Living in the country always seemed very primitive to Mama.
“You go outside, you get eat by wolves,” she often warned me whenever I mentioned my old country home.
I never quite got it though. Based on the stories that she always told me about the “old country,” I had assumed that she grew up in the country (I think she did, but maybe it’s why she never wanted to return).
“I pick cherry off tree all day! My mother, she say, ‘Kati, you don’t eat the cherry!’ …but I do.”
“Then see, Mama! You could come live with us in the country,” I would try and convince her the city just wasn’t right for my aging grandmother.
“No, no. It’s too far from the drug store… and Zellers.”
I’m not sure what Mama’s reaction would be to Glee.
“Where is Maria Callas or the Czardas?” she would likely ask. “This music is too young. Is for you young people.” She might appreciate the Warblers’ canary, “Pavarotti,” though.
Since it began, Glee has become an important part of my life. Why? Because it embodies everything I wish my high school career was — singing, dancing, competitions, the aforementioned Warblers — it’s all in there. My life has forever been affected by Glee; it’s music, choreography and messages of hope and love. If there’s one TV show that sums up my mission statement in just under 45 minutes, it’s Glee.
My love for this show grew exponentially this season when Darren Criss (Blaine Anderson) joined the show, however. Perhaps it was his enduring acceptance of everyone or the navy blue blazers with red piping — his school uniform — that turned me into such a fan of his. But no… it’s more than that.
That’s why today, I am coming out of the closet… as a fan of Darren Criss’ exceptional facial expressions.
Mama often applauded me for my neatness in her old, white bungalow.
“He always pick up toys when he’s done. He say, ‘No Mama! I do it myself because is my mess!’”
She was always quite proud and I guess I was too — I was a neat kid!
My father, on the other hand, didn’t always think so.
“I’m going to take all your toys and throw them in the garbage!” he would threaten in a sing-song voice.
In fact, he went so far as to write a song on his guitar.
Loco-motion
It’s surprising that I didn’t become a ballet dancer.
I mean, you should’ve seen me go! I was like Natalie Portman in Black Swan.
Perhaps that’s why Mama let me run with spoons.
“You always carry knife and fork pointing at floor,” she would shout from the couch to the kitchen where I was taking her lunch out of the microwave.
“But why?” I asked.
“Because is danger! Especially the scissor. You hold with two fingers and point at floor. Make sure it don’t touch hand.”
“Okay.” I placed the floral-print aluminum meal tray on the TV table as we watched Maury.
“No knife, no fork, no scissor,” she clarified while flailing her fork.
“Well, what about spoons?” I questioned the safety of this unappreciated utensil as I ladled soup into my mouth. If a fork could be so deadly, what trick could this spoon pull to get me in the gut?
“Spoon is okay. You run with those.” I was relieved.
“Oprah managed to do it. How hard could it be?” The rise to ubiquity seemed far too easy.
All I had to do was excel at several different things, then I would instantly become a sought-after media mogul.
By my 20th birthday, I had already conquered the acting, music, television and online video industries to varying extents, and by my 25th, I planned to be a force to reckon with throughout the world.
Perhaps my vision was a bit ambitious, but I was a powerhouse of faith and I would let nothing stop me from my goal.
