A Wish

Sometimes the best Christmas wish is one you can wish for someone else, even if it could only be a wish. The undeniable realization of mortality has unfortunately knocked on the door of someone I love and they are currently dealing with the loss of someone before their soul and body have even parted this earth.

My wish is for my sister and that she will be able to always remember her grandmother the way she was when my sister was growing up, instead of the way she is now. Recently Grandma Gloria was diagnosed with dementia and my sister Tosha is watching the strong independent woman who raised her slip away right before of her eyes.

Grandma Gloria is Tosha's paternal grandmother. Gloria, along with Tosha's maternal grandmother Pat, raised Tosha for most of her life. They are the ones to give credit to for Tosha becoming an intelligent, strong willed and wise person.

Growing up, I remember every year one of the things Tosha treasured most at Christmas was a package she received in the mail from Grandma Gloria. It was their tradition, it was their special connection. It was Tosha's childhood stocking. The stocking itself seemed to be pieced together from ancient fabrics, almost as if it was made from a family quilt, tattered at the edges but still thick, warm and comforting. It was always filled to the brim with precious treasures individually wrapped. There were perfume scented soaps and foil wrapped chocolates. Most of all the sock was filled to the brim with thoughtfulness and love.

Grandma Gloria was diagnosed with semantic dementia this fall and her mind has been slipping as fast as it seems the color of the leaves are changing. This particular condition is caused by atrophy of the front temporal lobe of the brain. Those affected by it have a difficult time with the meaning of words. They get mixed up. For example, Grandma Gloria told her great grand daughter she would get her some water for her cereal and she also couldn't figure out what Italian salad dressing was. As the condition worsens so does the symptoms. Soon Grandma Gloria won't be able to look of a picture of a dog and know that is in fact a dog.

It is said that after being diagnosed patients are given five to ten years left of their life, it is estimated that Grandma Gloria has had semantic dementia for about five years already. And as if this wasn't enough for a family to endure Grandma Gloria was also diagnosed with multiple myeloma which is cancer of the white blood cells. Because Grandma Gloria's body is failing her the family is trying to get her into a nursing home as soon as possible. Unfortunately soon she will be unable to care for herself and could possibly become a danger to herself and others.

It is a sad state of affairs this Christmas season. I would not wish on my worst enemy to have to watch someone they love hopelessly deteriorate before their eyes, let alone my best friend in the world.

Me and my sister are not related by blood but we adopted each other into our respected families over 15 years ago. She is the one who is trusted above all in my life, my oracle, my confidant. She is the one person who doesn't tell me what I want to hear but instead what I need to hear. So Tosha, this is my Christmas wish to you. I wish you the strength and the courage (that I already know you have) to face this mountain you are climbing. I wish that you will always remember your grandmother as the woman she was to you growing up like taking you bungee jumping in Lake Tahoe when you were only a teenager and making sure to always send you your stocking every Christmas. And if you want, if it would help, you could send me your stocking and every year I will make sure it is filled with just as much love and consideration as Grandma Gloria would have and she could live on in your tradition. Until the day I die sister, I love you.

Leftovers

The sun still hasn't risen the day after Thanksgiving. During the night wind blew in fresh rain over the foothills in Grass Valley, Calif. The house was quiet; the faint ticking of the clock in the living room and my daughter breathing heavily next to me was the only noises to be heard.

Except for the rumbling in my stomach.

It's 4:30 in the morning and all I could think about was FOOD. I was mentally beating myself up for not accepting leftovers my cousin offered to us over and over again. The first taste that teased my memory was my cousins raspberry tart which had me sweetly and sourly tossing and turning. Then I began trying to recreate the familiar yet special taste of turkey smothered with cranberry sauce and the battling flavors of the cornbread stuffing and the traditional stuffing. Then I remembered that right next to the stuffing on my plate was the green bean casserole. This is when I decided I had to suppress these cravings and try and get back to sleep.

There was no reason my body should require nourishment. I had plenty to eat the night before including dessert and my fair share of adult beverages. When I fell asleep I was fat and happy.

I reassured myself that we had set plans to meet some cousins for breakfast fairly early and my stomach could wait till then.

The household woke up and we headed to breakfast. Two cups of coffee, a bloody mary, and half of my plate of corned beef and hash had my stomach full, but it was still not satisfied. We said our goodbyes to our beloved family and started the drive down the hill back to Sacramento. It was then the realization that I might not have the privilege of savoring Thanksgiving leftovers hit me and I became sad. Almost as if I was trying to subdue a sudden feeling of panic I reminded myself the situation was out of my control and I shouldn't let a craving spoil a fun night planned out with friends.

So that's what I did, had a great time at a concert in San Francisco with some of my favorite musical misfits. The music and the fun had taken my mind off of the depressing fantasy of a "to-go" Thanksgiving. It wasn't until the next morning when we began to stir and speak of plans for the day that my friend mentioned something about leftovers up at his house.

