So, I am attempting this whole liveblogging thing for tonight mostly because if I don’t type while the Awards are airing, I’ll never get the motivation to synthesize my thoughts and actually post. (I actually had to Google 'liveblogging' to make sure I had the definition right. So far as I can tell, it’s blogging with time stamps so I’m going to go with that.)
Disclaimer: I haven't watched this show in a few years, but I have very fond memories of W.B. kids, ironic awards, timely satire, and a fantastic opening sequence that featured Kirsten Dunst and Jimmy Fallon recreating the music video for Don't Tell Me. I'm not really expecting that level of Awesome, but I am curious what MTV's been up to these last few years.
Judging from the Red Carpet Preshow, there’s a strange paradox occurring wherein the Movie Awards are nearly ten years past their prime and I’m a good five years too old for them, and yet, the preshow appears to be amateur night in Dixie. Has MTV ever produced anything ever? Awkward transitions, sloppy cuts, lost sound, and interview interruptus. Why are their VJs behaving as though they’ve never been on camera? Suchin Pak is collecting social security at this point; she should know better. The guy (Jim? Tim? Tom?) I don’t recognize so maybe he’s new. He’s desperately trying to not offend Shia LaBeouf. Shia LaBeouf is high. And in his thirties. Seriously, he’s ten years older than me. Oh, a Transformers Exclusive (*spoiler alert* there are a lot of these tonight) Heh. Michael Bay is articulating the “plot” of Transformers. Let’s not pretend there’s an actual plot. He just said the word “real” eight times in two sentences. Regarding Transformers. Ironic, no? No Name Ingenue just said it’s the biggest movie she’s ever been a part of. It’s bigger than nothing? Really? Why has Spielberg yoked himself to this insult to storytelling? I wonder if LaBeouf is Spielberg’s bastard child. Oh, NNI was a Maxim cover girl. Transformers is bigger than the cover of Maxim. Alert the media. It turns out unknown VJ (Tim!) is new. Well, there ya’ go.
Truthfully, some other stuff happened during this preshow besides Transformers pimping. But you’ll soon come to realize that none of it matters. Paris Hilton completely got the kid glove treatment, Lauren Conrad and her Hills hos went shopping, and I think Jay-Z popped up for a second. Crappiest preshow ever! There were about two seconds of awesome courtesy of Mandy Moore, John Krasinski, and Jessica Alba. That’s how low this show has sunk. Jessica Alba stands out as awesome.
Aaaaaaand...Awards Show!
8: 00- Sarah Silverman! She’s talking to a dog. Well, it was the Year of the Dog. Think how much cooler this show would already be were they parodying Year of the Dog right now instead of, wait for it...Transformers. How droll. Man, Silverman’s already reaching. A decades old Kanye joke! Before they were canceled over a YEAR ago, Arrested Development made this joke. That's how old it is. Johnny Knoxville looks to' up. Is he fifty now? And is he the best they could come up with? Damn. Remember when Lisa Kudrow hosted and they spoofed Austin Powers and it was a good ten to fifteen minutes of hilarious, cameo-driven parody before they even got to the show? This is not that.
8: 02- 2 minutes of parody. Two. Adam Sandler is sitting next to Jack Nicholson. Sandler’s popping gum like a twelve year old girl. Or Two A-holes. I know we’re supposed to be repulsed by Will Ferrell’s Grizzly Adams look, but I actually think it makes him sexier. I have beard issues.
The Badass Motherfucker hates Sarah Silverman.
8:04- Woah. A Cisco Adler joke. Mischa’s not as irrelevant as we thought.
Damn. Vagina jokes. Wouldn’t be Sarah Silverman without them.
Inevitable mention of La Lohan. And mocking Alec Baldwin- that’s tired. Even Silverman seems to think so.
8: 05- Paris sex joke. But she’s there. So it’s edgy. Is Silverman a hack? That would make me sad, but I mean, Paris sex joke? My grandfather could make that joke.
8: 08- Wow. This intro is not good. The song? Dirty words are funny, y’all. The first time I watched this I thought the altercocker choir was without pants. I’m relieved to see that’s not the case as that might make this whole performance classless.
8: 10- Cast of Fantastic Four. Fametracker's 2 Stars 1 Slot (Dirty!): Chris Evans/Bret Harrison. Because they could very well be the same person and we don’t know it. Best Villain. What kind of world do we live in where Nicholson and Streep are up against Tobin Bell from Saw 3? Do these tweens even know who Nicholson is? Beyond his role in The Departed? Ok, Nicholson is definitely high. Not that I blame him, but this acceptance speech is all over the place. The troops? Really, we’re going to the troops?
