A few days ago I overheard some of my co-workers talking about the viral ad campaign for the new season of "Lost," and questioning whether the fake billboards for Ajira Airways were really going to pull oblivious non-viewers into watching the show. I didn't really think about it, because I don't watch the show.
I first noticed the fake logo on the side of one of the trucks here at the lot. The only reason I made the connection to "Lost" was because a) The logo seemed fake to me, and b) The logo was framed by the tagline "Destiny Calls." Up until this week, the truck had a picture of the cast of "Lost" framed by the same tagline, so I put two and two together.
I noticed my first Ajira Airways billboard on my way to work today. Same tiger, same "Destiny Calls."
Now, whatever. Viral marketing, fake companies, it happens. So far I have only seen one scrawly red "Who Watches the Watchme..." spray-painted as if it were legit graffiti on a wall, and I can understand the sort of freaky appeal of fiction creeping up on our real lives. When I saw that graffiti I wasn't sure at first if it was some excited fan or some corporate ad campaign, and it definitely made me want to email my friends who worked on it and/or are big "Watchmen" fans.
The thing that really bothers me is the idea of "Destiny Calls" vis-a-vis a show that is centered around a plane crash (and I know, I know, this ISN'T the same airline as the fake airline that crashed in the first season of this show--but still). Somehow this says to me, "Come ride our fake airline, for your Destiny is to be in a plane crash." And something about that seems very wrong, in light of the recent miracle-crash on the Hudson and the tragi-crash in Buffalo. The Hudson incident was such a triumph that the Buffalo crash felt all the worse, I think. We crashed back down to earth, in more ways than one. If destiny is what called all of these people to die so tragically, then destiny sucks. Destiny sucks ass.
I watched the "60 Minutes" interview with captain "Sully" Sullenberger, and in one segment where he met the passengers, a man said to him, "My brother died on 9/11, and I don't think my family could have handled another blow like this. Thank you for saving my life." When I recounted that story to my family over Thai food last weekend, I was nearly in tears. It is just... beyond cruel that Beverly Eckert died in a plane crash while traveling to Buffalo to commemorate her husband who died on 9/11. This plane was like a "Who's Who" of good people, of people who were trying to make a difference. I'm not saying that these people were better than other people who died in plane crashes. I'm just saying that it sucks to lose people, and it especially feels strange not to know that these interesting people existed until a circumstance happens that makes them cease to exist.
I think a lot of my taking issue with this lies in how one defines the word "destiny." It can be a good thing or a bad thing-- "I was destined to find this wedding dress," etc. BUT this is a show centered around a plane crash, so I'm going to venture to say that perhaps they are wanting us to make the fly this airline/get-in a-crash connection.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines destiny (n.) as "The power or agency by which, according to various systems of philosophy and popular belief, all events, or certain particular events, are unalterably predetermined; supernatural or divine pre-ordination; overruling or invincible necessity; = FATE." Following that thread, "fate" is defined as, "The principle, power, or agency by which, according to certain philosophical and popular systems of belief, all events, or some events in particular, are unalterably predetermined from eternity. Often personified," but further definitions break it down into "doom"... "death, destruction [and] ruin."
I guess I just find it to be in bad taste on the heels of several airplane crashes to have an ad campaign featuring a fake airline, accompanied by words implying that--should you fly this airline-- your doom awaits, most likely via airplane crash. As Cole and I like to say, "Too soon! Too soon!"
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Auto-Tune This
While I was at home this weekend, I stumbled upon this article in Time magazine, about the now-ubiquitous use of Auto-Tune. I have been thinking about it ever since (well, on and off-- not obsessively), because overall it's a totally fascinating concept. Having been involved in sound last year, I am kind of bummed that I never got a chance to play around with Auto-Tune, just to see what it's like to sing into a device and hear it perfect my pitch in crazy space robot-esque manner. I really think that there needs to be some sort of mass market Auto-Tune toy. I would love to play with it all day (and utterly annoy everyone around me, I'm sure).
