Commenting on one of Michelle’s posts, I offered up my take on what it means to be Mainstream:

My notion of The Mainstream is linked to the Lowest Common Denominator–that which is dumbed down in order to gain a larger audience. Music, film, television, news, and politics have all fallen victim. The Mainstream are the zombie-like masses looking to glossy advertisements and loud voices for what they should do next. Commercial radio tells them what music to like. Movie studios tell them what movies to like. Laugh tracks tell them what is funny. Charismatic radio talk show hosts tell them that gay marriage is more dangerous than poverty. FOX News tell them to be afraid…very afraid. Mortal people tell them things only divine tongues should whisper.

I don’t claim to be completely free of these influences. It’s impossible to not be a consumer. Still, I only have so much time & money. I don’t want to waste them on empty calories.

I came to the table with a preconceived negative opinion of what it is to be Mainstream. To me, Mainstream was something to avoid. As such, my definition centered around the non-thinking masses. The people who don’t think, who just follow the mob around them, particularly those who should know better. That is the Mainstream I’m trying to avoid.

Perhaps a more accurate definition of Mainstream would be that which is popular, or at least more visible. I believe this is the definition that Michelle was operating under when she offered that she was mainstream on some things, and not on others.

The definition offered up by Sarah in her Intellectual Detox experiment probably lies somewhere in between.

My definition wasn’t meant to be applied against other definitions. My definition was not saying that everything popular is dumb. And, it was certainly not personal. I’m glad that Michelle, and all of her friends, critically absorb what they see and read. It is my belief, however, that a good portion of Americans (and the world) do not. How else can you account for 70% of Americans believing that Saddam Hussein was personally involved in 9/11? Many of those Americans should know better. East coast, west coast, or Oklahoma–shouldn’t we know better?

It’s also interesting that my opinions of poverty being a more serious concern than gay marriage, and FOX News spreading fear, were seen as an attack on all conservative thought. It’s especially interesting considering FOX News viewers were more likely to have misperceptions on the war in Iraq than viewers of other networks. Nowhere did I say that ALL Fox News viewers, or conservatives, are dumb. I’m simply stating an opinion, and citing a study, both of which are open to rebuttal.

I listen to NPR on the way to work. I love sushi. I lean liberal. The bands I like tend not to get played on commercial radio. The movies I like often get relegated to the dark recesses of megaplexes, or don’t come around at all. It’s who I am. I offer no apologies for it.

So, then, why do I care what other people do?

I care because I believe that an informed electorate leads to better governance. And, better governance leads to better protections of “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” I care because art that is compromised in order to please the largest possible audience ceases to have meaning. When art ceases to have meaning, it no longer inspires. I care because it angers me to see people sell their souls for the sake of stockholders.

Choosing Applebees over a sushi bar, or Celine Dion over an obscure indie band, is not going to lead to the end of civilization. But, I think we owe it to ourselves as individuals to challenge our set ways. I also think, as a society, we should strive to higher qualities of both information and art. Personally, I have a lot of work to do. I hope that I can continue to learn and continue to challenge myself.

Last night, Dwight and I went to a few of our usual haunts to celebrate my return back from the Mainstream. First stop Bin 73, where we shared a bottle of Syrah and some fantastic tapas. Grilled ahi tuna and an order of spring rolls, to be specific. Delicious. Since Bin 73 has always been a non-smoking establishment, and I therefore have no memories of lighting up there; I survived, quite easily, without cigarettes.

Then Dwight suggested we go to LiT and order a hookah.

(For those who are wondering, a hookah is a Middle Eastern water bong used to smoke flavored tobacco. Flavors range from orange, to apple, to cappuccino. No, it has nothing to do with illicit substances at least not in this case.)

Before we gave up the cigarettes, wed decided that an occasional hookah would be acceptable, as would cigars. Once the thought of imminent hookah was implanted in my nicotine-starved brain, I became a woman obsessed. We finished our wine and headed to Bricktown.

We arrived at LiT to find it very empty. No matter. We had our pick of the high-backed booths, and selected one towards the back. Sliding in, we perused the menu and debated which flavor of tobacco to order with the hookah. We settled on vanilla. I was growing more and more excited by the minute, and the need to smoke was increasing at an alarming pace. The waitress came by, and we ordered a couple of Guinness pints and the hookah. Then, the unthinkable. She smiled apologetically and informed us that she wouldnt be able to serve us hookah this evening because the tax commissioner was there, going through their receipts.

Huh?

The waitress left to pour our beers, and once she did, I flipped out. I had been counting on the hookah, and my craving for tobacco was unbearable. With tears precariously welling in my eyes, I pouted and sulked like a little baby. I wanted to die. Even the music, which was most pleasing to my sensibilities, failed to soothe me. I sat through Modest Mouse, The Flaming Lips and Franz Ferdinand, all the while scowling at the table. Not even the thought of a butterscotch pie from Nonnas made me happy. I needed tobacco. Dwight suggested we leave after finishing our Guinness pints, and go to Makers for a cigar. Excellent idea. I cheered right up.

