Sat in a car shop today,waiting on an oil change. CNN, aka Corporate No News, was running a 24/7 gushfest about the Royal Spawn having arrived Crowds are outside the hospital, Men in silly ass costumes are making official pronouncements. It’s all so very lovely and soft and cute.

I’m going to rain on that parade right now, and hard. I hate, hate, hate, and oh yeah, hate, the American public’s obsession with the British Monarchy. I bet you if you stopped a dozen people on the street, half could name either Chuck and Di, or Will and Kate. How many could name the current U.K. Prime Minister, the one with actual power? (Hint: it’s David Cameron). I could rant for days about that fact as a symptom of America’s force-fed celebrity worshiping culture, but that’s a subject for another day.

It didn’t used to be like this. Before ABC Network went and turned Chuck and Di’s wedding into a TV spectacle, the only time you heard about royalty in America was when one got drunk and landed in the Enquirer. But nope, once America saw DIana, it was love at first sight. I understood the love. She was the first British Princess in a Century who didn’t look like an extra from Deliverance dragged out of the swamp and shined up for the cameras. All those royal families have interbred for centuries,and by the time Charles rolled off the assembly line, the gene pool was more like a puddle.  So she came along and stole America’s heart. I will say that she was the first royal in centuries with a conscience, and who walked her talk. No wonder she divorced Charles. She must have gotten a look at Elizabeth’s true black little heart and  tried right then to skip out of town. If you think Elizabeth is a nice lady, you don’t know your history, or don’t have Irish relatives. I have both. She was gone too soon, and then the royals disappeared off the radar for a good twenty years.

But then came William and Kate. In a new age of constant news sourcing, another good looking royal couple was good for  constant fill for the info-trough. I’ll admit, they had a nice wedding.It sure looked pretty. And now they have a pretty little bouncing boy.

My wife will read this and be appalled. My late grandmother would have been as well. Have you no sense of romance? Don’t you love the pomp and circumstance?She was an anglo-phile before the word was invented. But my problem isn’t really with the two of them or their kid personally. Nope, it’s because after four girls,most of whom are grown now, I feel comfortable enough to say this loud and clear:

I HATE PRINCESSES.

I can’t stand monarchy, honestly, but princesses, and what they represent in Western culture, piss me off. They reinforce the idea of “all you need to do is marry the right rich guy and all will be well” . That kind of thinking sets both women and men back decades, if not centuries. The fact that Disney has built an empire off of that degrading concept infuriates me. Show me a Disney Princess who isn’t needy,co-dependent, and miserable until Mr. RIght and Rich comes along.  Brave doesn’t count, because it was Pixar. And even then, according to the creator of Brave(A woman who was booted off her own movie) they tried all the time to push for a romance in the film. Gods forbid a woman stand on her own and make it by her smarts, hard work, and strength. I watched the co-dependent 50’s housewife bile destroy my mother and countless other women in this country.

Turn off the TV, some of you will say. Oh I will. But it’s good to know what’s out there, folks. If you think Patriarchy and the co-dependent ideas shilled by Disney don’t matter, then you haven’t seen your local legislature at work. All those anti-abortion bills are just stepping stones toward making a woman’s body not her own. So many of those folks are loving the whole Will/Kate thing, while pushing for a day when Kate will have to obey WIlliam under law.  The idea that women are less  strong than men is beyond stupid. Five minutes in a delivery room will change your mind forever on that bile.

I want a better path for the girls of tomorrow. I want my daughter to look into a camera one day and quote from Robert Ludlum’s The Road to Gandolfo: “He taught me to be my own inventory” . I want girls who are empowered, who shine like the stars they are. I don’t want princesses, paraded around like show ponies. I want prime minister and presidents, not people who claim right to rule by which birth canal they shot out of.  Yes, little girls love to dress up, and wear tiaras. But start them off right. Tell them to be queens and empresses, to rule their own minds and hearts, and no one elses. To be equal to kings and presidents. To be the heroes of their own stories. Like the shirt says,”This Princess rescues herself!”

And as usual, bonus points for who figures out where the blog title comes from.

Finally,I’ve gotten around to the book “Pronoia is the Antidote for Paranoia:How the Whole World is conspiring to shower you with Blessings” by Rob Brezsny. It’s been in my book pile for a while. I’ve loved his Free Will Astrology  column for years. Yes, Virginia, the jury may be out in your heads about astrology being hokum or not. What you can’t deny is the sheer joy Brezsny puts into his little  bits. Pronoia is his masterwork,and I’ve started going through it and doing the suggested writing exercises. It’s one of the many things I’m trying to do to change my aura around. One of the exercises or tasks he suggests is doing a personal version of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I’m not a speech writer, so it turns out like more of a poem than anything else. Anyway, here goes.

