So many movies, so much music, so many life changes. Wait, those don't really relate, do they?
My absolute favorite part of traveling is, funny enough, the time in between places. Especially after work started, I rarely find time to journal. After regularly journeying from coast to coast, I always found my most soothing and contemplative moments squished into a center seat somewhere in Cattle Class; which is probably why I knee-jerk to pulling out my moleskin as soon as I've snapped my seatbelt into place. Maybe it's because I don't have the option of wi-fi. Actually, that's likely. Or, maybe it's because I just plug my music in and do nothing but put a pen on paper. No distractions, and no necessity to conduct inane conversation with the person next to me. Or, is it because leaving familiarity gives me a sense of freedom and quiet honesty? Probably some of the first unfiltered honesty I'll experience with myself in however long its been since my last trip. I'm always more creative, more adventurous, more alert and less inhibited when I'm not around everything that I know. But, isn't that everyone? That's what studying abroad was -- what happens in ______ stays in _______, right? What you think about on the plane, stays on the plane? Or, it trails behind you like cans on the Just Married car, clinking against the concrete, reminding you to take some time and untangle everything before you return home dragging that beat up metal crap. How quaintly existential of you, See. That was actually just a vague gesture at explaining why I've been a lazy bum and haven't posted in three weeks. But, you just got to Seattle, how can you possibly have been that busy before all this?
Oh, well just you wait for the daring exploits and tales of the city about our intrepid soon-to-be living in Nob Hill trio. Close read that one.
Upcoming topics for discussion:
1. Sex and the City. Three days till Thursday's premiere. I hope against all hope that it won't be the train wreck that Indy was last week, which might have been a better movie if I was deaf. Or blind. Or in a coma. I'll broach that later.
2. Gossip Girl (TV and Book version!) Reading the book at 23 makes me think Cecily von Zeigesar is a master of satire and irony. Thinking about how I would have read it at 14 makes me want to never have children. Or at least, if I do, sit down and have the birds and bees talk when they turn 8. No, wait, 4 1/2.
3. Summer albums are dropping everywhere we look. Usher. Coldplay. Chris Brown. Movin' mountains won me over since Raymond's hearkening back to his origins -- angsty love song ballades. For his upbeat siiiccckkk club sound: Play Me. (No pun intended...ish). Viva la Vida is going to be another Coldplay classic -- props to the group for integrating classical sounds with current day pop. They did it oh so long ago, but the best part is how they've kept it going. R.I.P. The Verve. Chris Brown, well, need I mention Forever? But, that's so 6 weeks ago. His now it song is Last 2 Know.
4. Rogan for Target's GO International line. Till June 28th. Saharan prints. Trendy. Cheap. Go buy it.
Till I'm back from my travels up north and more capable of structuring and writing a coherent entry, here's a little current music joy to partake of:
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Aww
Boys are so funny.
Not in the "wah, boys are such strange creatures that I don't understand!" whiney way that, yeah I know, I have lamented in the blog before. What I mean is guys are just funny. They are creatures of entertainment, and are quick to take every opportunity to crack an inappropriate joke, or make people squirmishly uncomfortable. They have comedic timing, usually, and they're witty, hilarious, and I swear they just get away with so much more shit than women do. Look, I just typed shit, twice. You know what I think when I write shit (thrice!) in one post? I think, damn, now I look really unlady-like. I think, well great, now I'm an uncouth female writer and I'm taking cheap shots because I ran out of the really melodic, lyrical bull that I'm used to putting out in the world. I think, I seem like freaking Amy Poehler, and I don't think she's funny. I think she's crass and a little disgusting and like I'd rather rub a dead rat on my hand than watch her on TV. When a guy swears in his writing, like say in another blog that I frequent written by a certain boyperson/coworker/I bet you won't notice this for a week does, the profanity comes off not only pithy and adeptly turned, but I swear to God sometimes it sounds brilliant. Like fuck was the greatest word ever invented, or shit was the best descriptor anyone has ever used. I have never had so much aggravated language in a blog post before, and I will brazenly admit that it feels both liberating and, well, twitchy. My leg is popping up and down now. Swearing in public turns me into the squirrel from Hoodwinked.
