How to Love Where You Live 101

How to Get Out of A Location-Related Funk

Step 1: Invite a friend to come visit you.

Step 2: Show them around.

You will appreciate the place you are living and remember why you like living there in the first place.

I am always surprised at how well these two steps work. Yes, I know Green Bank is beautiful. Yes I know that Oberlin is a haven of beautiful bare foot fascinating people. But it's easier to remember if a friend who is seeing them for the first time says it first. My lovely friend Rachel's Green Bank visit was just what I needed to shake those end of summer blues, when all of my PC friends are back in college and people keep asking me "When are you going back to school?" (out of curiosity of course, but after a while it starts to feel like they're asking me "Why aren't you in school you slacker? Why didn't you go to WVU you weirdo?" And of course, in my case, the answer is more complicated than saying something like "September 2nd.").

So the lovely Rachel came to visit. My parents are taking my younger brother to college (freshman orientation... welcome to Camp College!), so we've had the house to ourselves. We spent an unhealthy amount of time in the hot tub, cooked in dresses, explored the universe at the NRAO, swam in chilly Deer Creek, took a leisurely stroll through Beartown, and went to Buckeye Bend Books, an incredible used bookstore in Buckeye (I found an obscure depressing book about Appalachia that's been on my list, and Thomas Hardy's Jude the Obscure). Rachel's skillful eye spotted a thrift store in Marlinton which had an amazing belt selection and a room full of ridiculous dresses with lace and old fashioned patterns that girls like Rachel and I like to wear (we're sort of predictable in that way. The dresses were actually in the room that the owners of the store recommended we change in. I think they had us pegged from the moment we walked in).

The bottom line is that Green Bank and Pocahontas County are pretty darn cool. But the old feet are getting itchy (and not from trying on second-hand shoes) and I need to leave ASAP. Luckily, it looks like I'll have a place to live in Whitesburg. It's a cute little house in a holler. I'll have to manage my rent and utilities like a big girl. This is what I've been missing by going to a college where you have to live in dorms.

It's almost onward and upward and Southward for me. When I get bummed out about being in Whitesburg, come visit me (although I'm not sure if this will happen, as I have lived there during January and survived). In the meantime, I'm going to go enjoy Pocahontas County and walk my dog by some telescopes.

Tonsils, Self-Doubt, and Red M&Ms: Things You Don't Know You Have Until You See Them

My lovely friend Rachel is coming to visit today! I'm so excited. She's mildly allergic to cats (a liability in my house) so I've been sweeping and vacuuming all day. When I was 4 or 5, I was at a children's theater production with my grandparents. I sat on the floor in the dark beside a girl with my packet of M&Ms and offered to share them with her. She told me that she was allergic to red and green M&Ms and could only eat the other colors. After the play I worried that in the dark I had accidentally passed her a red M&M and killed her. How was I to know? I was only 4 or 5 and I never saw her again. For all I know, she died of eating a red M&M that I'd given her. Ever since then, I've had a fear of accidentally killing my friends. I hope you survive your visit to West Virginia, Rachel.

About a week ago, I realized that swallowing really really hurt. It kept hurting more and more each day despite my efforts not to swallow. My concerned mother looked down my throat and diagnosed me with tonsillitis. A few days later, I went to the doctor and found out that it was actually mono. At which point, I burst out laughing. How many people have I shared my water bottle with in the past year? (Maybe I should be less concerned about killing Rachel with cat dander, and more worried about giving her mono).

Unfortunately, now I'm tired a lot and can't kiss anyone for a long time. I don't really need to kiss anyone, but the being tired all the time doesn't bode well for returning to Whitesburg and working with two different non-profits, getting in awesome shape, playing bass and banjo as much as possible, doing radio when I can, and living on my own. Luckily I am now the proud owner of a French press, which I'm going to depend on to get me through until I am mono-free.

I've also been having regrets and mixed feelings about this semester off. I might just miss college. The other day, I was in a coffee shop in Charlottesville, full of students doing their homework. I felt a slight pang as I watched two boys work on their problem sets, a girl look up Spanish verbs, and a woman staring off into space. I've also been missing weird things like shower shoes and sweeping co-ops with push brooms and that weird time on weekend nights between dinner and going out when you're never really sure if you should do homework or watch bad tv. (Although I do think it's fun when people ask me when I'm going back to school and I say "February.") I think I'll be ready to go back and buckle down, when the time comes. But until then, I'll be buckling down in a different way. I can't wait to be getting stuff done again.

