A Portrait of My Mother

Supportive.

Laurie Marino was a huge fan of her younger brother Mark Domico when he played basketball. She and her father, Tony, never missed a St. Dennis game, and they were nothing if not committed to the team.

Laurie was, in fact, so committed, that when Mark was in sixth grade she “got a little emotionally involved” in the tournament she was at. Laurie’s cheering and correcting the referee led to her eviction from the game, but also an honorary trophy from the team after they won the tournament.

“It was nice to have support,” Mark said.

—

Laurie.

She’s my mother. She puts her whole self into everything she does, and she is the best mother I could have been blessed with. My mother turns 50 years old today, and I can only imagine what she’ll be doing with her next 50 years.

—

Relatable.

Her parents said she used to hide under the kitchen table and watch the TV in the other room instead of sleeping.

“She never could sleep,” her father said. “She still doesn’t.”

My mother, grandmother and grandfather at their 50th Anniversary celebration. Per usual, she organized the whole affair. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

 

I now know why she doesn’t; she never stops working, never stops doing one more thing for her family.

“Your mom shares everything,” my grandma told me.

Not only is she generous, but she is also considerate. My grandma said that when she goes shopping, she buys exactly what you want, even if you didn’t know you wanted it.

“There’s nothing bad we could say about your mother…she’d help anybody,” my grandpa said.

—

Social.

Donna Hann, Laurie’s older sister, said Laurie was always a social butterfly. She knew everybody in the group wherever they went.

From left: Laurie, Mark, Tony, Angie and Donna at some point in history when hair was supposed to be treated like a separate entity from oneself. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

When she would go to the neighborhood bar, J.D. Salooney’s, with Laurie and her then “just friend” Bill Marino, Donna said her core muscles got a workout.

In the midst of his “silly streak” as Donna called it, Bill would show off his prowess as a performer and mouth the lyrics to songs drifting out of the jukebox with Celine Dion-eque intensity while standing right behind Laurie.

If you knew Bill, she said, you knew this was highly irregular behavior, and the sight of it caused her to laugh hysterically. Laurie, picking up on the laughter would turn around to see what had happened.

“[Bill], naturally, would assume the somber expression of a judge just as she turned, and she could never catch his histrionics,” Donna wrote in a letter.

Hopefully, this memory will clear up some confusion for Laurie about times at J.D.’s which Donna said she very much liked.

“And she would go back to her conversations, he would go back to his musical silliness and I would go back to laughing every single time.”

—

Blessing.

On August 28, 1991, Bill Marino took then Laurie Domico to Buckingham Fountain.

He said it was one of their favorite places to go, along with fireworks shows at Navy Pier and Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

My parents were dating by the time they went to my mother’s parents’ 25th Anniversary. My grandmother said my mom planned the entire event at the Red Derby in 1988. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

“I remember being excited and very nervous, and I was looking forward to the future,” Bill said.

After walking around the fountain, Bill started to head back to the car, and Laurie assumed the trip was over.

She was wrong.

As they walked through the rose garden, Bill got down on one knee and made a proposal that would changes Laurie’s life.

Yes, she would marry him.

“And at that time I know she was the happiest I’d ever seen her in my entire life,” he said.

Bill said he did it because he had found somebody loyal, caring, kind and understanding in Laurie, somebody that accepted him for who he was.

“She was beautiful inside and out and she understood what loyalty was all about. That’s everything in a nutshell.”

Bill was reluctant to tell a story at first, saying he didn’t have the words. I think he said it all right here.

“I don’t always agree with her, but I know this. I know her intentions are good.”

“I think she puts all of us first.”

“She’ll be there til the end for me. I know that for a fact.”

—

Loving.

When Jillian, Laurie’s youngest daughter,  was little, she would go with Laurie downtown to work in Chicago.

“We would take the train down and it was always crazy exciting for me,” Jillian said.

Though she couldn’t always convince her mother to ride on the top row of seats, she was sure she was in for an adventure.

Jillian and her mom would tell stories and play games on the train.

Once they were downtown, they would take what Jillian called a “very long walk”
(the same mile Laurie walked to work every day) from the train station to Laurie’s building and up 20 floors to her office.

