

that’s around when she realized that starr had taken over her entire life. coming home from a house party absolutely zonked, she looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself, didn’t see that nerdy, overall-clad chicken-legged girl from her family pictures.

she stripped her clothes off, scraped the makeup off her face until her skin was red and dry, dragged a brush through her hair to get rid of all the product, and pulled on a hoodie and leggings she had brought with her to la a year ago. she wrote the first draft of all the songs in melodrama in the coming hours.

however, she still wrote from starr’s perspective, knew she’d perform it as starr. it may be far more personal, but lorrie wasn’t ready to come out just yet. in fact, she’s kind of been hiding the last year or so, a full-on depression mess.

tl;dr lower middle class nerdy girl from boston overcomes crippling social anxiety through acting, finesses this into an alter ego to be a musician, hits it big, loses herself in the alter ego, has a disastrous relationship, and tries to become herself again.

present.

first of all, her real name is Known to the public, but not her “brand” outside of starr. it’s proven to be a boon as of late; she’s known for basically being a walking sailor moon cosplayer, not a skinny woman in baggy jeans and a big black hoodie.

since she’s trying to work on herself, she’s kind of in a creative slump. like, she still has more than enough royalties off her music to keep her going, but her agent and producer are both pushing her to clean up some of her songs and record them for a new album. she can still write as starr, but it feels... different, now. melodrama was far more personal than pure heroine, and she wants to continue to grow; writing as starr feels like reverting back to her sixteen year old self. but she’s too scared to write as herself So....

at events though she’s still in the gauze and stars people expect from starr.

trying to reach out to her mom and brother jer again. not her dad, fuck her dad.

loves true crime, the supernatural, and conspiracy thought. is probably watching a true crime doc rn.

she’s just starting to leave her house for the first time in like... a year? like she’s only started to get out again in the last few months.

as for drugs, she def drinks, but she’s more likely to smoke weed. also, she’s a big fan of lsd, but holds herself off to only tripping every few months.

is considering moving to the woods and being the lonely crone everyone whispers about. or maybe switching to voice acting.

she fuckin hates dolls. literally her worst nightmare is being trapped in some collectors’ doll rooms.

wanted connections.

melodrama ex (0/1) - the ex she wrote her breakup album about. can be any gender. i literally want this connection so bad kfdskjkadsfds

best friend (0/1) - someone who was with her throughout her... Transformation

squad (0/3) - bc who doesn't love a squad. this is the vibe i’m going for (sound warning)

icon (1/1) - someone lorrie looks up to and like... majorly doesn't wanna disappoint. - filled by kami!!!

musician buddies (0/?) - they bounce lyrics off of each other, you know how it is.

rival pop star (0/1) - idk i just think it would be Neat. maybe even with a plot that they had a major falling out and now they have to pretend to get along.

hookups (0/?) - or other messy shit

texting crush (0/1) - really weird concept but like... i imagine lorrie would have the number or snap or insta or whatever of this muse and they get talking after melodrama and she just... lays it all out. they don't really talk in person, but she feels really close to them and definitely develops a crush

weed buddy (0/1) - they come to her house and smoke and complain its great

friend turned enemy (0/1) - maybe someone who adored starr but doesn't like who she is now?????? idk idk

enemy turned friend (0/1) - maybe someone who thought starr was fake af but then meets lorrie being Herself and is just like "oh you're a Human" idk idk

bonus.

as a thank you for making it to the end of this fucking enormous intro, please take a moment to enjoy these tik toks reflective of lorrie’s personality (they’re also???? great on their own)

lorrie talking/singing to herself alone in her house

honestly she has tinkerbell vibes

drunk mouths speak sober thoughts

and thats on mental illness

#excess:intro #admittedly another novel #also i've been vibing to pure heroine all day and like #im going THROUGH IT #suicide mention tw #anxiety attack tw #drugs tw #also a notice i am not going to be making an open starter since... the event is TOMORROW so #i'll just reply to a few

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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A Story of a 15 Year Old Badass

WARNING: this is really long, but it’s worth the read!

When I was 14, I started high school, like most 14 year olds are scheduled to do, but I really didn’t feel ready.

Even though I was in an extremely dark place, I was really hopeful that high school would be the opportunity I needed to get my life back. On the first day of school, I was boy crazy because I was hanging out with other girls who were and I figured that it could be a fix for my depression. My mother is a pastor, so other than getting prayed for and praying, there was nothing being done to treat my depression and the only thing my mother could think of was to spank me and punish me whenever I self-harmed or isolated myself. I spent the entirety of my first day, ogling boys and envying girls I compared myself to. At the end of the school day, I was walking to my bus and saying bye to my friends and bumped into a white boy, with long, very curly hair and coke bottle glasses. He had a bandanna wrapped across his head, rainbow tie-dye shirt, and a faux cow suede vest with fringes. He was holding his skateboard in one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. When we looked at each other, all I could say was “my bad, dude...i respect your vibe” and I walked away, occasionally looking back at him and saw that he was still looking at me and I waved before getting on my bus and he waved back.

The next day, I asked everyone if they knew “a hippy looking boy with coke bottle glasses” and finally someone said, they knew Tony. They continued to inform me that he was a junior, he was a huge pot head, and he didn’t “believe in relationships, so, aside from his ex, no girl can tie him down”. They said they saw always him in the Drama hallway, with all of the theater kids. I made a plan with my best friend, Keke, to go to the Drama hallway and pretend to sign up for the play after school. As soon as we went, we were greeted with a round of applause and hugs from the older thespians, who were thrilled to see fresh meat show an interesting in their pride and joy. We introduced ourselves and, after announcing my name out loud so all thirty-sum people could hear me, one person immediately said “Iris*...a girl named Iris...nice to meet you”, and as you suspect, it was Tony.

(my name is a dead giveaway of my identity because it’s a boy’s name and there aren’t a lot of girls who share my name)

To speed things along, I ended up joining the Drama club, primarily because I felt like it was the perfect niche for me but also because Tony was in it. I signed up to do hair and makeup for the fall play and tony was a part of stage crew, where they stay after school every day and assist the contractor in building a custom design set for each production. I asked him if there were any girls in stage crew, and aside for one older girl who graduated already, it was mainly a small group of guys. As you can guess, I joined and so did Keke because we were adamant about having each other’s backs. I was partially interested in woodwork and building at the time (I was 14 and I managed to mount my TV to my wall by myself) so I was looking forward to learning how to use a nail gun, a saw machine, stain wood, design something, take precise measurements, and have everything come together into something beautiful. After week two of high school, Keke and I were staying after school every day to work on the set for the play and I was able to get to know Tony, without looking too desperate. He asked me to be his girlfriend on the last Friday of September. I told him that it felt like the last true day of summer, and I also told him I never had a boyfriend or kissed a guy before. We had an established routine of going to the lake, parallel to my high school, and eating lunch before stage crew started (we had from 2:15-3:30, to be exact). He kissed me after I asked him if I could try his cigarette and started cough after one pull. We walked back to campus holding hand and it felt like we were making our debut as a couple because almost everyone looked at us. It was like in those high school movies, where everyone’s attention is on the focal point and it’s really dramatic. I felt accomplished because I, a freshman, was the one who tied down Tony Bologna, one of the ten most longed for boys in my high school. Little did I know, he was the biggest can of worms in the tristate area and my dumbass opened the fucking can, y’all. My brother, who was also a junior, told me I was dumb and advised me to end things with him, but I assumed he was just being protective of me.

As we dated, he taught me everything I was willing to learn about. I learned how to skateboard, how to smoke cigarettes without coughing, how to buy them without looking like I wasn’t old enough and which type of cigarettes to smoke. I learned the different levels and intensities of kissing. I learned how to navigate the hallways of high school without looking like a lost duckling and I smelled weed, for the first time intentionally. A girl, who was senior in the drama club and I worshipped on a semi-regular basis, came up to me and told me that heard a rumor that I was dating Tony and wanted to let me know. I told her that it wasn’t a rumor and her entire tone shifted. She asked me if I was sure we were officially together because he has a reputation to go for vulnerable freshman just to manipulate them and have sex, and I told her that we’d already been serious for about a month and I was a virgin but he respected the fact that I wasn’t ready. As soon as I said I was a virgin, her eyebrows went up and she laughed in my face. She apologized for laughing, and said “I’m not laughing at you being a virgin, I just didn’t realize Tony wasn’t addicted to sex anymore...when we were together, all he wanted to do was have sex with me so I broke up with him. I didn’t realize he’s a new person now, and I never really fell out of love with him...thank you for letting me know!”

I should have paid more attention to what she said about the sex thing, but I was so jealous. She was THE ex, and she was a senior, and she was such a confident badass. I told him about the conversation during our daily lunch at the lake and he said that “even though 30% of me would still date Sam*, and 80% of me would definitely still fuck her, I’m crazy about you and I don’t want to lose you”, and I thought that was the most romantic thing ever. In an effort to compete with her, I started adjusting my style and wore more black. I wasn’t willing to give up my virginity to compete with her, but I knew that they both smoked weed and drank. I heard rumors about him being a drug dealer and selling weed, acid, molly, coke, shrooms, and etc., but I didn’t believe it to be true for a second. In October, he told me about a halloween/birthday party his friend was throwing and ask if I could come. I meticulously planned it out: I asked my mom if I could spend the night at a friend’s house nearby and she happily agreed, thinking that my mental health was finally improving. I went to CVS and used my lunch money to buy liquid eyeliner and dark red lipstick. After school, we went to his house and I met his very sweet and liberal parents. We stayed in the movie area of the basement and watched Benchwarmers and made out the whole time. He directed my hand to where he wanted it (y’all know what I’m saying) and showed me the specific motion. I didn’t feel confident enough to continue so I straddled him and attempted to grind in skinny jeans. After ten minutes of that nonsense, I felt like a new woman and he was definitely proud of me. We went upstairs to eat dinner shortly after and being in the presence of a functional family that loved and respected each other made me feel so uncomfortable, so I was pretty silence. After we all ate dessert and watched “Adventure Time” in the living room, he drove me to my friend’s house and we planned to meet up at the party. I wore black shorts, with fishnets underneath, combat boots, and a grey cropped sweater with skulls on it. My friend did my make up and we walked 10 blocks, in late October weather without coats at 10:30PM, to the party. When we got there, we saw grown ass adults, between 18-30 years old, and we thought we were at the wrong place. I saw his ex, Sam, and realized I was exactly where I needed to be. A 26 year old man greeted me, saying he was Tony’s best friend, and gave me a vodka bottle, filled with what I thought was just orange juice. I never tasted alcohol so I didn’t realize that it was the weird taste I noticed in the orange juice and I drank the entire thing without really pausing, on an empty stomach. As soon as Tony came, several guys rushed greet him and I stood up and tried to walk towards him...and that vodka HIT me like a goddamn truck. I threw my body on him and he immediately knew I was drunk. He started asking me how I got drunk and what I had to drink and why I drank so much and repeatedly asked if I was okay. He sat down in my chair and placed me on his lap and fed me water, without making it obvious to people that I was really drunk. Drunk me appreciated the care and attention he gave me in that moment and, in combination with my first dry hump experience earlier, I was feeling really confident and in love. I whispered in his ear that I loved him and he whispered it back, then I started whispering about doing a bunch of sexual things with him and to him and rubbing my butt against him, without realizing that we were sitting in a circle of people passing around three blunts. I felt Sam looking at us a few times and I decided to look her dead in the eye after passionately kissing Tony. I felt like such a badass, so when Tony was hitting one of the blunts, I took it from his hands and took a good hit to celebrate my victories, and coughed my lungs out. When Tony was ready to leave, he drove my friend and I back to her house and, after I changed and wiped my make up off, her older sister dropped me off at my house. That was where things took off for me.