8: 14- Well, Silverman’s in on the joke (that is the MTV Movie Awards 2007.) So that might make this better. My notes say, I’ve only seen two of the nominees for Best Film but the only one I can remember right now is Little Miss Sunshine. At any rate, I didn’t see Pirates of the Caribbean: Davy Jones’s Locker which *spoiler alert* wins or Borat. So I don’t really get this joke. Unless the joke is just a scantily clad fat man. Then, I get it. But it’s not funny.
Oh hey, apparently the announcer is live blogging during the show as well. How weird was that naked guy, indeed. The MTV Movie Awards are brought to you by the letter O.
Commercials. Best Week Ever goes meta. Isn’t Best Week Ever definitively meta? Isn’t the whole point that they’re meta? Is this, like, super meta meta?
8: 21- I enjoy Jessica Biel. I don’t actually watch her movies (Next? Are you kidding me?) but there’s something about her I really like. She and Silverman are talking about blogging. I dread the day meta becomes played out. Are we already there? If we were still doing message tees, I’d make one that reads I Heart Meta. I might do it anyway. I’m a Lit geek, what the hell right?
8: 22- Best Fight. So Bruce Willis was at home watering his lawn or hosting a barbecue or something when he got a call telling him he was twenty minutes late for the show. That’s the only explanation for the Jimmy Buffet attire he’s sporting (and the wardrobe change later on.) He also is quite possibly, high. As is Justin Long. Justin Long looks like he wandered in off the Miami Vice set. They’re plugging Live Free or Die Hard or Live Hard or Die Trying or Living to Die Hard or whatever. And the Best Fight Award goes to a real person battling CGI effects. Ok, then. Gerard Butler from 300. He’s totally denigrating the award. Justin Long wants us to know that he is so much more badass than the Mac commercials would suggest.
8: 26- I generally don’t get too offended by the recent hyper injection of fratboy culture into commercial cinema, but Good Luck Chuck is everything that is wrong with both fratboy culture and commercial cinema. Dane Cook is introducing Amateur Spoofs. The first one, Little Miss Squirt Gun, claims to be a cross between Little Miss Sunshine and Pulp Fiction, but it takes a weird Brangelina/Vaughniston turn about halfway through. Is that Alanna Ubach? How did this guy get Alanna Ubach? This is not funny. And dated. Watch, Jolie’s going to adopt Little Miss. Yep, saw that coming.
Sam Jackson thought it blew. And he was actually in Pulp Fiction.
Commercials. I love John Krasinski and I love Mandy Moore and I’ll totally see this over Transformers, but License To Wed is going to suck. It’s undeniable.
Orbitz chick is at the Awards.
8: 33- Victoria Beckham looks horrifying. Jay-Z and Rhianna. Didn’t Jay-Z retire? Heh. He just rhymed something with Dow Jones. Sing what you know I guess. Oh, there’s a theme. A movie theme. Or an S&M theme. Rhianna cannot sing. See, this is why it doesn’t matter that Jordin won Idol and not Melinda. The relative success of Rhianna is proof that it really makes no difference. Was she an ANTM winner? A Pussy Cat Doll? Does it even matter? She looks good in pleather and can’t sing a lick and she’s headlining the MTV Movie Awards. Melinda will be just fine. Jordin will too, for that matter.
8: 38- Best Kiss. Adam Sandler, Kevin James, and Jessica Biel. See, it’s like Jessica Biel wants me to not like her. This Chuck and Larry movie? Is she only about the paycheck? ?
8: 39- Best Kiss (ctd.) And Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron-Cohen are nominated for Talladega Nights so you know they’ve already won. Because any time two men kiss, it’s funny. I’m surprised the MTV folk even bothered to pad the category. Full disclosure: I thought Talladega Nights was hilarious, but the audience is behaving as if this is brand new territory when in reality, same sex kisses have ruled this Award since the late nineties. Of course this audience were all fetuses then. Now, I’m sad. And old. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but Ferrell is sexy. And I like him as the straight man. (No pun intended.) See, now the crowd is going Crazy as Cohen and Ferrell reenact their *shocking* kiss. Because they’ve never seen this show before.
8: 44- We’re back with Dane Cook and another Amateur Spoof. Texas Chainsaw Rehab. Also not funny. Less funny than Little Miss Squirt Gun, actually. Who are these not funny future filmmakers? Are we all really so creatively bereft?
Commercials. Amputees are HI-larious. Especially in light of the War.
8: 50- Silverman. Potty humor. Oh, see this is the parody that was supposed to open the show. Silverman is inserted into scenes from all the big films of the year. Brad Pitt on the phone in Babel. More potty humor. Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls. Pursuit of Happyness. Ok, The Departed bit was kinda funny. They completely telegraphed the Prada joke. Last but not least, Transformers! Exclusive! Eh.