Inside, they would say hello to her office co-workers and Jillian would proceed to bother her mother endlessly, wanting attention and somebody to play with. As far as Jillian was concerned, the fun did not need to end on the train.

Jillian and my mother still go on a host of adventures, but it all started with days at work. (Photo via Laurie Marino)

When she was older, Jillian would sometimes get put to work, organizing files or something of that sort. When she finished, she said she was always filled with pride that she could help her mom at work.

 

After a few hours at work, Jillian said they would take a break for lunch. One of her favorite places to go was the Rainforest Cafe.

“We would take pictures every single time with all the loud animals,” Jillian said.

Their favorite seats were by the fish tanks, where Jillian would make it a point to name all the fish.

After lunch, Jillian and Laurie would go back to work where Laurie, sensing Jillian was about done for the day, would try as hard as she could to finish up and take Jillian home.

“These are the best times because we were just simply enjoying each other’s company,” Jillian said.

—

Mom.

I have been writing this for three weeks, and I still have no idea what story to tell you about my mother.

When my mom plans a weekend visit for the whole family, a football game is just the beginning of the excitement (even if they lose).

I could talk about how she makes every accomplishment of mine seem spectacular and has made me feel important as hell since I was getting excited for straight A’s on report cards.

I could talk about her being a working mom and still never missing a volleyball game or a dance competition or a Girl Scout event and how she never let me miss anything because I couldn’t get a ride.

I could talk about how she wanted (and still wants) our house to be the literal hub of social activity in Orland Park, how she and my dad were (and still are) constantly telling me to invite people over when I’m home, to just have a party because, you know, it’s Tuesday, so why not?

I could talk about her laughing with me, crying because of me and listening to me as I work out everything from the absurd worries that cross my mind to the things I can’t quite figure out to what kind of curtains would look best in the apartment and whether or not this is a good outfit (which I literally did an hour ago because I know she is better at making that happen than me).

I could talk about each of us laying on our respective couch and watching TV until some ungodly hour of the morning because who needs sleep, anyway?

I could talk about how she invites herself down to see me at college for a weekend and how I always hate to see her go, how while she’s here we go shopping and hold puppies and do all the other things I deprive myself of because I seriously forget how to be a person without her.

I could talk about one weekend in particular that turned into a week because it started with me walking into a hospital “kinda sick” and walking out a Type 1 Diabetic and how she sat with me even when I told her not to and how she tried to do chores around my house even when I told her not to and how all the things I told her not to do were exactly what I needed from her and she knew that better than I did.

By giving you those insights, I have only scratched the surface in describing my mother. It frustrates me to no end that I simply cannot do her justice.

Know this: I love her, I am lucky to call her my mother and if she has graced your life with her presence, you should count that blessing twice.

My mother (right) and her sister, Donna. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

My mom is absolutely gorgeous. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

Can you tell why I ask my mother for fashion advice? She turned me into a snappy dresser from day one. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

The matching outfits will never end, but don’t tell her I secretly think they look great now. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

My mom always loves a good family Christmas photo (no matter what it takes to get everybody smiling). (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

My mother and her cousins (Diane (left) and Sue-z) are basically like sisters. Family always comes first. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

Somehow she manages to herd cats and take a nice photo everywhere we go. (Photo via Tony and Angie Domico)

No photo is complete without Coconut (though somehow my dad made it out unscathed).

There’s no denying when the smiles are real.

Birthday celebrations are of the utmost importance to my mother. This one in particular was for her dad (right). (Photo via Laurie Marino)

Spoiling me? Constantly, like on this trip to New York for the Pinstripe Bowl.

“You Can Drink it Fast, You Can Drink it Slow…”

It clung to the glass by a piece of petrified, black flesh. As Hannah Fleace shook the glass, it jiggled mercilessly, refusing to drop to her lips as the challenge required. When it finally freed itself, she almost inhaled it in surprise. Fleace had been warned not to swallow it. It was the bar’s seventh toe after all.

Last summer, Hannah Fleace was an intern at the Skagway News in Alaska. After spending three consecutive days reporting on a team from Skagway as they participated in the Yukon River Race, she and her co-workers decided to celebrate by taking the famous Sourtoe Shot.

The race ended in Dawson City, Yukon, Canada, an old gold rush town home to the internationally known shot with a very special ingredient.