Once I rejoined the world of the grown-ups, Dwight and I tried to figure out what the deal was with the hookah. We observed a couple of people with clipboards walking around, appearing to check inventory. Then, we watched as the LiT staff removed the hookahs from their perch and began dismantling them. What was going on? Did we just witness some sort of bust? What are the restrictions for offering hookah, anyway?

The tax commissioner people left, and two of the LiT staff (one, presumably a manger) came by our table to apologize for not being able to serve us the hookah. We said it was okay, and asked what had happened. They said they were told that all hookah tobacco must come from a licensed shisha dealer, but that there were none of these distributors in Oklahoma. However, the manager said that he had the names and phone numbers of some shisha distributors, and was going to try to have everything straightened out in a day or two.

I find the timing of this encounter interesting, as this weeks Gazette featured a story on local establishments that feature hookahs LiT being one of them. I wonder if there are some who disapprove of the practice and are looking to stop it by going around busting bar owners on technicalities? Ill be interested to see how this story develops.

The cigars at Makers were delicious, though.

Everyone has a Guilty Pleasure – what’s yours?

Let the information gorging begin.

I awoke today with an excitement usually reserved for Christmas morning. Dwight and I both cheered when we got in the car and turned the dial to 106.3 (NPR). Before I knew it, I was getting pissed off at a story on tort reform. Arriving at work, I picked up a Gazette, which I began reading in the elevator. When I got to my desk, the New York Times-reading began in earnest. My inbox is becoming flooded with articles people have saved for me to read, post-experiment. The liberal and feminist articles are piling up. The sense of relief is overwhelming when I dig my iPod out of my purse and fire up my music. Im looking forward to wine and tapas at Bin 73 after work. Everything feels right in the world Im back to my old life. And I love it.

At the start of this experiment, my hypothesis was that, by not thinking so much (and thereby alienating myself in the process) Ill be a happier, less stressed-out person. This strategy worked for awhile the first few days found me blissfully ignorant and not stressed. After awhile, though this ignorance began to take its toll, and I found myself becoming agitated by the lack of information and culture I was receiving. I was jonesing for news, politics, good music and it was painful.

With that being said, I did gain some valuable insights over the last eight days. What, pray tell, could they be?

I seem to be in desperate need of comfort, stability and reassurance in my life.

I like Joey and Heather in the morning.

I like chick flicks.

Not all Christians are bad, scary, judgmental people.

Commercial radio is called that for a reason (lots of commercials).

I like Oprah’s magazine.

I need to not let things get to me so badly, especially things I can’t control. If I try hard enough, I can actually force the bad thoughts out of my mind.

Going to my hometown and spending time with my family (and Dwights family), weirdly enough, makes me want to procreate.

I have a renewed appreciation for my critical thinking skills.

Admittedly, its been nice living my life in a sort-of cocoon, avoiding all those Hot-Button Topics that normally get me all riled up. But it hasnt been nice feeling so pitifully ill-informed. Nor has it been nice listening to crappy music on the radio. (Exception: Ridin Dirty. I still love that song.) I think the most important lesson I learned is how to better achieve some sort of balance. If I find myself getting too stressed out, or too angry, its okay to watch a dumb reality show or read a frivolous magazine. I dont have to be so serious, or take everything so seriously, all the time. Its okay to relax and be lowbrow for awhile. It doesnt make me less of a person.

I was curious if others noticed any discernible change in my personality over the last week. Did I seem happier? Less stressed? Nicer? Or was there no change? Dwight thought that I was less annoying, simply because I didnt have my usual level of negativity. He also thought that I mostly seemed to not be in a bad mood all the time, but that it couldve been attributable to just staying so busy with the documentation of the experiment. One friend said that there was no real change in my personality. Another said I seemed less stressed in some ways, but also bored and stressed in other ways because I wasnt able to do things I was used to doing. She also said I became somewhat annoying because I was listening to some crap music and a Clear Channel-owned station. Hah.

As for the alienation Id been feeling, I realized throughout this experiment that I should focus more on the small number of people I do share common interests with, rather than the larger number of people I cant relate to. There are people like me out there, and several of them are my friends. I have a new appreciation for these people. I love that I have friends who will read something interesting, know that Ill find it interesting too, and e-mail me the article and I can do the same for them. That just makes me happy.

The other day, Dwight said something that kind of sums this whole thing up: Like someone once said, you can’t go through the ghetto of life only looking at the hookers, and crack whores, and gangsters. You have to search out the beautiful flowers sprouting through the cracked pavement. There is beauty. There is something special out there that we can relate to. We just have to find it. And, then focus upon that.

Salut.