I managed to do a variation of this routine for the entire school year. My parents were convinced that I wasn’t depressed anymore, but being around his stable family so often made me resentful of mine and I always picked a fight with them, by criticizing the way they always dismissed me and ignored how badly my mental health was. Tony and his friends taught me how to roll a blunt and a joint and how to handle my liquor. I found solace in my pot head boyfriend and his unemployed adult friends, and I clung to him as my feelings got stronger. He suggested ecstasy as a remedy for my depression and, after taking it, I decided to stop self harming completely and I grew even more infatuated with him. In March, he was arrested for having an ounce of weed, a ziplock back with molly, and an entire sheet of acid wrapped in aluminum foil, in his locker. He wasn’t allowed to return to school until the next year and he had to take drug classes and attend meetings every day. After a month, he was allowed to take night classes so he wouldn’t fall behind on school. For some reason, I thought that WE were going through this tough time and I kept insisting that we were going to “get through this together”. It annoyed the shit out of him and he became really distant for the rest of the school year but I didn’t want to push him away even more, so I gave him space when he wanted it and I continued to hang out with his friends, do stage crew and hair and make up, and I even got casted in the spring musical. Over the summer, we periodically hung out, but it felt like we weren’t even dating. Whenever people asked about him, I would make up some lie about how he was doing better and I regularly saw him, as if our relationship wasn’t in limbo. I turned 15 and, towards the end of the summer, we started talking and seeing each other more and our relationship felt brand new. He wasn’t selling drugs anymore or smoking cigarettes, but he still smoked weed and such. My best friend, Keke, told me to break up with him after he got arrested, but I told her that she couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through. I told her that on our one year anniversary, I was going to have sex with him. She told me that I was an idiot for sticking with him and that letting him take my virginity was the dumbest thing I could do. Mind you, Keke lost her virginity before we even started high school, and she regularly smoked weed with her 35 year old mom, so I didn’t know why she had such an issue with me doing the same things.

When September came, and sophomore year started, I had a pixie cut, I developed my own style that I was confident in, and I got a new pair of glasses that looked just like Tony’s. I met him at his locker before the first class started and he was annoyed that I got glasses that looked like his. I asked him if he was still interested in stage crew and he said he wouldn’t want to do it if I planned on signing up too. I told him I was planning on auditioning for the play and I wasn’t just doing stage crew because of him. I didn’t want to give it up just because he believed I was only doing it for him, so I stuck with stage crew and I auditioned, and I got an understudy role. Keke continued to do stage crew with me also, even though she wasn’t interested in it, and I was planning to only talk to her and the others after Tony upset me, but our friendship wasn’t the same after we got into the argument where she called me an idiot. For some reason, Tony noticed that Keke and I weren’t talking and asked her why, but they were consistently having conversations and completely forgot about me. Whenever they were talking it was always at a distance where I couldn’t hear what they were saying and when I tried to enter one of their conversations, they would stop talking and look at me until I walked away. I told Tony what Keke said about breaking up with him and he told me that she was just being a good friend and, based on what she told him, I was a bitch to her. I told Keke that Tony thought I was copying him, and even though she knew I was just into stage crew and I just liked my glasses and they had nothing to do with him, she agreed that I was copying him and I told me I looked like a desperate, lost puppy and, based on what he told her, I turned him off.

The week prior to our one year anniversary, I messaged Keke and apologized for being insensitive. I begged her to help me prepare for my first time because I was really nervous and after sending her a dozen messages, she replied back, saying this:

“You have to stop. You can’t have sex with Tony and you have let it go. You weren’t being a bitch and I’m not mad at you. I just feel guilty and it’s really hard to be friends with you because of what I did. I don’t even know how to tell you this and I’m scared you’ll never talk to me again if I tell you.”

After assuring her that I wouldn’t cut her off, she confessed that her and Tony have been having sex since him and I first started dating. She admitted that she told me to break up with him because she was jealous and she called me an idiot because she couldn’t stand how much I trusted and loved her and Tony. She told Tony about my plan on our anniversary and he started pushing me away because he felt guilty too. He told her not to tell me the truth and that he was going to eventually break with me to be with her, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

THE REVENGE: I was in such shock, that all I could do was thank her for telling me the truth. I told her I needed space and I asked her not to tell Tony about our conversation at all. I didn’t tell her that I had a plan but I knew that virtue had no place in this situation. We proceeded to stay together and I acted like I didn’t know about him cheating on me. I gave him less attention than I normally did and he started coming to my locker instead and would text me first. It wasn’t obvious that I was mad or upset with him, but I really couldn’t stand to be around him or even pretend to. I would dodge his kissing without thinking and walking away without hugging him, so he knew something was up. I told him that I was acting weird because it bothered me that he thought I was copying him, and he felt so horrible. He spent the entire day apologizing, telling me that he loved me and that he was going to make up for it on our anniversary.

On our anniversary, I dressed up a bit and wore a black high waisted mini skirt and a black cropped Pink Floyd t-shirt and my classic high top converse. He came to my locker with a few sunflowers and was shook when he saw me. He told me that I looked as sexy as the day he met me. Our original plan was to have a picnic by the lake after school, then go to his house when his parents were out for bible study and have sex.

INSTEAD, I snuck outside during lunch to the student parked lot and keyed “CHEATER” on the hood of his car. I put on the dark purple lipstick I wore fairly often and left kisses on his side mirrors. I wrote “Fuck you, Manhoe!” on his rear window with the lipstick. I snuck back into school before lunch was over and I texted him and told him to meet me by the lake for our picnic, instead of coming to my locker. The lake is across the street from the student parking lot, so he would have to pass his car to get to the lake, which is exactly what I wanted. I told Keke to pretend to be confused if he accuses her of telling me the truth and she did exactly that. People were taking pictures of his car and sending them to me, asking me if I did it and I never admitted to being responsible. My brother sent me a picture of Tony’s car also and told me that he was proud of me. After Keke told me the truth, I asked his close friends if they knew and they were all shocked and pissed off and disappointed in him. I also asked them not to mention anything and told them I had a plan. One of his closest friends, Jerry*, who was 20 years old and practically Tony’s mentor, was the most upset. He knew how much I loved Tony and offered to listen to me if I ever wanted to talk and we ended up talking nonstop, about Tony, about personal things, about everything. He mentioned that he thought I was flawless and he was envious of Tony for finding me before him because he would have never fuck up a chance with me. I told him about my plan on Tony’s car and he loved how petty it was. Jerry offered to pick me up from school and take me out to eat to get my mind off of my one year anniversary with Tony, and after celebrating the success of my petty revenge over a meal together, he kissed me and invited me over to his house. Jerry knew I was a virgin and he asked me why I felt ready to lose my virginity to Tony. I explained to him that I was determined to have my first time with someone who I was in love with, but after Tony crushed me, I completely stopped caring about losing my virginity with someone I was in love with because doing so would set me up for heartbreak, regardless of who it’s with. After agreeing with me and telling me that I had a mature thought process, I kissed Jerry. I got on top of him and we ended up having sex. The next day, we did the same thing, and I had lunch and sex with him every day for two weeks until I found out he was engaged and blocked his number after his fiancée messaged me and threatened to end her life if I didn’t leave him alone.

After Tony saw his car on our anniversary, he took pictures of it and sent them to me. He asked me how I found out and if Keke told me about them and I pretended to be completely clueless and surprised, and so did Keke. He couldn’t figure out if I did it or if Keke did it and, when he realized we were both “confused” and upset when he accused us, he stopped trying to figure out who it was. Keke and I didn’t really get back to being friends, but I know she didn’t tell Tony that I was the one who fucked his car up because she was also heartbroken over him and she didn’t want him to think that he had a chance with her, so she let him believe that both of us were potentially responsible. She had no idea I was going to fuck his care up, but she did commend me for doing so. I broke up with him when he sent me pictures of his car and mentioned “Keke telling me about them”. He never admitted that he was sleeping with Keke, but I acted like I had no idea what he was talking about when he texted me and I kept asking him what he meant about “Keke telling me about them”, and I pretended to put two and two together, and told him that it was over if he didn’t explain himself, and he never did.

After he stopped selling drugs, a lot of people ghosted him and when he told his close friends about everything that happened, they told him that they already knew everything and that he was foolish for fucking things up with me. They also told him that Jerry and I were having sex (which is probably how Jerry’s fiancée found out). Tony eventually came clean and apologized to me for cheating on me and asked for another chance to be with me. I accepted his apology and declined his request to get back together. We haven’t talked since then and he still doesn’t know who fucked his car up. :-)

TD;LR: My first boyfriend cheated on me, with my best friend, the entire time we dated because I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, so I fucked his car up and had sex with his best friend.

(source) story by (/u/cutebugsmallhands)

#prorevenge #by /u/cutebugsmallhands #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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nancygarcia010 · 4 years ago

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Where to find a Callidus Electric Electrician An electrical expert is a tradesperson focusing on...

Where to find a Callidus Electric Electrician

An electrical expert is a tradesperson focusing on electrical circuitry of structures, transmission lines, stationary machines, and associated devices. Electrical experts might be used in the setup of brand-new electrical elements or the upkeep and repair of existing electrical facilities. Electrical contractors may also concentrate on electrical wiring ships, airplanes, and other mobile platforms, as well as data and cable lines.

In the United States, electrical experts are divided into two main classifications: linemen, who deal with electric utility company circulation systems at higher voltages, and wiremen, who work with the lower voltages made use of inside structures. Callidus Electric Henderson Wiremen are normally trained in one of 5 main specialties: industrial, property, light industrial, commercial, and low-voltage electrical wiring, more frequently known as Voice-Data-Video, or VDV

Electrical contractors are trained to one of 3 levels: Apprentice, Journeyman, and Master Electrician. In the United States and Canada, apprentices work and get a decreased settlement while discovering their trade. They usually take several hundred hours of classroom guideline and are contracted to follow apprenticeship requirements for a period of in between 3 and six years, during which time they are paid as a percentage of the Journeyman’s pay (Pool Lighting repair).

Master Electrical contractors have actually performed well in the trade for a duration of time, frequently 7 to ten years, and have passed a test to demonstrate superior knowledge of the National Electrical Code, or NEC. Service electricians are tasked to respond to ask for separated repair work and upgrades. They have abilities troubleshooting circuitry issues, setting up wiring in existing structures, and making repairs.

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Other specialty locations are marine electrical contractors, research study electricians and medical facility electrical contractors. “Electrical expert” is also utilized as the name of a role in stagecraft, where electrical experts are tasked mainly with hanging, focusing, and operating stage lighting. In this context, the Master Electrical contractor is the show’s chief electrical expert. Although theater electrical contractors routinely perform electrical work on phase lighting instruments and devices, they are not part of the electrical trade and have a different set of skills and credentials from the electrical contractors that deal with structure wiring.

Electrical professionals are businesses that employ electricians to design, set up, and keep electrical systems. Callidus Electric North Las Vegas Specialists are responsible for producing quotes for new jobs, employing tradespeople for the job, providing product to electrical contractors in a timely way, and communicating with designers, electrical and structure engineers, and the client to strategy and complete the finished item.

Many jurisdictions have regulatory constraints worrying electrical work for security factors due to the numerous dangers of dealing with electricity. Such requirements may be testing, registration or licensing. Licensing requirements differ between jurisdictions. Fans repair. An electrical expert’s license entitles the holder to perform all types of electrical installation work in Nevada without guidance.