I was reading Marie Claire which, I still think, is one of the best women's magazines out there today. It's informed, intelligent, and it makes a damn good case for being an independent, free-thinking woman. All the important "IN" words for women. But, it's really just not funny. There are polite quips and banter here and there, and the recent article about dealing with the downside of wedding season (omg, totally do not give the same gift to every bride and groom you see this year) is supposed to be so funny because they include a sidebar on how to handle nasty 911 situations, like the bride being pregnant on her wedding day. Do NOT make jokes about her belly and how she's a mommy-to-be, FYI. Holy fuck (whoo! count 6) it's just boring. But it's the kind of humor that women are accustomed to and hits right in their comfort zone. Polite giggles with your hand held over your mouth, right ladies? Throwing your head back and laughing at a magazine would be, well, in poor taste. Boys get Maxim. Boys get Details. Boys get freaking Playboy. Not saying I want naked dudes linked in with my intellectual stimulation, but when women try to put it all together it just comes off smutty. Hello, Cosmo.
The Daily Show has all dudes, right? Are there any women? I'm not a habitual watcher, so I wouldn't know. And the Colbert Report, well, duh. Okay, but you have SNL. Or Mad TV. And Tina Fey made history by becoming the first lead SNL female comedy writer. She's funny! She wrote one of my favorite movies of all time, Mean Girls, and she's the featured celebrity (because every magazine has to feature a celebrity now) in the May issue of Marie Claire. Except, Tina Fey is one of a very few smart, witty women who have managed to retain some modicum of femininity while they stay true their inner hijinx. Cybil Shepherd comes to mind as a funny woman. Candice Bergen on occasion. And even so, in my mind, the perception of them is slightly masculine. They have a fairly mannish quality to them. Take That 70's show for example. Redhead Donna, hilarious, but with a definite air of masculinity. Brunette Jackie, laugh worthy but in such a hee-hee, airhead way. So, what, being funny means you're being like a dude?
I often wonder if I can identify a female writer or male writer just by their style. In fact, reading Marie Claire today I was trying to do that. Male, Female, Female, Female. And, perhaps pleasantly surprising enough, I was wrong a few times. But only, and get this, when it was a man writing. Men can adapt female writing, but then they seem, what, gay? Women can adapt male writing, but then they seem butch. But how many female writers are there for GQ? Or Maxim? I seriously considered applying to Maxim when I was looking for jobs, but would I be giving up my liberated woman views to work for them? Verdict: yes. Application killed. But, is that holding me back? Guys will write for a women's magazine, so, why shouldn't I try writing for a men's magazine? Because I don't ever feel like I could be funny in the way that they need. I could be cute funny, and that's what it all comes down to. Men can be laugh out loud, raucous, hilarious and completely inappropriate funny. Women can be laughable, adorable, and quaint. Fucking A.
Even at the tail end of this ranty post, all I can think is, "I read my writing and think, gee, I feel like flowers and clouds after reading this." I read other people's writing, mainly male writers, and think, "Yeah, that's it, get into the gritty shit. Do it." I can't even get myself to do it -- this entry is a definite stretch for me -- so if, as a women's college educated, independent, liberal female, I'm worrying about crossing the line, someone tell me how women in general can toe the line between funny and crass without getting shit on?
I've definitely heard at least a couple guys tell me that girls will never be as funny as boys. Is it because we aren't willing to take the chances? Or because taking the chances makes us look too much like one of the dudes. Freaking gender stereotypes. I am liberated. I've made "that's what she said" jokes, albeit like twice, but I've gone there and I've done that. I've done keg stands, watched videos I never should have watched with things in places they never should have been, and I've shot guns, I like comic books and I can beat you at Street Fighter II. And I still like pink, and high heels, and make-up and snuggling.
And the next time some asshole guy slams his arm into my shoulder because he thinks I'm a prissy bitch, I'm going to turn around and knee him in the balls or punch him in the face. Cause, you know what, I am a prissy bitch.
I just wish I could figure out how to do it all without feeling like I was giving up some special, delicate, flowery part of myself.