8: 55- So they couldn’t even get enough celebs for all the categories. Random MTV fan intro. indeed. Breakthrough Performance. Ooh, ooh Emily Blunt. Emily Blunt should win. Just because she’s Emily Blunt. And her name is kick ass. Wow, the Baby Smith Clam (Jaden) is nominated for Pursuit of Happyness. Precocious offspring of Hollywood royalty? In the bag. But he didn’t show. BSC’s whole acceptance “video” is really Will Smith’s larger than life plea to us. Don’t you forget about me. He’s seriously begging. Big Willie Style.
8: 59- Dane Cook hates his life. Paris Hilton is still there. United 300. Amateur Spoof. A cross between 300 and the most gut-wrenching movie I saw last year, United 93. Everyone should see United 93. I avoided it for a long time for fear that it was exploitative and jingoistic. It’s neither. It’s breathtaking. See it. This spoof is not funny. I mean, the others weren’t funny either. But this is not funny and offensive.
Commercials. See ya' in the next hour!
Monday, June 4, 2007
Sunday, June 3, 2007
That It's A Small World After All
So, I actively attempt to keep my real life independent of my online life. With the exception of one crossover moment, I'm a firm believer in the idea that the two serve different functions and as such, never the twain shall meet. Typically, I conceive of other message board posters as nameless, faceless entities who don't exist beyond their opinions of pop culture ephemera. That's worked pretty well for me and while the world doesn't end when I do stumble upon someone's picture or real name, anonymity seems to me to still be one of the most significant aspects of internet culture. (Even as I see it rabidly dwindling every second.)
To switch gears, I faithfully followed American Idol this past season for the first time ever. As The O.C. concluded and my love of The Office waned, it became appointment television for me. I didn't so much enjoy the contestants's performances as I did the culture that builds up around each season of Idol- magazine covers, celebrity appearances, fan wars, and the like. In The Year of Blake/Jordin, Idol went above and beyond in providing fodder for meta commentary through its production of Idol Gives Back, the single greatest mindfuck I've seen on television in years. When Jordin was crowned the S6 Idol a few weeks ago, I wondered how I would fulfill my 19E competitive reality show void. Luckily, FOX anticipated this ennui and immediately provided me, So You Think You Can Dance. Same creators, same producers, same format, different talent. For me, SYTYCD is actually more entertaining since once upon a time, I was a dancer.
The show seems to know this about me as the L.A. Auditions actually featured a contestant with whom I danced several years ago! That's right, Jesus "Chuy" Solorio from Paso Robles (my hometown) was actually in my high school dance company! This is not meant to make me sound like a better dancer than I was; I never possessed 1/100th of the talent that Chuy possesses. But I mean, it's not every day that I see someone from Paso on TV and in a dance contest, no less. The dance community is small. Paso Robles is even smaller. During my tenure in both, it's undeniable that all twenty of us knew each other at some point. So after I picked my jaw up off the floor, the inevitable move was to go to the SYTYCD board at TWoP and brag about knowing a contestant. (No, I didn't really do that; that's obnoxious behavior. I did express some Paso pride, though.)
Reading through the Auditions thread, I came upon a post that began, "As a resident of Paso Robles..." As a resident of Paso Robles. There are less than 30,000 residents of Paso Robles. What are the odds that I know this person? So I read through a few more of her posts wherein she mentions a relatively famous choreographer who taught in residence at the local dance studio for a couple years. This means she at least, has knowledge of the teeny tiny Paso dance community. Then, she went on to say that her husband works with a girl who danced with Chuy "since they were little kids." !
Seriously, I know this person. I may know her husband and I definitely know his coworker. I am so, so tempted to send her a private message inquiring as to who she is. But I have such mixed feelings about it. The curiousity is killing me (and I wonder if I'll be able to figure it out from the content of her posts,) but where would we go from there? I have no desire to online friend a soccer mom from my hometown, and I'm not sure I want to reveal anything substantive about myself (like my permanent residence or background) for such a tenuous connection. Still, the curiousity. It's making me twitchy.
And chalk it up to various online oddities, but it's so interesting to me that when TWoP was the little tv site that could, we were all anonymous television junkies joined only by a persistent need to overanalyze. However as the site mutates into a corporate behemoth (and seemingly loses any quaint, communal feel,) it's revealed that other posters are (literally) in my own backyard.
To switch gears, I faithfully followed American Idol this past season for the first time ever. As The O.C. concluded and my love of The Office waned, it became appointment television for me. I didn't so much enjoy the contestants's performances as I did the culture that builds up around each season of Idol- magazine covers, celebrity appearances, fan wars, and the like. In The Year of Blake/Jordin, Idol went above and beyond in providing fodder for meta commentary through its production of Idol Gives Back, the single greatest mindfuck I've seen on television in years. When Jordin was crowned the S6 Idol a few weeks ago, I wondered how I would fulfill my 19E competitive reality show void. Luckily, FOX anticipated this ennui and immediately provided me, So You Think You Can Dance. Same creators, same producers, same format, different talent. For me, SYTYCD is actually more entertaining since once upon a time, I was a dancer.
