GIRLhood

When did little girls grow up so much, so quickly?
I'm sitting here and this girl who must be all of ten is strutting down the street in white knee-high boots, with pointy heels sharp enough to kill a man. She is wearing a black, off the shoulder top, modeled after one meant for women twenty years her senior. She's wearing the miniature version of high fashion skinny jeans and has super ironed, uber-highlighted hair.
And the girl is ten. Did I mention that?
What have we done, as a culture, to little girls?
Smart little girls are seen as geeks, and creative ones are seen as freaks. I was reading, the other day, about a twelve year old blogger who makes her own outfits. Someone from the press found out about her blog and now she's getting to be a pseudo-celebrity. She even got photographed at fashion week in NY!
It must be this girl's dream, but at what cost? What's gonna happen to her childhood, her GIRLhood? GIRLhood is a precious time, when you are just starting to realize things about the world, and no one expects you to be a woman yet.
So many girls see these hyper-sexualized, overly made-up teens and tweens on TV and on the internet. What are they supposed to think? I remember when I was in tweendom and thinking Melissa Joan Hart in "Clarissa Explains It All" was the real deal, the coolest ever. I remember really liking and wanting to emulate that independent spirit and creative energy.
I don't think I've seen a character on TV her age like her, since. I mean, each generation has its icons, i.e. Marcia Brady. I remember wishing I could be smart and popular like Jessie Spano on "Saved by the Bell".
We often project an image that we want to see in the mirror onto ourselves. I am definitely guilty of that. But to tell a little girl that it's normal to wear shoes that make her feet hurt, and to spend hours on her hair, and to wear only designer labels is cruel. Where's the rush to grow up? When do we slow down and actually enjoy the spot we're on, revel in the now,, be content with just this moment? Time goes by so fast. Let a girl enjoy being a girl.

Use It or Lose It

"You gotta use what you got, to get what you want, before what you got is gone."-"the life"

I think this song was written about being a hooker. That's not the angle I'm going for. I suppose the message is still similar, though. We all have different skill sets and abilities. Sometimes the thing that I lack in, you can make up for and vice versa. But, what do you do when that is not a factor? What i someone is unable to see your strengths because of his or her own blinders and prejudice?

I was in a situation last week, where I could've been a scholar straight out of Harvard and the woman still would not have acknowledged me. She saw only one thing, what she wanted to see, which was a young, heavyset woman, and she was disgusted. The look of pure disdain on her face was almost overpowering.

What I really don't understand is how prejudice can be so blinding that it interferes in every aspect of life, from work to home and back. This woman had a job to do, and neglected it completely because she couldn't deal with having a fat person around. This makes me sad. Not just for me, but for people with anything at all that makes them different.

And it's not like it would've been socially accepted for me to make fun of the fact that she's a runner and super-skinny, but she can hate on my fat all she wants because we live in a country that accepts fat prejudice as legitimate. Prejudice stems from a nasty place of ignorance and hate. I'm not saying that the woman should've given me a huge hug and thrown a fat acceptance ball in her backyard, I'm just saying that she could've been cordial. She could've allowed us to have a working relationship.

Sometimes, you have to protect yourself from a person who is really toxic. Prejudiced people are toxic and I have no respect for people who think that they can adequately judge character based solely on outer appearance. I wish I did not live amongst such people, but I have no choice. I can't change their blind hatred and ignorance. I can ignore it or rise above it. Those sound like two good options to me.