My heart skipped a beat. I tried to control my excitement for fear of seeming to anxious and deflecting an invitation. Finally after hours we all set course for destination Colfax, Calif. The California foothills seems to be the place where all the leftovers were hiding.

Our hosts were gracious and generous. Before I knew it the table was filled with their Thanksgiving leftovers. The homemade cranberry sauce zapped me back to my dinner two nights before when I explained to my Uncle Carlos, visiting from Alaska, that cranberry sauce might be my favorite. The yams were the best I ever tasted (and I don't even like yams), not candied but still sweet with brown sugar. Then I remembered from my previous dinner the great yams vs sweet potatoes debate with my cousin and her husband. The mystery casserole was brought over by one of my hosts uncles; no body sitting around the table cared we didn't know what was in it because it was good. The main course of our leftover dinner wasn't the pickings from a turkey carcass but instead a bowl filled with fresh cracked crab. While I worked through the crab shells to reap the rewards of succulent, melt in my mouth crab meat I thought of my father who was in Europe exploring and having the time of his life during the holiday. And finally to top off a perfect dinner we feasted on pecan pie; the pecans melted in my mouth. This experience reminded me of my Aunt Landa's pecan/pumpkin pie and her story of having to make a new one for Thanksgiving because they ate the original the night before!

It wasn't until I began writing this that I became aware that the feeling of hunger I woke up with at 4:30 in the morning wasn't just a hunger for food. It was the sensation of the taste that takes me to memories of the people I love and how important it is to make new memories. The reward of our leftover dinner made me thankful of my family and friends who make my life so flavorful. However, another important lesson was learned; never deny offered leftovers, I might need them sooner than thought.

Sons of Anarchy

Outlaws; slaves to the open road but some how blessed with a special freedom.

The biker; the smell of leather, exhaust, cheap booze and cigarettes, struggles with an internal conflict to do right by his club while trying to change his moral boundaries at the same time.

The outlaws are the Sons of Anarchy, and they run things in their neck of the woods, a small and cleverly named town Charming, California. They are a one percent motorcycle club (MC) named Samcro and they are hell bent on their town staying the way it is without anyone coming in to tell them what or how to do things.

Jax Teller is the biker (Charlie Hunnam). Jax, vice president of the MC, is trying to defend his legacy, the club, by changing its direction. Jax is haunted by a manuscript written by his late father (founder of the club) and is constantly at a power struggle with his step father and club president Clarence 'Clay' Morrow (Ron Perlman). Clays wife and Jax's mother, Gemma Teller Morrow (Katey Segal), is truly the matriarch of the MC and will go through great lengths to protect her territory and her men.

Currently in the saga of the Sons of Anarchy the sweet town of Charming is in turmoil. The MC's primary source of income is running guns and their livelihood is being threatened. They are trying to defend their club and their town while enemy's are coming at them from all sides. White separatists have moved into Charming and are trying to take over Samcro's gun running business by stealing their connection with the Irish pipeline while at the same time causing all sorts of problems.

Sons of Anarchy is well into its second season on the continuously 'on the edge' network, FX. Kurt Sutter is the creator and executive producer of the show who also created the dramatic police series called The Shield. Kurt Sutter is also actress Katey Segal's real life husband, but don't be fooled by Katey's relationship with the creator. There is no better person on this earth who could play this roll better than her. Lets just say, after you see her in this saga you will forget who Peggy Bunndy even was. The talent doesn't stop with her, the whole cast is lined with actors from all different levels of experience but they all have this writer convinced of their rolls in this powerful television show.

Sons of Anarchy is brutal, violent, sexy, and explicit all wrapped up into one loving and faithful dysfunctional family. Every episode carries a character deeper and deeper into a twisted web of surfacing history within the club. It is addicting and will leave you sitting on the edge of your seat, screaming at the television, smiling and crying all at the same time.

Red Numbers

The room is black.

Even the glowing red numbers are shelved by the neighboring nightstand. The last time curiosity won, the time was 3:24, wonder what time it is now? Was the cat fed? Mom hasn't called back yet, hope everything is OK. I can't believe I put off writing my column, again. Better work on it in the morning, if I wake up on time. Tomorrow you have to do laundry, and clean the bathrooms. They're gross. Oh shoot, when is your next Spanish exam? Cuando tu cumplianos?

Wonder what time it is....3:44.

If the thoughts inside any of your heads sound close to this at night, chances are you are suffering from insomnia. The red numbers constantly changing next to your bed could bring an intruding feeling of hopelessness and doom.





Someone who suffering from insomnia is constantly at battle, trying to balance their everyday lives while feeling irritable, cranky, and tired. One in three people suffer from some level of insomnia every year, and it is one of the most common reported health problems.

There are three different levels of insomnia. Transient insomnia doesn't last longer than a week and is most likely caused by a change of sleep schedule such as traveling or moving. Insomnia that occurs inside a month is called short-term insomnia and is caused by stress or a worry and normally sleep patterns return to normal once the issue is resolved. The third level is chronic insomnia; it lasts longer than a month and is normally due to another disease or condition. It is estimated that almost ten percent of people suffer from chronic insomnia.