The toe inside Fleace’s shot stuck to the inside of the glass. She was ultimately able to dislodge it and complete the challenge. (Photo via: Hannah Fleace) 

“It’s a dead human toe that’s been dehydrated and preserved in salt,” Fleace said.

The idea of the shot was presented to Fleace by a local from Juno, Alaska. At the time she assumed she wasn’t going to be in Dawson at all. Plus, she said, the idea struck her as repulsive.

On their way to Dawson, Fleace’s editor mentioned they would be close to the toe shot. After that realization, she said, they worked to get themselves excited to partake in the bizarre tradition.

“We had gone to the casino earlier that night and some other bars, so it was kind of the culmination of this, like, ridiculous event that happened,” she said.

The toe placed in Fleace’s drink came from a woman who said she made the unfortunate mistake of mowing her lawn in flip flops. She decided it was a good idea to mail her amputated toe to the bar along with a note that advised against making her same error in judgment.

Fleace said people come from around the world and pay to have the toe dropped in their glass of Yukon whiskey inside the Sourdough Saloon.

The historic saloon is located in the Downtown Hotel in Dawson. The bar was regal, classy compared to the dingy bars most people frequent today, Fleace said.

The building was supported by columns and had multiple levels that were all connected to the same open atrium. The bar itself was fully stocked.

While Fleace was there, the bar was crowded, mostly with locals. Her group of eight people contributed to the feeling of a building almost at capacity.

When Fleace sat down, the man administering the official shot walked her through the rules. If you swallow the toe, you owe them twenty-five hundred dollars.

“He said, ‘You can drink it fast, you can drink it slow, but your lips must touch the toe,’” she said.

The man finished his instructions. He dropped the toe into her glass. Fleace took the shot, the alcohol disappearing quickly down her throat. She didn’t feel the toe. It was stuck to the glass. Finally, it was freed and dropped to her lips.

“It was cold, and kind of had the texture of a raisin,” Fleace said. “And it’s black as death with a yellowish toenail.”

Fleace set the glass down so the barman could squeeze the excess fluid out of the toe. She said she thinks it was the most disgusting thing she’s ever seen. That didn’t stop her from tossing it back like the rest of her co-workers.

Fleace and her coworkers received certificates for completing the challenge.  (Photo via: Hannah Fleace)

The excitement Fleace and her co-workers experienced was not universal. She said her mother wasn’t exactly proud of her accomplishment and her boyfriend, Joey, decided he was not going to kiss her anymore.

“So we all did it. We all got certificates. It was a proud day,” Fleace said.

Video Games and Violence: Why Take Responsibility when we have Such a Good Scapegoat?

Nobody wants to see people die at the hands of other people. When it does happen, we as a unified humanity seek out what might have caused something so difficult for the average person to fathom: the desire and will to contemplate and then execute a plan to kill another person. While we never really know what goes through a killer’s head before, during or after a violent attack, we do know that every time it happens, somebody from the peanut gallery jumps up and screams “Did they play violent video games? I bet they did!” as though the solution has been found. To me, that exclamation means literally nothing. What it comes down to is this: video games can be very violent, but they do not encourage violent behavior in the real world.

I enjoy playing video games from time to time, and one of my personal favorites is called “Killing Floor 2.” Basically, you and your team have to kill off the mutated monsters before they kill you. Now, I can’t say that I wouldn’t protect myself in a fight to the death with mutated monsters should the situation present itself, but I will tell you that playing that game has in no way convinced me that I have a right to go out and use excessive or fatal force on somebody that I dislike or disagree with. That’s just not how it works.

A report from the American Psychological Association cited in a CBS article found that “there is evidence showing the games increase aggression but not enough to demonstrate that playing the games lead to criminal behavior or delinquency,” and that makes sense (Casey). Being absorbing in a pulse-pounding, kill-or-be-killed environment, even if you are sitting at a computer, puts a person on the defensive and may cause them to feel more aggressive. However, it does not encourage a person to get up and carry that aggression or line of thinking in the real world. As I said, “Killing Floor 2” does not lead me to believe that I should walk around heavily armed in order to protect myself. The world I live in is, thankfully, quite different from the world of the game. The same goes for most games. Nobody should really be led to believe that pulling somebody out of their car by the hair and driving away is a reasonable mode of transportation, but there are at least five “Grand Theft Autos” that let you do just that. No video game world tells you to apply its logic to your everyday life. They simply give you the rules of their world and let you play in it.

