So I never got around to addressing the latter part of Keith’s question regarding high school memories – more specifically, my personal least favorite of them.  No time like the present, since my eyes have been focused so much on the road I’ve yet to travel. It may do my soul some good to turn around for a quick look back.

I’m struggling with this one, though.  Whether high school, for me, was not nearly as full of miserable moments as I’d like to think, or I just have simply buried the past in favor of memory loss, I didn’t expect it to be quite this difficult to pinpoint my worst memory from those days.

There are many different routes my mind takes with such a question.

For instance, might we consider the rainy day in eighth grade, on which my school bus full of high-schoolers was treated to the sight of my nightgowned mother standing on the street, in front of the school, having gotten into a fender-bender after dropping my brother off?

Or perhaps it was the valuable lesson learned when my first love, whom I had abandoned for another, broke my heart in retaliation?

There’s the day I found out that I wasn’t eligible for the Honor Society because I’d gotten an in-house suspension for going along with my best friend, who insisted we skip Social Studies class.

Or, in a more sinister feel, the day a supposed ‘friend’ stole a very personal diary and circulated it throughout my class.

Looking back at my high school days, I expected to find an overabundance of bad memories – instances I no longer wished to recall or even admit had ever taken place.  But I didn’t.  I struggled to recall those times of animosity, of angst – but in their place were softer feelings.  Lessons learned, rather than grudges held.  I suppose that all of the bad times and adversities we beleive we face in our youthful days morph into something more meaningful over time.

I guess this is growing up.

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Thanks again to Keith in Denver for this multi-faceted question.  My initial reaction, one of chaos and far-reaching memory banks, was quickly overcome as the answer to the first part of Keith’s question easily springs to mind (pardon the pun). 

Tennis season.

My all-time, desert-island favorite memory from high school is the spring tennis season of my sophomore year (1994 for those of you counting).  It’s the time of year, the time of life, that still – to this day – comes floating into consciousness with the familiar smell of a tube of Bonne Bell lip balm (pina colada works best) or the happy-folky sounds of the Lemonheads It’s A Shame About Ray. Even that first whiff of spring air after you’ve opened the windows for the first time after a long winter calls it to mind.

I’ve always been a huge fan of spring time.  Consistently vulnerable to the ‘winter blues’, I’ve always had a tendency to stretch my arms skyward to spring’s warmer sunshine.  While I certainly enjoyed playing volleyball during the fall season, there was something special about tennis season.  As a whole, we weren’t that talented as far as teams went.  Tennis wasn’t a sport that kids in my hometown grew up with – no, we were far more well-versed in more traditional sports such as softball, baseball, basketball and soccer.  I joined the tennis team when I was in eighth grade, most likely looking for any reason to not have to go home after school before my father got home, showing up for the first practice with my dad’s old wooden racquet.  A rather insistent demand for an upgrade was soon to follow.

Surprisingly, I got the hang of the sport pretty quickly, and started playing second doubles on the varsity team merely weeks into my first season.  By sophomore year, I was playing second singles, and poised to take over first, as we stood to lose many seniors after that season. 

Sophomore year was good to me.  It was a transition year – a year in which I grew out of my wallflower ways and became much bolder.  I had successfully managed to win the affections of a boy on whom I’d had a six-month long crush, and older boy, in a slightly higher social circle.  I often underestimate the positive impact that whole thing had on my otherwise sheepish personality.  But that’s a story for another day.

It was sometime during that season that I gained the nickname  “Little McEnroe”, as I became well-known for my slight emotional outbursts when I struggled to win a match I knew I could win.  Those opportunities were few and far between (by senior year, I had managed to bring my season win count to a whopping three matches).  My brother, and other members of the guys’ tennis team, would often watch our matches on their off days, gravitating towards my area of the court, placing bets on how many times my racquet would go over the fence and down the hill.

For the most part, I held my own playing tennis.  There were times, yes, when I lost horribly (I still remember how to do the Dover-Sherborn rain dance), and rare instances where I came out victorious (Marion was generally on our level, and King Phillip – well, even we walked all over those guys).  But most of the time, I lost, but I went down fighting.  It was a sport that I could get better at.  It provided a challenge and a release, and I had a coach who believed in me.  Perhaps it was the rare, three-month period each year that my mother actually paid attention – she would religiously attend my matches, even sitting in as the coach for a match when he was delayed.  She was rooting for me; proud, even. Maybe.  It gave her something to talk about with the other mothers – something that didn’t have to do with my brother, which was exhilarating.