Wait! There are some simple life style changes you can make to help you sleep at night.

Make sure your room is clean and comfortable. Being in an environment where you can relax will help you fall asleep faster and easier.

Make sure to use your bed for nothing other than sleep or sex.

If you find yourself worrying about everyday problems or feel overwhelmed try making a list or writing in a journal. Putting these thoughts on paper will help free your mind.

If you still find yourself restless try reading a book or a doing a low impact activity until you feel tired.

Avoid drinking alcohol, caffeine or smoking cigarettes before bed. These things are stimulants and will keep you awake.

Avoid exercise for at least four hours before bed time.

Unfortunately it is difficult for college students to keep the same sleeping schedule, but if it possible try and go to sleep and wake up at the same time every day.

There are a number of other things one could try, such as meditation or drinking chamomile tea before bed time. But if you are still having problems falling asleep or staying asleep it is time to see your doctor. As mentioned earlier chronic insomnia could be due to another disease or illness. Someone who suffers from depression or anxiety could sometimes need professional help and possibly medication. Or sometimes the doctor could just temporarily prescribe a sleep aid and this could help kick your sleep schedule back into gear.

Life can be challenging enough without having to face the day with missing sleep. With a good nights rest you will be more alert in class, retain information better and be happier. Just remember, if you find yourself staring at the red numbers in the middle of the night, your not alone.

Melissa Maerz's Mixtape of Music Journalism

Making a name for herself in the journalism and music industry, Melissa Maerz has seen music journalism change right before her eyes. Much of her work is writing reviews and blogging about music. Her name has inscribed the by lines of some of the country's top magazines.

Maerz graduated from Cornell University with a Bachelor's degree in Literary and Critical Theory. Although she doesn't have traditional training in journalism she said, "critical theory gave me really good analytical tools that helped me shape my arguments in my writing." She also says during her career she has met journalists who have diverse educational back grounds and the best experience comes from working in the field itself.

Maerz started at a weekly alternative newspaper called City Pages (much like the Sacramento News and Review) based out of the twin cities, Minneapolis and St. Paul. She describes her four years at City Pages as "fantastic," and she was able to work with an editor it seems she truly respected.

From here she got a job at Spin magazine which she admits she got partly by luck. Unfortunately, Maerz left Spin after two years because a change of ownership and a conflict of interests. She said, "we got a new editor and I wasn't necessarily happy with the direction the magazine was going in."

So from here she set out to New York Magazine where Mearz launched, edited and co-founded an arts and entertainment blog named "Vulture." Maerz says she loved her job at New York Magazine and it is still one of her favorite publications because they are unmatched in the area of online coverage.

Shortly after her start at New York Magazine she was contacted by Rolling Stone and they made Maerz an offer she couldn't refuse. So she left her position and started work as a senior editor. Unfortunately after almost two years she waslaid off from her position. The long arm of the changing world of journalism seemed to reach everywhere. She, and some fellow editors, waslaid off she said, "It wasn't a personal decision - I was one of the last people hired, so I was one of the first to get let go." CurrentlyMaerz is a freelance writer. She says she loves working from home and not having to report to a boss. Plus she also says she contributes to Rolling Stone more now than she did being under her payroll!

Maerz describes the changing journalism world in detail, especially that which effects the music business. Aside from the obvious factor of a broken economy music magazines are suffering because of other reasons. Just like magazines and news papers people are turning to online sources for their music. Because of illegal downloading bands make less money and have less money to spend on advertising in music magazines. Plus,Maerz says, because there is more access to new music online there is less of a reason for people to rely on the opinion of a music critic. Make no mistake,Maerz doesn't think all of these changes are a bad thing. In fact she thinks these factors force both musicians and music magazines to be more creative. There is nothing wrong with some healthy competition.

It was very interesting to read Maerz's articles from over the years. In fact it was surprising to watch her voice and style change. When she wrote for City Pages it seemed fresh and raw, and dare I say more personal. Don't take this the wrong way; Maerz is a very talented writer. It seems the journey from a small weekly newspaper to the offices of some of the most respected music magazines in the world has put her writ ting in the category of main stream rather than the independent style it once had.

Faster Than the Speed of Fast Food

In the current era of health conscious America, eaters are always looking for a fast, easy, healthy alternative to the big name, boring card board hamburger joints.

Chipotle is the package deal.

It was a busy Saturday, just after noon in the Birdcage Shopping Center off of Sunrise Boulevard.

The decor was simple but yet not boring. Wood molding and corrugated steal lined the eating area and corridor where customers formed a line. Aztec style art of the same material casually decorated the restaurant walls.

The menu is clearly organized in a build your-own-meal sort of way. First you choose the type: burrito, fajita burrito, burrito bowl, tacos, or salad. Then you choose what goes inside: Chicken, steak, carnitas, barbacoa or vegetarian. As you move down the line you can see employees prepare your meal. Next, and perhaps the most important, is the choice of salsa: fresh tomato (mild), roasted chili-corn (medium), tomatillo-green chili (medium hot), or tomatillio- red chili (hot).


