This past weekend, while Aaron and I were at Hasting's renting another disc of "The Tudors" (we highly recommend this TV series on Showtime), we took a walk through the country music Cd's (in part to avoid an older gentlemen author who was handing out flyer's on his new book and encouraging us to buy it. We felt guilty, because Aaron's a nice guy, so we tried to avoid walking by him again). Anyways, for anyone who is a Texas country fan, Hasting's always has a pretty legit stock of red dirt music. I am always impressed and have purchased everything from Aaron Watson to Mikey and the Motorcars from there; this day, however, I chose more modern rock country: Jason Aldean's "My Kind of Party". I have all of his other albums and somehow missed that he had a new one out (thank you music guru fiance). "Dirt Road Anthem" is my favorite main stream country music radio song right now and probably have listened to it 20 times, already. At first run through, I thought the album was so-so; many of the songs sounded similar to the other, but I love acting like I am Kelly Clarkson in my car and belt out "Don't you Want to Stay?".
(((disclaimer:: Jason Aldean does not write his own music, which is a major thorn in my side. To anyone who appreciates a singer who writes his own music, I am 110% behind you. I never will say that Jason wrote his music, because it ain't true))) However, after spending longer than 5 seconds on each song, I have a few that are quickly becoming emotional pieces for me: "See You When I See You" and "Flyover States".
"Flyover States" is a ballad (shocker) talking about being on a first class plane ride to LA from New York City and describes the uppity asses who are also on the ride and their opinions of the "flyover states". You know, those states that their only purpose seems to be get to the state on the other side of 'em. Kansas has a fabulous reputation for this: the only good thing about Kansas is I-70, Highway 50, etc. Those outside the state (and a bunch who live within) don't seem to happy with this reputation; they see no point in the square corn, wheat, soybean, and milo fields. It's the middle of nowhere and they don't quite get why one would choose to live this sort of life.
"They've never drove through Indiana
Met the man who plowed that earth, planted that seed, busted his ass for you and me
Or a harvest moon in Kansas
They'd understand why God made those flyover states"
One of our faculty members and a good friend of mine, told me yesterday that I won't need to take my ambien when we're in Colorado, because I will be so bored, that I will fall asleep standing up. I laughed, because that is quite clever, Jason. I have no issues in making fun of "my kind": those people from those flyover states and small towns with odd sounding names (although, I find "Holly" to be an adorable name). I'm not living in la-la land, so I feel that I can laugh at those funny jokes that are meant in good fun.
But, I tell you what: I am damn proud to be from a flyover state and from a town that when I say "Halstead", people give you that slight nod of their head, but you know internally they're thinking "Where in the FUCK is that?!" Same thing goes for Holly, Colorado. My first year of college, I was embarrassed to admit that I wasn't from the thriving city of Kansas City. It seemed everyone who thought of themselves as important was from KC; they had no clue where anything west of KC was (now, this isn't to say that everyone from KC is in their own little world. No, it's just to say that for the purpose of this writing, I'm lumping you all together). They viewed my small town of no-stoplights as "cute", but you know that they thought that I was dumb and not exposed to the possibilities of the world and Star Bucks.
They can keep their world of stress, anxiety, brakes, and hand sanitizers. I'll take my flyover status.
