The End of an Era

I truly can't believe it, but I'm finally graduating from college next Saturday! It seems like it took me forever to find my way into what I want to do with my life--writing. However, like a kind-of snowball effect, once I got the ball rolling, everything fell into place super-fast and I'm sitting here at my computer tonight with my head still spinning form the quickness of my last semester.

When I look back at my time at Western Kentucky University, I can break it into multiple chapters. Unlike most college students, I didn't take the traditional four-year route but, instead, took a two-year detour of traveling abroad and working full-time after an extremely stressful, unsuccessful freshman year of trying to balance school with being there for my step-dad as he battled lung cancer. When I finally did return to WKU, the thrill of my Mexican travels lingered in my mind and I spent a solid two semesters entertaining the idea of studying anthropology with an emphasis on "ethnomusicology". After my mom convincing me that I would starve to death, I fell into Marketing, which I absolutely hated! It took a close friend of mine talking to me about "playing to my strengths" that I realized that I needed a career in writing.

When I finally got into the journalism program, everything seemed to fall into place. It took two semesters for me to be accepted into the program after struggling to build back my GPA, but once I was there, I felt like I finally found what I wanted to do in life. At first, I was convinced that I wanted to focus on a major in news/editorial, but I found that my future career was better suited in the public relations industry. I'm ashamed to say that my confidence as a writer wasn't extremely high and I was constantly surprised when I excelled in all my classes. When an advisor convinced me to apply for a position at WKU's student-run advertising and public relations agency, Imagewest, I was doubtful that I would be considered for the position. You can imagine my surprise when I got a call back for the job the next week!

My internship at Imagewest taught me to be a better writer, a stronger communicator and how to prioritize my responsibilities in order to accomplish more.  Looking back at my time at WKU, I can say that my internship experience truly tops off my college education.

My first job interview is next week, only a few days before I graduate, and I'm nervous, excited and a little bit sad to leave this chapter behind, but I feel like I'm ready to give it my best shot! Wish me luck!

Traveler's Blues

The snow is melting as the sun comes up

Over a smoky bay

I stare out my window with my coffee cup

3,000 miles away

I'm a long, long way from home, but this the life I choose

Town to town, new people every day

This is simply the traveler's blues

I'll find  way and embrace the day

What is there left to lose?

Yeah I'm a rolling stone, I'd rather be alone

Than settle any day

The Traveler's Code

I found this blog post in a retired blog I had from a few years back, so it may have a few repeated stories.  Even so, I thought it was worthy to post.

       

        After my father passed away in 2006, I decided to take an emotional break from society as I knew it and traveled to the other side of the cultural tracks in Cancun, Mexico. I had been there many times before with my mother and we had gathered up a large assortment of local friends that we had come to love. Unlike the times before, however, I was not coming as a tourist to lay on the beach or to dance in the clubs. I was moving downtown into an apartment with friends and planning to make money playing in a reggae band with local musicians. I come to find out, over the six months that I lived there, that language was actually the smallest cultural boundary that I would have to cross.

        After being raised to be an independent and strong woman by my parents, I have to admit that for the first two months I had a difficult time embracing the codes of the Mexican culture. I had two strong factors going against me: I was an American and I was a woman.

        I felt as though I stuck out in a crowd as an American without ever saying a word. It was probably obvious when I reached out my hand to shake, when they leaned in the kiss my cheek. I wasn't used to closeness from complete strangers and I hate to say that I may have jerked away the first time someone introduced themselves. There were many times when I would walk up to my friends when they were talking to other people, usually men, and they looked at me as if I were crazy. My friends later told me that some of the Mexican men considered bold and independent women to be disrespectful.

        It drove me crazy when my girl friends would degrade themselves and say that they were just stupid women and that they knew nothing about anything. I had gotten used to being treated grandly in the hotel zone as a tourist, and I had naively assumed that this was the general attitude towards women all over Cancun. Even though it was such a small matter to learn how to keep my mouth shut and to let the men speak first, it was an important attitude change that helped me fit in better with the local people.

        I struggled through the awkwardness and began to learn the differences between my culture and theirs. Since I was living with local friends, they gave me a chance to get accustomed to living in a new culture, and I tried my best to embrace my surroundings. I was soon friends with many people in my neighborhood and they began to think that I was funny and they grew less suspicious of me. I was not called Brittany by many of the people, but often referred to as “loca”, which mean “crazy” in Spanish. I wasn't sure it that was meant to be a compliment, but I laughed it off and embraced my new nickname.

        It was hard to try to play music in a band when half of the people do not speak English. However, I did come to find that music can be a language within its self. Sometimes when I would play my instrument and the others in the band would begin to play with me, we all forgot that I wasn't a local girl and that my Spanish was broken and terrible. We were all at the same place in our minds. Music was something where we could meet in the middle without words.

        As I made more friends, many of them decided to teach me as much as possible about their country and culture. They taught me Spanish curse words and laughed when I would mispronounce them. The Spanish that I was taught would probably never make it to a Spanish class in Kentucky. I was speaking the slang language of Cancun and it was one of a kind. I have learned the hard way that certain words in Cancun do not mean the same to Mexican people in other areas.