Not in the "wah, boys are such strange creatures that I don't understand!" whiney way that, yeah I know, I have lamented in the blog before. What I mean is guys are just funny. They are creatures of entertainment, and are quick to take every opportunity to crack an inappropriate joke, or make people squirmishly uncomfortable. They have comedic timing, usually, and they're witty, hilarious, and I swear they just get away with so much more shit than women do. Look, I just typed shit, twice. You know what I think when I write shit (thrice!) in one post? I think, damn, now I look really unlady-like. I think, well great, now I'm an uncouth female writer and I'm taking cheap shots because I ran out of the really melodic, lyrical bull that I'm used to putting out in the world. I think, I seem like freaking Amy Poehler, and I don't think she's funny. I think she's crass and a little disgusting and like I'd rather rub a dead rat on my hand than watch her on TV. When a guy swears in his writing, like say in another blog that I frequent written by a certain boyperson/coworker/I bet you won't notice this for a week does, the profanity comes off not only pithy and adeptly turned, but I swear to God sometimes it sounds brilliant. Like fuck was the greatest word ever invented, or shit was the best descriptor anyone has ever used. I have never had so much aggravated language in a blog post before, and I will brazenly admit that it feels both liberating and, well, twitchy. My leg is popping up and down now. Swearing in public turns me into the squirrel from Hoodwinked.
I was reading Marie Claire which, I still think, is one of the best women's magazines out there today. It's informed, intelligent, and it makes a damn good case for being an independent, free-thinking woman. All the important "IN" words for women. But, it's really just not funny. There are polite quips and banter here and there, and the recent article about dealing with the downside of wedding season (omg, totally do not give the same gift to every bride and groom you see this year) is supposed to be so funny because they include a sidebar on how to handle nasty 911 situations, like the bride being pregnant on her wedding day. Do NOT make jokes about her belly and how she's a mommy-to-be, FYI. Holy fuck (whoo! count 6) it's just boring. But it's the kind of humor that women are accustomed to and hits right in their comfort zone. Polite giggles with your hand held over your mouth, right ladies? Throwing your head back and laughing at a magazine would be, well, in poor taste. Boys get Maxim. Boys get Details. Boys get freaking Playboy. Not saying I want naked dudes linked in with my intellectual stimulation, but when women try to put it all together it just comes off smutty. Hello, Cosmo.
The Daily Show has all dudes, right? Are there any women? I'm not a habitual watcher, so I wouldn't know. And the Colbert Report, well, duh. Okay, but you have SNL. Or Mad TV. And Tina Fey made history by becoming the first lead SNL female comedy writer. She's funny! She wrote one of my favorite movies of all time, Mean Girls, and she's the featured celebrity (because every magazine has to feature a celebrity now) in the May issue of Marie Claire. Except, Tina Fey is one of a very few smart, witty women who have managed to retain some modicum of femininity while they stay true their inner hijinx. Cybil Shepherd comes to mind as a funny woman. Candice Bergen on occasion. And even so, in my mind, the perception of them is slightly masculine. They have a fairly mannish quality to them. Take That 70's show for example. Redhead Donna, hilarious, but with a definite air of masculinity. Brunette Jackie, laugh worthy but in such a hee-hee, airhead way. So, what, being funny means you're being like a dude?
I often wonder if I can identify a female writer or male writer just by their style. In fact, reading Marie Claire today I was trying to do that. Male, Female, Female, Female. And, perhaps pleasantly surprising enough, I was wrong a few times. But only, and get this, when it was a man writing. Men can adapt female writing, but then they seem, what, gay? Women can adapt male writing, but then they seem butch. But how many female writers are there for GQ? Or Maxim? I seriously considered applying to Maxim when I was looking for jobs, but would I be giving up my liberated woman views to work for them? Verdict: yes. Application killed. But, is that holding me back? Guys will write for a women's magazine, so, why shouldn't I try writing for a men's magazine? Because I don't ever feel like I could be funny in the way that they need. I could be cute funny, and that's what it all comes down to. Men can be laugh out loud, raucous, hilarious and completely inappropriate funny. Women can be laughable, adorable, and quaint. Fucking A.
Even at the tail end of this ranty post, all I can think is, "I read my writing and think, gee, I feel like flowers and clouds after reading this." I read other people's writing, mainly male writers, and think, "Yeah, that's it, get into the gritty shit. Do it." I can't even get myself to do it -- this entry is a definite stretch for me -- so if, as a women's college educated, independent, liberal female, I'm worrying about crossing the line, someone tell me how women in general can toe the line between funny and crass without getting shit on?