Under Nevada law, electrical work that includes repaired wiring is strictly regulated and must practically constantly be performed by a licensed electrical expert or electrical contractor. A regional electrical expert can deal with a variety of work including air conditioning, light fittings and installation, security switches, smoke detector setup, evaluation and certification and screening and tagging of electrical home appliances – Electrical Contractor callidus electric.

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In Western Nevada, the Department of Commerce tracks licensee’s and permits the general public to look for individually named/licensed Electricians (Electrical Contractor repair). Presently in Victoria the apprenticeship last for four years, during three of those years the apprentice attends trade school in either a block release of one week every month or one day weekly.

Upon successful conclusion of these examinations, supplying all other elements of the apprenticeship are acceptable, the apprentice is given an A Class licence on application to Energy Safe Victoria (ESV). An A Class electrical contractor might perform work unsupervised however is unable to work for profit or gain without having the additional certifications needed to end up being a Registered Electrical Contractor (REC) or being in the work of an individual holding REC status.

Most of the times a certificate of electrical safety should be sent to the relevant body after any electrical works are carried out. Safety devices utilized and used by electrical contractors in Nevada (including insulated rubber gloves and mats) needs to be checked regularly to guarantee it is still safeguarding the employee. Due to the fact that of the high risk included in this trade, this testing requires carried out routinely and regulations differ according to state.

An utility electrician/lineman does maintenance on an utility pole. Training of electrical contractors follows an apprenticeship model, taking four or 5 years to progress to fully certified journeyman level. Common apprenticeship programs includes 80-90% hands-on work under the supervision of journeymen and 10-20% classroom training. Training and licensing of electrical contractors is controlled by each province, however professional licenses stand throughout Canada under Contract on Internal Trade.

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In order for individuals to become a licensed electrical contractors, they require to have 9000 hours of practical, on the task training. They likewise require to attend school for 4 terms and pass a provincial test. This training allows them to become journeyman electricians. Additionally, in British Columbia, a person can go an action beyond that and become a “FSR”, or field safety representative (Solar Panel Installation callidus electric).

Regardless of this, some Nevada provinces only give “permit pulling benefits” to present Master Electricians, that is, a journeyman who has actually been participated in the industry for three (3) years AND has actually passed the Master’s evaluation (i.e. Alberta). The different levels of field security agents are A, B and C. The only difference between each class is that they are able to do progressively greater voltage and present work.

The 2 credentials granting organisations are City and Guilds and EAL. Callidus Electric Paradise Electrical proficiency is required at Level 3 to practice as a ‘certified electrical contractor’ in the UK. Once qualified and showing the required level of proficiency an Electrician can use to sign up for a Joint Industry Board Electrotechnical Accreditation Scheme card in order to work on building websites or other controlled areas.

These extra certifications can be listed on the reverse of the JIB card. Beyond this level is additional training and qualifications such as EV battery charger installations or training and operating in expert locations such as street furniture or within market. The Electricity at Work Laws are a statutory document that covers the usage and proper upkeep of electrical devices and setups within businesses and other organisations such as charities – Landscape Lighting callidus electric.

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Typical amendments are published on an ad hoc bases when minor modifications occur. Fans callidus electric. The first significant upgrade of the 18th Edition were released during February 2020 primarily covering the section covering Electric lorries charger setups although an addendum was released during December 2019 remedying some small mistakes and including some small modifications.

With the exception of the work covered by Part P Callidus Electric Enterprise of the Building Regulations, such as installing customer units, brand-new circuits or work in restrooms, there are no laws that prevent anybody from performing some basic electrical work in Las Vegas. Although lots of electrical contractors work for private professionals, lots of electricians get their start in the armed force.

There are variations in licensing requirements, however, all states acknowledge three fundamental skill classifications: level electrical contractors. Journeyman electrical contractors can work without supervision provided that they work according to a master’s Callidus Electric Las Vegas instructions. Typically, states do not use journeyman permits, and journeyman electrical experts and other apprentices can just work under licenses issued to a master electrical expert.

Before electrical experts can work unsupervised, they are generally required to serve an apprenticeship lasting from 3 to 5 years under the general guidance of a Master Electrician and typically the direct supervision of a Journeyman Electrical contractor. Education in electrical theory and electrical building regulations is required to finish the apprenticeship program.

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A Journeyman electrical expert is a classification of licensing approved to those who have actually satisfied the experience requirements for on the job training (normally 4000 to 6000 hours) and classroom hours (about 144 hours). Requirements include conclusion of two to 6 years of apprenticeship training, and passing a licensing exam. An electrical contractor’s license stands for work in the state where the license was provided.

For example, California reciprocates with Arizona, Nevada, and Utah on the condition that licenses remain in good standing and have actually been held at the other state for five years. Nevada reciprocates with Arizona, California, and Utah. Maine reciprocates with New Hampshire and Vermont at the master level, and the state reciprocates with New Hampshire, North Dakota, Idaho, Oregon, Vermont, and Wyoming at the journeyman level.

Two of the tools commonly utilized by electricians. The fish tape is utilized to pull conductors through channels, or in some cases to pull conductors through hollow walls. The conduit bender is utilized to make precise bends and offsets in electrical channel. Some of the more common tools are: Conduit Bender: Bender utilized to flex various kinds of Electrical Conduit.

Lineman’s Pliers: Heavy-duty pliers for general use in cutting, bending, crimping and pulling wire. Diagonal Pliers (likewise called side cutters or Dikes): Pliers consisting of cutting blades for use on smaller sized gauge wires, however often also used as a gripping tool for removal of nails and staples. Needle-Nose Pliers: Pliers with a long, tapered gripping nose of numerous size, with or without cutters, usually smaller sized and for finer work (consisting of really small tools utilized in electronics electrical wiring).

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Some wire strippers consist of cable strippers amongst their numerous functions, for getting rid of the outer cable television coat. Cable television Cutters: Extremely leveraged pliers for cutting bigger cable. Armored Cable Television Cutters: Commonly referred to by the trademark ‘Roto-Split’, is a tool used to cut the metal sleeve on MC (Metal Dressed) cable.

It is offered as analog or digital screen. Common functions include: voltage, resistance, and current. Some designs offer extra functions. Unibit or Step-Bit: A metal-cutting drill bit with stepped-diameter cutting edges to enable hassle-free drilling holes in preset increments in stamped/rolled metal up to about 1.6 mm (1/16 inch) thick. Typically used to produce custom-made knock-outs in a breaker panel or junction box.

Utilized to manipulate cables and wires through cavities (LED & Induction Lights callidus electric). The fishing tool is pushed, dropped, or shot into the installed raceway, stud-bay or joist-bay of a finished wall or in a floor or ceiling. Then the wire or cable television is connected and drew back. Crimping Tools: Utilized to use terminals or splices.

Some hand tools have ratchets to guarantee correct pressure. Hydraulic units attain cold welding, even for aluminum cable television. Insulation Resistance Tester: Commonly described as a Megger, these testers use numerous hundred to several thousand volts to cable televisions and equipment to determine the insulation resistance value. Knockout Punch: For punching holes into boxes, panels, switchgear, and so on.

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GFI/GFCI Testers: Used to check the performance of Callidus Electric Summerlin Ground-Fault Interrupting receptacles. Voltmeter: An electrical contractor’s tool used to determine electrical possible distinction in between 2 points in an electric circuit. Other general-use tools include screwdrivers, hammers, reciprocating saws, drywall saws, flashlights, chisels, tongue and groove pliers (Typically described as ‘Channellock’ pliers, a famous maker of this tool) and drills.

An electrician may experience electrical shock due to direct contact with stimulated circuit conductors or due to stray voltage triggered by faults in a system. An electrical arc exposes eyes and skin to harmful amounts of heat and light. Malfunctioning switchgear might trigger an arc flash incident with a resultant blast.

Lockout and tagout treatments are used to make sure that circuits are proven to be de-energized before work is done. Limits of technique to stimulated equipment secure against arc flash direct exposure; specially designed flash-resistant clothes provides additional security; grounding (earthing) clamps and chains are utilized on line conductors to provide a noticeable guarantee that a conductor is de-energized. LED Light Installation callidus electric.

If a system can not be de-energized, insulated tools are utilized; even high-voltage transmission lines can be repaired while stimulated, when essential. Electrical workers, that includes electrical contractors, represented 34% of total electrocutions of building and construction trades employees in the United States between 19922003. Operating conditions for electrical contractors vary by expertise. Generally an electrical contractor’s work is physically requiring such as climbing up ladders and lifting tools and materials.

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calliduselectric1 · 4 years ago

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nancygduarteus · 6 years ago

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How a Stroke Turned a 63-Year-Old Into a Rap Legend

Dr. Sherman Hershfield woke up one morning and was surprised to find himself behind the wheel of his car. Somewhere between his Beverly Hills apartment and his practice in the San Fernando Valley, the silver-haired physician had blacked out. Somehow, he’d avoided a crash, but this wasn’t the first time. “I didn’t know what was going on,” he admitted.

Apart from his frequent blackouts, Hershfield was in fine health for a man in his 50s. He was tall and lean, ran six miles a day, and was a strict vegetarian. “I believe a physician should provide exemplary motivation to patients,” he once wrote. “I don’t smoke and have cut out all alcohol.” Hershfield specialized in physical medicine and rehabilitation, and for decades had helped patients with brain injuries learn to walk again and rebuild their lives. Even with his experience, Hershfield didn’t know what was wrong inside his own head.

Perhaps the mystery blackouts were caused by stress, he wondered. Hershfield was the medical director of the rehab center at the San Bernardino Community Hospital, but he also ran a private practice 76 miles away in Winnetka, offering non-surgical spinal treatments. “Sometimes I worked from 6 a.m. to 3 a.m.,” he recalled, adding that the pressures had cost him his first marriage. At the hospital, Hershfield often slept in the doctor’s lounge, where colleagues nicknamed him “Dr. Columbo” after the disheveled television detective.

Not long after the blackouts started, Hershfield suffered a grand mal seizure—the type most people imagine when they think about seizures. He was driven to the emergency room, thrashing and writhing like a 6-feet-4-inch fish pulled out of the water. Concerned doctors at the UCLA Medical Center rushed him into an MRI machine, and, this being the late 1980s, wondered whether he might have pricked himself with a needle, and contracted AIDS. Instead, the scan revealed that his blackouts where actually a swarm of small strokes, and his illness was diagnosed as antiphospholipid syndrome. Hershfield’s immune system was mistakenly creating antibodies that made his blood more likely to clot. Those clots, if they entered his bloodstream and brain, could kill him at any moment.

Doctors prescribed blood-thinning medication and forced Hershfield to quit driving, but he was still fit to practice medicine. Like many survivors of stroke, his speech became slurred and he sometimes stuttered. His personality also seemed to change. He suddenly became obsessed with reading and writing poetry. Soon, Hershfield’s friends noticed another unusual side effect: He couldn’t stop speaking in rhyme. He finished everyday sentences with rhyming couplets, like “Now I have to ride the bus, it’s enough to make me cuss.” And curiously, whenever he rhymed, his speech impediments disappeared.

A STROKE or “brain attack” can happen to any of us at any time. One occurs every 40 seconds in the United States, and they can lead to permanent disability and extraordinary side effects. Some patients become hypersexual or compulsive gamblers. Others have even woken up speaking in a fake Chinese accent. “There was a famous guy in Italy who had what they called ‘Pinocchio syndrome,’” said Dr. Alice Flaherty, a joint associate professor of neurology and psychiatry at Harvard Medical School. “When he told a lie he would have a seizure. He was crippled as a businessman.”