        They took the time to teach me how to salsa dance and took me to a Cuban dance club to let me show off my new skills. I was introduced to new foods and new customs. Being used to having a large breakfast, it took a while to get used to toast and coffee in the mornings and dinner at ten O'clock at night. The more the local people trusted me, the more culture I was introduced to. I was soon traveling to places reserved for locals only. I had the chance to swim in cenotes and go to apartment parties where no one spoke a bit of English and I just sat there, playing cards and drinking Sol, and listened to the language around me, trying my best to keep up.

        The best memory of all from my cultural experience in Mexico would be celebrating my 20^th birthday. I was at the very end of my stay and I was set to leave the next week. I had talked with my mom the day before and she had jokingly told me that she was going to have me deported. I could see that it was time to go home, but it going to hard to leave the little subculture that I had been so wrapped up in for so long. My friends threw me a birthday party on the beach with a large fire and coolers full of Sol, an authentic Mexican beer.

Chapters

Over the years, as I've grown and matured from a child to a young adult, I've realized that life can be broken down into chapters.  It's not so much your age at the time or the people in your life then, but the person that you were and the beliefs that you held.  At 25 years old, I would say that I've had at least fifteen chapters in my life.  I'm curious to know how much you bring with you from each chapter of your life.

Fast-forwarding through the less interesting chapters of my life, such as middle school (what a nightmare) and high school (thank God I found some confidence!), I'd like to focus on the 19-year-old Brittany that took a tour through Mexico and found herself with the help of an Argentinian reggae band.  As crazy as this sounds, it's this chapter in my life that I look back on with yearning, discontentment and jealousy.  I think of all the insane things that I did in my six months abroad, such as touring with a band I'd only known three weeks, climbing fences to sneak into cenotes or living in hostels with people from other countries, and I know that I can never top those moments again in my life.  

It's not that I haven't tried to replace those memories.  Since 2007, I've been to Cancun eight times and have grown extremely close to my local friends and am even considered part of their family.  I've re-visted the clubs that I once played at and the bars that I used to be greeted by name at and it feels like a ghost town.  It's frustrating to know that I can no longer travel to my favorite place in the world without constantly seeing the 19-year-old Brittany, with her blonde hair, hippie scarves and dreads, everywhere. 

I know what you're thinking....what a spoiled brat! I admit, it's absolutely true, but I didn't go to Mexico for a fun-filled vacation.  My father battled cancer for five years and his misery finally came to an end in 2006.  I was technically his step-daughter and my biological father gave up rights to me when I was born.  I couldn't get over the fact that I was, legally, fatherless and I couldn't stop picturing myself at my wedding in the future without a father-daughter dance or without someone my kids could call "papaw".  I was angry, depressed and extremely bitter.  My mom decided that the best thing for both of us was a three week trip to Cancun to heal.  We had been traveling to Cancun since I was in high school and returned each year for visits with our friends.  It was that trip that I was introduced to my future band and friends and it was that trip that healed the sadness I felt and changed who I am today.  

The point that I'm coming to in this long-winded history lesson on that particular chapter in my life is, how do I get over this discontentment I feel in my life? I've done well in my education and am set to graduate in December to, hopefully, find an awesome career.  Public relations is such a professional field that's fast-paced, cut-throat and the complete opposite of what I wanted to do.  How can I bridge the professional that I've matured into with the fun-filled, free-spritied person I used to be?

With all of these conflicted feelings I have about my future, I can't even imagine what the chapters that my future will bring.

Forecastle 2012

There are many things that I'm passionate about in life.  However, in my opinion, nothing would be quite the same without the accompaniment of music.  Not to sound too much like a hippie, but music is more than something you listen to on the radio.  Music is an emotional experience.  Teenagers listen to heavy metal or rap music because they feel like they relate to the music and lyrics.  Driving down the road, listening to the radio, you might find yourself smiling and singing along to a song that's tied to a happy memory.  Music has more power and influence on our lives than we give it credit for.

All of this dawned on me as I watched the diverse crowd of people dance, scream and sing as the newest band took to the stage.  It didn't seem to matter the age, gender or race--music holds no prejudice.  Music, to me, seems almost like an unspoken language.  Everyone at Louisville, Kentucky's annual summer festival, Forecastle, seemed to have the same understanding of music's unspoken language.  Although I was there for the music as well, I couldn't help watching the people interact.

Although the cloudy skies and scattered rainstorms kept the festival from being overwhelmingly hot, I found myself wondering a few times if bearing the heat was worth seeing the shows.  It only took the first song of the day, with the blaring drum solos and catchy guitar riffs, to remind me that I was exactly where I belonged.  As the crowd swayed and danced, people didn't seem to notice the sweat running into their eyes or how much their feet were starting to hurt.  The music, this unspoken language, was like a trance that didn't break until the last show ended on Sunday night.