What about my pretentious and judgmental nature? Well, its still there and probably always will be. If anything, this experiment has made me despise the stupid mainstream crap even more than before (some of it, anyway). So much for becoming a nicer person.

Ive realized that Im just not a mainstream girl, and thats okay. I have a renewed appreciation for the critical thinking skills I developed in college. I was once so proud of them, but have recently begun to find them more of a burden. However, these eight days have left me yearning to crawl back into my little gopher hole of cultural isolation. I’m so thankful that for whatever reason, I’ve managed to escape the evil clutches of commercial, mainstream culture. I’ve somehow been able to steer clear of the sugarcoated crap shoved down our throats by corporate America. Yes, it can be alienating. Yes, it can make me seem pretentious. But I wouldn’t trade my relatively obscure tastes for all the Kenny Chesney and celebrity gossip in the world. I’ve seen the world everyone else is living in, and I’m ready to crawl back underground.

In the immortal words of Popeye, I yam what I yam.

7:45am It’s almost over. I think its actually going to be kind of weird tomorrow, when Im not constantly monitoring everything I do. Ive really gotten used to constantly asking myself if I can do this, or watch that. An unintended benefit of this experiment has been that for the last week, Ive (for the most part) forgotten about smoking. Its really taken my mind off of it, with a few notable exceptions last weekend. Now Im suddenly realizing that its been almost two weeks without a cigarette! Woohoo! Listen to Joey and Heather one last time. I think I still may have to dial over to 97.9 occasionally in the future theyve grown on me.

8:20am Dwight e-mails me a new Ohio State study that suggests we choose the news articles we read with the goal of regulating our moods. Men tend to read articles that will make them angrier, whereas women choose articles that will lessen their anger. This bears an interesting relevance to my little experiment. One of the major objectives for the last week has been to avoid things that stress me out and make me angry, namely politics.

9:30am A coworker brings me her copy of Anne Rices Christ the Lord to read. Theres the mainstream bestseller I was looking for. Although these eight days are almost over, I plan to read it anyway because, well, I just want to. I read all her vampire Lestat books back in high school and college, so this will be an interesting change of pace. Anne Rice talk about someone whos gone full circle. She was raised Catholic, became an Atheist, and recently returned to Catholicism. My mother, who has recently become something of an Anne Rice fan, has reminded me of this several times.

10:20am I know Im ready to get back to my old music when Im drooling over George Langs Random 10. Nellie McKay is on todays list I want to cry. This Limp Bizkit CD just isnt doing it for me. She put my tender/ heart in a blender/ but still I surrendered. Such brilliant, brilliant lyrics. (Ive given up on subtracting points for sarcasm and cynicism at this point Im already well in the red, as it is.)

11:30am Lunchtime trip to the mall with a couple of coworker friends. Penn Square Mall, to be specific. I have every intention of going inside the mall and wandering around, to get the full Mall Experience, but we end up just eating lunch at Cantina Laredo. Its delicious, and very well might be one of my new favorite restaurants. Not sure how mainstream gourmet Mexican really is, but its at the mall, dammit. That has to count for something. Im starting to give up on this mainstream thing.

2:27pm The giving up continues. I finally break down and read a couple of articles. One about the sad car crash that is Pete Doherty, the other about Jack Whites new band, The Raconteurs. The Raconteurs article has been sitting in my inbox for several days considering my weird Jack White obsession, its quite a feat that I held out as long as I did. I think Ive, to some extent, already bowed out of this experiment. Eight days is just too long to deny my thirst for music-related knowledge.

3:30pm Fall off the wagon even further when I delve into a National Geographic article about the Trans-Siberian Railroad. I cant help myself Im fascinated. Someone tell Dwight that Ive just planned our next trip. Aside from the lingering Soviet-style bureaucracy and the frightening possibility of crime, a month-long trek through Russia captures my imagination like nothing else. Except maybe for the geographical freak show that is Iceland.

5:15pm – Listen to the Twister on the drive home. This is so not like me. I find the commercial, pop-country played on the Twister sonically pleasing, but the intellectual and artistic equivalent of soda. Nutritionally devoid. Empty calories. I can feel my brain rotting by the minute. The lyrics are very story-like, but as Dwight put it, a story at the third-grade level. Nothing challenging or even particularly interesting here. I can suddenly appreciate even more the complex, layered lyrics of, say, Neutral Milk Hotel, Sufjan Stevens, or even Bright Eyes.

8:30pm – Idol shocker! Katherine was in the bottom three – shouldve been Pickler, but whatever. I had two out of three. Lisa Tucker deserved to go, as shes been consistently not up to par with the others. Im disappointed it wasnt Ace, though. I dont want to have to look at it him for another week. Picklers gotta go, too. Now Im going to go watch Unanimous, South Park and maybe read a little bit of Christ the Lord. To paraphrase Iron Chef, this experiment is ov-ah!