Now, I am not saying that for some people the lines between a game and reality aren’t blurred. In fact, I think that happens more often than it should. However, that isn’t the video game encouraging anything. That is a person who is underdeveloped socially, mentally and/or emotionally. I’m not saying somebody who falls into those categories can’t play video games, but they do need to be watched a bit closer or take some time to debrief on the different rules in two very different worlds. When Adam Lanza killed the people he did at Sandy Hook, people were quick to find out that he was obsessed with violent video games, prompting calls from some members of Congress for restrictions on them” (Casey). This, to me, is silly. It also came to light that Lanza was likely mentally underdeveloped and had some form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, but nobody cried for all people with that same mental ability level to be locked away. That would be ridiculous. Both of those things may have been a factor in what happened, but neither of them can carry the blame. I guarantee none of those video games told Lanza to take a gun into a school and cut short lives shorter. That’s not how things work.

Violent video games do get people amped up. They make your heart race, your mind race and your logical decision making adjusted so that you will kill what threatens you. But that is all on screen. I’ve yet to see a video game in which you can level up by killing people in an elementary school, in a Lane Bryant store or at school. You don’t earn points for ending the lives of normal people who can do you no harm. Video game worlds have video game rules, and any person can see that they do not overlap in the real world. So, while I can agree that some people cannot handle and should not play violent video games, it is not for me to decide how we judge that. I love to say that it falls to parents, guardians and other adults (because it does), but more than that, I have to say that it does not fall to game designers. Smacking virtual monsters with a modified shovel is something I enjoy doing from time to time, but it doesn’t change how I deal with my everyday life. In reality, it’s just entertainment. It’s not brainwashing. It’s not giving violent orders. It’s not encouraging violent behaviors. I think it’s time we stopped blaming video games and started compiling real lists of real issues that really lead to senseless violence and recognized that, though video games may be a factor in some violent acts, they are not the monster-makers we have turned them into over the years.

Read a Book Already

Seriously, you might accidentally find out I am right.

Why don’t we give strangers high-fives?

Go ahead, high-five a stranger (or my roommate).

This is not a rhetorical question. I really want to know. Why don’t we see somebody who is working out and in need of motivation and raise a hand to them in support, saying “Hey, you. I see you doing good things for your body. Keep those good things up. I support you” and offering them a push forward?

Okay, I guess I know the answer: people are awkward. They are afraid of being embarrassed by the prospect of human interaction with a stranger that may end up more mortifying than it was worth, but this thinking is totally flawed. Consider for a moment a time when a stranger did something bold and made you feel good. Maybe they said you looked nice, they liked your shoes or they thought you were doing something great. Wasn’t that such a good feeling? Well, that person had to step out of their comfort zones and approach you. Why then, knowing how amazing it was (and what a great story it became to tell later) wouldn’t we just do it?

It’s definitely not difficult unless you are lacking some serious hand-eye coordination and don’t want to be charged with battery. All you have to do is stick your hand out and off it up for a high-five. Maybe you don’t want to make physical contact with a sweaty stranger, and that’s fine. Shoot them a thumbs- up or offer some encouraging words. As long as you are sincere and you make an effort, it will most likely be appreciated.

“But Amanda,” you may ask, “what if my efforts go unnoticed, or worse, become the subject of rude behavior or ridicule?”

Well, it’s simple: move on. The beauty of this system is that they are still a stranger. The odds of you meeting them again and having them recognize you are so slim that you have nothing to fear. And honestly, the benefits far outweigh the risks. Making somebody’s day or giving them the last ounce of energy to finish their run is what we should be doing for each other as fellow human to fellow human. Plus, who knows, maybe you’ll see them again when you go to a job interview and they’ll like your bold yet personable attitude (Please let me know if this gets you hired so I can tell people about it.).

If you ever see me and throw up a sincere high-five, know that I will always take it. It’s fun, it’s pleasant and it gets those feel-good chemicals like oxytocin flowing. So, go ahead, be bold. You may even accidentally find you like it and start getting it in return.

