Monthly Archives: January 2007

To hiatus or not to hiatus…

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Almost everyday, I’m *this* close to shutting down Dark Culture. It’s not that I’ve fallen out of love with it, it’s just not as easy to run anymore. When I started the zine 10 years ago, I was working part time jobs and had plenty of time to devote to updates, writing, and maintenance. I was 22 and my life was much different. I’m nearly 32 and I’m busier than ever, working a full time job and freelancing on the weekends. I have a boyfriend, two cats, sick parents, and a brother than demands a lot of my time. The old cliche, “I’ve just been really busy” is true.

I think about shutting down the site for other reasons too. For some reason, I’ve been hard pressed to find writers that do what they say they will. I understand the whole not getting paid thing. It’s hard to juggle personal lives and then on top of that, write for a magazine that doesn’t pay. I always figured, I’d find people who cared about my angle on the scene enough to want to be a part of it. Like a little family working towards the same goals. Maybe it’s more like a family than I realize. Hardly enough time for one another, moving on, doing other things. As it stands, I have three writers who have promised to submit material and haven’t. Good writers all, all missing in action.

Maybe it’s the holidays. I don’t know. I’ve been in a funk with the site for a long time. There was a period where I was the ultimate flake. People would send stuff in and I’d take months to get it online. Maybe I’ve garnered a reputation for being a loaf.

Some days I think, “I’m gonna get this site going and make all kinds of updates and write like a fiend”. I hardly ever do. I look at magazines like the amazing Morbid Outlook and have no idea how Mistress McCutchan finds the time. I also realize that I have the time, but I squander it. Tired from the day’s work, wanting only to relax in front of the NBC Thursday night line-up. There is a lethargy that’s taken over and despite recent stressful events in my life, I still feel compelled to keep the site open.

Lethargic and I’ve hardly written any reviews in the last few months. There’s a lot going on in my life and I’m stressed out. My boyfriend recently suggested that I put up an “on hiatus” notice and just take a real break from the site. I’m afraid if I do that, I won’t ever come back. I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with a solution to lessen the load and keep the site going. Aside from stripping down the site to podcasts, reviews, forums, and the occasional interview. Would it be the same? Would it matter? There hasn’t been an honest to goodness article in years. I’m not sure why I continue to hold on to that.

I can’t do the site all by myself. It’s been clear for years. I need help, but I can’t find people who willingly want to be a part of the site…not the way I do. I need to be more involved and lead by example. Time again. How much time can I afford to spend on the site, babysitting writers, and begging for submissions? I’m getting sick of it. I’m sad that I’m sick of it. Dark Culture has been a part of my life for a long time and the fact that I’m this fed up is disheartening. It’s also confusing because I don’t really want to shut down the site. I want it to be greater than it is.

If the site continues, it will be because I want it to. It will be that I’ve found a way to balance it all.

Part of my dismay stems from the comments and feedback thread I started last week at the forums. I asked readers to give me their thoughts on the site and let me know what should or should not change. Not one comment. No ones cares. Web readers want information served to them. They don’t want to lift a finger and it’s too much to ask for a little feedback. I’m frustrated and not sure which direction to take anymore. What’s it gonna take? How can I continue? Do I want to?

Letter to the Mayor

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Here is a copy of a letter I sent to Mayor of Pasadena, Bill Bogaard:

Bill BogaardDear Mayor, when I moved to Pasadena 12 years ago, I was floored by it’s natural beauty, quaint homes, excellent education, thriving culture, it’s history and it’s response to landmarks. This is the city I chose to live in because it cared and preserved it’s treasures. It was a proud place to live in and no matter which direction you looked, you had something beautiful to look at. Recently, however, my view of the city has been obstructed by condos and commerce.

As the condos rose, I complained to friends and grimaced when I passed yet another building slated for destruction. It’s been like watching a loved one slowly die from some incurable disease. Others rose and more are on the way. Now, my own apartment building is on the list. An adorable old house converted into several units, walking distance from everything important. Over the last two years I’ve endured the clanging din of machinery and workers building the Del Mar Station condos. When they neared completion, another structure went up two houses down. Soon I’ll be forced to move from a place I absolutely love, from a place I was lucky to find.