The Universe Likes to Throw Me Curveballs

I don't know why I'm using a sports analogy here. I don't even play any. I guess I thought that it fit. I'm just sick of the universe throwing things in my face. I know at the end of the day that I look myself in the mirror and as India Arie says, "the only one there is me". However, if I blamed myself for everything that has gone wrong in my life lately, I'd be a self-hating wreck. Well,I'm feeling that way now, so maybe I just should take the blame.
This year has had so many really high highs and low lows, and it's so hard for me to take, emotionally. Just when I seem to feel settled in and somewhat content, there is another strike at me, or another thing turning my world upside down.
Yesterday, I went to my first day of my student teaching placement (that I finally got, although late) and the woman was a crazy bitch. She yelled at students, was beyond inappropriate and was nasty to me. A few things were evident. One was that she didn't like fat people, and obviously didn't want me in her room, and I'm not just saying that, I NEVER play the fat card, but this woman had something up her butt about it.
She also did not want a student teacher, and didn't have time to give one any attention. In addition, she was a frigid,cold, and nasty woman.
I protected myself and I told her I would find new placement. Most people would just suck it up and deal,but I got out of it. Why? Because I needed to protect myself. This woman is obviously verbally abusive, crazy, and completely inappropriate and not only would I not learn from her, she would hurt my chances at succeeding in student teaching.
So i'm out, and that's good, but here I sit,yet again, feeling worthless and angry. Why can't I get a somewhat normal person for a coop teacher? Why are so many teachers crazy bitches? Maybe I'm not cut out for this after all? But after everything, all the classes and work,and determination to do this, maybe it's just not for me? Than what is? I can't be an actress, I'm not good enough and have not practiced in years.
I am stuck, motionless, watching my life go by, and instead of doing what I want. I have to keep waiting while people throw around my destiny like a baseball from person to person,and not be afraid that someone is going to drop the ball.

Observations of People Stuck in YuppieTown

Peace, love and warm breakfast item?

I was in a store today, and saw a woman wearing a t-shirt that said, “peace love, and pancakes” What is that all about? I understand wanting to promote peace and love, I'm all for that kind of good energy being spread around, but as for pancakes? The randomness of the word completely invalidates the statement she is trying to, or her shirt is trying to make. Oh, she turned around, her shirt is an add for a local breakfast joint, it all makes sense now, they are trying to be catchy with the clever logo.

Random observation number two . . . posture. I haven't really thought about posture lately, but the other day, in class, the professor discussed how she expects good eye contact and posture. I think this is perfectly reasonable. However, I was just surprised to find this girl standing in front of me with the most narrow waist, and hourglass figure of the gods. Yet, when this girl leaned over by the counter, she flattened herself out, not unlike a pancake . . .and then her perfect hourglass had dissolved, and she looked flattened and smushed. Her posture made her figure look completely different. I often take posture for granted, but if it can do it to a girl with a figure like that, than maybe I should think about my own more often.

Random observation . .. the third of the day . . .a woman is wearing a designer handbag, like a Marc Jacobs or somethin really fancy and pretty, but is wearing sweatpants, merrells and a fancy old lady work blouse. I thought I understood fashion, but maybe this is not fashion, merely convenience? Because I honestly would feel embarassed leaving the house looking like that. And I'm not judgmental when it comes to clothing. I spent two thirds of my college experience in pajamas and pigtails. Hmm., maybe that's why I never found a man there, I never bothered to get dressed. It's ok, I found a man right where I needed to, on the internet, heheheheeh.

Obs 4- a color thing? There is a couple sitting to the right of me, and they strike me as odd. The man is a light skinned, relatively good-looking African-American male, early forties or so, I know he worked for the Obama Campaign, he gave me a button awhile back. So he's sitting there at his table doing official looking things, and a girl, yes I said “girl” twenty years his junior in a white trench coat, black sweatpants and silvery flip flops comes over and sits down with him. I've seen the two before. It's just an odd coupling. She looks young and manipulative, probably has a whole lot of nothing under that coat, too much makeup on, I know the type. She is giving him this look of practised interest and enthusiasm, as if she is trying her very est to care, with the pouty lips and slightly arched eyebrow. It's nauseating. He is totally into her, with his foot around her leg, and just seems like a genuinely nice dude. Why do women take advantage of men? Where do they get this power from? When I met Pierre I felt like we had a mutual attraction and appreciation of each other, I was not out to seduce him or something contrived like that. We fell into each other, and I think that was really healthy. But these women who manipulate men so obviously make me kind of nauseous, that kind of confidence to just know, you will get what you want, where does it come from? Are you born with it? Can a parent instill it in you?
You know what though? I could be completely wrong, and just acting on instinct to think these things of this woman. They could be legitimate friends, or acquaintances. Maybe . . .Only the people sitting there really know .. .