But-- as the article states-- it is kind of sad that anybody can run their voice through a subtle Auto-Tuning. There is something to be said for imperfections. I have heard that some older people are bothered by the fact that CDs don't have that scratchy turntable imperfection that records used to have. I guess our generation will look back wistfully on a time when voices were voices, perfect or not.
This also creates an environment where anybody could record a song, for better or for worse. (Well, if they're really out of tune the Auto-Tune can only go so far. Remember Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta? Yeah.) Is this opening up the field in a positive way, or is it just allowing mediocrity to reign?
On a positive note, now there is a chance that I could someday record a hit song.
And I have Real Housewives on the brain because season two of the New York cast premieres tonight. I have realized that I love watching drama on TV and keeping the dramz out of my real life. I don't know if those two things are related somehow-- like if people who don't get drama from their entertainment seek it in real life. One of my friends was telling me about her life and asking how a certain event in her life would have played out, if it took place in a story that I was writing (or I guess a TV show-- a lot of times in my short stories people just sit around and make vague, bleak statements).
I said, "Look-- if it were a story I'd want things to happen that would fan the drama flame. But in real life relationships, not so much." It was the first time I'd really articulated the fact that stories are not the same as real life, and why. I was kind of proud of myself, for knowing the difference. I mean, I'm not saying that all stories are or should be drama on the high seas. But, you know.
My other friend, R, noticed this about me. She was complaining that so many of her friends come to her with problems that they want her to solve, and said that the reason she likes chatting online with me (we both work at computers most of the day) is that I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on.
R: I like that you want no therapy [from me]
R: I like that you're relatively problemless
R: It makes you easy to love
While my drama-free attitude makes me easy to love in real life, my willingness to dish on other peoples' drama makes me a good chat-friend. She and I love talking about celebrities' gossip and problems because those people are basically not real to us. They are not seeking our free therapy.
Note: I am probably not problemless so much as I try not to spin things into problems.
Next time I think I will write about my many-splendored views on love.
But-- as the article states-- it is kind of sad that anybody can run their voice through a subtle Auto-Tuning. There is something to be said for imperfections. I have heard that some older people are bothered by the fact that CDs don't have that scratchy turntable imperfection that records used to have. I guess our generation will look back wistfully on a time when voices were voices, perfect or not.
This also creates an environment where anybody could record a song, for better or for worse. (Well, if they're really out of tune the Auto-Tune can only go so far. Remember Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta? Yeah.) Is this opening up the field in a positive way, or is it just allowing mediocrity to reign?
On a positive note, now there is a chance that I could someday record a hit song.
And I have Real Housewives on the brain because season two of the New York cast premieres tonight. I have realized that I love watching drama on TV and keeping the dramz out of my real life. I don't know if those two things are related somehow-- like if people who don't get drama from their entertainment seek it in real life. One of my friends was telling me about her life and asking how a certain event in her life would have played out, if it took place in a story that I was writing (or I guess a TV show-- a lot of times in my short stories people just sit around and make vague, bleak statements).
I said, "Look-- if it were a story I'd want things to happen that would fan the drama flame. But in real life relationships, not so much." It was the first time I'd really articulated the fact that stories are not the same as real life, and why. I was kind of proud of myself, for knowing the difference. I mean, I'm not saying that all stories are or should be drama on the high seas. But, you know.
My other friend, R, noticed this about me. She was complaining that so many of her friends come to her with problems that they want her to solve, and said that the reason she likes chatting online with me (we both work at computers most of the day) is that I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on.
R: I like that you want no therapy [from me]
R: I like that you're relatively problemless
R: It makes you easy to love
While my drama-free attitude makes me easy to love in real life, my willingness to dish on other peoples' drama makes me a good chat-friend. She and I love talking about celebrities' gossip and problems because those people are basically not real to us. They are not seeking our free therapy.
Note: I am probably not problemless so much as I try not to spin things into problems.