The over development of Pasadena is a crime. The new condos spread around like weeds aren’t beautiful, they aren’t what makes Pasadena “Pasadena”. People are talking and they’re unhappy. As a long term resident, I’m unhappy. Unhappy that I’m losing my home, unhappy that what once was a quaint and comfortable city is becoming overrun with greed. While I understand the city wants to make money and there is an issue of supply and demand, the city is loosing the very reason people want to live here! It’s loosing it’s integrity, it’s charm, and it’s heart. It’s becoming like every other town jam packed with ugly condos and politicians that don’t care about conservation or it’s citizens.

While there are still many redeeming factors to Pasadena, the city herself has changed so dramatically that I hardly recognize her. The over development of Pasadena is nothing more than an open flood gate to crime, traffic, noise, pollution, and a whole slew of people devoid of civic pride. Another example is the strip club on Foothill Blvd. Fact is, if people need to see strippers, that’s their prerogative, but Hollywood is only 15 minutes away. Or maybe it’s closer than you think.

I used to brag to my non-Pasadena friends that the city cared about preservation, that nested in the foothills was this lovely town that felt like a big city but also remained small and honorable. I realize, my bragging rights fall with The Raymond Theater. As I wait for the impending demolition of my house that should be saved, I join the ranks of voters that will undoubtedly take action…even if it means voting for Aaron Proctor.

Progress

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So, you want the good news first of the bad news first? Actually, there is no good news. After coming home from yet another verbal brawl with my mother, I drove up to an eyesore of a sign informing me of the impending demolition of my apartment building.

I live in a quaint, olive colored, 1930′s home that was converted into several units. It’s a beautiful old house filled with quirks and lots of charm. It’s cleverly located near shopping, theaters, Old Town Pasadena, the freeways, the metro rail, and tons of restaurants. It’s the perfect location. I pay $800 dollars a month which includes all utilities and parking. I don’t have a washer/dryer, but I always made due. I also don’t have a bath tub (standing shower only), but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the location and cheap rent. It’s a dream. A dream shattered by over development.

I first came to Pasadena 12 years ago to meet my then boyfriend’s mother. I instantly fell in love with the city and knew that I would soon move there. I was ready to leave the dusty streets of Ventura County and set sail for a beautiful little town hidden by valleys and foothills. It’s home to the Rose Bowl where Depeche Mode’s famous 101 video was filmed. It’s home to the annual Rose Parade, Art Center, Cal Tech, and JPL. Route 66 passes through it’s East Side. It’s been mentioned in songs and countless movies have been filmed here. It’s glorious. And no wonder people flock to it’s gates. I did and I’ve never wanted to leave. Recently however, condos, like weeds, have sprouted up just about everywhere. Gorgeous old buildings torn down in the name of progress. Buildings that should have been designated historical landmarks are bulldozed. In particular, The Raymond Theater. This 85 year old gem of a theater is finally facing it’s final hours. After a bitter 15 year struggle, progress won in the end. Retail space and condominiums take precedence over history and art.

It’s sad. It’s sad that city officials scoff at sentiment and ignore the true wishes of the community. A community built on artistry, dreams, and parade floats. A community that prides itself on being the crown jewel of the San Gabriel Valley. For all it’s good, there has always been this underlying evil and greed. The rich congregate here because of it’s prestige. The city’s tree lined streets and the sweet smell of jasmine in the Summer time. A mild climate and picturesque view after picturesque view. It’s a nice place to raise a family and is home to more landmarks than most towns of it’s size. Artists congregate here because the air feeds our souls. It’s not affordable living, but we’ll pay the extra expense simply for the scenery.