Am I Grown?

Am I Grown?

I could think of every cliché in the book to describe the way I'm feeling now, but the pathetic frustration I'm feeling is not very noteworthy. It's only worth writing about so that maybe I'll feel a little less of it, to ease the burden of the frustration combined with angst, worry and overall impatience that have been reigning over my life like a wicked stepsister.
What's wrong with me?
I'm listening to this song by Chrisette Michele called “Another One”. I don't know why this song makes me feel so gritty and emotional. It's probably a combination of the chord progression and certain key phrases
“baby I'm a grown woman, doin' real grown woman things” Am I grown? Absolutely not, but I do feel more like an adult than I used to. . . you know the whole having to make money and support ourselves thing . .. yeah, that pulls at me a bit.
She keeps repeating certain key words that set me off and make me emotional. Stevie Wonder does that to me all the time, certain phrases, like in “Overjoyed” there is a certain chord progression in the beginning of the song that along with the lyric just makes me want to cry rivers of tears. Every single time I listen to it, it happens. I don't know if it happens because I want that emotional release, or because music has always touched a part of my soul that I never could explain.
I remember, when I would take voice lessons, how I would always focus on certain phrases, even if they were slightly less significant to the piece, but because they touched a certain part of me. It was often difficult for me to separate myself from the song I was singing. It still is.
And should we? Should we separate our daily lives from the raw, gutteral, emotional stuff that lives down in our souls, that we keep pushing down until eventually we are flooded with it?
I come back to Chrisette Michele on this unbelievable album . .”epiphany”
“if you wanna cradle me like a little girl, and knock me down, i'm not your possession, I'm a full grown woman, I am not your porcelain doll”
Her lyrics are very “pro-woman” anthem-esque. Sometimes, at least in my life, I feel like I need a pro-woman anthem to sing. Sometimes, I feel like I am surrounded by sucking-thewomanin-programming. We watch these shows on tv, like “Mad Men” where Jon Hamm is a god who treats women like shit, yet we are drawn to them. Why am I drawn to it? It seems foreign to me and I'm intrigued. The truth is, it's not so foreign. I've dated lots of men who have treated me like a second-class citizen, and like the women on that show, i've enjoyed the attention, and not stood up for myself when I needed to. I”m embarassed to say it like that, because I definitely consider myself to be a feminist, but in the heat of the moment, we want that intimacy, and the most wonderful thing in the world is to feel wanted. But how do we feel about ourselves the day after?
I'm married now, so I don't have to worry about the dating scene, but a whole new set of challenges arise, within the confines of normal marriage “stuff”. I just hope I'm strong enough to negotiate it, and to retain a sense of self, and pride, as a woman.

Internet Dating- For Everyone, or Only the Lonely and Desperate

So, yesterday, while volunteering at CHCC, where my mom works, a woman asked me about internet dating. I suppose it was because my mom must have told her that Pierre and I met online.

I told the woman my view- which is simply that I think its a good idea, however one must be cautious. She told me how a friend's daughter wouldn't go on jdate and the mom was desperate for her to. The thing that people don't seem to realize is that the internet won't change who you are or make you more appealing. If you are shy and socially awkward it will come through. The internet isn't a miracle worker, its just a means to an end. And like anything else- you have to want it.

So, if your daughter is pretty,quiet, and socially inept, the internet can't change that. However, a vodka martini can make it a little better, for you and your kid.

Cycle- a poem

cycle
(8/09)

breaking down the word- the world, into tiny scraps and fragments
pieces of a human shell
jagged and torn
we put back together with glue
and bits of ingenuity
and hope they fit
but usually
no

breaking down the thought- the train- the tossing and turning of words and images
in hope of creating one
single
thing
but creation is never simple
isn't that the truth

breaking down the questions- into smaller ones- into half-questions- into
huh
and
what
and
how
but never
answered

the sky is a light silver, today
and the rain falls down as if from a lawn sprinkler
quickly and delicately

my thoughts race
about the state of the future
and sustaining a family, a home, and a life

when will I let the rain in to my pacing/racing brain?
When will I let the peace into my being and breathe deeply?
When will it ever be enough?