It was also during that particular tennis season that the sun set on my first ‘love’, and the Wayland chapter began.  But again, that’s for the latter part of this layered question.

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We’re going to get a little heavy today, thanks to Keith in Denver, and discuss the ever-elusive meaning of life.  Many of us, religiously faithful or otherwise, cling hopefully to the notion that through all of life’s ups and downs, pitfalls and successes, there is some underlying sense to it all.  The efforts we put into this roller coaster ride of existence certainly can’t be for naught. Right? Right? 

Well, I’d like to introduce a concept that may not be all that popular with those of you who are driven by a higher power or a divine purpose. 

There simply is no meaning to life. 

Mankind, as a species, has evolved from our basic, animalistic ancestors into deliberate and complex beings, with an appreciation for art, knowledge and technology.  One of the side dishes which was served with this meal of distinction, however, is hubris. 

As far as animals go, we are pretty darn egotistical.  

Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you just now by referring to you as an animal?  Forgive me, but that is exactly what we are.  We are, deep down, on the same level as bears, apes, dogs, cats, duck-billed platypus.  We possess instincts to hunt, to defend, to fight, protect, nurture.  Our animal instincts drive us to procreate, thus furthering the species. 

Christians of all kinds are familiar with the concept of original sin.  A fable, if you will (as I will refer to it here solely in an effort to remove any theological spin), depicting man’s expulsion from the Garden of Eden upon consuming the fruit of knowledge.  Historical artifacts now suggest that this fable actually emerged out of true life events.  Theory has it that early man thrived around the area of the fertile crescent, where food was naturally bountiful, and thus led a fairly relaxed lifestyle of hunting and gathering.  Without having to worry about farming or harvesting (i.e. manual labor), early man was free to appreciate arts and culture, which is apparent in markings and monuments found near the original sites.  As public gatherings increased, so did the need to feed the increasing numbers of ‘townsfolk’, if you will, who would gather in a communal area for ceremonies and celebrations.

This increase in headcount, naturally, led to the need to harvest the land.  No longer able to get by on a hunter-gatherer lifestyle, man was forced to till the land, thus beginning a never-ending cycle of labor.  Gone were the carefree days of Eden…some would say, because we learned. 

As we’ve grown to a more complex species, capable of understanding things far beyond the mental capacities of other animals, we have lost sight of what we truly are: animals.  There is no greater meaning behind life than what we as humans assign to it, and there is nothing wrong with that.  Each of us must create our own meaning, our own purpose – otherwise, we grow complacent, bumptious, vain.  And nothing good can come of that.

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Leave it to my dear friend Mr. Williams to come up with such a gem of a question for me on this dreary, soon-to-be-washed-out day before Friday.  Would I really expect anything less from the notoriously brilliant creator of some of the best musical mixes ever?

The non-Boston caveat is what makes this question so delicious.  I love my local bands, I do.  I am faithfully drawn to the seedy and the not-so seedy venues around town to catch some of Boston’s best talent and rising stars and cherished little secrets.  But, alas, there is musical life outside of this small geographic area of excellence we lovingly call Beantown.  And even I can’t help but look globally where great and unknown music is plentiful.

So for you, dear Paulie, I present my top five, desert-island, non-Boston musical favorites.  In no particular order.  Just five.

The Catherine Wheel

Hailing from Great Yarmouth, England, TCW formed in 1990 with front man Rob Dickinson, guitarist Brian Futter, bassist David Hawes, and drummer Neil Sims.   Finding US success with the release of “Black Metallic” from 1992’s Ferment, the band is credited with setting the stage for bands like Death Cab for Cutie and Interpol, who both have claimed that without the release of 1993’s Chrome, bands like theirs would not exist today.  The boys disbanded on a still-continuing hiatus in 2000 following the release of Wishville, though Rob Dickinson continues to perform and is working on his solo career.

Top five CW tracks:  “Show Me Mary”, Chrome; “Mad Dog”, Wishville; “Judy Staring at the Sun”, Happy Days; “Here Comes the Fat Controller”, Adam & Eve; “La La La La La”, Like Cats & Dogs.

Liz Phair

Who doesn’t love a ballsy, care-free, sex-loving blonde who can rock a guitar like it’s no one’s business?  Phair has been putting out the musical brilliance for over 15 years now, releasing her first solo album with 1993’s Exile In Guyville. Laden with sexually-charged lyrics and receiving massive amounts of critical acclaim, it still remains one of the music industry’s most loved recordings.  It was ranked 15 in Spin’s “100 Greatest Albums, 1985-2005″. VH1 named “Exile in Guyville” the 96th Greatest Album Of All-Time, and in 2003, the album was ranked number 328 on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the 500 greatest albums.  Liz Phair continues to record today, having released her latest CD, Somebody’s Miracle, in 2005, and is rumored to have an album slated for release in 2009.