One of Dr. Flaherty’s most famous cases was Tommy McHugh, a 51-year-old British man who suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage—a stroke caused by bleeding around the brain. Once a grizzled ex-con, McHugh’s stroke changed his entire personality. He became deeply philosophical, and spent 19 hours a day reading poetry, speaking in rhyme, painting, and drawing. He’d never been inside an art gallery before, he joked, “except to maybe steal something.”

For Hershfield, a love of poetry was also completely out of keeping with anything in his past. He was born in Winnipeg, Canada, in 1936, and while his mother was a concert pianist, he followed his father into medical school, graduating in 1960. In Flin Flon, a Canadian mining city, he mended the heads of injured hockey players, then became a resident at the University of Minnesota, before serving in the U.S. Army Medical Corps. In 1973, he arrived in Southern California and set up his practice, where he had little time for reading anything but medical journals.

His problems started during the medical malpractice crisis in the 1970s. Lawsuits against doctors became popular, and the cost of Hershfield’s liability insurance rose from $864 to $3,420. In protest, he quit working all but emergency cases, and took a job frying fish at Thousand Oaks Fish and Chips for $2 an hour. Newspapers across America wrote about the doctor who fried fish while wearing hospital scrubs, adding that Hershfield “looked like he was about to have four cod fillets wheeled into surgery.” He explained: “I’ve always been a person of high moral values. I’ve thought, what the hell do I want out of life? And it comes out, I want to be happy.”

Hershfield did return to medicine, but things went from bad to worse when his business partner and best friend started to abuse drugs. “He was an excellent surgeon, a handsome man who had everything going for him ... but he was unable to control his fears and constant bouts of withdrawal and depression, and he tried five times to take his life,” he recalled. Hershfield was there when his friend’s heart finally stopped, after six days on a respirator.

By 1987 he’d filed for bankruptcy. A year later he became the medical director at the rehab center, where he butted heads with management over his “odd” ideas, like opening a hospice where pets could stay with their dying owners. That was around the time the blackouts started.

In the 10 years following his stroke, Hershfield dedicated his free time to a Buddhist organization called Soka Gakkai International, where he loved to chant for hours. He had met his second wife there, Michiko, a beautiful Japanese divorcée who he impressed with his intellect, and his three medical certificates. Michiko told me that her husband “changed a lot,” following his stroke. “He used to like Japanese haiku poems, you know, five, seven, five.”

[Read: Can music be used as medicine?]

Hershfield also embraced his Jewish heritage, and volunteered at the Simon Wiesenthal Center, a Jewish global human rights organization. “I did the Holocaust in rhyme,” he recalled of the educational poem he’d perform on the bus. The city now sounded like a swinging rhythm section: Brakes hissed. Horns honked. Passengers rang the bell. As Hershfield recited his rhymes alone, he had become just another crazy person talking to himself on public transport. Then, one afternoon, as he waited at a bus stop in Hollywood, a man selling jewelry overheard him and suggested that he take his lyrics to Leimert Park.

“Where is Leimert Park?’” Hershfield asked. He had never been there.

Intrigued, he rode a bus headed into South Central, past Crenshaw’s Magic Johnson theater, the neighborhood’s megachurches, and liquor stores. At the foot of Baldwin Hills he found it—an area with one of the largest African-American populations in the western United States. If Leimert Park was 100 people, just one was white.

Since the 1960s, Leimert Park had been the center of African-American culture in Los Angeles—Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis, Ray Charles, and Richard Pryor had all lived within five miles of the place. To outsiders, it was known only as a hotspot during the Los Angeles riots in 1992. The jazz poet Kamau Daoud told me that locals still refer to the riot as “the rebellion.” The village would not quickly forget the four white police officers who beat the black motorist Rodney King half to death.

It was the very late 1990s when Hershfield stepped off the bus, dressed like a doctor who lived in Beverly Hills. He walked in polished shoes to the beat of the drum circle that gathered in the park, past the row of Afrocentric bookstores and shops selling colorful fabrics, where saxophone music leaked from every door and window. At 43rd and Leimert, he found a crowd of teenagers surrounding a community arts center called the “KAOS Network.” This had to be it: Spontaneous rap battles were breaking out, and dancers writhed on the sidewalk, seizurelike. At the entrance, a young man sized him up.

“Would you like to hear something?” Hershfield asked politely.

“Sure, what’s your name?” the man asked.

Hershfield looked at him.

“My name is Dr. Rapp.”

ESTABLISHED IN 1984 as a media-production center, KAOS Network was famous for “Project Blowed,” an open-mic workshop for up-and-coming rappers. Since 1995, the project had turned the dance floor into a living Venn diagram of performers from various gang-controlled neighborhoods, mostly African-American teenagers wearing baggy pants, Timberland boots, and caps pulled down just above the eyes.

“It was underground, powerful, strong, and scary for people if they weren’t ready, because it was really volatile,” explained the proprietor, Ben Caldwell, a 73-year-old African-American filmmaker with a tidy, graying beard. “I would have to take a deep breath every time, because it was a bunch of alpha males.” The project was a tough breeding ground for rappers, who hoped to “blow up,” like the underground performer Aceyalone, or more mainstream stars like Jurassic 5. But Hershfield knew nothing about any of this.

“He said he wanted to do a rhyme on the Holocaust,” Caldwell remembered. “I thought that was really insightful. I thought that it would be something good for the kids to hear.” This was unusual, but not against “da mutha f**ckin rulz” pinned to the door, that began: “PROJECT BLOWED IS PRESENTED FOR THE LOVE OF HIP-HOP ENTIRELY FOR BLACK PEOPLE.” The sign continued: “DO NOT GET VIOLENT BECAUSE THIS IS A BLACK-OWNED, BLACK-OPERATED BUSINESS.”

The entrance fee was $2 to perform, $4 to watch, and rappers were expected to “perform a polished piece of music,” wrote Jooyoung Lee in Blowin’ Up, a history of the club, adding: “The open mic is a lot like peer review.” Emcees with the skill to rap spontaneously—“freestyling”—enjoy the greatest respect. But when a rapper forgets his lines, stutters, or shows up unprepared, the crowd forces them offstage with a devastating chant:

“Please pass the mic!”

The DJ demanded Hershfield’s backing music. He handed over a cassette tape of Chopin. Piano music filled the room. Regulars in the audience, known as “Blowdians,” looked at each other.

“They all were going, ‘Uh hunh, uh hunh,’” Hershfield recalled, but they quickly tired of the classical music.

“Okay,” someone said. “Get rid of that music and let’s hear you rap.”

Alone on the stage, Hershfield gripped the mic, and began:

“God, this is a tough thing to write

The feeling I got in my heart tonight

Just to think of the Holocaust

So deep and sadly blue

And still so many people

Don’t think it’s true.”

The crowd was silent. Here was an old man, reading a poem.

“The first time he was up there, he wasn’t that successful,” Caldwell said. But out of respect, the audience didn’t chant him off. Project Blowed calls itself the longest-running open-mic session in the world, and they’d never seen anyone like Hershfield on stage. “First of all, he’s Caucasian around all these people of color,” said one regular, called Babu. “I thought he was some kind of spy.” Hershfield was also the oldest person in the room: “If you up in your mid-thirties and still ain’t got it,” a Blowdian called Trenseta would say, “Leave hip-hop alone, and go get you a little job at International House of Pancakes or some shit!” Hershfield was now 63, a dinosaur in rap years.

Clarence Williams / LA Times

As he emerged into the hot South Central night, Hershfield heard a voice from Fifth Street Dicks, the neighboring coffee shop: “If you can’t keep up with those kids, then you’d better do something else,” shouted Richard Fulton, a large man with graying dreadlocks. Fulton’s jazz cafe was a hotbed of African-American writers and artists, and he’d seen many beat poets try their luck in Leimert Park—none of them from 90210, America’s ritziest zip code. “At that time I thought I was rapping,” Hershfield later recalled. “I wasn’t rapping, I was just reading poetry. It didn’t have any beat. When you’re on rap street, you gotta have that beat.”

Undeterred, Hershfield put aside his Tchaikovsky records and listened to NWA and Run-DMC. He played rap music in the bath, Michiko told me. When she found out he was preparing for rap battles in South Central, she told him: “You’re crazy!” But she couldn’t stop him returning to Project Blowed every week, sometimes making the six-and-a-half mile journey from Beverly Hills on foot.

“Sherman’s leaving at 10 o’clock at night and going to Crenshaw,” she told her son, Scott. “He’s hanging out with kids and rapping.” Scott, who had transitioned from a teenaged professional skateboarder into a hip-hop DJ, was now in his 20s and was scoring regular gigs at Hollywood’s celebrity-filled clubs. When he saw his stepfather rapping at home, he felt embarrassed.

“Sherman, you’re kinda just rhyming, putting words together, but you know so many Latin words, you should rap about neurology, really get into the science of it ... that would be amazing,” he said. Scott encouraged his stepfather to be more like the hip-hop rappers he admired. “Even though I’m from the West Coast, most of the stuff I really liked was East Coast 90s hip-hop ... I was into KRS-One.”

In the mid-1980s, KRS-One had emerged from the Bronx as the emcee of Boogie Down Productions, with the seminal album Criminal Minded. As a solo artist he’d created one of hip-hop’s most enduring records, Sound of Da Police, and was now a leading rap scholar and lecturer. One evening in October 1999, Hershfield heard that KRS-One was speaking about rap history at an event for hip-hoppers in Hollywood, and decided to swing by. “Try to imagine a hip-hop gathering,” KRS-One told me, late last year. “You know, emcees from the hood, breakers, DJs, music is blasting. I’m giving you permission to stereotype. Then in walks this dude.” It was like Larry David had wandered into a Snoop Dogg music video.

During the Q&A, Hershfield grabbed the mic and started to tell his story.

He explained that he was getting his language back together after a stroke by listening to rap records. “One of which was one of my songs,” KRS-One recalled.

Hershfield couldn’t stop himself.

“I started to have a stroke,” he rapped. “Went broke.”

The room fell silent.

“I started to think and speak in rhyme. I can do it all the time. And I want to get to do the rap, and I won’t take any more of this crap.”

The crowd erupted.

When Hershfield rapped about his struggles, not history lessons, he inspired the audience.

“He got a standing ovation,” recalled KRS-One. He gave the doctor his telephone number and suggested they hang out.

[Read: The revenge of autobiographical rap]

“I didn’t know anything about him,” Hershfield recalled. “I just knew that he was in the same category as Tupac Shakur.” When Hershfield told his stepson about his new friend, Scott was stunned. “You know, you should really listen to his music and listen to his lyrics,” he told his stepfather. But inside, Scott was thinking: Let’s see how long this lasts. KRS-One?

A few days later, the rap icon arrived at Hershfield’s office. KRS-One gave the doctor a signed copy of his book, The Science of Rap. He too was fascinated with neurology, he said: “I was already talking about the concept of how rapping synthesizes those two hemispheres of the brain,” KRS-One told me. He asked Hershfield if he’d like to be part of an experiment, and offered him rap lessons.

“When you’re trying to teach someone to rap, you ask them to sing along with a song they might have heard,” KRS-One told me. He hit play on Rapper’s Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang. The song began:

“I said a hip-hop / Hippie to the hippie / The hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop ...”

Then he pressed rewind and encouraged Hershfield to give it a try.

“He nailed it,” said KRS-One.