Next time I think I will write about my many-splendored views on love.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tug-of-War
I am in a tug-of-war between wanting to write on my memory-packed Xanga and wanting to start afresh here. I don't like letting go of sentimental things.
My problem with Xanga is not so much that it's memory-packed, but more that it's Xanga. I prefer Blogspot, but I'm sure if I move here I'll want to relocate once again, when something more appealing comes along. In search of the perfect blog-host.
I am also constantly debating how much to really share about myself. As I get older and information gets more and more easy to come by, I find myself valuing my privacy. It's kind of a surprise because I never saw myself as a particularly private or mysterious person, but now I kind of want to be one. I see that I used to drop a lot more information in my Xanga entries, and now I am a lot more hesitant. I didn't even do that 25 things questionnaire that went viral on Facebook. Although now that it has come to light that Facebook has devised a plot to own everything that we post there, I'm starting to wonder if the creators weren't just trolling for interesting ideas for stories and characters. But I feel like people who blatantly steal other peoples' content for profit are probably not storytellers at heart.
So yeah, laying it all out for everybody to see vs. buttoning my lip. I feel like this must be a common struggle for people who want to write. There are a lot of writers who somehow seem to manage to seem totally confessional and be fairly private, all at once. Smoke and mirrors.
I bought a new shampoo and conditioner and today my curls look a little curlier and more structured, despite the rain. And yes, I am still using the same after-shower hair products.
The clouds are haulin' it across the sky, post-sideways crazy rain. I'm sure there will be more rain shortly.
My problem with Xanga is not so much that it's memory-packed, but more that it's Xanga. I prefer Blogspot, but I'm sure if I move here I'll want to relocate once again, when something more appealing comes along. In search of the perfect blog-host.
I am also constantly debating how much to really share about myself. As I get older and information gets more and more easy to come by, I find myself valuing my privacy. It's kind of a surprise because I never saw myself as a particularly private or mysterious person, but now I kind of want to be one. I see that I used to drop a lot more information in my Xanga entries, and now I am a lot more hesitant. I didn't even do that 25 things questionnaire that went viral on Facebook. Although now that it has come to light that Facebook has devised a plot to own everything that we post there, I'm starting to wonder if the creators weren't just trolling for interesting ideas for stories and characters. But I feel like people who blatantly steal other peoples' content for profit are probably not storytellers at heart.
So yeah, laying it all out for everybody to see vs. buttoning my lip. I feel like this must be a common struggle for people who want to write. There are a lot of writers who somehow seem to manage to seem totally confessional and be fairly private, all at once. Smoke and mirrors.
I bought a new shampoo and conditioner and today my curls look a little curlier and more structured, despite the rain. And yes, I am still using the same after-shower hair products.
The clouds are haulin' it across the sky, post-sideways crazy rain. I'm sure there will be more rain shortly.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Kids, Adults, and In Between
Whenever I start writing after midnight, I usually end up pulling an unintentional all-nighter, which pretty much wipes me out for the following day. Tonight I wasted a perfectly good night of sleep to write a long blog entry. A blog entry. I should be working on my "real" writing. Sigh.
I don't know if I've addressed this here, but I've talked about it recently with friends....
When I was a kid, I used to look at adults and think that they really had it together. I thought that on some distant and unfathomable morning I would wake up and somehow be secure in the knowledge that I was an adult.
But that's not really how it seems to be working out. Sometimes I feel like a grown-up, and sometimes I feel totally unprepared. Maybe once I have an income again, I'll feel more mature. Sometimes I just need to dress the part to feel it. Maybe a lot of being an adult has to do with feeling like an adult. Not that you can't still be young at heart.
It's crazy how everything is relative. I remember being in kindergarten and seeing the sixth graders and thinking that they were big, tall adults who could squish me under their feet. Now I see sixth graders and think that they are...well, twelve years old.