"did i just hear an alarm start ringin?"

"Did I just hear an alarm start ringin? Did I hear sirens go flyin' past? Though I don't know what tomorrow's bringin', I've got a singular impression things are movin' too fast."-jason robert brown

I don't know if it is because I'm American, or I live in the NY metro area, or what, but I feel like life goes flying past so quickly, and we are constantly being pushed to keep up with the pace. It's not that I want to take my life leisurely and lay back on a farm all day and watch the birds go by. It's just that so many things have happened, even in the last year, and I wish I could have more time with them, to digest them, to absorb them, to revel in the glory and the bliss of getting married, and to be grateful for the miracles, like my Grandfather (Poppy) and Aunt Babs having major brain surgery, and both recovering quickly and well!

I remember, when our family used to go to Philly to visit Grandma and Papa, and we would walk along the streets by Rittenhouse Square, and my dad would hold my hand and always be pulling me, as if we had to be somewhere and I was holding them back. When I asked my dad if he would walk slower, he would always tell me that his sister had long legs too, and she used to drag him around, and it helped him to walk faster, so that's what he would do with me. There are a few differences here. I am 5'2'', my dad is 6'3''. My aunt is at least 6'0". Besides that, I don't know why my dad felt the need to justify the fact that he was basically making me race all the time. Sometimes, the leaves would be so beautiful, in the fall, and we would walk by Urban Outfitters, or a park, and I would want to slow down and enjoy it, or I would want to stop to watch,and he would rush me along, telling me to take longer steps. Take longer steps? He told me my steps were too small. I wanted to yell at him. What was wrong with my little steps? I had little short, legs that made little steps, and I liked my pace.

Now, as I walk the streets of the town I live in, I do so slowly, but aware. I know that my pace isn't the fastest, nor the slowest on the street. But what I do know is that I'm comfortable in my shoes, and with my pace. It took a really long time to get here, of feeling judged, pressured, always rushed, never good or fast enough. But I'm here. We have to accept people for who they are. I am short and chubby and I walk slowly. My dad is tall and neurotic and walks quickly. This is the way things are. Some realities hit you at odd times. I realized, about a year after I moved out of my parents' house, how much their judgement wore me down, and made me feel so horrible about myself. My parents are really good people, but with the best of intentions can also come heartache and frustration. I don't blame them in any way for how they raised me, because I know they did their best. But, sometimes, when I get out of the car and walk into a store, I turn around, worried that the world is passing me by, that people are staring, that I am indeed, this freak of nature with the short, stubby legs.
Is this a creation that my dad invented to try to motivate me to lose weight?
Or am I just what I am?

Looked in the Mirror for the First Time and Saw That . . .