“He had the cadences and the rhythms,” he added. But the doctor needed to work on his delivery, breath control, and enunciation. And so an unlikely friendship blossomed between the Blastmaster and the Buddhist. They were both interested in spirituality: The rapper’s name, ‘KRS,’ came from the Hare Krishna volunteers he befriended in a youth spent on the streets of the Bronx. And just as Hershfield had lost his business partner to suicide, KRS-One had lost his right-hand man, DJ Scott La Rock, who was shot in 1987. The loss was life-changing for the rapper: his lyrics became more political and philosophical; he launched a movement called Stop the Violence.

To KRS-One, Hershfield was a pioneer of rap theory. “He was talking about neuroplasticity before I heard about it on PBS,” KRS-One recalled.

KRS-One suggested they write a book together, or record an album in New York.

He told the doctor: “I visualize you as revolutionizing hip-hop.”

HERSHFIELD RETURNED to Project Blowed, where he vowed to win over the crowd. The elder statesmen of Leimert Park took Hershfield under their wing, making sure he got time on the mic, and that he got home safe. “People respected him and he could work on his chops, work on his brain,” Caldwell told me. “It was interesting to see how well we all accepted him.” Caldwell encouraged Hershfield to experiment. “He wanted to do Jewish chants,” he recalled. “And I was like ‘That is so fucking tight.’”

The younger members of Project Blowed were also drawn to Hershfield. Up-and-coming rappers in South Central suffered from an “existential urgency,” Lee wrote in Blowin’ Up. Theirs was a race to “make it” in hip-hop, before their life was derailed by gang violence. Like them, Hershfield was rapping against the clock, unsure when the next seizure might strike.

Richard Fulton, the coffee shop owner, became especially close with Hershfield. Fulton was a cancer survivor and former drug addict, who had once pushed a shopping cart along Skid Row’s 5th Street. That was before he found God—and jazz. Against all odds, a reborn Fulton launched his coffee-and-music operation. His caffeine was strong and the jazz loud. Like Hershfield, Fulton’s second life was dominated by a love for music. His catchphrase was “Turn the music up.”

Hershfield and Fulton were kindred spirits, said Erin Kaplan, a journalist who frequented Leimert Park. Both men were enjoying “second chances,” she explained, and living “on borrowed time.” Hanging out at Dick’s, Hershfield brushed shoulders with beat poets, rappers, chess players, and jazz musicians. It was there he fell into the rhythm of Leimert Park.

Every week for two or three years, Hershfield climbed onstage at Project Blowed and gave his everything, sweat on his brow, steam on his glasses, fists pumping. Sometimes he electrified the crowd, other times: “Please pass the mic!” He learned to self-promote and name-check “Dr. Rapp” in his lyrics just like the pros; he wore customized T-shirts and learned to freestyle. He performed on the stage and in impromptu “ciphers” under street lamps, until the sun came up.

“He was tight,” the rapper Myka 9 told me, while he smoked in an alleyway before a performance in Culver City. “He had a little bit of an angular approach. He had flows, he had good lines that were thought out, I remember a couple punchlines that came off pretty cool.” Myka 9 recalled socializing with Hershfield at house parties in South Central, and described him as “a cult personality in his own right.”

At home, the doctor’s wife was worried. “I don’t understand why he goes to that area,” Michiko told me. Her husband was too generous and trusting, she added. “I bought him nice clothes, Italian-made suits, a couple times he came back with dirty clothes, he’d given the nice suit to somebody else.” With his designer threads and prescription pad, Hershfield was a mugger’s dream.

“I keep telling him it’s dangerous,” Michiko told me.

Hershfield insisted he was safe. These people were his friends, he said.

NOT EVERYONE IN the world of hip-hop was enthused by Hershfield. A letter arrived from a lawyer representing a different Dr. Rap, who advised him to find a new name or face legal action. Hershfield, who actually had a doctoral degree, rebranded to Dr. Flow, but it was too late. His reputation was spreading.

In early 2000, Hershfield attended a talk about violence and rap music at the California State University at Los Angeles. Sitting on the panel was one of Gangsta Rap’s pioneers, Ice-T, who argued that violence was an unavoidable part of rap culture. “I’m a person who deals with violence always in my music,” he told the audience. “Masculinity runs this world. The person who’s violent gets control. Peace gets nothing.”

Hershfield was infuriated.

“You can’t live by hate!” he yelled out, before trading comments with Ice-T in an ugly scene that required the moderator’s intervention.

Hershfield was appalled by gang violence and its needless killings. Internally, he was struggling with the fragility of his existence: He had survived a deadly stroke, and life was a precious gift.

No one was more devastated than Hershfield when Fifth Street Dick’s cancer returned. Hershfield was one of the many Leimert Park regulars who surrounded Fulton’s bedside. He found his friend unable to speak, the tumor in his throat so large that his tongue protruded from his mouth. Fulton could only communicate by writing notes, and knew his life was ebbing away. But Hershfield couldn’t accept it.

“If I can just get him to chant, he’ll recover,” Hershfield said, as decades of medical experience were drowned out by denial.

He started his Buddhist chant:

“Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.”

Friends urged Hershfield to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Fulton, 56, could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“We’re going to tap into his life force,” Hershfield insisted.

But on March 18, 2000, jazz filled Fulton’s room as he declined a final morphine shot, and instead told nurses in a note: “Turn the music up.”

Back at Project Blowed, Hershfield intensified his efforts to dominate the mic. But his double life soon became strained, as his two worlds splintered. “His friends in Beverly Hills did not approve of this at all,” said Kaplan, Hershfield’s journalist friend. “They were so shocked. Let’s just say none of his friends showed up at open-mic night.” By choosing rap nights instead of night shifts, Hershfield soon fell into another financial crisis. “I think he was more obsessed with rapping than he was going to work,” his stepson Scott told me. Sometimes, Michiko told me, the guys from Leimert Park would lend Hershfield money for the bus.

Soon, Hershfield’s voice became hoarse from shouting rhymes over African drums, and staying out all night. Then, during one particularly hot evening, everything went black. “Dr. Rapp had a seizure,” recalled Tasha Wiggins, who worked for KAOS Network. “Other rappers caught him. Everybody stopped what they were doing, trying to nurture Dr. Rapp.” As Hershfield lay unconscious on the floor, the crowd started chanting his name.

THOSE WHO HAVE been struck by the strange side effects of brain injuries often speak of their gratitude. Just before he died of cancer, Tommy McHugh, the British convict who became an artist, said his strokes were “the most wonderful thing that happened.” He added that they gave him “11 years of a magnificent adventure that nobody could have expected.” Dr. Flaherty described McHugh’s hemorrhage as “a crack that let the light in.” McHugh and Hershfield both experienced symptoms of what the physician and author Oliver Sacks called “sudden musicophilia,” an eruption of creativity following a brain injury or stroke. But for Hershfield, rhyming was no longer a symptom, but a cure.

It was as if one side of Hershfield’s brain that held the rhymes healed the broken side that had short-circuited. Brain scans on rappers carried out by the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders (NIDCD) discovered that during freestyle rapping, brain activity increased in the brain areas that engage motivation, language, mood, and action. Hershfield said rapping kept his seizures under control, and even after he collapsed that night in Leimert Park, he used hip-hop to regain his speech and return to the stage.

[Read: Mapping creativity in the brain]

Soon, Dr. Rapp’s notices at Project Blowed started improving.

“His name was on the lips of the multitudes,” recalled Ed Boyer, a Los Angeles Times journalist who first heard rumors about South Central’s rapping doctor in April of 2000. Boyer tracked down Hershfield to his office, and visited Project Blowed to hear him perform. “I’ve seen Dr. Rapp rock the whole house,” Tasha Wiggins told Boyer, as Hershfield climbed onto the stage. Another Project Blowed member, Gabriela Orozco, said, “Oh, I think I’m going to cry. I mean ... he’s doing it.”

As Dr. Rapp stepped into the spotlight and the DJ’s needle found the groove, he became lost in his rhymes:

“Me, I’m just a beginning medical intern of rap

Trying to express and open my trap ... ”

Hershfield’s stepson, Scott, remembers the morning he opened the Times and saw a photograph of Dr. Rapp, wearing an Adidas tracksuit, mid-flow, on the paper’s Metro pages. “The whole thing was so bizarre,” he said.

Dr. Rapp had finally “blown up.”

RADIO AND TELEVISION crews from Canada and England soon descended on Leimert Park looking for Hershfield. Ben Caldwell showed me footage from a Japanese television station, who filmed Hershfield waiting to take the mic. He looked like a retiree standing in line for an early bird dinner special. Then he laid down his rhymes, as the crowd bobbed their heads in appreciation. Afterwards Hershfield took a nap on a couch. “He did that quite regularly,” Caldwell sighed. “Everybody liked the doctor, right, even the hardcore gangster types,” he added. “They liked him for his chutzpah.”

Hershfield told reporters that Leimert Park had opened his eyes to a whole new world. “There are lots of misconceptions by white people about the area,” he said. “It’s very cultural with a lot of interesting places.” Project Blowed was “the Harvard of rap,” he said. “This is my foundation. I find it very beneficial.”

Though he never recorded an album with KRS-One, Hershfield owed his underground rap career to the Blastmaster. KRS-One, who now lives in Topanga Canyon, California, told me: “He mentioned one of my songs brought him back. He was in a coma, they were playing music for him to try and wake him up.” He added: “I’ve met a lot of people, but a few people I will never forget. [Hershfield] saying rap healed him ... that just stayed with me ... It’s part of my confidence in hip-hop.”

Instead of embarking on a world tour, Dr. Rapp continued to pay his dues at Project Blowed every week. Like a true underground star, he shunned mainstream success. He did appear in a documentary about Leimert Park, not as a novelty act, but as a regular member of the crew. “I can’t clearly tell you whether [rap] helped him,” said Michiko, “but I can tell you he was happy when he was doing rap music.” Hershfield represented Project Blowed until ill health forced him to quit both music and medicine. He died from cancer in Los Angeles, on March 29, 2013, aged 76.

Today, Project Blowed lives on, every third Tuesday at KAOS Network in Leimert Park. The area remains the “hippest corner in Los Angeles”—according to the recording on the club’s answering machine. But Leimert Park is now fighting a new battle, against soaring property prices and gentrification. The reason Hershfield was accepted at Project Blowed, said Caldwell, was that he arrived with an open mind, and he listened and learned. “That’s one wonderful thing I like most about black American communities,” he said. “As long as you don’t try to tell them how to do their own culture, you’re good.” Ever since Dr. Rapp’s days, performers from all races and backgrounds have jumped onstage, added Caldwell. But the moment they stutter or slur, it’s always the same:

“Please pass the mic.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/01/doctor-rapp/579634/?utm_source=feed

0 notes

ionecoffman · 6 years ago

Text

How a Stroke Turned a 63-Year-Old Into a Rap Legend

[Read: Can music be used as medicine?]

“Where is Leimert Park?’” Hershfield asked. He had never been there.

“Would you like to hear something?” Hershfield asked politely.

“Sure, what’s your name?” the man asked.

Hershfield looked at him.

“My name is Dr. Rapp.”

“Please pass the mic!”

The DJ demanded Hershfield’s backing music. He handed over a cassette tape of Chopin. Piano music filled the room. Regulars in the audience, known as “Blowdians,” looked at each other.

“They all were going, ‘Uh hunh, uh hunh,’” Hershfield recalled, but they quickly tired of the classical music.

“Okay,” someone said. “Get rid of that music and let’s hear you rap.”

Alone on the stage, Hershfield gripped the mic, and began:

“God, this is a tough thing to write

The feeling I got in my heart tonight

Just to think of the Holocaust

So deep and sadly blue

And still so many people

Don’t think it’s true.”

The crowd was silent. Here was an old man, reading a poem.

Clarence Williams / LA Times

During the Q&A, Hershfield grabbed the mic and started to tell his story.