Youtube and Reading in Las Green Bank

I'm halfway through week 2 in beautiful Green Bank, West Virginia, and I feel like a big huge hypocrite. I mean, I think it's really important for people to be proud of where they came from, and I will be working for a non-profit that is trying to get young people to stay in Appalachia, but at this point in my life, I'm home for about a week, and I just want to get out.

Don't get me wrong, I love my home, Green Bank, and West Virginia. I love driving my redneck truck with one hand because I'm using the other to wave at people. I love forgetting that I have a cell phone. I love running with my dog in the dark at the NRAO because I know I won't get hit by anything.

But I miss routine and instant people. At least once every week day, I've thought, "It's 11:34 am. People are at work right now." My job plan for this month fell through, so I'm going to start doing projects around our farm, mostly so I can stay busy. Tomorrow's project is finishing cleaning our scary garage (from the way I've been describing things at my house, it sounds like I live in a gothic shack. Skeletons, scary mold, and useless crap. But it's really more like a messy old farm than the Adams Family). These things keep me occupied, but they're no substitute for co-workers, or even knowing that there are central places where you're bound to see your friends. Most of my friends from high school don't come home for the summer. There are some wonderful exceptions to this rule, but it's not as if we see each other everyday, or there are a great wealth of things for us to do.

Wow. This post sounds kind of whiny. I'm going to say some positive things now.

I've been doing a lot of cooking.

I went to the eye doctor yesterday and my vision hasn't changed in 3 years.

My bed at home is so much more comfortable than any of the other beds I've slept on this year. It's even more comfortable than my bass case and the back of my Subaru was at Clifftop.

I've re-discovered Youtube. I don't watch dumb videos with animals and girls and cups and viral stuff. I'm a bit of an online video snob and prefer videos by people I know or featuring people I know. For examples of my excellent taste in online videos, go to Youtube and search for "I'm gon' dance Clifftop," and "Blue Daldon." Although the Harkness Bike Derby videos are a classic too.

One of my beautiful beautiful friends from Oberlin is coming to visit me next week! I can't wait to show off my hometown/county/state to her.

So I am proud of where I came from. At this point in my life, I just get itchy feet and can't stay in one place too long. So I'm just going to suck it up, clean out that garage, take care of all the business I need to take care of, watch a couple more Youtube videos, get ready for my friends impending visit, and look forward to a time when I will have routine and people that I'm not related to to spend time with.

*As a bonus for putting up with my complaints, here is an updated list of books I've read since being home. Not that you have to care, but if you do, then here ya go!

The Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon (so so so good.)

Frankenstein (also good. The Wishbone version just doesn't do the book justice).

Lady Chatterly's Lover by D.H. Lawrence (The Wishbone version of this one is the best!!! Just kidding, but behind the personification of reproductive organs and the big stink that this book caused is not only an excellent love story, but interesting commentary about mechanization and the coal industry in England).

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson (Anyone want to hike the Appalachian trail with me?)

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - What I Got Out Of It: Drugs are bad. Journalists are frivolous. My dad's copy of the book smells funny. Just kidding, Hunter S. You're a good writer.

Mold, Irrational Crushes, and Music

Since it's been exactly a week since I left Whitesburg, it's a bit hard for me to remember what my final thoughts were (probably something along the lines of "Holy shit, I still have to clean my car, wash the dishes, AND return this library book ?!?").

What I can say for sure is that this trip has been so good for me mentally, emotionally, and despite the large quantities of Blizzards I consumed while in Whitesburg, physically. I really feel like I've gotten my old self back, and that is a wonderful wonderful way to feel.

Plus this weird thing has been going on where people tell me I'm a cool person. What's up with that? I spent the summer in awe of my amazing, intelligent, beautiful friends and co-workers, only to have them tell their friends about my editing skills or tell me how much they like me. Which is great, but I'm still sort of in the middle school/high school mentality that I'm the little kid and they're the big kid and they're infinitely cooler than me. This is starting to change for me, but I'm still a bit shocked and awed when a cool older woman wants to be my friend. It's going to be hard when I go back to Oberlin and am only surrounded by the 18-22 crowd again. I like kids and old people and middle aged people and teenagers and everything else in between.

After a final night in Whitesburg filled with fiddles, feminism, good food, and good byes (evidence can be seen here ), and a morning of running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to move out, I headed off to Clifftop, the Appalachian String Band Festival.

