Project Remoxification (a photo essay response to Hank's 10/1/07 video)

I was watching today's Brotherhood 2.0 video, and wanted to make a response video of me putting stuff on my head. However, I have no digital camcorder. Ergo. iSight photo essay:



This is me saying "Hi John and Hank! It's Tuesday, October 2nd, I should be asleep right now. But I'm not. I'm making a photo essay about putting stuff on my head. Well, really, just one thing. Because I watched Hank's video- the original one, from March- and he's right. I, like the non-Kurt residents of Missoula, Montana, am getting marginally stupider as I get older. Now, let me be frank here as I make my let-me-be-frank-with-you face:



When it comes to being smart about the awesomeness of doing stupid things, I think I've always been ahead of the decepticon pack. I mean, even now as a marginally-more-stupid-22-year-old-me, I would TOTALLY take a peep from Hank if he were giving them away on the street. Well, if I liked peeps. And if I wasn't worried they were poisoned. So, actually, I might not take a peep. BUT! I wouldn't have breezed on by, yanking my child's hand while looking straight ahead and whispering 'See, sweetie, that's what happens when you do drugs and your parents don't love you. You become a crazy peep-touting street person.' I would have stopped and talked and laughed and Hank probably would have made my day. I mean, heck, just because I'm a future librarian:



doesn't mean I'm suddenly a square. I still make friends with oddly dressed people on the bus, take theme dressing (for parties, etc.) Very Seriously, and perform karaoke every Tuesday-- singing songs like "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls, no less-- so it isn't like I'm entirely bereft of moxie. But there was a time when I wouldn't blink before singing showtunes on top of the patio tables outside my local ice cream parlor in the middle of December, a time when I would come into school dressed as Audrey Hepburn on May 4th to celebrate her birthday no matter how many weird looks it earned me, a time when sometimes I wore a a crown to school just because I felt like it. In other words, a time when I was a moxie millionaire. These halcyon days seem to have slipped away without me realizing it. I have suddenly grown more staid and cautious, more safe and comfortable, more of a goldifish and less of a salmon. WELL, not any more! I am going to reclaim that time, starting TODAY (!!!) by putting Stuff On My Head. Or rather, by putting this on my head:



Now, what's the significance of this stuffed gorilla, you ask? Why is THIS where you're starting with Project Remoxification (tm)? I'll tell you, Dear Readers: this is the stuffed gorilla my moxie-rific mother sent me in a care package in December after I finished the excruciating first draft of my history thesis. You can't tell from these photos, but NOT ONLY does this stuffed gorilla wear a red baseball cap, he also DANCES and plays The Macarena. My mo(xie)ther sent this gorilla to me with a mandate: I was supposed to take him around with me to all my professors, turn on the music, and make them do the Macerena with me. This mandate... didn't so much get carried out. I kind of made this face:



put the gorilla away in a drawer, and went home and took a nap instead. Now, considering the fact that I had been quite literally living in a computer lab for close to three weeks at this point, I think my reaction re: nap-taking was quite reasonable. But my reaction re: drawer-putting? Unacceptable. The rememedy? Embrace my gorilla and all his moxie-generating potential:



And put that gorilla ON MY HEAD:









And all I can say is this. On the Second Day (of October) Margaret remade her moxie, and she took her moxie, turned it into a photo essay, and saw that that moxie was good. In other words: thanks Hank and John- I'll see you tomorrow!"

(the end)