I've definitely heard at least a couple guys tell me that girls will never be as funny as boys. Is it because we aren't willing to take the chances? Or because taking the chances makes us look too much like one of the dudes. Freaking gender stereotypes. I am liberated. I've made "that's what she said" jokes, albeit like twice, but I've gone there and I've done that. I've done keg stands, watched videos I never should have watched with things in places they never should have been, and I've shot guns, I like comic books and I can beat you at Street Fighter II. And I still like pink, and high heels, and make-up and snuggling.
And the next time some asshole guy slams his arm into my shoulder because he thinks I'm a prissy bitch, I'm going to turn around and knee him in the balls or punch him in the face. Cause, you know what, I am a prissy bitch.
I just wish I could figure out how to do it all without feeling like I was giving up some special, delicate, flowery part of myself.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Clazziquai - Lover Boy
Really, music is sometimes so much better when you don't have to worry about insipid lyrics. Here's looking at you, Chris Brown. Also, see Clazziquai's song "Romeo N Juliet" which will pop up in the menu, on the far right, after this song finishes playing. They sucker me in with their Jazz sounds. Tricksters.
Fatigue?
Overly long post about being awake at 2a.m. has been reduced to this:
Type-A Friends, that's all of you, make sure you take time out to recharge. Meaning:
1. Spend a day/night doing absolutely nothing so you can clear out all the junk in your head (this does not include drinking. Drinking makes you more dumberererer). Get sleep.
2. Go see people. Do not stay locked at home doing mundane, silly, boringness because it feels easy and safe. Do something that will engage you socially and keep you invested in your existence not tied to an inanimate object. There are very worthwhile people to spend your time with, go be with them.
3. I sound like Stephen Covey, I'm going to stop.
Happy May! See above post for fun music. Also, go see Iron Man. If you can, sometime this weekend, when there are lots of people in the theater. Do not go for surprise plot twists (honestly, that's not why anyone watches a SuperHero movie nowadays). However, do expect snappy dialogue with healthy doses of banter, neat gadgets, and plenty of comic book references for adequate nerd-lovin'. Robert Downey Jr. makes the film laugh out loud funny, his timing and irreverence floating lines that would seem pedantic from another actor, and, for a man who's in his 40s, well, not a peep or complaint from my mouth about appearance and/or physical capabilities. Gwyneth Paltrow is luminous. Strawberry blonde hair, fabulous legs plus a killer backless azure dress (hrmm... who made that?) only highlight how well-suited she is to play a flustered, assertive, no wait, meek, no wait, feisty Pepper Potts with her demure half smiles fluttering boy hearts everywhere. Yada, yada, yada, go watch, be merry, enjoy spring.
Type-A Friends, that's all of you, make sure you take time out to recharge. Meaning:
1. Spend a day/night doing absolutely nothing so you can clear out all the junk in your head (this does not include drinking. Drinking makes you more dumberererer). Get sleep.
2. Go see people. Do not stay locked at home doing mundane, silly, boringness because it feels easy and safe. Do something that will engage you socially and keep you invested in your existence not tied to an inanimate object. There are very worthwhile people to spend your time with, go be with them.
3. I sound like Stephen Covey, I'm going to stop.
Happy May! See above post for fun music. Also, go see Iron Man. If you can, sometime this weekend, when there are lots of people in the theater. Do not go for surprise plot twists (honestly, that's not why anyone watches a SuperHero movie nowadays). However, do expect snappy dialogue with healthy doses of banter, neat gadgets, and plenty of comic book references for adequate nerd-lovin'. Robert Downey Jr. makes the film laugh out loud funny, his timing and irreverence floating lines that would seem pedantic from another actor, and, for a man who's in his 40s, well, not a peep or complaint from my mouth about appearance and/or physical capabilities. Gwyneth Paltrow is luminous. Strawberry blonde hair, fabulous legs plus a killer backless azure dress (hrmm... who made that?) only highlight how well-suited she is to play a flustered, assertive, no wait, meek, no wait, feisty Pepper Potts with her demure half smiles fluttering boy hearts everywhere. Yada, yada, yada, go watch, be merry, enjoy spring.
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