I chose three tacos with soft tortillas and barbacoa (braised, shredded beef). I topped my tacos with cheese, romaine lettuce and a combination of fresh and hot salsas. The spice had just enough kick for my cheeks to draw in some extra help from outside air, but not enough to fry my taste buds. It is in my personal belief chips and salsa should be included in any mexican meal but at Chipotle they are purchased separately for $1.65. Regardless of the extra charge I got them and was satisfied with my choice.

Chipotle does serve a variety of domestic and authentic beers and if your feeling a little frisky margaritas are available. But don't expect to get any salt for the brim of your cup; they don't carry it.

At large, the experience was delightful. As we walked in the door my party had ordered, paid and sat down to eat in about five minutes time. All of the seats indoors were full so we opted to sit out side, luckily it was a dry day in autumn. There were umbrellas set up to block the intruding sun but unfortunately they were established in a stationary way and could not be altered to the direction the sun was facing. This was not a very big discomfort considering we were finished with our meal in under an hour.

For two people, two meals, a beer, a margarita and a side of chips and salsa we paid $22.67.

Fresh and naturally raised ingredients is definitely worth paying the extra couple of dollars compared to buying lunch at a popular fast food joint. Nutritional facts are listed with detail on Chipotle's to-go menu which is readily available at check out.

Although there is not an option to pull up to a drive-thru window to pick up your meal there are about 55 conveniently located restaurants throughout the greater Sacramento area. Chipotle also has the option of ordering your meal online to further add to the quickness of your dining experience. And for those with technological advances there is also an application for your iPhone so you can place your order.

Oh and if your costume is delicious, go into Chipotle dressed as a Boo-rito on Halloween and you get a free meal!


http://www.chipotle.com

Back to the Youth

The Beach Boys, The Who, The Ramones, and Black Flag all have one thing in common: The Queers!

And, you missed it. Sacramento proudly welcomed musical legends, "The Queers" Saturday night at the Kennel Club on Auburn Boulevard.



The Queers from Portsmouth, New Hampshire were originally formed in 1982. After signing to Lookout! Records (Berkeley, CA) in 1992, at the same time as Green Day, they began touring and never looked back. They have since released dozens of albums.

Saturday night was one stop on their "Pop Punk" tour across the United States before voyaging over the Atlantic to tour Italy and Spain. The show was all ages and Sacramento did a great job representing its love for the music by filling the place with bodies of all different stages of life. Patrons under the legal drinking age stood out by their glowing wrist bands that radiated under black lights. To be honest, it looked like a high school party from the early 90's with beer and tattoos. People proudly displayed their altered shirts with their favorite band names, patches, chains, mo-hawks, and smiles.

Three Sacramento bands opened that night, one of which are considered legendary all in themselves; The Secretions. This colorful trio of veteran Sacramento musicians always deliver. They bring to the stage presence, passion, and character. They played three shows with The Queers (the night before in San Fransisco, and the night after in Fresno). Part of their set included five pop punk songs to tribute The Queers' pop tour. Danny Secretion (drummer and vocalist) told a tale of the show that preceded and promised the performance would leave the audiences shorts in need of changing.



As The Queers took stage they delivered what was promised. Joe Queer (guitar,lead vocals), Dangerous Dave (bass, vocals), and Lurch (drums, vocals) moved through their set flawlessly as the crowed danced and every single person on the floor had a dirty pants grin on their face from ear to ear. Perhaps even more surprising than The Queers covering The Who's, "The Kids are Alright," was that all the kids were singing along, word for word. The Queers classic, "Punk Rock Girl" had everyone excited; also the band showed off their musicianship with their tribute to Dick Dale and surf music with an all instrumental song.

After the band finished their set and exited the stage the whole place started chanting, "Holy Shit, Holy Shit," (at the suggestion of Danny Secretion) and The Queers came out for an encore performance.






Perhaps one of the most refreshing qualities of The Queers was that they were not intimidating. They got on stage in plain clothes, t-shirt and jeans. They didn't need to put on a persona or classify themselves as a certain genre. They just got on stage and played their music, and did it well. They allowed their influences to shine through them, but did it in a style all their own.


Anyone would have enjoyed this show, regardless of misconceptions of punk rock. The proof lays with the parents who brought their kids to the show and the 60 year old man with green hair, they were dancing just as hard as the teenagers.

For more information and to find out about up coming shows please visit;

http://www.myspace.com/secretions
http://www.myspace.com/thequeers
www.thequeersrock.com
http://www.myspace.com/theenlows
http://www.myspace.com/thenogoodniksrock

The Sky is Falling! The Sky is Falling!

