Don't Go Back To Rockville

Looking at your watch a third time… waiting in the station for the bus…
Going to a place that’s far, so far… away and if that’s not enough…
Going where nobody says hello, they… don’t talk to anybody they don’t know…
(Don’t Go Back To Rockville-REM)

In college, I began a love of early REM. When they were alt/indie/rock. I listened to their first two albums, over and over and over. I have friends, now, from Georgia, who were lucky enough, in the early days, to sit in pool halls and obscure clubs and listen to the beginnings of REM.

Anyway, by the time I was listening to them, I had entered my later years in college. I was dabbling in a minor for my major. I was holed up in the building that housed the journalism, broadcast, media arts students. Serious times. I fell in love with broadcast journalism and started listening and learning and going to programs at an old, run down, historic hotel, in our college town.

I was new to the broadcast department, and it was a total boys club. They sort of just brushed me off, didn’t want to help me, thought they were so cool and smug. The professor took me under his wing and placed a bet with the boys. He bet them that I would kick all of their butts by the end of the semester and that I would get a B in his class.

It was probably the WORST time of my college career. But…I continued. I just kept going to class even though they were all so against the girl who entered their world. I went in, late at night, and sat with the sound guy who worked with me and showed me the ropes of the studio.

At the old hotel, I talked about, the boys all hung out, lived in the upstairs rooms and drank whiskey down in the old bar. I was determined to crack their code. Be one of them. Even if they ignored me. Even if they didn’t want me around. Even if they didn’t want to help me.

I continued to show up at their after hours club. I listened to their radio/television talk. I learned to sip whiskey just like they did. I continued to work hard. Study hard. I called my grandfather, on a regular basis. He told me not to whine, not to back down, and to find something that I could take to them that would impress and make them take a bit of notice at what I had to offer. Use your head, he said.

So, one night, I showed up with my music. I produced the REM cassettes. I talked them into putting them into the old sound system. Silence. A bit of respect. A new taking notice from them. We talked music. We sipped whiskey. We started making plans for our semester projects.

I ended the semester with a B:) My semester project was a short story all set to REM tunes, including this song. It was about a girl, looking for her path, her road, and explored different stages of her life. The ending was pretty dramatic but I will keep it a secret as to what it was…

Because, this all ties into this little market of love. Once upon a time, this market was not wanted, not believed in, made to work hard, needed everyone to take notice, had no clue if we would fail or pass. Now look at us…much like me, the girl in the boys club, we have worked, worked, worked…promoted, gathered vendors, begged people to give us a chance, proved ourselves, and now look…..tonight, we are on the edge of breaking our best record yet.

Let this tale of my college class, this market, my grandfather, and just plain hard work, be an inspiration…

Just go out and make it all happen. It’s not easy but once it all comes together, it’s the best feeling there is.

You have three hours before I close the market, tonight! Please consider placing your orders…help us on the never ending journey to keep proving ourselves.

Peace and Love,
Cosmic Pam