I was working with my tutee yesterday, and we were working on reading comprehension. I know what you think, reading comprehension? feh, so boring! But it was actually an enlightening and really great experience. I was testing how she worked with reading comp versus listening comprehension. I read a piece aloud to her. It was not short, or easy to comprehend, especially for a high school kid. I think this is high level stuff, but I also think this girl can handle it. It was a piece called "Straightening our Hair" by Bell Hooks that was excerpted from a magazine in the eighties.
It's this amazing piece about black women and the subculture of their hair, and dealing with it, and the many different codes and social cues that are intertwined in that. The essay discusses when Hooks was a little girl, always wanting to have her hair straightened with the rest of the girls, in the kitchen, where the women would gossip and have fun. Hooks saw it as a ritual, part of becoming a woman. Then she talked about straightening black hair, and what it does, to one's sense of self. She talked about the idea that keeping one's hair "natural" means you are rebelling against society, and the conformists that are looming, and that you are not feminine. You are showing your blackness and pride and spirit by keeping your hair natural or in an afro.
I feel like it's not so different for white people. If she read this, she'd probably call me out and I'd end up in tears. I'm not trying to say I could come anywhere close to understanding her experience as a black woman. I can't. I am not one. But I understand what it is like to be a woman with unruly, big hair, that doesn't want to be tamed and put into an iron. I understand what it's like to be a woman that made the choice to remain "natural" and not conform.
It's hard.
I remember in college,
I thought this was very interesting. If I went out, to a club, or a party, or wherever, I would see all of these girls with obviously straightened hair, so painfully insecure, trying so desperately to fit in. The ones who were confident were few and far between. You could spot them, because they didn't look like their hair, or any part about them was forced. I remember this one girl who was older than me and really, ridiculously talented as a singer. She had super straight hair. I think it was natural, but I don't know. What I do know, is that it didn't matter, because she was confident, and pretty, and natural, and didn't look like she spent hours in front of a mirror trying to obtain a state of perfection.
I'm not saying that women who straighten their hair are not beautiful. Many of them are. I just know, for me, when I tried to straighten my hair, when I was younger, I felt like a fraud. My hair would always give me away.
The other day someone said that for teaching interviews you should always wear a suit, minimal jewelry, and straighten your hair. Well, that sucks. I guess I'm a horrible teacher, because I don't do any of that. I know, don't rock the boat, don't be different, just say yes, and you'll get hired.
You know what? I don't want a job from a school if all they are buying is the image of a plain and boring individual.
I have curly hair, and sometimes I want to shave my head. Not because I hate it, I don't, rather because it gets hot under the hair, and the hair gets frizzy. But do I hate my hair. No. It is a part of me. When I straighten it, it looks like another person. I'm not meant to look like that person. I'm meant to look like me.
And as for my tutee, she is a sweet, funny, young Chinese girl, who is pretty in her own right. She was telling me that she always had straight hair, but she saw all these girls in school straighten theirs, so she started to, but now she regrets it, because it's not soft and natural anymore. I don't know if it's really about it not being soft, I think she wishes she could be innocent like she used to be, when she kept her hair naturally straight. I think a lot of us wish we could unlearn insecurity and wanting to change our appearance. But I don't know if it's possible to unlearn something. I think you just have to learn something new, and use that new knowledge to help free yourself of the burdens you have now.
I think the moments when we, as people, realize that we are not so different, that all of us struggle, are the really clear ones. Lots of women don't like their natural hair. Lots of women don't like their natural skin. You can change it, or you can grow into it. That kind of growing takes maturity and patience, and can be very trying. But I think I'd rather grow into my hair, than spend three hours every morning attempting to straighten it.

Are you there, God? It's me, Fiona.

I remember, when I was doing the callbacks for "Hairspray" how happy I was, yet it was this half-longing kind of thing. I knew I was almost there, but I wasn't quite, and something was missing, my Link, in a sense. And now I've found him.
But does that mean a happy ending? I am now watching a youtube video of "I Know It's Today" from "Shrek, the Musical". Yet another song about finding "the one" or the "one that will appear". These musical fantasies are really far fetched. I mean, that's what you would think.
I found a wonderful man. But is that all there is? I think it's one amazing part of life, but the idea that the perfect man for you will make your entire life complete is a story, a fairytale, a fable. I'm not saying that Pierre hasn't made me a better woman and I am not madly in love with him. But I think you also have to have self-satisfaction. I mean, in the sense, that you have to live for yourself and your dreams, as well as you and your partner's dreams. I'm starting to understand the dreams that he and I have together. But, what I thought was so clear, my own dreams, are really a murky mess.
I wanted to be on stage, and to sing in front of the whole world, but when it got down to it, I just couldn't handle, couldn't do that kind of life, and I had to be realistic. Running around NYC on a wing and a prayer, hoping that maybe, out of hundreds of thousands of girls with more talent and training than I have, I might get a lead in a broadway show was a joke. It was a joke. I wasn't ready emotionally, mentally or physically for that kind of responsibility. I could barely handle a dramatic lead in college. It's funny, how dreams change and shift when you get older. It's not that I've given up, or sold out, or any of those cliches I used to think. It's that I know myself more. Even if I had lost however many pounds it would've taken, I still didn't have the dancing ability or the really high belt it would've taken to get that part. I just wasn't good enough. And admitting that is really hard. At least it's really hard for me. I spent my youth thinking that all I was, was someone who had talent. I didn't value me, for me, at all. I didn't think that as a person I was worthy of anything, whether it be happiness or success. I internalized my anger and took it out on my body that was already suffering because I was so heavy. That was not fair of me to do.
I wondered why people would look at me funny, and it was not only because I was heavy, but it was because I so obviously didn't like myself. And I've seen it in others and it's a hard thing to watch, someone who doesn't like his or herself.
I don't know if I like myself now, but at least I know myself more. I know where my weaknesses and strengths lie. Am I ever going to be on Broadway? No. Am I ever going to audition for a show again? Sure, why not? There's no harm in trying. Will I ever be Tracy Turnblad? No, I'm too old and inexperienced for that now. But I never really wanted to be Tracy anyway. I wanted to be famous, and that was just a vehicle for becoming famous. I always wanted to be, what I am now, in a sense. A girl with a warm, loving heart, who has a wonderful family, a husband, wonderful friends, and is an academic, working towards a career to be proud of. So, through all of the beating myself up about, why I didn't do this or that, or audition for this, or lose that weight, I sit here as a I am. I'm a short, chubby, Jewish girl from New Jersey. I don't have any regrets. I have enjoyed all of this.
Do I need to change some things about my life? I sure do. Do I need to change who I am? I don't think so.