The show seems to know this about me as the L.A. Auditions actually featured a contestant with whom I danced several years ago! That's right, Jesus "Chuy" Solorio from Paso Robles (my hometown) was actually in my high school dance company! This is not meant to make me sound like a better dancer than I was; I never possessed 1/100th of the talent that Chuy possesses. But I mean, it's not every day that I see someone from Paso on TV and in a dance contest, no less. The dance community is small. Paso Robles is even smaller. During my tenure in both, it's undeniable that all twenty of us knew each other at some point. So after I picked my jaw up off the floor, the inevitable move was to go to the SYTYCD board at TWoP and brag about knowing a contestant. (No, I didn't really do that; that's obnoxious behavior. I did express some Paso pride, though.)
Reading through the Auditions thread, I came upon a post that began, "As a resident of Paso Robles..." As a resident of Paso Robles. There are less than 30,000 residents of Paso Robles. What are the odds that I know this person? So I read through a few more of her posts wherein she mentions a relatively famous choreographer who taught in residence at the local dance studio for a couple years. This means she at least, has knowledge of the teeny tiny Paso dance community. Then, she went on to say that her husband works with a girl who danced with Chuy "since they were little kids." !
Seriously, I know this person. I may know her husband and I definitely know his coworker. I am so, so tempted to send her a private message inquiring as to who she is. But I have such mixed feelings about it. The curiousity is killing me (and I wonder if I'll be able to figure it out from the content of her posts,) but where would we go from there? I have no desire to online friend a soccer mom from my hometown, and I'm not sure I want to reveal anything substantive about myself (like my permanent residence or background) for such a tenuous connection. Still, the curiousity. It's making me twitchy.
And chalk it up to various online oddities, but it's so interesting to me that when TWoP was the little tv site that could, we were all anonymous television junkies joined only by a persistent need to overanalyze. However as the site mutates into a corporate behemoth (and seemingly loses any quaint, communal feel,) it's revealed that other posters are (literally) in my own backyard.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
More TV News
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Big TV Haps This Week
VM Canceled
According to insider blogs, Veronica Mars is canceled. Canceled, you say? But that’s old news. Well, sort of. It was canceled last month and revived (in a new spinoff-y incarnation) only to get the ax for good this week. Unofficially, anyway. No network, to my mind, gives the runaround quite like The CW. Perhaps they’re bitter that the merger was essentially a failure in its inaugural year. (Could it be karmic retribution for canceling Everwood in favor of that show that proves there is no God, 7th Heaven?) Perhaps that bitterness was compounded by the loss of the one scripted WB staple they could be proud to call their own, Gilmore Girls. Or maybe, president Dawn Ostroff is scared witless that her name and network are quickly gaining infamy as examples of what not to do in show business. These are the only possible reasons behind the standoff that is currently happening between The CW and the fans regarding Veronica Mars.
Everybody and their brother knows VM is not coming back next fall and as such, everybody and their brother has started reporting it. Or they were yesterday prior to any official statement from the network. TV's Upfronts are this week and fall lineups are consistently being leaked all over the web. According to The Hollywood Reporter and Variety, VM is nowhere to be found- not even the completely overhauled version creator Rob Thomas slapped together in a last ditch attempt to save his show. Almost immediately following these reports, The CW came back to reaffirm that as of yet, nothing (re: cancelation) has been made “official.” This exact situation occurred not a month ago when Kristen Veitch reported VM’s end and hours later, retracted the news. I personally am ambivalent about VM coming to a close since I would no longer consider myself a “fan.” The “fans” however are having a collective, virtual stroke enduring this back and forth.
The fact is, for all intents and purposes, VM should be canceled by the network. It was a small miracle that it was even renewed last year and permitted to transition to the burgeoning CW. However, it has been hemorrhaging viewers since its third season premiere and the May 8th episode was the lowest rated airing ever with less than two million viewers. Even on a fledgling, lesser network less than two million is intolerable. And lately the critical acclaim and rabid fan devotion that salvaged VM in its first two seasons has begun to drop off as well. For every viewer that is actively trying to save the show, there are two more who’d like to see it fail. The anger is palpable. Some of it is directed at the network for undermining the program’s success by imposing structural changes to its content (season long mystery arcs were first abbreviated to mini mysteries lasting the course of a few episodes before being abandoned altogether.) IMO, this is a valid criticism- the show that had Kevin Smith and Joss Whedon wondering who killed Lily Kane, dropped the ongoing mystery angle completely. Other (anti) fan hate focuses on Thomas who agreed to said modifications and in so doing, shifted the show’s M.O. to teen relationship melodrama. And in a bizarre (if not uncommon) example of fangirl misogyny, virtual accusations have been lobbed at eponymous star Kristen Bell for any number of alleged sins including sabotaging the program by not publicizing it enough and campaigning to get certain male costars less screentime.