By a similar token, I will occasionally see a really hot guy and find out that he's in high school...like, 5 years younger than me...and feel like a total perv. Because I mistook a teen for an adult.
It's also funny to think about age gaps between couples. If I am 21 and date a 27-year-old, that's acceptable. But when he was 21 I was (I can't do math)...15-ish...that would have been a scandal. Or if a man marries a woman the same age as his daughter or something...we don't really want to start thinking about that math.
When I was 18, I went on a date with a 30-year-old, and my funny friend, Mike, made a huge list of "when he was doing this, you were doing that" to illustrate the age difference. We figured out that my date could theoretically have been my elementary school teacher. So to all you elementary school teachers, keep an eye out for potential future dates/spouses/f-buddies. It's a waiting game, for sure.
I don't know if I've addressed this here, but I've talked about it recently with friends....
When I was a kid, I used to look at adults and think that they really had it together. I thought that on some distant and unfathomable morning I would wake up and somehow be secure in the knowledge that I was an adult.
But that's not really how it seems to be working out. Sometimes I feel like a grown-up, and sometimes I feel totally unprepared. Maybe once I have an income again, I'll feel more mature. Sometimes I just need to dress the part to feel it. Maybe a lot of being an adult has to do with feeling like an adult. Not that you can't still be young at heart.
It's crazy how everything is relative. I remember being in kindergarten and seeing the sixth graders and thinking that they were big, tall adults who could squish me under their feet. Now I see sixth graders and think that they are...well, twelve years old.
By a similar token, I will occasionally see a really hot guy and find out that he's in high school...like, 5 years younger than me...and feel like a total perv. Because I mistook a teen for an adult.
It's also funny to think about age gaps between couples. If I am 21 and date a 27-year-old, that's acceptable. But when he was 21 I was (I can't do math)...15-ish...that would have been a scandal. Or if a man marries a woman the same age as his daughter or something...we don't really want to start thinking about that math.
When I was 18, I went on a date with a 30-year-old, and my funny friend, Mike, made a huge list of "when he was doing this, you were doing that" to illustrate the age difference. We figured out that my date could theoretically have been my elementary school teacher. So to all you elementary school teachers, keep an eye out for potential future dates/spouses/f-buddies. It's a waiting game, for sure.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Motor Memory
Sometimes when I'm typing a website into my internet explorer, my left hand will trip out and my right hand will type on regardless, which results in my trying to go to "google.om." I think that .om would be a great domain (if that's what it's called) for spirituality-related (especially Buddhist) websites.
Does it ever totally amaze you to think of how smart our brains and muscles are, that we can process what we're thinking and be able to type words, without even really thinking about it? I know that I will often be talking or looking away while I type, but still my fingers/brain can handle it. That's one of the miracles/mysteries of the universe. Also, the way our brains process language is sort of astounding to me, especially when we trip up and show our mental processing cards a bit. For example, sometimes I type "our" instead of "are" and vice-versa. My brain obviously knows the difference between those two words, but something makes it confuse homophones when I type. Crazy crazy.
Speaking of our fascinating brains, I have started a new blog at www.remembermethis.blogspot.com. It's dedicated to memories of things that never really happened, or memories of probably real events that only one person claims to remember. Email me if you have one of those types of memories--I want it to be a sort of PostSecret/Overheard in NY of wacky or poignant false memories. I only have a few of my own, and I don't want it to be all, me me me.
Does it ever totally amaze you to think of how smart our brains and muscles are, that we can process what we're thinking and be able to type words, without even really thinking about it? I know that I will often be talking or looking away while I type, but still my fingers/brain can handle it. That's one of the miracles/mysteries of the universe. Also, the way our brains process language is sort of astounding to me, especially when we trip up and show our mental processing cards a bit. For example, sometimes I type "our" instead of "are" and vice-versa. My brain obviously knows the difference between those two words, but something makes it confuse homophones when I type. Crazy crazy.