Top five Liz Phair tracks: “Polyester Bride”, Whitechiocolatespaceegg; “Never Said”, Exile in Guyville; “Mayqueen”, Whip-Smart; “Favorite”, Liz Phair; “Supernova”, Whip-Smart.

Guided By Voices

Hole-leigh crap, I can’t say enough good things about these guys that would be sufficient in conveying just how awesome they are.  GBV started out in the early 80’s as an indie bar band in Dayton, Ohio.  Robert Pollard just might be my new personal savior.  The band, over time, went through various personnel changes (which is to be expected when you rock out for over twenty years), but always maintained the principle songwriting of Pollard and his genius.  If you listen to nothing else this year, you must include the 1994 landmark indie album Bee Thousand and the Matador Records follow-up, Alien Lanes, released in 1995.  Be sure to check out the story behind Guided by Voices Day.

Top Five GBV Tracks: “I Am a Scientist”, Bee Thousand; “Motor Away”, Alien Lanes; “Burning Flag Birthday Suit”, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars; “Kicker of Elves”, Bee Thousand; “Game of Pricks”, Alien Lanes.

K’s Choice

This Belgian band has been in the top of my rotation since the early 90’s, when I first had the luxury of hearing “Not An Addict”, the band’s first US single.  The haunting, smokey vocals of Sarah Bettens, complimented by sibling Gert Bettens, provided an entirely new and fresh sound, and while I could go on and on about how awesome K’s Choice is, I still have one more band to list.  So, I direct you to the K’s Choice wiki for more information on just how much derriere one band can kick.  Oh, and they’re hard at work recording a much-anticipated 2009 release. Yay!

Top Five K’s Choice tracks: “Mr. Freeze”, Paradise in Me; “Try to Get Some Sleep”, Extra Cocoon; “Believe”, Cocoon Crash; “Busy”, Almost Happy; “Me Happy”, The Great Subconscious Club.

Band Of Horses

I honestly don’t think Sub Pop has ever steered me wrong, and Band of Horses is no exception.  Hailing from Seattle, BoH released their debut LP, Everything All the Time, in 2005 after receiving attention from Sub Pop after opening for Iron & Wine during Seattle area shows. Their southern rock tendencies and glimmering reverb often finds vocalist Ben Bridwell being compared to Neil Young or Wayne Coyne.

Top Five (well, top couple) Band of Horses tracks: “The Funeral” and “I Go To the Barn Because I Like The”, both off of Everything All the Time.

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Should you be fired from your job for what you post on Facebook/Twitter?

 

Today’s uber-relevant question comes to us from Josh in Fort Wayne, Indiana.  With so much of the world all a-Twitter these days, is it fair for employers to monitor social networking sites and their employees’ online activities?

 

The American in me wants to throw up my fists and scream, “Hell no!”.  We live in a society founded upon certain unalienable rights, including the freedom of speech.  If I want the internet world to know the sordid details of my afternoon-commute encounter with the toothless, hairy homeless guy who sets up shop next to the gas station, that’s my business, right? Right?

 

Well, yes and no.  Yes, it is my right as an American to make my opinions known just as it’s my right to post photographs of various not-so-intimate details of my daily life.  What is not guaranteed in the constitution, however, is the right to be a completely naïve and self-absorbed idiot.  Most of us know that the internet is not exactly private.  We have a basic understanding that what we choose to put out there will be seen and viewed by complete strangers, regardless of the safeguards we’ve put in place to ‘protect’ our public information.  Only want Cousin Joe and his wife to see the photo of little Johnny in the bathtub? There’s a process for that.  Want to exist on social media networks but don’t want Sally, your ex-girlfriend, to know you’re sleeping with her sister? Check.  Does this mean that the information you’re trying to protect will never get out? Of course not, don’t be silly.  There will always be someone smart enough, and bored enough, to figure out how to see your stuff online.

 

So what about social media networks in the workplace? Should what you post online have an effect on your job?  If you’re all about posting compromising photos or rumors or partaking in any otherwise shady online business, perhaps.  But, honestly, what harm could it bring to my employer if I, say, post a mobile photo of myself out drinking with coworkers? A few simple questions generally pop into my mind when I’m contemplating a social media move:

 

• Am I at work right now?
• Am I using company-owned technology in my social media activities?
• Would I want my grandfather happening upon this information?
• What impact might this activity have on others?