Note: no contest  this time for the blog post title. Last time’s was a line from Green Day’s immortal song “Welcome to Paradise” Yes, they supposedly ruined punk. But damn if that song didn’t  perfectly encapsulate leaving home for the first time for me,

 

I have a Dream(Easiest Setting version)

by Trevor Curtis

I have a dream that someday people will be judged by who they are, and what they do,not by what they wear, how they look,the color of their skin, or whatever fleshy bits are/are not hanging between their legs..

I have a dream that someday the biggest corporation will be my local grocery store.

I have a dream that someday all governments will be forced to reveal all their secrets,s o no more people have to die for lies.

I have a dream that  everyone is fed, has work of value, a roof over their heads, clean clothes, clean water, and a bed.

I have a dream that someday all people can love/not love a diety/god/nothing of their own personal choice, and that  it’s ok whatever you believe, so long as it doesn’t hurt others.

I have a dream that someday creative work is fairly valued, and that art of all stripes is held in regard.

I have a dream that one day, all media monopolies are gone, and that we have no channels, just sources, and that responsible people give facts about the news, and real news at that. I want a world where an archaeologist goes “Kardashian who?”

I have a dream of a day when a gun killing someone is seen as obscene, and an erect penis is not.

I have a dream of a future where sex-ed and birth control have made abortion almost a moot point, where every child is loved and cared for.

I have a dream of a world where we look back on oil consumption for fuel as the joke it is.

I have a dream of a world where every tree that’s torn down, every building and road that’s built, is done so with the planning for how it will affect seven generations down the road.

I have a dream of no more megacorps, megabanks, or mega anything ,except mega joy and mega love.

I have a dream of democracy world wide, where every nation is no longer interested in killing you for where and how you live. Where the leaders are as transparent as glass, and where corrpution is not allowed to take root. Where leadership terms are brief, and all men, not just those with wealth, are allowed to lead.

Lastly, I have a dream of a world where I can die knowing my daughters and granddaughters will never know the fear of rape or slavery. Where men are raised as men, not beasts. And people treat people as equals, not lessers or betters.

Amen.

In about a week, I’m heading close-ish to my hometown of Waukegan, Illinois. Technically, I was born in Park Ridge, down the road. But Waukegan is where I lived  for roughly twenty-five  of my forty-four years on this planet. I met my wife there in high school. Most of my firsts take place there It is where I became who I am, in so many ways.

Waukegan ,for those who don’t know, is a city of about  90,000, that sits on the shore of Lake Michigan. It’s one of the last Chicago suburbs. Drive ten minutes north and you’re in Wisconsin. Hop on i-94 and you’re in either Chicago or Milwaukee within an hour or so. It’s like many suburbs, in the upper Midwest, in that most of its people move elsewhere.  It’s most notable exports are Jack Benny and Ray Bradbury. Yeah, try  following his act into being a fantasy writer. No pressure there.

I don’t know if I’ll take my daughter to see my hometown now. The saying about you can’t go home again becomes even truer the longer you stay away. But I used to know this town, inside and out. I never bothered to learn to drive until I got married. I have literally walked all over Waukegan, from one end to another. The number of its streets I have not trod are few. But most of what I loved about this town is gone.My friends have all left, save two.I give much respect to those who have stayed, because, damn, sometimes hometowns don’t give you a reason to. In the years I’ve been gone, Waukegan no longer has a  movie theater, a bookstore, a hobby store, or even a mall. They tore down a two-story mall and replaced it with a Wal-Mart.  It’s funny how much places you used to despise being in, end up being missed once they’re gone.

Still, I might take her over there. Show her the house I grew up in, if it’s still there. Nothing around it is. Out of the four guys I knew growing up, two are down for life, and never getting out.  It’s amazing how downhill the town went once the factories started dying out..

But she fights on, and there’s still stuff there to recommend. The new Genesee Theatre is great, it’s on PBS about every other day for music programs. The city seems to keep trucking on. I’m sure there are those who will have their own stories to tell, to live laugh and love.I joined a Facebook group about my hometown. I have the attitude that “hey, I know its a horrible place that is polluted, corrupt and dying, but damn it, it’s mine.”

If I could, I would. drive my daughter down the Amstutz. We’d stop at Jordys, grab a 99 cent burger and  fries. Maybe go down to the lake shore, so she can see what a real lake looks like(all the ones here are man made). In a dream world, I’d take her record shopping at Strawberry Fields, eat lunch at Leno’s and have a pizza dinner at Quonset, or the special at Aunt Millies. Unless you’re from there, none of those will meant a thing to you. That’s OK, though. We all have our own special code we speak, for places we  have been from. It connects us with strangers, and renews our present. I hope you can be somewhat proud of where you’re from, or wherever you call home.