Classification/DeClassification/

I love how we build up walls and we knock down buildings, and we all think we're so damn smart. My professor of this class, is very thorough, but she throws out judgments of situations like she's God, and I don't know how I would take her as an administrator if I were a parent. It's not a death wish if your kid has a disability. It is actually good, because your kid can get help.. But people don't realize it, and they are so afraid of difference.
It's as small as the fact that I'm wearing blue nail polish- this girl must be a freak
to acceptance in the oddest ways
engagement ring and wedding ring on- oh you're married
so you won't end up as a cat lady all alone
whew
relief
people are so funny
i never, looked at other women's fingers to see if they were married or not, and never equated it with status or who the person was
now people look at me and think they know me because i'm married
just like people think they know someone because he or she has a certain disability
sometimes you wonder if people will think of you differently because of a nail polish color or a dress size, but i almost feel liberated in a sense, now that i'm married, if i want to let my freak flag fly (satc ref) I do, becausse i don't have any man to impress or woman to judge me,
i have a husband who loves me, an don the whole a good life
and a lot to be grateful for
so i don't know what my classification would be but i think
on the whole
things are ok
and that's the best diagnosis i think i could get

Room To Write Response 1 - I Don't Remember

There is a wonderful book that is a guide for writers called, Room To Write, by Bonni Goldberg. I'm going to use it as a springboard to get myself back writing again. So, here is the first prompt I will try to tackle, let's see how this goes.

"Begin with the phrase, 'I don't remember' and fill up a page. If you draw a blank at any point repeat the phrase in writing, until something else forms in your consciousness. Notice what non-memories emerge: are they the same themes you often write about? If no0t, further explore one of the new ones"

"Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door"-Emily Dickinson

I don't remember what my Papa's voice sounds like. I remember snapshots taken by my parents and put into old brown photo albums that live on the shelf in my mother's living room. I remember the feel of his hands, almost like worn-in sandpaper, with a comfortable strength about them. I remember that he was gentle. Or is that what everyone told me? I can't remember his voice, or his thick, German accent that my Grandma, at ninety-something, still has. It bothers me that I can't remember his voice, because I'd like to hear it right now. I'm getting married in seven days and I'm scared. I don't know what the future will bring, and I wish I had some wisdom from the past to help me put things in perspective. I remember Nanny's voice, and Natalie's, but not his. And I really wish I did, because I think he would have a lot of good insight and wise words for me, and in general. I would want to ask him questions. What was it like losing your profession? How did you meet Grandma? What made you fall in love with her? What was my father like as a little boy? Did you love my mother as much as she loved you? Joanne has such vivid memories and stories about Max. How does she keep them alive? How does one keep memories from fading? Is it a series of repeated excercises, done daily, like Pilates, or stomach crunches? Is it a matter of rehashing the past so often that it sits in your stomach like a rock that can't be moved? I don't remember what my Papa's voice sounds like, and it makes me angry. I don't remember what my Papa's voice sounds like, and it makes me resentful. Why do people die as single units? To leave someone else alone? Why can't we go in pairs, peacefully, in our sleep? I know that the world is not neat and tidy like that. I know it can't be wrapped up with a bow and placed in a box. But, for once, I wish there was some certainty in my life.