Speaking of our fascinating brains, I have started a new blog at www.remembermethis.blogspot.com. It's dedicated to memories of things that never really happened, or memories of probably real events that only one person claims to remember. Email me if you have one of those types of memories--I want it to be a sort of PostSecret/Overheard in NY of wacky or poignant false memories. I only have a few of my own, and I don't want it to be all, me me me.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
What's in a Decade?
First of all, I'm listening to the new Death Cab single. I didn't even know that they had a new single until my friend sent me a link to the video. I'm out of the loop. The cover art for the single and the upcoming album looks amazing. I kind of want to buy a poster version of the cover art and frame it and put it in my new apartment. My new apartment which doesn't yet exist.
My life is completely hypothetical starting a month from now. I cannot really get over that. I am interviewing for internships even though I need to find a paid job, just because it's terrifying to think that I might have no prospects on the morning after I graduate. I know I keep harping on this and some day I will look back and say, "Why did I worry so much?" and tell college seniors to just go with the flow. I know because I always look back and wonder why I worried so much. But then I think that maybe if I hadn't worried, things might not have turned out the same. Hmm.
Anyway, due to my worrying, my heavy book tote, and the fact that I usually write on my laptop while propped on my elbows in bed (today I'm sitting up), my whole body feels achy and wanky. My neck is a particular trouble area. I know basically zero about muscles (film and writing major here) and the art of massage, but last night two of my friends felt my neck and went, "Whoa! This is not good." Of course my neck is strained; it's holding up my GIANT BRAIN. Just kidding. Although if thoughts and worries had weight to them, my head would probably have toppled off of my neck long ago. But yeah, if I touch my neck it hurts. Sometimes too much to sleep. If I'm stressed now and things aren't even THAT stressfull, I probably have this to look forward to for the rest of my life. GREAT. I mean, I realize that I'm particularly stressed right now, but you know what else is stressful? HAVING a job. Growing up. Kids. Oh God.
A couple of days ago at the sound department, one of my 22-year-old co-workers (male) mentioned that he would like to be a father when he's 27. Another female co-worker and I pointed out that if that's what he wants, he should really be married within the next three years. So he should really meet his wife ASAP. No pressure. This guy just recently quit smoking, and he admitted (maybe jokingly) that it's partially about finding a girl (kudos to him either way). But anyway, the point is that these timelines are starting to form. (As a side note, though, as a guy it's easy for my friend to say he wants to have kids sooner than me and the other girls, because once he has kids he doesn't have to be the mom. The stakes are different.)
Yesterday I was thinking about the word "decade." It's such a small easy way of saying TEN YEARS, but the funny thing about decade is that sometimes it's used to denote a long stretch of time, and sometimes it's meant to compress time. I could say, "Decades ago women wore corsets," and that's kind of neutral. But if I went to an interview and they said, "We'll call you sometime in the next decade," that would seem ludicrous. Or when I talk to people and realize that it could take a decade to reach my career goals, that seems like forever, even though I'll only be in my early 30s in a decade (only, ha). But then when I think that within a decade I will probably be married and have two kids, it feels like, "Oh my God, a decade is too short! It's just around the corner." Sort of.
Don't get me wrong--I am looking forward to this next step. It's just a scary, strange transition involving so many decisions. That's why I'm kind of obsessing over it. Eventually I'll write another post about something more fun than my neuroses. Hopefully.
My life is completely hypothetical starting a month from now. I cannot really get over that. I am interviewing for internships even though I need to find a paid job, just because it's terrifying to think that I might have no prospects on the morning after I graduate. I know I keep harping on this and some day I will look back and say, "Why did I worry so much?" and tell college seniors to just go with the flow. I know because I always look back and wonder why I worried so much. But then I think that maybe if I hadn't worried, things might not have turned out the same. Hmm.