Last post title:“Mr. 44” was a song by Kenosha ,Wisconsin’s own Electric Hellfire CLub. I saw the lovely Satanic band’s last gig in their hometown. Less said about that ,the better. I think the song was a reference to Berkowitz, the Son of Sam Killer. Honestly, i just liked the title for  a birthday post.

Tomorrow I turn 44. It’s not one of the big ones people like to talk about, like 50 or 75. It’s just another turn on the counter, another 365 days in passing. It’s not a big deal, and I won’t be making a huge deal out of it.There’s no party, no cake. Just a nice dinner out somewhere and a movie. Honestly, it’s getting to the point where I can just be happy making it to this age. Truly, the best thing about turning 44 is that I won’t be 43 anymore.

Forty-three was rough. I look back on it like the first time people my age saw Phantom Menace. Yes, it looked good at first, but then it got all Jar Jar and Midichlorians. And much like Phantom Menace, it had a lot to live up to after 42. Forty-two wasn’t Star Wars level, but it was certainly Return of the Jedi. Bought my first house, had my first short story published, and did my first book signing. So really, 43 had nowhere to go but down. I won’t go into the details, but it seemed that everything I tried at 43 failed. I’ve had more rejection from publishers than ever. The guys who published my first story got out of publishing.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but what actually turned me around this time was a wrestling documentary. If you have Netflix, go watch the CM Punk documentary, “Best in the World”. Or go buy it. I recommend it even to non-wrestling fans. It came out last fall, and I think I’ve watched it six times since then.I find inspiration in a guy who has been told since day one he wasn’t going to make it, but who followed his dream, and made it  through hard work,brains and a little bit of luck. It also inspired me to make some changes myself.

New Year’s resolutions are for fools, so I didn’t do that. What I have done is make a concerted effort to be more positive. For those that know me personally, you realize what an uphill battle that is. But every change begins with steps, and I’ve taken some. The wife and I are eating healthier. I’m trying wearing colors other than black when I’m not at work. I’m embracing the optimism found in the works of Napoleon Hill, H2O and Rob Brezsny. I’m working hard at developing the Positive Mental Attitude (PMA) that has inspired people like Toby Morse and Les Brown.It’s not the fluffy bunny light of the New Agers, but it’s there. It’s tough, especially in this day and age. But the alternative is sinking into darkness, and I don’t want to go back there again, thank you. I have an amazing kid and a great wife, and I think they deserve the best me I can be.

By the way, the title of the last post is the first line in the movie “Penn and Teller Get Killed”. If you can ever watch it, do so. Penn Jillette may be the only militant athiest I’d kill to have dinner with.

here goes another adventure. After years of mucking about with LJ, tumblr, and whatnot, I decided there was only one way I was going to get off my lazy butt and get real about writing:

I’d have to pay for it.

Actually, that’s a lie. My wife suggested a few weeks back that I needed to have my own site where I could publish my work, and hopefully get it noticed. Well, my LJ site could do that, but let’s be honest,LJ is the MySpace of blogging. I don’t know the last time I looked up a new writer or group and they had a LJ site. And tumblr? Sorry, I’m not 20 and busy posting pics I’d  have to explain to my daughter.So after much dithering and woolgathering, and way too much time on FB, I decided to get my own site. Lots of self-help books will tell you to visualize your dream. Well, part of my dream is to be a professional writer. I’ve had one short story published, and one book signing in the last year, and more rejection than I’ve ever thought possible.

So in an effort to keep my spirits and hopes up, I decided I needed a site of my own. First problem: My name has been taken for decades now, by a stage magician in England. So I decided on trevorcurtis23.com. It had the benefit of being a)not taken and b)numerically significant. I’ll post eventually about the number 23, and promise not to bore you like the shit Jim Carrey movie.

The second problem: I can’t code worth two cents. If I could do that, or do graphic design, I’d be in a much better place financially. So I looked at author sites, and decided I needed to use Word Press. So far, it seems fairly easy, and doesn’t have the giant ;learning curve that web programming used to require. But when I looekd at it,it offered a big temptation:free hosting.

I think part of my problem with keeping up with previous blogs was the free aspect. If you don’t have to pay for it, and you don’t keep up with it, doesn’t matter much, does it? So I almost wanted to stop right there. But then I decided to  skip the free hosting, because frankly, I don’t trust it. So off I went. Domain registered? Check. Webhosting? Check. Though they did soak me for the first year right up front. Ouch. No comics for me this month.

What’s going to be on here? Not telling you. You’re just going to have to wait and see. I’m no longer promising things to be out, unless they’re done. I’m hoping to vastly improve the way this looks, though,so expect it to change a lot. Here’s to the first step on the journey, folks.