A Note on Music Diversity

The Tillers , classified as Americana, drew a diverse crowd to their set during Summerfest. The event, hosted in Milwaukee, brings together a variety of performers and allows patrons to experience all of them.

William Shakespeare wrote, “If music be the food of love, play on” right at the start of “Twelfth Night,” and he most definitely put it there for a reason. Music is food in a way. It is something that we as humans take in and can be satisfied with in a very profound way. Despite this, some people deprive themselves of the full joy of music. They label themselves as people who love country and people who will listen to anything but country, as people who like hard rock and people who live for classical music. What they don’t realize is how limiting this kind of thought process really is.

While one might think they are stating preferences or finding ways to connect with people, but in actuality, by selecting only a few genres or excluding one genre entirely, people are missing out. There is a reason that music is so vastly diverse: we need it. We as humans had feelings we couldn’t express, so we sat down and thought and found a different way to speak our minds. That way was music.

Countless studies have shown what I feel is relatively obvious: different music makes us feel different things. Music can evoke emotions that scientists have a difficult time studying because they are so complex. It can be used therapeutically, and it has a direct effect on how we react to situations. Music can make us better thinkers and better workers. Essentially, music has an amazing power to let us live fully.

As a DJ at WFHB in Bloomington, Indiana, there is no limit to the kind of music I can find and play for listeners. I only hope I can provide them with a variety that allows them to feel more than they expected.

You see, if we spend our lives only enjoying one type of music, we are really only enjoying one facet of a full life. Now, I am not saying that a genre of music can’t contain some variety and inspire multiple feelings. I am, however, saying that if you spend your whole life listening to pop, you will never know the excitement of a beautiful salsa or African drumbeats. If you think the only music worth listening to is alternative, you may never feel the soul of a blues singer. When you experience a variety of music, you experience a variety of life events and emotions, even if it is only vicariously.

Music, too, has far too many purposes to allow yourself to be trapped in a single genre. Music lets us dance, sing and play among other things. It makes cleaning house easier and a campfire more intimate. If you want to appreciate all of those experiences, I think you need to appreciate all the different kinds of music that go along with them.

Think of it like food. You may have a favorite food, something that you think you could simply live on. But could you? After a while, it would become almost tasteless because of its familiarity. It wouldn’t go with everything, and sometimes you just wouldn’t feel like eating it. You know you wouldn’t limit yourself with food in that way, so why limit yourself with music?

This couple is enjoying Cajun Swamp Pop performed by the Revelers at Lotus World Music and Arts Festival 2014. If you’ve never heard of it, you’re missing out.

Now, I’m not saying you will go out and love every song you hear: you won’t. But right now, if you aren’t even trying, you are most definitely limiting yourself. Be bold. Trying new things only hurts a little bit, I promise. Ask friends, ask strangers, ask the internet. The world is so full of music and musical people that there is no reason you can’t go out and find something new. You might even like it, and if you like it, share it. Share it with me in the comments section, share it with everybody. Trust me, we want to feel, too.

Coping with Wanderlust

One of my favorite locations to cope with the wanderlust. Where’s yours?

Wanderlust is a serious affliction…or maybe it’s a blessing. Regardless, it affects most of us at some point in our lives. Whatever provokes it, whether it be a less than satisfactory situation in the place in which we live or a profound feeling that rivals reason, wanderlust simply cannot be ignored or suppressed. That strong desire to travel, to move from the place you are currently resting in, needs to be nurtured.

Two main things stand in the way of wanderlust: finances and fear. They are very real dilemmas, don’t get me wrong, but for every real dilemma, there is a real alternative that can alleviate the situation. I’m going to lay out some options to the best of my abilities, but if you have suggestions of your own (and are better traveled than me), please leave them in the comments and share your wisdom with the rest of us.

Money is a silly thing. It causes way more stress that it is worth, and no matter what you do, you’ll never have enough. This is why people use it as an excuse to ignore their wanderlust. If you can’t afford a would tour, you simply should never travel, right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

You don’t have to travel to the other side of the world to satisfy wanderlust (at least not at first).. Sometimes it’s just as satisfying to wander do the nearest small town. One full of Mom and Pop shops and family run restaurants. You’d be amazed what wanders you can find close to home. I don’t generally get to travel very far (yet), but I have found many a good time less than two hours from home. Starting with close trips while you save up for a bigger one is way more gratifying than waiting years and years to go on one amazing trip.