Chicken Little...err I mean William Tierney wants his readers to believe that the roof could some day collapse on the California State University program. His possible answer to the problem? A buy out from The Apollo Group's University of Phoenix. His propagandistic article, "Will CSU's motto someday be 'I am a Phoenix?'" outlines a questionable announcement from an un-named future Governor of California that the University of Phoenix is buying out CSU's for $2.3 billion in 2010. The fabricated reasoning behind it? Well selling public education would render more profit then selling off state parks which only, "nets a few hundred million dollars." The crisis was blamed on, "The previous administration," our current administration. What about the administration before that? Regardless of who is pointing fingers and whom they're pointing them to, a simple fact still remains; the bigger the mess, the longer it takes to clean up. Selling to the University of Pheonix will only put California's future on the fast track to half fast education. Sam Dillion, from the New York Times, said in his article, "Troubles Grow for University of Pheonix, Built on Profit," they have a graduation rate of only 16 percent. Although as of 2009 the Online Education Data Base puts the graduation rate are a mere four percent. These rates are disturbing considering the UoP is one of the fastest growing university's with one of the highest enrollment rates. Why is that? Well because the UoP is a for-profit educational system. They are concerned more about getting students in door, applied and excepted for financial aid than providing them with quality education on an individual face to face basis. Corporations are always more interested in lining their pockets and look at students as a number rather than the future leaders of our state and our country. A point brought up in Dillions article is the fact that UoP, "gets more federal student financial aid than any other." What is the money being used for if only four percent of their students are graduating? Furthermore, how is this affecting currents student in the CSU program? There are many students well into their third month of school and still have not seen a penny of their federal financial aid. As far as the quality of education goes there is much for debate. Also stated in Dillions article, students at the UoP only spend an average of 20 to 24 hours with an instructor in the duration of a course vs a student at a traditional university has the opportunity to spend at least 40 hours with an instructor. This, of course, was written before the incorporation of furlough days at CSU's which has forced instructors to cut course material and students to receive less education. Two days a month already hurts, it is hard to imagine 50 percent less class time. The University of Pheonix claims to have a high satisfaction rate from students. It was disturbing to find testimonies upon reviewing consumeraffairs.com. Jody from Brigham City, Utah, told of her account of being relentlessly pressured and eventually cornered into thousands of dollars of unwanted student loans. She was told to go ahead and start her classes before she had received her acceptance letter from FAFSA. " I asked her what would happen if I didn't get aid, and she replied again that things looked really good for me and to go ahead and start," wrote Jody. In the end Jody was forced to take the maximum amount of student loans, which she didn't want in the first place, and was penalized for dropping her classes. Other testimonials that stood out were as follows: "Over the last two years I have gone through hell with the University of Phoenix and I do not wish for anyone in any country to go through similar experiences," Jackie of Newbury Park, CA June 6, 2009. "I want to be in a class action lawsuit against UoP. I feel terribly wronged by them and am looking for other people who want to join a class action lawsuit," Elizabeth of North Chicago, IL June 9, 2009. The University of Pheonix is the big bad wolf, CSU's are little red riding hood. William Tierney and other whistle blowers like him are Chicken Little yelling that the sky is falling. Although common sense says this idea is far fetched and it is hard to believe it could ever happen, if in fact it did happen California will be in big trouble. http://www.sacbee.com/1190/story/2227503.html http://www.aznews.us/troubles_grow_for_university_of_phoenix,_built_on_profits.htm http://www.consumeraffairs.com/education/phoenix.html

Prison is a Place

Prison is a place where the first prisoner you see looks like an all American college boy and you're surprised.
Later you're disgusted because people on the outside still have the same prejudices about prisoners that you used to have.

Prison is a place where you write letters and can't think of anything to say; where you gradually write fewer and fewer letters and finally stop writing all together.

Prison is a place where you learn that nobody needs you, that the outside world goes on without you.

Prison is a place where you are smarter than the parole board because you know which guys will go straight and which ones won't. You're wrong just as often as they are, but you never admit it and neither do they.

Prison is a place where you see men that you do not admire and wonder if you are like them.

The previous is part of a poem anonymously submitted from a California prisoner. A poem which powerfully captures emotion and point of view from anyone that could be stuck in the California prison system.

It is no secret the California prison system is broken. In fact California spends more on correction than any other state, ten percent of the general fund according to Senator Mark Leno during a joint Public Safety Hearing on Reducing Prison Recidivism.

The answer to reducing recidivism and lowering spending on prisons all together is not the answer people want to hear. But people need to hear it: We need to give more to prisons now to in turn give less to them later.

The satisfaction:

By spending more on prisoner education programs it will reduce recidivism, reduce prison population and reduce crime rates. This is beneficial to public safety and also promotes prison safety, not to mention advantages for inmates and their families.

The Need:

The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation places the average inmate reading level at 7th grade. Jody Lewen, executive director of the Prison University Project, believes it is lower. In fact she also believes an inmate having 7th grade reading, writing, and math skills are an exception. Seventy percent of inmates released from prisons are functionally illiterate; this leaves them with barely enough skills to get a job, let alone keep one. After the first 18 months 75 percent of released inmates are unemployed and 70 percent of them return to prison. In total there are roughly 170,000 inmates in California and to house one inmate for one year it costs $46,000.

