Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I'm not dead!

Check it out, guys. School ate my life, and then I disappeared (just like I said I would), and then I spent more time on YouTube, and then my car broke down and I had to take it in for what amounts to car reconstructive surgery, and now here I am in the mechanic's waiting room drinking bad coffee and updating my blog. Lucky you.

Jeez, where do I even start? Well, I think some of you (the three of you) know me from YouTube, and you can see that I still post videos. I haven't had lots of time to write since beginning grad school. I ended up taking the offer from UNC-Charlotte. Not a well-established program--no one's going to raise their eyebrows and go, "Oh, you went to Charlotte!" unless they're native or being ironic--but one that I feel is up and coming. My professors are fantastic and I'm a great fit for the program, and that's really the best reason to select a school. Charlotte had the most to offer me and was willing to grant me the most freedom to pursue my own interests. Plus I have the best advisor I could have hoped for.

The downside, obviously, is that I have to live in Charlotte. People who are from Charlotte love it. Most folks who are born here don't leave. It's not like Raleigh, where practically everyone is a transplant. Consequently, people from Charlotte have no basis for comparison. So when they say things like, "Oh! Charlotte is so much fun! There's so much to do!" it's because they've never actually experienced real fun and their idea of "so much to do" consists of watching NASCAR, talking about football, and not reading or creating art. Does "reinforcing the status quo" count as a hobby? Because that's where Charlotte is a viking. I know I sound like an asshole right now, but you've got to remember: I'm from DC. I've been spoiled by free museums, independent bookstores, and one of the best public transport systems in the country. In the first week that I moved to Charlotte, I got a flat tire. I pulled off the road and, as I was changing said tire, a pick-up truck full of hillbilly men wearin' huntin' camo and fish hooks on their caps pulled up behind me and catcalled me while I was tending to my car. WTF, Charlotte. That incident has pretty much characterized my life here so far.

Not to say that there haven't been plenty of bright spots. Charlotte does have roller derby, after all. And pole dancing. And I love my program. I even got trick-or-treaters at Halloween, which is something that never happened in Raleigh. I'm also much closer to my coven, which is a huge perk. My travel time has been cut in half, and I've even got a covenmate here in town (great when your car breaks down).

Weirdly, Charlotte seems to have no pagan scene at all. AT ALL. There's some sort of Wiccan church a few dozen miles outside of town, but their Witchvox postings make them sound pretty terrible, and I've got problems with the whole "Wiccan church" thing anyway. You can call it whatever you want, but as far as I'm concerned, if you feel that what you're doing warrants terms like "church" and "congregation" then you and I probably aren't practicing the same religion or worshipping the same gods.

There are also no occult or New Age bookstores (no bookstores at all, really). There are New Agey gift shops where you can buy quartz necklaces and copies of The Power of Now, but no actual bookstores. This I don't understand, given how large Charlotte is.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'll make the effort to update with some frequency, but you can always find me on YouTube.

1 comment:

  1. I stumbled upon a few of your YouTube videos while researching Wicca. I'm kind of looking for my thing and Wicca's always drawn me, but I've resisted it for some reason. Probably my Christian upbringing.

    Anyway, I digress. Through your videos I found your blog, then saw you're in Charlotte. I live here too and, let me tell you, it's been hell finding any information outside of the internet on paganism. I guess I just wanted to comment to throw out a belated welcome to this most boring of cities.

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