This was my 4th year at Clifftop, and definitely one of the best. I jammed just as much on my banjo as I did on my bass, saw a lot of old friends, made some new ones, didn't get enough sleep or get arrested. So it was pretty much a success.

My Clifftop 2010 observations were as follows:

1. It is a beautiful thing when you see someone you were absolutely obsessed with at 16, and realize that they're still a cool person, but not as amazing as you once thought they were. At 16, I could spend an entire night swapping bullshit with this person. While I'm still pretty fond of bullshit now, I'm not as easily taken in by it. This person is still attractive, intelligent and interesting, but I've moved on a lot from that point in my life, and it is such a relief.

2. At Clifftop 2 years ago, I met a beautiful man who plays the same instrument as me. Only he is much much better at it than I am. He was known to me and my friends as my [instrument name has been left out to preserve author's dignity] hero.

Flash forward 2 years. [Instrument who must not be named] hero is at Clifftop again, and is actually my camp neighbor! I wake up from a middle-of-the-night nap to the sound of him playing. I stumble out of my tent, disheveled, wrinkled and tired from traveling and jamming and the like, and strike up a conversation. In typical Janney is a creeper and remembers everybody fashion, I started out with "That sounded great... I don't know if you remember me but..."

But here's the best part. HE REMEMBERED ME!!!!! And not as a creepy stalkerish 18 year old, but as a person who played the same instrument as him!!!!!! We hung out and played music quite a bit throughout the weekend.

To make a long story short, I have a huge renewed crush on him. I'm going to run off to [town that must not be named in state that must not be named] to live with my [instrument that must not be named] hero and we will make beautiful beautiful babies who are the best [instrument that must not be named] players in the world.

I guess the point is, Clifftop is fun, but irrational crushes last much longer.

So I've been home for 4 days now. On Monday, I got gum surgery, which basically means my teeth won't fall out, but I'm on a liquid diet for a week and can't exercise. So there's been nothing for me to do in Green Bank besides clean (because usually when I'm home all I do is eat, exercise, and clean).

This week's bout of cleaning has lead me to our basement. It is truly a scary basement. Not even our closest friends and neighbors understand the true horrors that lie in our basement. The Lockman family doesn't have skeletons in our closet, we have them in our basement (literally. Yesterday I swept up a mostly decomposed mouse). So this is not a task for the faint of heart.

I started off with my parents' vinyl collection. They have an amazing record collection in lots of genres. Unfortunately, it's been in our moist, often-flooded basement for the past 10+ years. So it's now covered in white mold. I spent about 2 hours dusting white mold off of these records. At times it was kind of exciting.

"Oh this record is white! It must be the White Album!"

A quick dusting with a rag reveals it to be Joni Mitchell's "Blue."

When I actually did find the White Album, it was covered in purple mold. So it goes.

Despite the dust mask I had on during this cleaning, I probably inhaled way too much of this white mold. I had a fever last night and am still feeling pretty wonky today. So if I die from white mold inhalation, I would like the following people to come to my parents' home and each pick 10 records from their record collection (and this is the only time I'll name drop in my blog. Because I'm not screwing around.): Clary Estes Mark Kidd Derek Mullins Alex Toutant Matt Anderson Sasha Jones Lauren Melton and everyone else I've talked to about vinyl in the past year or so. While you're there, you can talk about how much you all love me while you clean the basement. Just don't inhale too much white mold.

Elk, Puppies, Small Children and Other Things I Want to Cuddle With

I don't know if I've mentioned this or not, but I have a really strong mother instinct. One of my friends and I talk all the time about how we just wish we could have babies now, while we're young and our bodies will recover quickly, freeze them, and then raise them in 10 or so years. Of course both of us know that this is impossible and we'd be terrible mothers at this point in our lives, but that doesn't keep me from wanting a small child every time I see a particularly adorable one.

In Whitesburg, this has translated into me attempting to befriend all 5,000 stray cats in town. I had a good feline buddy who lived by the bridge, but he was far too elusive for me. So far the most luck of the feline variety has been with a massive Maine Coon cat named Blue Daldon, who I am enamored with, even though, as my roommate likes to remind me, he attacks me.

Lately, I've turned my thoughts to dogs. After meeting a particularly well-behaved puppy, I remembered that not all dogs are obnoxious and stupid, and now with a mere "Hey dawg," I can make canine friends.

