After being caught in an intensive crossfire of discussion today my mind wandered into oblivion on how messed up my culture is and began to question if I had lost anything of what I once was and whether or not it was drastic or not and questioning should I regain my old culture or continue to be content with what I have now

As the long title implies, I am lost in thought at the moment. So, with my roommate out of the room and at Jepson, I began to talk to myself(no,I didn’t answer myself). During this thinking-out-loud session, I realized another portion of my quarter-life-crisis.

And here we have the ever so fabulous, bustling, thriving Rustburg, VA. Located 35 minutes from Lynchburg and 20 minutes from Appomattox, and an hour away from North Carolina, Rustburg is your normal hick town. The blue building on your left is the Rescue Squad, to the right of the Rutian sign is the elementary school(not pictured), in the distance you can see the closed-down gas station(one of two), and a glimpse of the century old middle school.

I’ve made posts about this place, or hell-hole, as I once called it, so I won’t go into detail. Instead, I’ll just talk about myself.

My parents are both Rustburg natives, my dad is 58 and is the youngest of five children, and the son of a highway worker and I forget what his mother did.The land where my house is has been in his family for GENERATIONS. It’s a dirt road, surrounded by trees. The house he grew up in is still there–it’s next door to us(my house was built on an old corn field) and my mother’s mom currently resides there. My dad is your good ole’ redneck. Loves country music(and Bob Segar), has a thick accent,has dark burned skin(but his great grandmother was Cherokee, and you can see that in his face structure), has Confederate bumperstickers on his Ford F150, watches NASCAR(he’s the world’s biggest Bill Elliot fan…he even got to meet him a couple of times) , the SPEED channel, and CMT religiously, and prefers none other than an ice cold beer when he gets in from work(he’s an auto-mechanic and manager). My mother is 52(even though she likes to act as if she’s in her 20’s), and is also the youngest of five children. Her father was from Buckingham Country, and was a soldier in WWII, and later became a semi-truck driver. Her mother is from Salisbury, England(she met my grandfather when he was stationed in Britain).My mother is somewhat of a redneck,as she loves horses and has an accent) but more than anything, she still believes it’s the 1970’s. I never really understood how my parents get along, but they do.

So here’s where I come in….the only child. When I was younger, I was a Daddy’s girl because Mom was always working until nighttime. Dad and I would watch CMT in the morning before he took me to the local diner for breakfast, then he’d take me to school. We spent a lot of time together, and I was exposed to his culture a lot, and I took pride in it. However, when I was 7, my mom got diagnosed with fibromyalgia and had to quit working. So she and I started spending more time together. I never picked up on the horse thing, but I picked up on her interests instead of my Dads. As mentioned, my mom is a 70’s child. She was raised in the era of Motown(when Stevie Wonder comes on the radio, she pretends to drive like him), and was a teenager in the age of disco and classic rock. She had seen all the greats live: Lionel Richie, Lynard Skynard, REO Speedwagon, Styx, Aerosmith x2, Kiss, Heart x3, Crosby,Stills,and Nash, ZZ Top, and a ton of others. So growing up, I was exposed to all of this. I remember being in the backseat of her car as a kid belting out the Bee Gees, and now when I drive, I blast the Micheal Jackson(fun fact: he and my mom have the same birthday, and he died on my 16th birthday).I no longer listened to country, or exposed to that.

As I got older, I found my own way into…rebellion. By 7th grade, I was starting to get into the punk stuff–Simple Plan, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Blink-182, Avril Lavigne and I thought it was the most amazing thing(AND IT STILL IS)….and I thought it was awesome that they were rebelling against society….so I found myself wanting to do that too. I started to dress differently, and I literally woke up one morning and said to myself, “I don’t want to be like this anymore, screw the south”. And I stopped saying “ya’ll” and “ain’t”…which I recall being very, VERY hard to do. I was eager to rid myself of all things Southern, and be a flamingo in a flock of pelicans.

Flash-foward to 9th/10th grade. I had come a long ways accent-wise. I was dressing like that punk kid–dark shirts, holey jeans, and Converse, and into all the rock music(somethings never change,and never will). But the significant thing that happened during this time was New York City. The hustle and bustle of the city, the accent, THE SPORTS,everything just amazed me,like it would any person who was born and raised in the country.It made me feel….like it was the sky, and I was touching it.I had found something bigger than what I was used to. Being there that summer changed me. My Southern accent began to fully go away, I became a HUGE fan of the Yankees, and I wanted nothing more than to be one of those high-style ladies walking into skyscrapers. That’s what I wanted to work for when I was older.I wanted to be them(which lent me the nickname of Yankee by my friends back in Virginia).

Moving to Fredericksburg, I left the only home I never knew. I was ready. I was ready to be my own person, and be who I wanted to be. It’s still weird, and I still feel shocked because NOVA isn’t the Virginia I know,but I like it that way.I wanted somewhere new.(and honestly, I’m clueless why people like here like country music.I still despise it,but NOVAnites don’t understand what it means. Like one song by Rascal Flatts called “Mayberry” details Southern life…being able to sit outside and watch the clouds go by and you knew nearly everyone in your town.Things were simple.I don’t think NOVA kids understand that,but I could be wrong) but…in the words of the Foo Fighters, “I’ll make my way home when I learn how to fly”.

But what does this make me?

I’m not a Southern belle.

I’m not a New Yorker.

I’m not a NOVAnite.

I’m only 25% British.

I am a mixture of all of the above.I do not have a “pure” culture.I’m like  trail mix. I’m influenced by everything I have ever come across in my life. The music my mother raised me, the pizza I ate, they way I talk, my college of NOVAnites, the stories of Britain, the shows I watch on TV, everything I know was influenced by other people. It’s a choice to be like other people, but it does subtly sink in over time.Mingling of cultures are unavoidable, and I feel like it is something to be embraced, but I think it’s important to keep a bit of your own culture, too(note I’m listening to Taylor Swift right now…wait now it’s Slipknot.Okay O.o).I think it’s important to share your culture, because it makes you more of a worldly person.


One Response to "After being caught in an intensive crossfire of discussion today my mind wandered into oblivion on how messed up my culture is and began to question if I had lost anything of what I once was and whether or not it was drastic or not and questioning should I regain my old culture or continue to be content with what I have now"

  • You may not talk that much in class, but your blog does your talking for you and then some. You go, girl!

    1 Prof.Glaw said this (October 24, 2011 at 9:48 pm)



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