Curiously, the fans who are doing everything in their (limited) power to assure VM’s renewal have many of the same complaints which begs the question, why bother with renewal at all? If even the diehard cheerleaders see more bad than good in the latest episodes, why not let it go? I harbor none of this resentment (which is not to say I’m above it; put simply, VM is not my drug of choice.) Once upon a time, Veronica Mars was both a smart, confident, television noir and a diminutive heroine with the weight of the world on her shoulders. With abundant snark (overused but appropriate here,) tightly plotted mysteries, and just enough moral ambiguity to keep it interesting, the first two seasons of VM are some of the best television you'll ever see. Sadly, these qualities have been scrapped to focus instead on the romantic relationships of Veronica and her cohorts which would not be such a bad thing were they imbued with any thematic significance. (See: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer) Really relationship melodrama is not always a recipe for disaster. In fact, it's the bread and butter of most scripted CW progamming. But VM was crafted to be more than that, to be smarter and riskier than that and this inauthentic move on the part of the network, Thomas, and much of the cast? Looks a lot like phoning it in. At this point, it probably is best to let her go.
In honor of its demise, the Veronica Mars Playlist- Five Songs You Must Hear: I Hear the Bells (Mike Doughty,) I Know I Know I Know (Tegan and Sara,) Adelaide (Old 97's,) Lily Dreams On (Cotton Mather,) Run (Air)
According to insider blogs, Veronica Mars is canceled. Canceled, you say? But that’s old news. Well, sort of. It was canceled last month and revived (in a new spinoff-y incarnation) only to get the ax for good this week. Unofficially, anyway. No network, to my mind, gives the runaround quite like The CW. Perhaps they’re bitter that the merger was essentially a failure in its inaugural year. (Could it be karmic retribution for canceling Everwood in favor of that show that proves there is no God, 7th Heaven?) Perhaps that bitterness was compounded by the loss of the one scripted WB staple they could be proud to call their own, Gilmore Girls. Or maybe, president Dawn Ostroff is scared witless that her name and network are quickly gaining infamy as examples of what not to do in show business. These are the only possible reasons behind the standoff that is currently happening between The CW and the fans regarding Veronica Mars.
Everybody and their brother knows VM is not coming back next fall and as such, everybody and their brother has started reporting it. Or they were yesterday prior to any official statement from the network. TV's Upfronts are this week and fall lineups are consistently being leaked all over the web. According to The Hollywood Reporter and Variety, VM is nowhere to be found- not even the completely overhauled version creator Rob Thomas slapped together in a last ditch attempt to save his show. Almost immediately following these reports, The CW came back to reaffirm that as of yet, nothing (re: cancelation) has been made “official.” This exact situation occurred not a month ago when Kristen Veitch reported VM’s end and hours later, retracted the news. I personally am ambivalent about VM coming to a close since I would no longer consider myself a “fan.” The “fans” however are having a collective, virtual stroke enduring this back and forth.
The fact is, for all intents and purposes, VM should be canceled by the network. It was a small miracle that it was even renewed last year and permitted to transition to the burgeoning CW. However, it has been hemorrhaging viewers since its third season premiere and the May 8th episode was the lowest rated airing ever with less than two million viewers. Even on a fledgling, lesser network less than two million is intolerable. And lately the critical acclaim and rabid fan devotion that salvaged VM in its first two seasons has begun to drop off as well. For every viewer that is actively trying to save the show, there are two more who’d like to see it fail. The anger is palpable. Some of it is directed at the network for undermining the program’s success by imposing structural changes to its content (season long mystery arcs were first abbreviated to mini mysteries lasting the course of a few episodes before being abandoned altogether.) IMO, this is a valid criticism- the show that had Kevin Smith and Joss Whedon wondering who killed Lily Kane, dropped the ongoing mystery angle completely. Other (anti) fan hate focuses on Thomas who agreed to said modifications and in so doing, shifted the show’s M.O. to teen relationship melodrama. And in a bizarre (if not uncommon) example of fangirl misogyny, virtual accusations have been lobbed at eponymous star Kristen Bell for any number of alleged sins including sabotaging the program by not publicizing it enough and campaigning to get certain male costars less screentime.