I’ve lived here for 12 years. I love it. I’ve only once really considered moving, but ended up staying because I just couldn’t leave. More than the bleak streets of Oxnard (the place I grew up), more than any other place…this is my home. Home in every sense of the word. Comfort and calm. Peace and quiet. This apartment in particular was my first step into a world of my own. Without roommates, but with a lot of financial help to start. This is the apartment I drank myself to tears in over some dumb guy. This is the apartment my sweet cat Woobie lived in before he died. This is the only home my new kitten Matilda has ever known. This is the place where I finally came to grips with who I am and what I want to do with my life. This is where I found myself. This is the apartment I lived in when I met the man I’m going to marry. It’s a tiny place, shaped sort of funny. The walls crumble whenever I try to hang something and my bedroom isn’t big enough for two people. There’s mold in the bathroom and the toilet doesn’t quite flush right. I’ve complained about the ugly brown carpet since I moved in. There’s a lot wrong with this place, but all of that pales in comparison to the mountains I’ve moved while under it’s roof. This was my own little place. If I didn’t wash the dishes, no one would yell at me.

I’ll be here for maybe another year before I’m actually asked to leave. I’ve spoken to several of my neighbors and we all feel the same way. It’s sad, but what can you do? I don’t have the money to fight it and I don’t really want to. My boyfriend and I are looking for a house; a place we’ll share and start a new life together. This place has always been temporary, but now that I think about it, it’s been the adventure of a lifetime. I found myself here and now I find myself wishing I could stay. In a couple of years, this fine old house will be replaced with fancy new condos. It will cater to working professionals and yuppies. New residents will over pay for the clever location, reaping the benefits of walking distance entertainment. They’ll enjoy the new Whole Foods down the street and will get used to the dinging of the metro rail gates just blocks away. This town has changed forever. It will continue changing and so will I. Just as I’ve grown up here, so will Pasadena herself. She will blossom into some unrecognizable place until even I don’t know it anymore.

Off I Go

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Several years ago, one of the things I used to love to do was wake up and write in my blog. I’d write about the things that happened the night before. Most times I’d write things that would never see the light of day. I just liked getting up and writing. The sun wouldn’t be up. I’d have my coffee and cigarette and I’d just type. Typed like a fiend. It was a nice way to start the day.

Tuesday morning, January 9th, somewhere between 5am and work. My boyfriend is in San Fransisco for MacWorld. Not that I have all that much interest in MacWorld, but it would be nice to be in San Fransisco. I don’t go there as often as I should. My sister lives a good half hour from the city now. Going to SF is no longer an excuse to see my sister or visa versa. I’ll come up with new reasons.

January 2007 is off to a better start than 2006. Last year around this time I was getting over bronchitis and a thrown out back which occurred simultaneously. I was also podcasting every week. I miss that. I miss having that extra time to do whatever. I miss not being absolutely consumed by work. Something’s got to change. It will. I have plans now. I have a mission. I know now what I must do. I’ve accepted the pleasant realization that I was not made to work for the man. I was in fact, made to work for myself. Once I worked from home for a year. I was capitalizing on the dot.com boom and building websites; most of which I got ripped off for. I was inexperienced at running a home business and failed at it miserably. I was however, happier and far more productive. I’d like to eventually find myself working from home again. I’d like the freedom to travel, to write, to podcast, to take pictures of things other than novelty key chains. As for my current situation. I’m done complaining. It’s no longer a matter of fixing or changing things. It’s about tolerating in the interim. Sad, huh? Yeah. It’s sad when a job becomes less than glittery. I’ve never been the kind of person that can stand the humdrum of employment for very long. I’ve never been able to work to live. I must live to work. I desperately need something that challenges me, allows me to thrive. I’m no longer challenged and I’m not thriving. A few more years of this and I’ll suffocate completely. Honestly though, I shouldn’t complain. It’s a good job and I like most of the people I work with. A lot of people would love to have my job. It’s great experience. Something learned.

Last night my brother and I watched several hours of old cartoons and TV show intros from the 80′s. The internets is a wonderful thing. Shows like Small Wonder, Angie, On the Television, Rainbow Brite, Kidd Video, and numerous others brought back flashes of memory. Wow. Before the era of YouTube, I used to wonder how many others remembered the silly shows I watched as a kid. It’s more than I thought. All of us, little kids in our tiny pajamas getting up at the crack of dawn to watch Shirt Tales and the Get Along Gang. It’s something my generation will share. Something my boyfriend’s kids have no concept of.

Time for work. Off I go.