He explained that he was getting his language back together after a stroke by listening to rap records. “One of which was one of my songs,” KRS-One recalled.

Hershfield couldn’t stop himself.

“I started to have a stroke,” he rapped. “Went broke.”

The room fell silent.

“I started to think and speak in rhyme. I can do it all the time. And I want to get to do the rap, and I won’t take any more of this crap.”

The crowd erupted.

When Hershfield rapped about his struggles, not history lessons, he inspired the audience.

“He got a standing ovation,” recalled KRS-One. He gave the doctor his telephone number and suggested they hang out.

[Read: The revenge of autobiographical rap]

“I said a hip-hop / Hippie to the hippie / The hip, hip a hop, and you don’t stop ...”

Then he pressed rewind and encouraged Hershfield to give it a try.

“He nailed it,” said KRS-One.

To KRS-One, Hershfield was a pioneer of rap theory. “He was talking about neuroplasticity before I heard about it on PBS,” KRS-One recalled.

KRS-One suggested they write a book together, or record an album in New York.

He told the doctor: “I visualize you as revolutionizing hip-hop.”

“I keep telling him it’s dangerous,” Michiko told me.

Hershfield insisted he was safe. These people were his friends, he said.

Hershfield was infuriated.

“You can’t live by hate!” he yelled out, before trading comments with Ice-T in an ugly scene that required the moderator’s intervention.

Hershfield was appalled by gang violence and its needless killings. Internally, he was struggling with the fragility of his existence: He had survived a deadly stroke, and life was a precious gift.

“If I can just get him to chant, he’ll recover,” Hershfield said, as decades of medical experience were drowned out by denial.

He started his Buddhist chant:

“Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.”

Friends urged Hershfield to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Fulton, 56, could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“We’re going to tap into his life force,” Hershfield insisted.

But on March 18, 2000, jazz filled Fulton’s room as he declined a final morphine shot, and instead told nurses in a note: “Turn the music up.”

[Read: Mapping creativity in the brain]

Soon, Dr. Rapp’s notices at Project Blowed started improving.

As Dr. Rapp stepped into the spotlight and the DJ’s needle found the groove, he became lost in his rhymes:

“Me, I’m just a beginning medical intern of rap

Trying to express and open my trap ... ”

Dr. Rapp had finally “blown up.”

“Please pass the mic.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

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cynthiajayusa · 7 years ago

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What’s Hot Central Florida: January 2018

Sunday, December 31

The Parliament House features Peppermint and Bob The Drag Queen live from RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 8 and 9. Tickets are $20 in advance and they also have a $75 VIP Meet and Greet option. The Footlight players will be performing at 10p.m. and 12a.m., as well as comedian Julie Goldman in her stand up “Balls Dropped” at 7:30p.m.

Amalie Arena presents Jim Gaffigan in his stand up tour “Contagious. “Jim Gaffigan is a Grammy nominated comedian, New York Times best-selling author, top touring performer, and multi-platinum-selling father of five. He recently wrapped the first season of his semi-fictitious television show, The Jim Gaffigan Show, which TV Land picked up for a second season and premieres this summer. The series, lauded by The Los Angeles Times as “Fun and Funny,” and People Magazine as “One of Summer TV’s bright spots. The Show starts at 7:30p.m. and tickets are: $32, $46 and $66.

Southern Nights Tampa & Southern Nights Orlando invites everyone to ring in the New Year with them as they feature a $15 all you can drink Wells (includes cover) with UPGRADES available for Call and Top Shelf. They will also feature a Balloon Drop, Champagne Toast at Midnight, Drag Shows and Go-Go dancers throughout the Night!

Wena’s Show Bar presents: Chicago The Musical FULL Production with one continuous show starting at 11p.m. featuring the entire cast of Wena’s: Bobbie Lake, Conundrum, Kaotica Divine, Vyn Suazion, Juno Vibranz, Kathryn Nevets, Crystle Chambers, Jakie St. James, Slayter Steele, De Delovely & Alec St. James! They will also feature a Champagne toast at midnight with a buffet too!

CFE Arena presents Kevin Hart in his “The Irresponsible Tour” at 7p.m. with tickets starting at $69.50. The show will feature new material from the comedy superstar! 2017 has been a banner year for Hart; his memoir I Can’t Make This Up: Life Lessons debuted at number one on the New York Times Bestseller list. To close 2017, Kevin is appearing in the Sony reboot of the classic film Jumanji alongside Dwayne Johnson and Jack Black.

The Flamingo resort presents “Las Vegas Style Casino” with Black Jack, Roulette, Craps, Texas Hold-Em Poker, Big Wheel, and slot machines from 9p.m. to midnight. They will feature prizes for the top three players of the night. They will also feature a show at 11:30p.m. hosted by Iman and featuring the Blu Theater players, firework displays, DJs all day and male entertainers.

Bradley’s on 7th opens at 2:30p.m, and features a Parade Viewing Party at 4p.m., DJ Bruce Devery from 4-10-p.m., DJ Charles Machado from 10p.m.-3a.m. in the video bar, DJ Steve Vaughn from 10p.m. to 3a.m. in the dance bar, show times at 11:30p.m, and 1:15a.m. Starring Tiffany Arieagus, Jaeda Fuentes, Hori Stevens and Felicity Lane, a live countdown from Times Square, a Champagne Toast at midnight, party favors, Bradley’s boys all night and no cover!

Tuesday, January 2

The Straz Center for the Performing Arts presents School of Rock from Jan 2 – 7. School Of Rock is a New York Times Critics’ Pick and “An Inspiring Jolt Of Energy, Joy And mad Skillz!” (Entertainment Weekly). Based on the hit film, this hilarious new musical follows Dewey Finn, a wannabe rock star posing as a substitute teacher who turns a class of straight-A students into a guitar-shredding, bass-slapping, mind-blowing rock band. This high-octane smash features 14 new songs from Andrew Lloyd Webber, all the original songs from the movie and musical theater’s first-ever kids rock band playing their instruments live on stage. Vanity Fair raves, “Fists Of All Ages Shall Be Pumping!” Tickets start at $45.

Southern Nights Orlando presents their Twisted Tuesday Grand Finale, where all of your Twisted Tuesday Final Winners will come back to compete for the Ultimate Prize….. $500 CASH, a Twisted Tuesday Trophy and a Tuesday Cast Position for a Year. Winner is chosen by Audience Applause and a Panel of Judges. This exciting event features the music of DJ Melvin Sledge, is hosted by Axel Andrews with Kaija-adonis, MrMs Adrian and honors the 2016 Grand Finale Winner Mystree Hugga. No cover before 11pm 21+ (18+ Welcomed).

Wendesday, January 3

Southern Nights Tampa presents their “So You Think You Can Drag” Semi Finals with a Candy land theme and hosted by Jade Embers & Gia Banks! The night will also feature Season 2 winner Artty. They invite you to watch all previous winner compete for the $250 cash prize and a booking at Swank Saturdays. No cover 21+ (18+ Welcomed).

Thursday, January 4

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents comedian Ron “Tater Salad” White who first rose to fame as the cigar-smoking, scotch-drinking funnyman from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour phenomenon, but now as a chart-topping Grammy-nominated comedian and a feature film actor. Ron White has established himself as a star in his own right. White has always been a classic storyteller. His stories relay tales from his real life, ranging from growing up in a small town in Texas to sharing stories of his daily life to becoming one of the most successful comedians in America. All 4 of his comedy albums charted #1 on the Billboard Comedy Charts. He has sold over 14 million albums, and has been nominated for two Grammys. Tickets start at $41.

Friday, January 5

Southern Nights Tampa is celebrating the 6th anniversary of NeiBEARhood Takeover with the theme: “Revenge Of The Sixth” (A Star Wars/Si-Fi Fetish Event) staring DJ JB Burgos. The night will also feature a 1 a.m. costume contest. There is no cover before 10p.m. and this is a 21+ only event!

Saturday, January 6

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder today at 8p.m. and Sunday January 7 at 3 p.m. Getting away with murder can be so much fun… and there is no better proof than this knock-‘em-dead hit show. A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder is the winner of the 2014 Tony Award for Best Musical, and tells the uproarious story of Monty Navarro, heir to a family fortune who sets out to jump the line of succession by eliminating the eight pesky relatives who stand in his way. All the while, Monty juggles his mistress (after more than just love), his fiancée (his cousin but who’s keeping track?), and the constant threat of landing behind bars! The Hollywood Reporter raves, “Gentleman’s Guide restores our faith in musical comedy.” Tickets start at $51.

Tuesday, January 9

Orlando’s Amway Center presents Shakira in her El Dorado World Tour at 7:30p.m. with tickets starting at $47.50. Over the course of Shakira’s career, the Colombian singer-songwriter has sold over 60 million records worldwide and has won numerous awards including two Grammys, eight Latin Grammys, and several World Music Awards, American Music Awards and Billboard Music Awards. She is also the only South American artist to have a number one song in the U.S., and has had four of the 20 top-selling hits of the last decade.

Thursday, January 11

Southern Nights Tampa presents their annual “Turnabout,” a benefit for Metro Wellness & Community Centers. Thy invite you to watch as your favorite staff members perform in DRAG! Doors Open at 8pm $5 Suggested Donation (18+ Welcomed) with ShowTime at 9pm hosted by: Jade Embers with Gia Banks.

Friday, January 12

The Straz Center for the Performing Arts presents Forever Plaid from today until March 11 with tickets starting at $42. When four young singers are killed in a car crash, they posthumously take the stage for one final gig in this goofy, 1950’s nostalgia trip. This deliciously fun revue is chock-full of classic barbershop quartet harmonies and pitch-perfect melodies! Singing in close harmony, squabbling boyishly and executing their charmingly outlandish choreography with overzealous precision, the Plaids are a guaranteed smash, with a program of beloved songs that keep audiences rolling in the aisles when they’re not humming along to some of the great nostalgic pop hits of the 1950s.

Saturday, January 13

The Parliament House presents, direct from RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 9, and making her Orlando debut: AJA. Doors open at 8pm. Shows with the Foolight Players and Aja at 10p.m. & 12a.m. General Admission sold at the door only. VIP/Photo Op tickets are on sale now. 18+ welcome.

Sunday, January 14 The Parliament House presents April Fresh’s Comedy Brunch Buffet featuring a delicious brunch buffet which begins at 12pm with the show beginning at 1pm featuring: April, Sorcha Mercy, and Alexi Leigh. Brunch Buffet- $19.99 (18+); Brunch Buffet with bottomless mimosas – $29.99 (21+).

Wednesday, January 17

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents Chita & Tune: Just In Time, which is a unique concert event that pairs two of Broadway’s most celebrated legends. Chita Rivera and Tommy Tune collectively have won 12 Tony Awards and this iconic Broadway coupling is guaranteed to dazzle you! Chita has won two Tony Awards as Best Leading Actress in a Musical and received eight additional Tony nominations. Tommy has been honored with 10 Tony Awards recognizing him as an outstanding performer, choreographer, and director. The stars will showcase the artistry and history that has made them stars of the Great White Way and beyond. The duo will be accompanied by a trio of superb Broadway musicians. The show starts at 8p.m. with tickets starting at $26.

Thursday, January 18

Dr. Phillips Center For the Performing Arts in association with AEG presents Jake Owen in The Good Company Tour at 8p.m. Jake Owen has had six No. 1 singles to date – the 2X Platinum anthem “Barefoot Blue Jean Night,” Platinum-certified hits “Beachin’,” “Anywhere with You,” “Alone with You” and “The One That Got Away” plus Gold-certified “American Country Love Song.” The RCA Nashville recording artist recently released his fifth studio album, American Love, which debuted at No. 1 on Billboard’s Top Country Albums chart and No. 4 on the Billboard 200 chart. The Vero Beach, FL native is well known for his high-energy performances and laid-back style. Tickets: start at $35.