Curiously, the fans who are doing everything in their (limited) power to assure VM’s renewal have many of the same complaints which begs the question, why bother with renewal at all? If even the diehard cheerleaders see more bad than good in the latest episodes, why not let it go? I harbor none of this resentment (which is not to say I’m above it; put simply, VM is not my drug of choice.) Once upon a time, Veronica Mars was both a smart, confident, television noir and a diminutive heroine with the weight of the world on her shoulders. With abundant snark (overused but appropriate here,) tightly plotted mysteries, and just enough moral ambiguity to keep it interesting, the first two seasons of VM are some of the best television you'll ever see. Sadly, these qualities have been scrapped to focus instead on the romantic relationships of Veronica and her cohorts which would not be such a bad thing were they imbued with any thematic significance. (See: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer) Really relationship melodrama is not always a recipe for disaster. In fact, it's the bread and butter of most scripted CW progamming. But VM was crafted to be more than that, to be smarter and riskier than that and this inauthentic move on the part of the network, Thomas, and much of the cast? Looks a lot like phoning it in. At this point, it probably is best to let her go.
In honor of its demise, the Veronica Mars Playlist- Five Songs You Must Hear: I Hear the Bells (Mike Doughty,) I Know I Know I Know (Tegan and Sara,) Adelaide (Old 97's,) Lily Dreams On (Cotton Mather,) Run (Air)
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Glossy Fashion Mag (and feels a desire to Bitch)
The name Kara Jesella first appeared on my radar when I read an article that she wrote for Bitch (#32, Style and Substance) so, for me, the name connotes a “feminist response to popular culture.” Therefore, I was a bit taken aback when I got to the end of a deeply problematic and non-feminist analysis of girls and college admissions in a recent issue of Teen Vogue (September 2006) and saw that it was penned by none other than, Kara Jesella.
I don’t think the space of a teen fashion magazine necessarily demands that you check your Bitch subscription at the door so I’m left perplexed by Jesella’s incongruous points-of-view. The article, salaciously entitled “Sex Ed,” purports to explain why male applicants are being accepted to prestigious American universities at greater numbers than female applicants. Jesella includes quotes from current high school girls as evidence of the reaction of those disadvantaged by this phenomenon. However, all of Jesella’s sources are students at private, elite (boarding) schools on the east coast including The Chapin School, Miss Porter’s School, and Choate. Apparently, suitable reaction to this inegalitarian practice can only be gleaned from the perspective of privileged, rich girls. Jesella implies, through this editorial move, that these girls are the only students who would have been accepted to the Ivies even prior to the newly sanctioned gender bias. Rich, white girls are the only girls effected because rich, white girls are the only girls who would have gotten in. Jesella acknowledges working class black and Latina girls parenthetically when she mentions that they are doing poorly on standardized tests in comparison with other students, as are black and Latino boys.
Jesella’s proposed solution to this dilemma is equally problematic and makes girls complicit in the gender bias. She suggests that girls should ultimately stop trying so hard. (The co-executive director of the National Coalition of Girls’s Schools maintains that young women should primarily be satisfied with what they’ve achieved in high school.) The tips “to help you find acceptance” (to college? in yourself? it seems intentionally unclear) that tag the end of Jesella’s piece include (paraphrased); forget Yale, Princeton, and Columbia as Northeast “name” schools as they’re too competitive, explicitly, forgo Harvard as well for the same reason, and limit your extracurricular activities because despite everything you’ve ever been told thus far, colleges aren’t all that impressed by them. If you must be extremely participatory, don’t strive for a leadership role in the club, but be content with member status.
Despite the rest of the article’s content, the “tips” section is where I actually began to see red. Girls of 2006/2007, you’re never going to achieve as much as the boys around you so your best bet is to stop trying so hard. I’m sorry, but the hell? Is this really what we’re going to start telling our seventeen year olds? Be satisfied with high school? Your dream of attending Yale will always remain just that? Don’t run for student body president (or assume any other leadership role?) Furthermore, is this Jesella the same woman who convincingly articulated the how and why of the stigma attached to writing for fashion magazines? It’s a bit disheartening to see that following a brief respite from her promotion of dominant ideology, here, Jesella’s contributed the most damning evidence as to why said stigma exists.
I don’t think the space of a teen fashion magazine necessarily demands that you check your Bitch subscription at the door so I’m left perplexed by Jesella’s incongruous points-of-view. The article, salaciously entitled “Sex Ed,” purports to explain why male applicants are being accepted to prestigious American universities at greater numbers than female applicants. Jesella includes quotes from current high school girls as evidence of the reaction of those disadvantaged by this phenomenon. However, all of Jesella’s sources are students at private, elite (boarding) schools on the east coast including The Chapin School, Miss Porter’s School, and Choate. Apparently, suitable reaction to this inegalitarian practice can only be gleaned from the perspective of privileged, rich girls. Jesella implies, through this editorial move, that these girls are the only students who would have been accepted to the Ivies even prior to the newly sanctioned gender bias. Rich, white girls are the only girls effected because rich, white girls are the only girls who would have gotten in. Jesella acknowledges working class black and Latina girls parenthetically when she mentions that they are doing poorly on standardized tests in comparison with other students, as are black and Latino boys.