Another, even cheaper alternative is to pick up a book. Really. I mean it. Reading in general provides for a little bit of an escape, even if you aren’t physically going anywhere. I’m sure it sounds like a cop out, but trust me, if you take a good book to the right spot on your property, you may very well forget you aren’t on vacation. Books are only a temporary fix, but I have to tell you that in my experience, books are much more affordable than worldwide travels.

In a pinch, a good book can help to alleviate some of the symptoms of wanderlust.

Along with finances, a general fear of wanderlust tends to inhibit people. They don’t want to travel alone. They don’t want to take the time to disconnect from everyday life. They don’t “feel like it.” All of these inhibitions only make the desire to get out stronger. They get frustrated with where they are and who they are with, but they don’t or won’t see that they can fix that feeling. They make more excuses and get trapped in a cycle of not allowing themselves to wander, and to be frank, that’s just not cool. Whoever you are, whatever you do, you deserve to wander, to feed your wanderlust.

We all have a little wanderlust in us, so quit staring at your screen and get out there. Photo Courtesy Laurie Marino

Whatever your fear is, fight it. Stand up to it and go. Travel for an hour. Travel for a year. Do whatever it takes to feed your wanderlust instead of suppressing it. I may not know what your life is like, but I do know that if you are ignoring an urge to move, you are only straining yourself. Grab your friends, go solo or meet new people as you go. However you decide to go, go now.

Me? I’m in the middle of wandering right now. I wander with friends. I wander by myself. I wander as often as my budget will allow. I’d like to get a tattoo and a trip for my 21st birthday (but don’t tell my family about the tattoo yet). I know I have a bad case of wanderlust, but the last thing I’m going to do is ignore it.

A Courteous American’s Guide to Fireworks

Please consider how you celebrate your Fourth of July. It’s never too late to learn to be a good person.

And here, as promised, is the link to the story I mentioned, courtesy of WGN News Chicago.

Horror Films and Why I’m an Interesting Movie Date

Okay, so my sister called me out for watching a horror film last night. Okay, maybe two. Okay…I watched Screams 2 through 4 last night and literally loved every second. What can I say? I was hooked, but not for the reasons you might think. Believe me or not, I don’t actually enjoy throwing myself behind couches to hide from jump scares or tossing remotes across the room because of loud noises (though I am sure I am a treat to watch if you catch me committed to the film like that). I really don’t watch them for any of the traditional reasons. No, the reason I find horror films entertaining is a healthy combination of overacting and underdeveloped logic.

The beauty of horror films is the variety of ways they can be perceived. For me, and I’ll try not to come off as too creepy, they are surprisingly humorous. It’s not seeing people get hurt or killed. Actually, that kind of torture doesn’t sit well with me at all (I am far too sympathetic to cope with the sounds and sights associated with people being in pain. I probably hurt more watching than the actors did performing.). The real humor is in characters’ trains of thought. Sure, they can’t hear me, but that won’t stop me from saying, “You know what sounds like a good idea? Running past the door that leads to a car you could easily get away in and hiding in a closet instead. Clearly that’s the best way to avoid the slow moving people in masks.” It’s that kind of quality logic that I love. Characters tend to make these kinds of choices from beginning to end, but some will still survive to see the light of day. While this may sound frustrating, I get a good laugh out of it, especially when I am in the company of others who can appreciate it.

Adding to that fabulous movie logic, horror films teach a lot about survival. For example, I now know that if a homicidal maniac is terrorizing my town, I should avoid all late night parties and bonfires, not answer the phone or the doors, consider owning my own weapon because authority will never get there in time, be stupidly beautiful at best and never, under any circumstances have sex. The people who have sex always have to die. These and other certain formulaic plot points are quintessential to the horror film genre Predictable though they may be, they still provide some satisfaction because honestly, what would we do if the woman getting in the shower didn’t get slaughtered?