 

In reminding myself of the answers to these questions, I’m generally ensuring that my bases are covered should anyone see what I am posting.  Not being a naïve idiot myself, I’m well aware of the following:

 

• If I’m on work time, I represent my company.  Anything I do publicly during work time will reflect on my employer and my productivity. Kind of a no-brainer here.  You’re not getting paid to play online, and you’re making the company look bad.
• A pretty standard rule-of-thumb, but if it’s not my computer, there’s no way I can control my privacy.
• If I don’t want my family to see it, it’s probably not something that’s going to reflect well on myself at work.
• Have a little empathy. When you offend people, belittle them, or insult them, no one wins. Well, sometimes there’s a winner. Sometimes there’s just jail time.

 

So while overall, we should rock on with our freedoms that we have in the US, we should never lose sight of the lessons we learned as children in terms of having a solid concept of what is right and wrong, and more importantly, how right and wrong is perceived by others.  Example:

 

• Jen’s boss hears from others in the department that Jen has been logging into Facebook quite a bit during the workday.
  • SCENARIO 1: It is clear to see by looking at Jen’s online profile that she is spending her work time playing games and taking ‘fun’ quizzes.
  • SCENARIO 2: Jen’s boss can tell by looking at her online profile that Jen has spent the morning using Facebook to network with other companies within her industry and learn some best-practices.

 

In both of these scenarios, Jen’s been online during the workday and it’s being noticed by her coworkers.  Is this simple act grounds for discipline or termination? Perhaps, but perhaps not.  In examining the two scenarios, it’s clear that Jen’s activities could be drastically different natures.  In the first scenario, Jen’s online activities display a flagrant disregard for company rules and her performance is sure to be affected in a negative way.  In the second scenario, however, Jen is aware that she represents her company during her workday and uses social media in a business-appropriate fashion that relates to her job.

 

So is it right for a company to take action based on an employee’s online activities? In certain cases, yes.  It is up to the web user – the employee – to employ a healthy dose of common sense when posting to the internet, to essentially cover their own backsides and ensure their own job security.  And who doesn’t want to do that?

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Today’s ”Just Ask Angie” question comes from Paul, in Quincy, MA:  How does a pro life protester justify calling themselves PRO life when they are willing to kill?

It’s done in the same fashion as any other war that’s been fought in the name of religion.  However, in other, non-Christian-based faiths, those who commit acts of violence in the name of their religion are generally regarded by the masses as being extremist or separatist, or even terrorists.  In the largely-Christian US (75.1% as reported by ARIS in 2008), however, we hesitate to put such labels on those rogues who take divine justice into their own hands.

We are a country founded on freedoms – freedoms of speech, religion – but have those freedoms been bastardized to the point that any one individual is able to twist those freedoms to serve their own agendas?  Have the liberties our forefathers fought for been taken such for granted that we feel entitled to be the judges of others’ moral makeup?

I’ve often heard pro-lifers justify the violent acts of some hardcore protesters by citing the old term lex talionis (“Eye for an Eye”).  In viewing the act of abortion as immoral and wrong, the overzealous protestor feels entitled to threaten or take the life of someone whom they see as willing to do the same to an unborn fetus. 

What is easily forgotten, however, are the many other religious sayings that negate the old ‘eye for an eye’ mentality of justice:

• Judge not that ye be not judged (Matthew 7:1)
• Judge not thy neighbor until thou art come into his place (Hebrew Proverb)
• And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily, I say unto you, They have their reward. Matthew 6:5
•  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  Luke 6:31 

The willingness to kill in the name of pro-life is justified by nothing more than hypocrisy and ego.  In ignoring the basic fundamentals of the Christian faith and refusing to focus on the morality of one’s own life, the violent pro-lifer takes on an almost narcissistic role of vigilante, seeing it as his or her duty to carry out “God’s wrath” on those seen as deserving of it.  Seldom does this person stop to examine his or her own lifestyle, often relying on, and ultimately blaming, God’s will, as justification and reasoning for his or her actions.  This person does not see his or herself as a murderer, no – but a special, if not ‘chosen’, messenger of God.

Revisiting the bastardization of American liberties, it is often the violent pro-life protester’s mentality that the law is wrong or flawed, or secondary to the laws of one’s faith.  The laws of man need not apply to those who are ‘carrying out God’s work’.  I struggle, still, to find the differences between such domestic religious zealots and the rogue Muslim terrorists and Islamic extremists that use violence and bloodshed to further impose their views on society.  But that could just be me.

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