Jesella’s proposed solution to this dilemma is equally problematic and makes girls complicit in the gender bias. She suggests that girls should ultimately stop trying so hard. (The co-executive director of the National Coalition of Girls’s Schools maintains that young women should primarily be satisfied with what they’ve achieved in high school.) The tips “to help you find acceptance” (to college? in yourself? it seems intentionally unclear) that tag the end of Jesella’s piece include (paraphrased); forget Yale, Princeton, and Columbia as Northeast “name” schools as they’re too competitive, explicitly, forgo Harvard as well for the same reason, and limit your extracurricular activities because despite everything you’ve ever been told thus far, colleges aren’t all that impressed by them. If you must be extremely participatory, don’t strive for a leadership role in the club, but be content with member status.
Despite the rest of the article’s content, the “tips” section is where I actually began to see red. Girls of 2006/2007, you’re never going to achieve as much as the boys around you so your best bet is to stop trying so hard. I’m sorry, but the hell? Is this really what we’re going to start telling our seventeen year olds? Be satisfied with high school? Your dream of attending Yale will always remain just that? Don’t run for student body president (or assume any other leadership role?) Furthermore, is this Jesella the same woman who convincingly articulated the how and why of the stigma attached to writing for fashion magazines? It’s a bit disheartening to see that following a brief respite from her promotion of dominant ideology, here, Jesella’s contributed the most damning evidence as to why said stigma exists.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Paris (Sort of.) Also, a brief note.
A brief note on the title of this blog: "Geeky Girl," as a self-designated moniker seems just self deprecating enough. Seth Cohen and Willow Rosenberg have given "geek" a certain pop culture cool that "bookworm" still lacks (despite Rory Gilmore's contribution to the cause.) As is glaringly apparent from the plethora of t.v. references in the last fifty words, I watch a lot of television so "Sees" seems the most apropos verb long term. (Geeky Girl Reads appears a bit redundant. Interprets, blathers, wanks, and watches were also disregarded. "Watches" for the creepy voyeur connotation.) And though the first few entries suggest otherwise, I expect this to be primarily a t.v. blog. The only time I forsee "Sees" posing an issue is during book talk so anticipate the following heading, Geeky Girl Sees...text on a page and generates meaning accordingly. Pins and needles, I know.
There will be no scenes from a Houston layover. However, of all the things Bush does on a daily basis that make me want to scream, displaying his smirking mug while requesting $10.95 for Wi-Fi access during my three hour layover at his airport is particularly infuriating.
At Television Without Pity, there's a poster notorious for viewing every show through the prism of her own life. I view my life through the prism of t.v. Or, at least I do for the sake of this blog. So of course, the best way to prologue Paris is w/ mention of TWoP. One of my greatest guilty pleasures is the general Unpopular Opinions thread at TWoP. Sample posts include "I can't stand [insert beloved character here,]" "I hope [random series] is canceled," and occasionally, "I hate television." I tend to agree w/ many of the included opinions and sometimes, I'm even inspired to post my own. Committing to an UNpopular opinion feels a bit like a confession, it’s cathartic. You’re perversely permitted to copping to something deviant, something to which you’d otherwise never admit. Traveling has begot what I perceive to be, an unpopular opinion.
My time in Paris was spent alternately one of the two following ways, getting lost and sitting and drinking coffee.
U.O: Getting lost is not romantic. Taking the road less traveled, finding yourself off the beaten path, etc. has been idealized in film and print to the point of cliche. Wanderlust is predicated on the romanticization of an unexpected destination or even, no particular destination. Fiction has taught us that wonderful sights and strangers are the end result of abandoning your itenerary, losing your map, or leaving your tour.
My dream self, who perma-hums “More Adventurous,” subscribes to this phenomenon and was initially excited by its possibilities.
My actual self suspects this is not the best neighborhood in which to be wandering aimlessly and wishes desperately she could read a map better to find either her hotel or the Louvre. Where are the Parisians who speak english? Where are the other Americans? (Both completely ethnocentric questions I know, but I’m panicking.) Where are the signs that read, this way to the most famous tourist attractions the worldwide? An interminable metro ride yields nothing productive nor does inquiring of strangers, "Parlez-vous anglais?" ad nauseum. And now, it’s pouring. Huh. Maybe losing your way is Romantic.