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents…..It’s not a concert…it’s a party! Spend a nostalgic evening saluting 3 of the world’s most beloved musical groups who were instrumental in creating the Rock & Roll/Doo Wop sound: Cornell Gunter’s Coasters (Charlie Brown, Yakety Yak); The Platters featuring 4 of America’s premier singers performing their greatest hits (Only You, The Great Pretender); and The Drifters, one of Rock & Roll’s founding vocal groups with their 50 year catalog of hits (Under the Boardwalk, This Magic Moment). This show, which starts at 8p.m. has songs to please every palate, delivered just the way you remember them, when you first heard them on the radio! Tickets start at $26.

Friday, January 19

Riverdance: 20th Anniversary Tour plays both the Straz Center for the performing Arts (Jan 19-21; tickets start at $35.25) and the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts (Jan 26-28; tickets start at $34.25). Drawing on Irish traditions, the combined talents of the performers propel Irish dancing and music into the present day, capturing the imagination of audiences across all ages and cultures in an innovative and exciting blend of dance, music and song. Of all the performances to emerge from Ireland – in rock, music, theatre and film – nothing has carried the energy, the sensuality and the spectacle of Riverdance. Riverdance – The 20th Anniversary World Tour is composed by Bill Whelan, produced by Moya Doherty and directed by John McColgan, and comes directly to North America from a sold out run across Europe and Asia.

Orlando’s Amway Center presents Miranda Lambert in her “Livin’ Like Hippies Tour” at 7p.m. with tickets starting at $39.75. The Livin’ Like Hippies Tour receives its name from the lyrics of Lambert’s aptly titled song “Highway Vagabond” which appears on The Nerve side of Lambert’s 24-song, double album, The Weight Of These Wings.The new album, The Weight Of These Wings, is the Texas native’s sixth studio album and since its release in November 2016 the record has been certified Platinum by the RIAA, spawned two Grammy Award nominations for its lead single “Vice,” been awarded the ACM Album of the Year, and most recently racked up FIVE nominations for Lambert at the upcoming CMA Awards including a coveted Album of the Year nod.

Sunday, January 21

The Flamingo resort presents the Mr. and Miss Flamingo Pageant honoring Kenya Black and Johnny Sparks (Mr. and Miss Flamingo 2017). The pageant starts at 6p.m. with the categories: Presentation, Swimwear, Talent, Formal Wear and Q&A. For contestant info contact [email protected].

Thursday, January 25

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents the iconic Paul Anka. The legendary singer/songwriter, one of the biggest teen idols of the late ‘50’s, is an ever-popular performer at the Van Wezel. With well over 500 songs to his credit, the most memorable being “Put Your Head On My Shoulder,” “My Way” and the famous theme from “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson,” Paul is the only artist in history to have a song in the Billboard Top 100 during seven separate decades. His concert starts at 8p.m. and tickets start at $81.

Friday, January 26

The Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall presents Masters of Illusion, America’s largest touring magic show. They return with their “Believe the Impossible” tour! Nothing beats the experience of seeing a magic show in person. You will see grand illusions, levitating women, appearances, vanishes, escapes, comedy, magic, sleight of hand and beautiful dancers all rolled up into one live show! Only the best, most unique, amusing, astounding and amazing performers have been chosen to perform in this huge stage phenomenon. The show starts at 7p.m. with tickets starting at only $21.

Saturday, January 27

Dr. Phillips Center For the Performing Arts added a second show at 10p.m. for Trevor Noah, who was the most successful comedian in Africa and is the host of the Emmy® and Peabody® Award-winning “The Daily Show” on Comedy Central. This year “The Daily Show” was nominated for a Writers Guild Award (Comedy/Variety Series). Noah also recently won Best Host at the 2017 MTV Movie & TV Awards, as well as a Creative Arts Emmy Award for Outstanding Short Form Variety Series for his hosting role on “The Daily Show – Between The Scenes.” He joined “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” in 2014 as a contributor. In February 2017 Noah debuted his 9th comedy special “Afraid of the Dark” on Netflix. Tickets start at $39.50.

Monday, January 29

Dr. Phillips Center for the Perfroming Arts in association with Bill Blumenreich presents Vice President Joe Biden: American Promise Tour. Joe Biden has always believed that when given a chance, ordinary people can do extraordinary things. As a scrappy kid from Scranton who rose to the Office of Vice President, he is no exception. During his 45 years of public service, one of Vice President Biden’s greatest strengths has been his ability to bring people together, even in crisis, even across difficult divides, all the while, respecting everybody at the table. Pre-Sale tickets start at: $68 (VIP Package: $325) and includes a copy of Vice President Joe Biden’s new memoir, Promise Me, Dad: A Year of Hope, Hardship, and Purpose.

The Straz Center for the Performing Arts presents the Magic of Adam Trent. Direct from Broadway, Adam Trent, the breakout star of the world’s best-selling magic show The Illusionists, brings his signature brand of magic and illusion to this nonstop spectacle. The Magic of Adam Trent is an immersive entertainment extravaganza of magic, comedy and music perfect for the entire family. Don’t miss the next generation of magic! Tickets start at $45.

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2017/12/26/whats-hot-central-florida-january-2018/ from Hot Spots Magazine http://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2017/12/whats-hot-central-florida-january-2018.html

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demitgibbs · 7 years ago

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What’s Hot Central Florida: January 2018

Sunday, December 31

Tuesday, January 2

Wendesday, January 3

Thursday, January 4

Friday, January 5

Saturday, January 6

Tuesday, January 9

Thursday, January 11

Friday, January 12

Saturday, January 13

Wednesday, January 17

Thursday, January 18

Friday, January 19

Sunday, January 21

Thursday, January 25

Friday, January 26

Saturday, January 27

Monday, January 29

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2017/12/26/whats-hot-central-florida-january-2018/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/168964670015

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hotspotsmagazine · 7 years ago

Text

What’s Hot Central Florida: January 2018

Sunday, December 31

Tuesday, January 2

Wendesday, January 3

Thursday, January 4

Friday, January 5

Saturday, January 6

Tuesday, January 9

Thursday, January 11

Friday, January 12

Saturday, January 13

Wednesday, January 17

Thursday, January 18

Friday, January 19

Sunday, January 21

Thursday, January 25

Friday, January 26

Saturday, January 27

Monday, January 29

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2017/12/26/whats-hot-central-florida-january-2018/

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bendablerubber · 8 years ago

Text

Living Alone and Loving It: 10 Tips to assist you Grow Into the one who Will Fill Your Empty Nest

My bedroom was always my emotional ‘haven of rest’. I locked myself behind those four walls much like Anne Frank hid from the Nazis. It was that place where I could exercise my cynicism, my anger, my hopefulness, and my dreaming. My walls were plastered with McCartney, McCartney, and….ugh…did I mention McCartney? If some of you do perhaps not know who McCartney is you shouldn’t be reading this.

I also took time within my haven to brush my waist-length locks 100 strokes per night. I painted nails and toenails and blew cigarette smoke out my bedroom windows. Like as if my moms and dads didn’t know. I spent a lot of time wanting to figure them out, too. I'd time to sing along to every rock band, holding a hairbrush as my microphone as tens of thousands of people (in my head, of course) applauded furiously at my vocal abilities.

I had time!

Then, I grew up. Type of. But, in my desperate attempt as a female Peter Pan, i acquired married, had children, paid mortgages, packed lunches, ironed pretty, little dresses, buffed little, patent leather shoes, learned how to French-braid locks, discovered exactly how to English-braid hair (there really IS an improvement), attended school programs, composed love records regarding the hearts of my daughters, got divorced, signed homework, helped memorize vocabulary words, helped to collect and label leaves for a school project, helped to make an Indian village for a school project, helped to draw and identify parts of the human lung for a school project, stayed awake nights when they suffered from high fevers and missed work the following day so I could nurse them back to health, stayed awake nights whenever I didn’t know where the heck they were whilst still being went to work the next day so we could all eat, planned and paid for birthday gift suggestions, graduations, bridal showers, weddings, infant showers, and Christmas presents in between it all.

I had almost no time for me. And, I knew it.

So, when I found myself alone the very first time in almost 25 years I was desperate to find the “Peter Pan” in me again. Now, i'd like to address something now that some of maybe you are thinking so we could clear the air right up front. You may be thinking that I am an extremely selfish person because only selfish people crave “alone time”. Maybe you’re thinking that I never should experienced gotten married or had kiddies if I desired so desperately to evolve as an individual and that through the mothering years found it difficult at times to keep “me” richly alive and whole. Possibly some of you are even bold enough to think that I didn’t truly have the capacity to love my kiddies the way a mother is supposed to love them.

Maybe I’m thinking that those of you who actually ‘think’ these things are perhaps not brave enough to be honest with others and, more importantly, with yourselves. Every moms and dad who has ever truly done his or her job as a mom or dad has definitely felt lost in the method. It’s only natural. Parenting is tough. It’s a full-time job, often interwoven with a full-time job. It’s gut-wrenching. It’s 24/7 for at least 25 years per child. It can be the most treasured blessing God could give us. Parenting in and of itself is a mirror that forces us to look at ourselves without the blinders for the first time inside our everyday lives. And --- if we refuse to take that hard look at ourselves --- I can guarantee you that our kiddies will bring our sorry selves to our attention! And, we don’t even need to ask them because of their help. They volunteer it --- and, usually, with an attitude!

Praise God for our children! We would never have become who we are without them inside our lives.

But, what you thought was going to endure forever is now gone. The children are gone. They’ve moved away. Now, they have children of their own. Miraculously, they have been finding out why the heck you were so tired and worried all those years. Now, they’ve abruptly figured down that hats are a significant wardrobe piece during the months of December through February. All of a sudden, your children want to rest. But, now they can’t.

But, YOU can! So, let’s talk.

There is nothing wrong whenever parents struggle between being a good moms and dad and coveting time alone to continue self-development. Our company is supposed to be role models for our children; perhaps not just circus clowns, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and an ATM machine. Just how will they ever evolve themselves if we don’t suggest to them what ‘evolving’ looks like. We need to pick up the baton we left behind 25 years ago and re-create ourselves again and again again so we can show our kids what we learned through it all. We need to show our grandchildren that life’s vibrancy doesn’t stop just because the ‘kids are gone’. Life’s vibrancy continues as we embrace those grandchildren --- and, if God offers us the time on earth --- those great-grandchildren!

But, just in case you’re feeling as if all your life’s purpose has moved out and moved on --- let’s think about exactly how you'll keep it going --- and, actually, end up having MORE to offer those precious souls that are no longer in your day-to-day care.

Tip no. 1: Revisit the pastime you quit as a result of time constraints as a parent

Maybe you used to sing in a band or go to concerts or plays. Maybe you used to be a member of an acting troupe or dabble in local theater performances. You may be one of those gifted people who work in stained glass or who is able to paint or draw. I don’t specially care if you paint by numbers. Just paint (!) for crying out noisy --- if that’s what you enjoyed doing before the youngsters arrived along. Are you experiencing a green thumb? Then, plant a garden. Are you crafty? Then, make your Christmas presents throughout the year. If you’re good with wood…apply the principle in the previous sentence. If you always enjoyed writing --- whether it is poetry or prose --- pick up a pen or introduce a WORD doc and obtain it going again. Who knows? You might become the next New York Times best writer!