Anyway, due to my worrying, my heavy book tote, and the fact that I usually write on my laptop while propped on my elbows in bed (today I'm sitting up), my whole body feels achy and wanky. My neck is a particular trouble area. I know basically zero about muscles (film and writing major here) and the art of massage, but last night two of my friends felt my neck and went, "Whoa! This is not good." Of course my neck is strained; it's holding up my GIANT BRAIN. Just kidding. Although if thoughts and worries had weight to them, my head would probably have toppled off of my neck long ago. But yeah, if I touch my neck it hurts. Sometimes too much to sleep. If I'm stressed now and things aren't even THAT stressfull, I probably have this to look forward to for the rest of my life. GREAT. I mean, I realize that I'm particularly stressed right now, but you know what else is stressful? HAVING a job. Growing up. Kids. Oh God.
A couple of days ago at the sound department, one of my 22-year-old co-workers (male) mentioned that he would like to be a father when he's 27. Another female co-worker and I pointed out that if that's what he wants, he should really be married within the next three years. So he should really meet his wife ASAP. No pressure. This guy just recently quit smoking, and he admitted (maybe jokingly) that it's partially about finding a girl (kudos to him either way). But anyway, the point is that these timelines are starting to form. (As a side note, though, as a guy it's easy for my friend to say he wants to have kids sooner than me and the other girls, because once he has kids he doesn't have to be the mom. The stakes are different.)
Yesterday I was thinking about the word "decade." It's such a small easy way of saying TEN YEARS, but the funny thing about decade is that sometimes it's used to denote a long stretch of time, and sometimes it's meant to compress time. I could say, "Decades ago women wore corsets," and that's kind of neutral. But if I went to an interview and they said, "We'll call you sometime in the next decade," that would seem ludicrous. Or when I talk to people and realize that it could take a decade to reach my career goals, that seems like forever, even though I'll only be in my early 30s in a decade (only, ha). But then when I think that within a decade I will probably be married and have two kids, it feels like, "Oh my God, a decade is too short! It's just around the corner." Sort of.
Don't get me wrong--I am looking forward to this next step. It's just a scary, strange transition involving so many decisions. That's why I'm kind of obsessing over it. Eventually I'll write another post about something more fun than my neuroses. Hopefully.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Celeberate!
The other day I was typing an email at my internship, and I accidentally wrote that we were going to "celeberate Mother's Day!" Freudian slip?
Everybody who knows me fairly well knows that my personality is a weird mix of childlike joy about the world and extreme cynicism, and I feel like celeberating is a good description of the way I often speak about certain topics. When I think about it, I'm kind of surprised that the word "celeberate" doesn't already exist. I just submitted it to Urban Dictionary, and if all goes well it will be as popular as "frenemy" in the near future (what I really need to do is use it in a screenplay and then get that screenplay produced).
One entity which I find myself simultaneously celebrating and berating all the time is the United States of America. Lately my poor roommate has been subjected to hearing me ask a slew of rhetorical questions beginning with, "How can we reconcile...?" The "we" is almost always non-white people, and when I say non-white I basically mean everybody who didn't come here on the Mayflower or from an affluent Western European country. Because when you think about it, Irish people and Jews are techincally Caucasian but we got a lot of shit (and in some cases, still do) from America when we first got here. Occasionally I am enthused about America, but more often than not I want to talk smack. Even when I'm saying good things about America, I'm usually not 100% pleased. For example, "The great thing about America is that everybody's free to pursue their dreams...in theory." That's celeberating the USA!
Other things that I love to celeberate: religion, the film industry, USC, my friends and family. Sorry losers! You know I love you. And you know I celeberate myself all the time.
Another "institution" which I can't help but celeberate--because I really am not sure how to feel-- is the male/female practice of courting/relationships. Sometimes I think, "Oh, I can't wait to have a special man to share my whole life with!" and other times I think, "Someday soon I'm going to get married and spend the rest of my life compromising my goals and dreams and being stuck in one place (unless we're rich and can afford multiple homes)." Last night I was having this very discussion with my friend Brennero, and he was jokingly referring to having kids as "popping out some anchors." Every year all of this "some day I'll be an adult with a 'real life'" stuff is getting closer and closer, and the prospect of jumping into that life is half wonderful, half horrifying. Suddenly a lot of people I know are engaged or married, and I'm thinking, "Whoa, whoa!" (that makes me think of horses). Right now it's scary enough going forward into life as an independent person (as opposed to being a dependent--I am really going to miss being on my parents' insurance policies).