You do the math.

The Prison University Project is a volunteer based program at San Quentin State Prison. According to the Prison University project newsletter the program offers 12 classes each semester in humanities, math, physical and social sciences as well as college prep classes and pre-release academic advising. Furthermore, the program receives no state or federal funding, inmates are loaned text books which are all donated from publishers.

Larry King asked Jody Lewen what surprised her most about being a teacher at San Quentin after she began, she replied, "The normalcy of the students, of the people here...I mean there's something very jarring about the realization that there are so many compassionate, intelligent creative people inside. I think that was disturbing."

Unfortunately the Prison University Project is the only one of its kind. Funding will have to come from somewhere in order to implement other projects at other prisons around the state. One prison trying to make a difference is not enough. "Out of all the forms of correctional education the strongest gains come from post secondary education. Twice a great of a chance of not going back to prison," said Jonathan Simon from the Berkeley Center for Criminal Justice.

Prison is a Place where the system is blamed for draining state funds, contributing to an already taxed budget crisis, and not even rehabilitating the inmates it houses. In order for these men and women stuck in the California State Prison system to return to be functioning members of society, they need to be educated. Fixing a problem is always better than ignoring it.

There was a Riot in Tahoe, Tell Me, Where Were You?

The names and identities of the characters in this story have not been changed for their protection, truthfully they really don't give a shit.

Being friends with bands definitely has its perks, one of them being transportation to out of town shows. On this hot, sticky, Sacramento summer day Rob, the bass player for The Left Hand picked me up from my apartment. Our destination was Tahoe.

It was the weekend before school started and seemed the perfect opportunity for an end of the summer blow out. Crammed in the back seat was my wheelchair, part of the drum kit and eventually this guy Doc, whom we picked up in Placerville on the ride up the hill.

We had made this trek before and already knew the drill. We met up with the rest of the band and other friends at the hotel room across the street from the Whiskey Dicks Saloon were the band would be playing later in the evening. Vic (lead singer) and his lady Vanessa were taking a nap and were trying to shake the pre-show jitters after getting into a confrontation with other hotel patrons.




An unsavory Irish man asked Vic if it was OK if Vanessa came and took a nap with him. Of course Vic said no, that was definitely not OK. This set the stage for events which would unfold later on in the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

The show went off with out a hitch, it was great. Pruno, rockabily punk rock band kicked off the festivities with style and high energy. Next we were graced with the musical talents of Pintlifter who traveled all the way from Chico, California. Pintlifter played songs that got the audience involved; they had a captivating way of performing stories. They even sang a song about Pabst Blue Ribbon; fitting because Pabst was the beer of choice that night, enjoyed by all. Then The Left Hand rocked the house, friends, new and old dance the night away. Vic still is undefeated in his notorious on stage beer drinking contest; I pizza cutted peoples toes with my wheelchair in the mosh pit; the floor was sticky with beer and sweat.

In summary the night went just as most nights go in a life of musical misfits, that is until we returned to the hotel rooms with all the bands and all the fans and totally Motley Crue'd that place.

Remember that unsavory Irish man from earlier? Well, he had friends. Six loud, obnoxious, drunken Irish men with heavy accents joined our party filled with tattoo'd punk rockers from Sacramento. Lets just say there was a bit of a cultural gap.

Interesting piece of information: people in Ireland don't burp, at least not in public. One obnoxious Irishman was disgusted, appalled, even astounded when a girl at the party left out a satisfying belch. He explained to us that in his culture people, especially women, wait until they are in private to release the after effects of over carbonation. He was no doubt calling us drunken obnoxious Americans in his head.

Personally, I spent much of the night trying to get as far away from Irishmen as I could. There was something about them that just didn't sit right. Every time I attempted to carry on a conversation with one of them they got two inches from my face. Even when they were at a comfortable speaking distance, their accent was so deep it was hard making out what they were trying to say.

Sure, things went well for a while. Irish guy #1 even shook Vic's hand and apologized for his rude comment about his girlfriend, an attempt to settle the air. Twenty five people hung out, talked music and were generally having fun...that is until someone dared someone else to round house kick the lamp in the hotel room. A little advice, don't ever dare someone who has been drinking to do something, because chances are they are going to do it.

Needless to say we got kicked out of that hotel room, and somehow ended up back at the Irish guys hotel room. That lasted for about a whole five minutes until they got mad because someone put a beer in the microwave. Not a smart idea.

I left the room as soon as the yelling started and the testosterone started seeping, I went around the corner, as I did I heard glass shattering. Soon after it was a free for all. All of the sudden the hotel just started spewing out people. Some were fighting, others were just running to get out of there. It is certain not one person knew exactly what was going on. A friend even said they were just trying to make sure none of our friends were getting beat up, he was just going around pulling obnoxious drunk Irish guys off people.





From this point on it was hard to calculate a direct sequence of events. There was so much going on from so many different angles. A couple of fights broke out right in front of the hotel room. Another mob of people took off across Highway 50 back towards The Whiskey Dicks. That guy Doc called the police and a cab; he went home to Placerville that night, well by this point morning.

