O Music, Where Art Thou?

Okay, rant time.

Music Appreciation.

I am currently sitting inside the journalism classroom between fourth and fifth period with three other students and “thebrownguy.” (by the time you read this I probably won’t be in the classroom, but whatever)

I am playing Queen on my computer.

One of students raised their head from their computer screen with a confused look on her face, “What band is this?”
I look at her, stunned.
“You don’t know what band this is?!?” I’m shocked.
“Um, no, should I?”
“Um, YES!” I exclaim, “Queen only wrote We Will Rock You, We Are The Champions, Bicycle Race, Fat Bottomed Girls, Bohemian Rhapsody, and that’s just naming the famous songs!”

The rest of our time goes like this:

“Do you know who Aerosmith is?”
“No.”
Guns N’ Roses?”
“No.”
Led Zeppelin?”
“No.”
“Oh my god what is wrong with this generation?!?”
“I know Drake and Rhianna, that’s pretty much it.”
“WHAT?”

I want to cry.

How can we live where the only music people appreciate is written by someone who isn’t the artist, the chord progressions are so generic you can find 100 other songs with the exact same ones, and that the voices are doused in auto tune and pitch correction the listener doesn’t even know how the artist really sounds like?

What ever happened to real musicians?

The Beatles, Bessie Smith, Queen, The Turtles, Tom Petty, Michael Jackson, Andrew Anderson?

Have we really reached a point in history where those who are “musicians” have a pretty face and cheap software to make their voice sound like a robot on crack?

Oh world, please come back to your senses.
Please?

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Dear Mom.

People might think this is “lame” of me to say, but I love my mom.

Yeah, sometimes we fight but it never lasts long and she tends to be the most understanding person in the world.

She’s been there through everything with me. And sure, that’s a given, I mean, she’s my mom. But she’s truly been there through the ups and downs and has helped me get through the hardest parts of my life.

I mean, she has to be a pretty good mom if she put up with my I-want-to-be-exactly-like-my-big-brother-so-can-I-please-get-a-buzz-cut-and-be-a-vegertarian-and-snowboard-and-be-tall-so-maybe-Ben-and-his-friends-will-like-me faze.

She’s also been to every one of my performances. From my pre-school performances about who-remembers-what, to my first time doing a Shakespearean play during 2nd grade, to my first real musical in 4th grade, to my vocal showcases, to my various concerts, to my first school musical, and every little event in between.


Mom and Fred “Spiderman” Waugh at one of my various Elementary School events.

Not to mention after I was born she decided to be stay-at-home mom for my brother and I so she could be the best mother she could possibly be (and she is, by the way.) She might have also decided to be a stay-at-home mom when she came home from work to see my nanny feeding me chili. This would have been fine, except I was less than a year old and it was my first real solid food. Mom might have freaked out a bit.

I love my mom, and I think a lot of people don’t realize how much their mom puts into being there for them whenever they need them to.

I love you, Mommy, thanks for being there.


No big deal or anything, but that’s my mom flying a hang glider super duper high in the air and totally isn’t scared at all.
It’s the greatest.