My whole life right now feels overshadowed by the fact that a little over a month from now I will graduate from college. That means that I will lose my housing and my university job, my friend-base will scatter, and I ought to have lots of creative work ready to show to people. Luckily almost all of my film friends are in the same boat of not having a job lined up (film jobs usually need to be filled immediately, so we can't really get them until classes end). As much as I'm excited to go out into the world (and getting kind of jaded about university life), I feel like my identity is being stolen. I'm going to miss being able to go to cheap arts events on campus, walking past the music school and hearing opera singing echo mysteriously around me, running into friends everywhere, always being able to stop by the sound department and see a friendly face, etc.
Oh well. People graduate from college every year, and most of them turn out okay.
Let's have a celeberation!
Everybody who knows me fairly well knows that my personality is a weird mix of childlike joy about the world and extreme cynicism, and I feel like celeberating is a good description of the way I often speak about certain topics. When I think about it, I'm kind of surprised that the word "celeberate" doesn't already exist. I just submitted it to Urban Dictionary, and if all goes well it will be as popular as "frenemy" in the near future (what I really need to do is use it in a screenplay and then get that screenplay produced).
One entity which I find myself simultaneously celebrating and berating all the time is the United States of America. Lately my poor roommate has been subjected to hearing me ask a slew of rhetorical questions beginning with, "How can we reconcile...?" The "we" is almost always non-white people, and when I say non-white I basically mean everybody who didn't come here on the Mayflower or from an affluent Western European country. Because when you think about it, Irish people and Jews are techincally Caucasian but we got a lot of shit (and in some cases, still do) from America when we first got here. Occasionally I am enthused about America, but more often than not I want to talk smack. Even when I'm saying good things about America, I'm usually not 100% pleased. For example, "The great thing about America is that everybody's free to pursue their dreams...in theory." That's celeberating the USA!
Other things that I love to celeberate: religion, the film industry, USC, my friends and family. Sorry losers! You know I love you. And you know I celeberate myself all the time.
Another "institution" which I can't help but celeberate--because I really am not sure how to feel-- is the male/female practice of courting/relationships. Sometimes I think, "Oh, I can't wait to have a special man to share my whole life with!" and other times I think, "Someday soon I'm going to get married and spend the rest of my life compromising my goals and dreams and being stuck in one place (unless we're rich and can afford multiple homes)." Last night I was having this very discussion with my friend Brennero, and he was jokingly referring to having kids as "popping out some anchors." Every year all of this "some day I'll be an adult with a 'real life'" stuff is getting closer and closer, and the prospect of jumping into that life is half wonderful, half horrifying. Suddenly a lot of people I know are engaged or married, and I'm thinking, "Whoa, whoa!" (that makes me think of horses). Right now it's scary enough going forward into life as an independent person (as opposed to being a dependent--I am really going to miss being on my parents' insurance policies).
My whole life right now feels overshadowed by the fact that a little over a month from now I will graduate from college. That means that I will lose my housing and my university job, my friend-base will scatter, and I ought to have lots of creative work ready to show to people. Luckily almost all of my film friends are in the same boat of not having a job lined up (film jobs usually need to be filled immediately, so we can't really get them until classes end). As much as I'm excited to go out into the world (and getting kind of jaded about university life), I feel like my identity is being stolen. I'm going to miss being able to go to cheap arts events on campus, walking past the music school and hearing opera singing echo mysteriously around me, running into friends everywhere, always being able to stop by the sound department and see a friendly face, etc.
Oh well. People graduate from college every year, and most of them turn out okay.
Let's have a celeberation!
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