The police must have already been notified because upon inspection the back of the hotel a couple of people were being questioned by the cops. I hid behind a mini van for a while until my friends wife called and I had to explain to her why her husband was being questioned and possibly arrested.

By this time it was 4 a.m. and in front of the hotel were six cop cars, two ambulances and a fire truck.

No one got to sleep until after 6 a.m. Of course everyone had to recount the event over and over again, in detail. Everyone had their side of the story and what they saw.

As I lie there laughing to myself about the randomness that I witnessed that night, trying to figure out how I could recap the event on paper, I could still hear six obnoxious drunken Irishmen with heavy accents downstairs partying. But I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Then I let out a little good night burp.

There was a Riot in Tahoe, Tell Me, Where Were You?

The names and identities of the characters in this story have not been changed for their protection, truthfully they really don't give a shit.

Being friends with bands definitely has its perks, one of them being transportation to out of town shows. On this hot, sticky, Sacramento summer day Rob, the bass player for The Left Hand picked me up from my apartment. Our destination was Tahoe.

It was the weekend before school started and seemed the perfect opportunity for an end of the summer blow out. Crammed in the back seat was my wheelchair, part of the drum kit and eventually this guy Doc, whom we picked up in Placerville on the ride up the hill.

We had made this trek before and already knew the drill. We met up with the rest of the band and other friends at the hotel room across the street from the Whiskey Dicks Saloon were the band would be playing later in the evening. Vic (lead singer) and his lady Vanessa were taking a nap and were trying to shake the pre-show jitters after getting into a confrontation with other hotel patrons.




Apparently, an unsavory Irish man asked Vic if it was OK with him if his girlfriend came and took a nap with him. Obviously Vic said no, that was definitely not OK. This set the stage to events that would unfold later on in the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

The show went off with out a hitch, it was great. Pruno, rockabily punk rock band kicked off the festivities with style and high energy. Next we were graced with the musical talents of Pintlifter who traveled all the way from Chico, California. Pintlifter played songs that got the audience involved; they had a captivating way of telling stories through song. They even sang a song about Pabst Blue Ribbon, which was fitting because that was the beer of choice that night, enjoyed by all. Then The Left Hand rocked the house, friends, new and old dance the night away. Vic still is undefeated in his notorious on stage beer drinking contest, I pizza cutted peoples toes with my wheelchair in the mosh pit, and the floor was sticky with beer and sweat.

In summary the night went just as most nights go in a life of musical misfits, that is until we returned to the hotel rooms with all the bands and all the fans and totally Motley Crue'd that place.

Remember that unsavory Irish man from earlier? Well, he had friends. Six loud, obnoxious, drunken Irish men with heavy accents joined our party filled with tattoo'd punk rockers from Sacramento. Lets just say there was a bit of a cultural gap. Interesting piece of information: people in Ireland don't burp, at least not in public.

Sure, things went well for a while. Irish guy #1 even shook Vic's hand and apologized for his rude comment about his girlfriend, an attempt to settle the air. Twenty five people hung out, talked music and were generally having fun...that is until someone dared someone else to round house kick the lamp in the hotel room. A little advice, don't ever dare someone who has been drinking to do something, because chances are they are going to do it.

Needless to say we got kicked out of that hotel room, and somehow ended up back at the Irish guys hotel room. That lasted for about a whole five minutes until they got mad because someone put a beer in the microwave. Not a smart idea.

I left the room as soon as the yelling started and the testosterone started seeping, I went around the corner and as I did I hear glass shattering. Right after that it was a free for all. All of the sudden the hotel just started spewing out people. Some were fighting, others were just running to get out of there. I really don't think anyone knew exactly what was going on. One person even said they were just trying to make sure none of our friends were getting beat up, he was just going around pulling obnoxious Irish guys off people.







I went up to the front of the hotel to try and figure out why a mob of people went running across the highway chasing someone when I caught that guy Doc calling the police. He ended up taking a cab home all the way back to Placerville that night. The police must have already been notified because upon reaching the back of the hotel I witnessed a couple of people being questioned by the cops. I hid behind a mini van for a while until my friends wife called and I had to explain to her why her husband was being questioned and possibly arrested.

Thats when I went back to the original scene where the drama unfolded and I saw the stretcher. My heart sank. Apparently Vic caught the brunt of the beating and was knocked out. He went to the emergency room for observation. By this time it was 4 a.m. and in front of the hotel were six cop cars, two ambulences and a fire truck.

No one got to sleep until after 6 a.m. and Vic returned safely from the hospital. Of course everyone had to recount the event over and over again, in detail. Everyone had their side of the story and what they saw.

As I lie there laughing to myself about the randomness that I witnessed that night, trying to figure out how I could recap the event on paper I could still hear six obnoxious drunken Irishmen with heavy accents downstairs partying. But I couldn't understand a word they were saying.