I think what this all boils down to is that I need something to cuddle with to be a healthy happy human being. Preferably something small and fuzzy that doesn't talk.

Speaking of fuzzy and silent, there are elks in Kentucky! Yes, elks! I think...

Apparently on top of a "reclaimed" strip job, there is an elk preserve. These elks just kind of chill up there on top of a mountain. Of course the idea that by introducing one species to a grassy area to "reclaim" an eco-system is pretty ridiculous, as are elks, who have no natural predators in this area any more ever since the wolves have gone.

I'm not actually sure I believe that there are elks in Kentucky. I saw a huge, deer-like foot print on a hike, and I spent a lot of time talking to a biologist who does things with large animal control (bears and ELK!!!!) about elk in Kentucky. Plus there's that weird deer crossing sign that looks like a cross between a buck, a moose, and a Brahmin bull. But I still sort of think that people are pulling my leg about it, sort of like snipe hunting. I won't believe it until I see it.

This weekend I went to the Morehead Fiddler's Convention. It was relaxing, inspiring, and a lot of fun. I got to spend a lot of time with people from Whitesburg, a lot of time by myself, and a lot of time with a few other Kentucky musicians. I didn't get much sleep, saw two shooting stars, square danced until I was sore, learned to waltz, and got a bass blister. All in all a good time. Something about going to a small festival where you don't really know anyone is strangely relaxing. I was content to just wander around by myself and listen. If I was with someone else, that was great too, but I spent a lot of time just soaking it all in, and I'm grateful for it.

Here is my gripe of the day. I just found out that some Oberlin students are going to be at Clifftop. Normally I would be thrilled to see these particular people, but despite the thousands of people in attendance, I just have this idea that Clifftop is MY thing. And I don't want to share, especially since I've been having a lot of negative thoughts about Oberlin lately. Sometimes I really am 6 years old again.

But I'm getting pretty good at dealing with these things. I didn't want to go to Morehead because I thought it would wear me out. I didn't want to go home for the summer because I would miss my friends. I didn't want to go back to school last February because I wanted to stay in Whitesburg. I didn't want to go to Whitesburg because I didn't want to be lonely.

But I did all those things, sucked it up, and even though the outcomes of doing all of these things that I didn't want to do were mixed (I honestly wish I hadn't gone back to school last semester...), they happened and I learned from the experience. My wise boss told me that if something doesn't make you nervous then it probably isn't worth doing (although now that I think about it, that only applies to things like going to college and interviewing people, and not things like jumping off of tall objects or having unprotected sex). And I think the nervous I'm feeling about Clifftop will make going this year more important than other years. Maybe I'll see an elk or something.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Look! I was inspired! I like satire! I wrote something!

I've been a peanut butter eater all my life, without questioning it one bit. I was weaned on peanut butter milkshakes, and made my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich at 18 months. But recently I began to question whether eating peanut butter was ethically and politically correct. How do peanut farmers treat their peanuts? Are they grass-fed? Free range? Have they been vaccinated? Is the peanut butter making process unnecessarily cruel? As they go through the grinder, do they suffer?

Even if the peanuts in my peanut butter are organic and free range, what is the environmental impact of my peanut butter habit? What kind of carbon footprint does Jif have? Does peanut growing deteriorate soil quality? And finally, how are workers on peanut farms treated? What about peanut farmers?

After much internal debate and dialogue, I concluded that I would only eat peanut butter if I could kill it myself. If I couldn't stand to do that, then I would just have to live a life without peanut butter.

So I planted some peanuts. Let them roam free and graze. No pesticides, no cages. I harvested them with my bare hands, without the help of child labor. I roasted them over a wood stove, using a tree that had fallen over in a thunderstorm. I popped open their shells, got ready to dump them in a grinder, and...

It was the most delicious peanut butter I ever had.

So to make a long story short, I still eat peanut butter. I try to purchase peanut butter made from free-range organic peanuts whenever possible, but I'm not above buying a jar of Jif when that option isn't available. I guess I would just like to encourage others to make conscientious decisions about their food choices. I'm sure glad I did.

- Janney Lockman is a 20 year old lover of all things peanut butter (except for peanut butter fudge, and peanut butter and cheese sandwiches). After a 3 year stint as a vegetarian, she has recently started eating chicken again, which was, to quote Janney, "The best decision I ever made." Janney resides in the beautiful hills of Appalachia and the vast plains of Ohio when she is not lobbying for Peanut Growers of America (PGA, for short).