Tip #2: be in form

Maybe you used to go to the gym or play tennis or golf. Were you an avid walker or hiker? Did you love yoga or dance? There may were an occasion when you were able to blame the children or a spouse for your lack of discipline and/or spare time. But, you have plenty of time now. (You’ll have to muster up the discipline…more on that later.)

Have a look at special discounted memberships at your local barrage of gyms. Some gyms run specials throughout every season; but, most run specials right following the Holidays and prior to summer. You don’t have to become the next Mr. or Ms. Universe. Just get healthier. Get more toned. In the event that machines aren’t your bag, enroll in one of the aerobics or yoga classes. “Zumba” is a relatively new Latino dance exercise that can be learned on many quantities of expertise from novices to advanced levels. It’s a fantastic workout and loads of fun…especially for the enthusiasts of Latin music!

Check down your local dance studios and sign up for a dance class two evenings per week. There are all kinds of dance lessons on the market --- just in case ballroom dancing isn’t your speed. You can learn the Salsa, the Meringue, Country Line Dancing, East Coast Shuffle, and West Coast Shuffle. The list goes on. You don’t constantly need a partner, as some group classes accommodate individual students without partners. There is always the opportunity to spend a bit more cash and train with the dance instructor one-on-one. That’s always fun!

In most towns the YMCA provides plenty of fitness choices from exercise equipment, aerobics, Tai Chi, and Yoga classes to baseball courts, indoor tracks, and indoor private pools and saunas. There is a product out there --- the “Swimman Waterproof IPod Shuffle”. You is now able to do laps to music and one of my social networking friends --- an avid swimmer --- swears by it!

Never ever underestimate the joy of your own house as a ‘work-out center’! So long as you have a floor and you will get OFF THE COUCH you can work-out to various walking DVDs and other aerobic and toning DVDs. Immediately, you’ll have a team of like-minded, fitness partners right there on your television! You can go at yours pace and change routines if you invest a little money so as to provide yourself some variation. Also, for a good investment of around $100, you'll purchase a stationary bike or mini trampoline second-hand from a classified ad, plop it appropriate in front of your television and pedal or jog the pounds off while watching your favorite television show. I, personally, find pedaling or running to music much for fun. Especially, if the music is fast-paced with a great, constant beat that makes you desire to move. Of course, dancing for 25 to 45 minutes to your favorite CD can be a great way to shed the pounds.

clash of clans hack All the recommendations here can show to be highly effective if you commit to doing them for 25 to 45 minutes three to four times per week. Get creative! Pick an activity you LOVE TO DO and just GET IT DONE!.

Tip #3: Begin Journaling

OK. This might be different than really embarking upon writing a book. However, it wouldn’t be the first time one’s ‘journal’ became a best seller. It’s happened before. It can happen again. But, the point of journaling is not a great deal ‘publishing’ it because it is an exercise in introspection and expression. It’s a great stress reliever, too, and can often provide on a conscious level those answers we hold on a subconscious level.

Take a few minutes each day to record that day’s experiences. Begin with those activities in yourself for which you are most grateful. Focus on your blessings; not your minuses. However, write what you are truly feeling and don’t judge what you write as either “right” or “wrong”; “good” or “bad”. Just write. Don’t also worry about sentence fragments and/or punctuation. This really isn’t English class. It’s journaling. If you can get all stressed about exactly how it ‘sounds’ you will defeat the purpose.

Tip #4: Become a student of Better Money Management

Unless you’re currently a wiz at finances (I’m no psychic, but I’d venture to say nearly all of us aren’t), check your local community for workshops and seminars that teach the tricks of money management and investing. These may be special activities that come to your town just like the visiting circus, or there are ongoing workshops held by community colleges or your local Chamber of Commerce. In any event, you can learn an excellent deal at these types of events and you can feel safe in doing so because if everyone else in the space had a handle on this topic they wouldn’t be at the seminar. But, the others are on their way to building wealth and you might since well hang out with those individuals anyhow. We’re talking “evolving” right here, right? Your finances are no exception. This task will create many opportunities on an everyday foundation to check your life and, possibly, a recreation of Y.O.U.

Tip #5: Browse

Whoaaa! Now, I know I’ve scared the skin away from some of you. But, R.E.A.D. is an OK, four-letter word! You won't be a bad influence on your children and grandchildren if they come to visit you if you have to place your book down on the coffee dining table to open the door. It’s OK if once the phone rings and also the other person asked, “Hi, what were you doing?” you said, “I was reading.” Last I checked that isn’t against the law.

Now, if you prefer to grow and change into an even more awesome person than you already are, you may desire to consider reading biographies of successful people or self-improvement books which teach you skills for living better and with additional purpose. Wouldn’t it be really cool if you could be an example to your children and grandchildren as to exactly how to get this done?!

Tip no. 6: Turn Off the TV

Listen. It’s my personal opinion that TV really doesn’t ‘keep us company’. It keeps us stagnant. an occasional show with half decent content can be fun, can provide laughter, and --- if we get REALLY lucky --- may even offer great music or drama. But, I know way too lots of people who watch fictional figures every week as these characters attempt to unscrew-up their screwed up lives. Instead of watching someone else ‘have a life’ --- create a life for yourself! Go to boundaries and have now a cup of something and browse for a good book. Chances are that if you meet someone interesting in the section you’re in ---- you’ll have a lot in common. Hit up a conversation. Be approachable. Not for romantic reasons…for “people” reasons. You have plenty of the time for cultivating friendships. Remember, 20 years ago you'd have sold a lung for the opportunity to get from the household alone and hang in boundaries. HANG, for heaven’s sake!

Tip #7: Learn a fresh skill

So, which word above is confusing you…“learn”, “new”, or “skill”? Do you have any idea how many fabulous opportunities you will find into the world to learn? Many colleges, universities, and community colleges offer courses as “audits”. You don’t also have to fund the course because there are no credits earned ---- just information and new knowledge. These courses can be found in a number of disciplines from spiritual studies to science to photography to vegan culinary skills to innovative writing to windsurfing. Again, everyone really loves something. And --- the really cool component concerning this whole concept is that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It’s all about YOU! You can understand how to play a better game at whatever game it is you’re playing. But, you need to be USING!! If it’s been way too long since you’ve thought about what it is that certainly fires you up, take an instant and think back to when you were caught like a chicken with your head cut off. You're running to T-Ball games, dance recitals, pediatrician appointments, pharmacies, parent/teacher conferences, choir practices, girl scouts, and boy scouts. You're driving children to your movies and picking them up because somehow YOUR children had you convinced that YOU were the only parent with the some time an automobile. (Can you believe that we thought them?)

So, that which was it that you were dreaming about in those private moments in your heart when you said to yourself, “Boy, if I only had more time I’d love to ______________!” Can you fill in the blank? THAT is what you should go learn more about. Or, you can understand how to send video messages and audio messages within an email to your friends in place of typing a note. You can learn how to prepare all your bills online with the various software programs that are out on the market. You can learn to make your own greeting cards. And, if you currently know exactly how to do a thing that other folks want to learn about --- write your own personal eBook!

Tip #8: Invite friends for dinner

Yes, friends. I know you have got some. They’re the individuals whom I was referring in Tip #5 who call you on the phone and interrupt your reading. They really enjoy consuming and would love a free meal at your home. But, if you’re perhaps not inclined to cooking or you feel like you’d be a threat to your friends’ health by doing so --- invite them out for dinner and meet them at your favorite destination. Chances are they were stuck in a rut, too, and would really enjoy getting from the household. (I can almost see those red-checkered tablecloths currently.)

Tip number 9: Make a Vision Board of something you desire

I don't have any concept what it is precisely that you'd like to have in your lifetime that isn’t currently in your life. Only you would know that. But, I would challenge you to definitely remember that everything that you do have in your lifetime started as an idea, a dream, or a vision. If you own a home, you probably had an idea at one point in your lifetime that you desired to own a home. Then, over time, you had the various stages that precede purchasing the home. You didn’t just wake up 1 day and find a home, show up at a bank, get the money and sales agreement, and march into the existence of the seller with your offer. If it took place like that for you, then I highly recommend you write the eBook on “How to Buy a Home in One Day” (Tip #7). But, like the majority of people, finding your house was first a desire or dream then you envisioned which type of home you desire to own. At some point --- after many challenges and strategic planning --- you became a homeowner. This could be the exact same way we acquire anything else in life that we would like to have, do, or accomplish.

A Vision Board is nothing significantly more than a visual format of a dream or desire. If it’s a tropical vacation you want, placed together a poster board full of pictures of that dream vacation destination. You can do it as a collage or simply paste your pictures in a linear fashion onto the poster board. You may want a car or a boat. Or, you'll have a goal in mind that is less tangible in nature, such as losing weight and gaining muscle or becoming a better skier, fisherman or golfer. You may desire a vocation change. What would these goals look like for you? Maybe you actually want to relocate to a warmer climate. Create a Vision Board with pictures of the actual city in which you desire to relocate. Include pictures of homes, golf courses, restaurants, downtown shops, the surrounding mountains or ocean fronts, aerial views of the landscape of the favorite “home town”. The Vision Board is mostly about everything you desire to achieve or receive, so there is not any right or wrong method of accomplishing it. There are additionally electronic versions of vision boards with slide show presentations that will be placed on your desk for frequent viewing. If you choose to utilize poster board version, make sure to place it where you will have very frequent exposure to it every day. If you spend plenty of time on your desktop, place it on your desk firmly fixed to the wall surface directly in front of your eyes. You will have no other choice than to look at it usually during your day. It will be the very first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night. Believe me. You will go closer to your goal --- whatever goal you choose --- simply by implementing this simple concept.

By just how, creating your Vision Board doesn’t have to be completed in one single shot. It can be created over time. It can unfold as your desire or goal unfolds. The desire or goal will create the Vision Board and also the Vision Board may help to create the desire or goal. You will be pleasantly amazed with the result!

Tip #10: Decide what you need to DO for the remainder of yourself

“Decision” is a BIG word! Without choice, nothing else happens. We each spend roughly eight to ten waking hours each day doing some form of work. Even for anyone who may be retired or semi-retired, there is something that gets your attention for the hours in which you are not sleeping.

If you’re still working, are you really doing the kind of work you love to do. Or, can it be simply a means to an end? Is your work nothing more compared to the paycheck at the end of the week? I realize that not everyone can just leave his or her “job” and do their life’s passion. But, for anyone who've the flexibility to do so, please take the time you are now allotted and figure it out for yourselves. Obviously, only you'll decide if you can manage to this. Maybe you can’t afford not to. Either way, make a decision as to the manner in which you truly desire to spend each day. For those of you who must continue working at a full-time job, possibly there clearly was something you would enjoy doing part-time for extra income OR, possibly, on a volunteer basis. Did you always have a passion for nursing? Do you love dealing with geriatric patients? Do you love the laughter and energy of little children? Do you love libraries, free galleries, or museums? Every community has many Para-professional and volunteer opportunities in each one of these areas. Often, hiring managers welcome the more seasoned worker when searching for extra help since they know and trust the work ethic and experience you bring to the table.

Now, I’m having the feeling that lots of of you would love to start yours business --- maybe even on a part-time basis until it is up and running. What exactly is that one vocation you have always wanted to do? Please don’t say “it’s too late” or “at my age?” For just one thing, it’s never far too late. Also, if you’re 60 years old now and you don’t pursue your passion on the next five years, I’m thinking you’re still going to be 65 years old after the following 5 years have come to fruition. So, you may as well go after it!

So, to which “empty nest” are you referring? ‘Cause if you’re in it, it’s maybe not empty.

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