Then I let out a little good night burp.

A Day in the Life of a Musical Misfit

Friday night started out just like any other Friday in recent memory. Woke up, prepared for school and sent the child out the door for another day in her educational career.

Although this wasn't just another day, in fact it was the eight year anniversary of Sept. 11. Respectively, this wasn't a day for mourning, this was a day to celebrate life and to celebrate being alive. Which is something I do everyday.

Four years ago I was involved in a serious car accident that resulted in the amputation of both my legs, a fractured hip, and a fractured elbow. Most are shocked when they hear this and it is hard for many to be able to fathom enjoying life after such a tragedy. The fact of the matter is the accident was actually a blessing, and music is something that has improved my quality of life. When I was in the hospital I was taken over by an overwhelming feeling of lose. I lost almost everything, my jobs, my house, my cat, my boyfriend...I could go on and on but it would sound like a country song that you would hate.

The fact of the matter is music was the one thing that could take away this feeling of helplessness. It gave me strength to face everyday, and to face it well. This is the reason why I spend much of my time blanketing myself in the local music scene in Sacramento, CA and this was exactly what I was doing on Sept. 11, 2009.

The venue was Ugly's Tequila Bar in Citrus Heights. The genre, metal.

The first band worth mentioning are Seeds Of Hate, hailing from Santa Rosa, CA. Although it seemed it took a few songs for the band members get into their zone, once they did they were on fire. Stand out song "Art of Combat" is powerfully composed. It was refreshing to be able to differentiate the different notes and melody, especially between the guitars. The music was in a sense, brutally neat. When Seeds of Hate performed Sepultura's "Refuse/Resist" (opening song from their album "Chaos A.D.") the crowd not only went wild, but the band played it well. It was just what everyone needed to get them prepared for what was about to come.

Headlining the show was Trial by Combat, pure Sacto metal from hell. Trial by Combat are a talented quartet who are no doubt on their way to spotlight main stream music. Jesse Grossman, lead singer and vocalist, holds the helm of the band with his strong stance; his voice pointed to the sky as if he were shouting at someone not of this world. Holding down port and aft are guitarists Aaron Duddley and Jesse Palmer who trade off tantalizing solo segments and erotic faces that show they love playing music just as much as the crowd loves watching them play it. Last but not least, and perhaps the power behind the band altogether, is Sam Keegan. He plays the drums like a powerful engine pushing the music at the speed he wants it to go. In the words of famous Joe Strummer, "A band is only as strong as their drummer." Some of the songs that highlighted their set were "Novice Orden," and signature song "Baptized in Battle."

So, in short, it is nights like these and music like this that help me return to a feeling of comfort. The loud, crunchy, comanding music which comes from these bands and this particular genre of music not only enduces the feeling of survival, but gives you the sheer will and determination to take over the world.

For more information on these bands and for upcoming shows visit their websites.

www.myspace.com/seedsofhatenb

www.myspace.com/trialbycombattheband

Save Education at the Cost of Public Safety

Students, teachers, and administrators gathered at Sacramento State University to protest the rise of fees and cuts in education. People proudly chanted and sang songs. Participators held up signs which read "Save My Education," and "They Cut You." The purpose of the rally was to bring to the public attention that fees have increased 32 percent in this semester alone. In the past seven years fees have risen a total of 182 percent.



The budget crisis is no secret. Neither is the fact that students have to pay more for education. After all, students are the ones paying the fees. It was understood what the rally was meant to accomplish; although, it did not hit home for many. In fact it was apparent many of the speakers did not realize the implications of what they suggested.



A young lady voiced her opinion and she felt it unfair that the state funds prisons but student fees are going up. Although many do not realize it but funding prisoner education actually lowers recidivism and contributes to public safety. Educating our prisoners gives them the tools they need in order to contribute to society, reduce their chances of returning to prison and in turn lower the cost of running prisons and then saving money in the states over all budget. Currently California has a recidivism rate of 70 percent! That means seven out of ten prisoners will return to prison for non violent offences.



Furthermore, it was disturbing that not once during the rally did anyone mention the cuts that California's children are facing. Sacramento State students receive a bus pass included with their tuition but children are being forced to walk to school through busy intersections because school buses have been cut. Also community colleges receive funding from the same pool of money that is used to fund elementary and high schools. This means that no instructors at community colleges are being forced to furlough.

Perhaps equally as disturbing was when people began chanting, "Invest in people, tax oil not students." If it's not one thing, it's another. Sure go ahead and tax the oil and then complain about gas prices because students can't afford to drive to school.

No one is happy about the state of our union. Citizens are loosing jobs, becoming homeless, committing more crimes and overcrowding our prisons. Children are missing out on important subjects, like art and music, because we can't afford to pay the teachers. Voters don't want a rise in their taxes, but they also don't want to see their programs affected by budget cuts. There is not an easy answer when it comes to solving this financial crisis but people should stop and think about what they are asking before they ask it. The money needs to come from somewhere and it all has to go some place. Everybody wants their piece of the pie.