After that trauma, I take refuge in a cafe to drink coffee, read, and decompress for the afternoon. Oddly surreal detail: the television on the wall plays cheesy American music videos. Bryan Adam’s “Everything I Do” followed by Patrick Swayze’s “She’s Like the Wind.” Two of our most significant exports, to be sure. (For what it's worth, I know Adams is Canadian but the song was included in an American film.)
Initially, I was fairly disappointed (in myself) with this turn of events. I spent 48 hours in Paris and didn’t see one main attraction. "If you travel to Paris and don't see the Eiffel Tower, were you really in Paris" kinds of questions creep up. But, reading Sarah Vowell while immersed in French and cigarette smoke in the 11th Arrondisement is an equally Parisian experience. And, as I learned later in my travels, avoiding pushy, oblivious tourists is always a plus. They tend not to populate small streetside cafes. Or at least, they’re quieter at said cafes than they are at say, St. Peter’s Basilica.
Perhaps this is a ridiculous rationalization on my part and hopefully, as I work out some sort of cohesive narrative for my month spent in Europe, I'll be able to make sense of it. However, reading, drinking coffee, and people watching are a few of my favorite things and as such, not a bad way to spend a vacation.
Ok, my continued search for a travel narrative means there won't be an entry on my seeing the Colosseum or climbing the Campanile in Firenze. Not anytime soon, anyway.
There will be no scenes from a Houston layover. However, of all the things Bush does on a daily basis that make me want to scream, displaying his smirking mug while requesting $10.95 for Wi-Fi access during my three hour layover at his airport is particularly infuriating.
At Television Without Pity, there's a poster notorious for viewing every show through the prism of her own life. I view my life through the prism of t.v. Or, at least I do for the sake of this blog. So of course, the best way to prologue Paris is w/ mention of TWoP. One of my greatest guilty pleasures is the general Unpopular Opinions thread at TWoP. Sample posts include "I can't stand [insert beloved character here,]" "I hope [random series] is canceled," and occasionally, "I hate television." I tend to agree w/ many of the included opinions and sometimes, I'm even inspired to post my own. Committing to an UNpopular opinion feels a bit like a confession, it’s cathartic. You’re perversely permitted to copping to something deviant, something to which you’d otherwise never admit. Traveling has begot what I perceive to be, an unpopular opinion.
My time in Paris was spent alternately one of the two following ways, getting lost and sitting and drinking coffee.
U.O: Getting lost is not romantic. Taking the road less traveled, finding yourself off the beaten path, etc. has been idealized in film and print to the point of cliche. Wanderlust is predicated on the romanticization of an unexpected destination or even, no particular destination. Fiction has taught us that wonderful sights and strangers are the end result of abandoning your itenerary, losing your map, or leaving your tour.
My dream self, who perma-hums “More Adventurous,” subscribes to this phenomenon and was initially excited by its possibilities.
My actual self suspects this is not the best neighborhood in which to be wandering aimlessly and wishes desperately she could read a map better to find either her hotel or the Louvre. Where are the Parisians who speak english? Where are the other Americans? (Both completely ethnocentric questions I know, but I’m panicking.) Where are the signs that read, this way to the most famous tourist attractions the worldwide? An interminable metro ride yields nothing productive nor does inquiring of strangers, "Parlez-vous anglais?" ad nauseum. And now, it’s pouring. Huh. Maybe losing your way is Romantic.
After that trauma, I take refuge in a cafe to drink coffee, read, and decompress for the afternoon. Oddly surreal detail: the television on the wall plays cheesy American music videos. Bryan Adam’s “Everything I Do” followed by Patrick Swayze’s “She’s Like the Wind.” Two of our most significant exports, to be sure. (For what it's worth, I know Adams is Canadian but the song was included in an American film.)
Initially, I was fairly disappointed (in myself) with this turn of events. I spent 48 hours in Paris and didn’t see one main attraction. "If you travel to Paris and don't see the Eiffel Tower, were you really in Paris" kinds of questions creep up. But, reading Sarah Vowell while immersed in French and cigarette smoke in the 11th Arrondisement is an equally Parisian experience. And, as I learned later in my travels, avoiding pushy, oblivious tourists is always a plus. They tend not to populate small streetside cafes. Or at least, they’re quieter at said cafes than they are at say, St. Peter’s Basilica.
Perhaps this is a ridiculous rationalization on my part and hopefully, as I work out some sort of cohesive narrative for my month spent in Europe, I'll be able to make sense of it. However, reading, drinking coffee, and people watching are a few of my favorite things and as such, not a bad way to spend a vacation.
Ok, my continued search for a travel narrative means there won't be an entry on my seeing the Colosseum or climbing the Campanile in Firenze. Not anytime soon, anyway.
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