And you know the acting in those scenes is phenomenal. Now, don’t get me wrong, acting terrified is not an easy thing. I know this because it gets done so horribly more often than not. From the running to the fighting to the dying, actors and actresses in horror films seem to think they are getting paid by the volume of their voices and that the big money lies at the two extremes. Delivering a questionable line with questionable logic is one thing, but doing so in that just right, unnatural way always puts a smile on my face. If you have seen “The Strangers” and know the answer to the question “Why are you doing this?” then you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Despite what probably seems like a lot of criticism, I really do love horror films. They allow for quality witty banter in the right company and still manage to scare the daylights out of me. I may respond to this terror (and this writing style) with sarcasm and side commentary, but hey, I think it keeps the classics interesting. So, tell me, what’s your favorite scary movie?

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Don’t send the rain away just yet

It seems a bit odd that the woman trying to recover her life from a flooded basement to be proclaiming the merits of rain, but I can’t help myself. Rain is too often seen as either a nuisance or a cliche, either ruining your hair before you can get to the party or startlingly devoid of all the handsome men that seem to stand on street corners in movies, just waiting to kiss a beautiful yet slightly soggy woman. Despite this, the rain has some very restorative properties that are linked directly to us as humans. Therefore, I hope that even though rain can be one of the most destructive forms of precipitation, you might be able to appreciate it more fully in the future.

I’m from the Midwest, so when it rains, it pours. Before it rains, however, it is miserably humid. The air seems to hold on to as much moisture as is possible without you actually seeing it floating around you. If you’ve never experienced this much humidity, I do not recommend it. It is miserable. But once the rain starts to fall, a blessed reprieve is offered to us sweaty people. This physical release from an otherwise unpleasant environment is one that some people don’t even realize they should enjoy. They can seamlessly move from complaining about the humidity to complaining about the rain. Personally, I just don’t get that.

Rain can be a very strong meditative tool. It provides stimulation to all five senses, and each one is beneficial to a different kind of thinker. I don’t claim to know much about the actual science of meditation, but I’m feeling very contemplative today, so I’ll take a crack at it.

Rain can work as a direct and indirect visual stimulus. Simply sitting outside (or inside at a window) and watching the rain can pull you away from racing thoughts. Raindrops are consistent to some extent, and that steady rush past your eyes can be mesmerizing. Indirectly, there is a reason rain is a frequent character in books and poetry. It is symbolic of cleansing and purification because it literally washes things away. For those who get stressed, this can be a very useful tool indeed. I often teach people about writing down their stressors and then destroying the paper on which they are written, but if it is raining, there is a whole new venue to explore. Taking eyeliner or something else meant for writing on skin, you can write troubles on the palm of your hand. Then, simply let it run away in the rain. It sounds silly written out, but honestly, the physical action of “washing it away” in the rain often helps people to overcome their smaller struggles. The visual aid is much more concrete than simply saying “let it go.”

As an auditory tool, rain is once again a great meditative aid. There’s a reason people listen to rain noises to fall asleep. It is a simply white noise that stimulates the mind with a rhythmic pattern. Listening to the rain is a simple way to clear one’s mind. By focusing on that one steady sound, it becomes difficult to maintain another, stressful stream of consciousness. The smell of rain is also a very relaxing one. It is not strong enough to overwhelm a person, but its simple and clean aroma can be very beneficial. If it is a sent marketing in cleaning and home freshening supplies, it must be good, right? The only problem is that those things rarely smell anything remotely like the rain. I’ll stick to the real thing. I can’t say that I can think of a specific way in which the taste of rain soothes frustrations, but I suppose since taste and smell are so closely affiliated it can work. (Feel free to comment if you have a better idea.)

My personal favorite sense associated with rain is that of tactile. Feeling cool rain soaking you through is amazing, even if it only lasts until you go back inside and are shivering like a small dog. When we were kids, we loved the rain. We ran outside and danced in it, played in it and just generally enjoyed the feeling of it. My question is simple: why did we stop? Why do I feel like I am one of the only people who will still go outside and dance in the rain? I shouldn’t be. It is fun and exhilarating. In fact, if the idea doesn’t appeal to you, you probably need to experience it all the more. Feeling the rain is a liberating experience and can do wonders, even if the wonder is just making you smile.

Rain isn’t always convenient. It may be good luck for a marriage, but it’s not a super thing to have on your wedding day. It may be beautiful to watch and experience, but not so great when it gets inside of houses and cars. I know my area has a forecast full of rain for this next week, and I intend to enjoy it fully. If you’re expecting rain, I hope you can do the same.