the allure of the exotic

So, there is this show that my fiancee and I like to watch together, (well actually he just watches it and I sit with him and stew a bit). Why do I stew? There are two anchors of this show, a girl and a guy. Let's call them Kev and Ol. Ol is the girl and she really irks me. I don't usually bring out the irk factor but this chick irks me to the nth degree. My fiancee was wondering why she bothers me so much and I couldn't quite figure it out, offhand, so I went on IMDB and looked her up. I was curious what this girl's background was.
I was right . .. there's not much there. She is a model who got hooked up with this random tv network that is small and kind of geeky because she's half-Asian and she is interested in Asian gaming, or at least she has some knowledge of it. They are like "HELL YES, THIS GIRL IS SO HOT, I DON'T EVEN CARE WHAT GARBAGE COMES OUT OF HER MOUTH SHE LOOKS SOOO GOOD, AND SHE'S PART ASIAN, THAT'S EVEN HOTTER!"
Yeah, funny thing how that Asian thing just brought it up a notch.
Ridiculous.
But guys like those "exotic" women. A Jew from New York? Feh. A Christian from Connecticut? Yawn.
It's funny, she's not horrible, or a horrific actress, I think it's just one of those situations where a girl is admired, adored, and even respected by men on the basis of her looks, and I resent that. Don't we have to work for our successes in life? The women who were just handed beauty at birth don't have even a tiny idea of what it is like to work for success, or for anything for that matter. I don't envy these women for that. I mean when their beauty is gone they have nothing. I guess it's just a reflection on my insecurity about looks and such. Or maybe I'm just annoyed at the idea that I know people who would be amazing on television, but this girl gets in based on looks and lineage.
In the end it doesn't really matter, she will continue her career, as will I. We all have to make our own lives wonderful, and be proactive, and I'm sure in her own way, she does that.
Even if she has the television personality of a wet noodle. . .

Why I Don't Like the Bikini Girl

So, when I watched American Idol auditions this year, I didn't really find much fault with most of the contestants, except one. Let's call her Bikini Girl. I never bothered to learn her real name. She comes into the audition skinny, toned, tall, in a skimpy bikini with a decent singing voice. Simon and Randy are just enjoying the picture and she gets into a diva match with Kara about a Mariah song. I wanted to be like, "honey this is your future, don't mess with someone who could make or break you and your career". So, I thought this week would be better, she's back, but at least she's wearing clothing. I was wrong. She was wearing an UGLY cocktail dress, black, extremely short with some kind of dead bird feathers on the bottom, no tights and hooker heels. She just looked cheap. She sings a couple of bars of "Breathe" by Faith Hill and it was so boring,beyond boring. And of course she goes on. It's such a joke, at least to me, because seeing people in the theatre business I have seen lots of girls who look like that and can project that image, with a heck of a lot more talent, who never get that kind of an opportunity.
And what kind of a story is it to tell your grandkids, "oh your grandma did something that shocked America, she went on a singing competition show in a skimpy bikini and showed America her goodies!" Vomit. I hate when women devalue themselves and their talents to just their bodies. It's like, honey, go on Top Model, there are other people here who deserve your spot a whole lot more, oh yeah, and go eat a burger, you look like you're gonna fall over.

some got it . . .some don't got it

Talent

That's what we're talking about here, ladies and gentlemen, talent. Some folks got it, some don't. I think those were some bad lyrics to some country song back in the day, but in reality, they are it. Some people are blessed with gifts. Others are not. What boggles my mind is the tiny things that make or break people's careers.

For instance . . .
How does someone like Britney Spears make a comeback after all that drama and weight gain and whatever drug use she did? She comes out with a new album, that's the same damn formulaic "Circus" themed album that so many people have done before her . .. AND DONE IT BETTER. Helloo . . . . Come on now. It's pathetic. Her synthesizer voice does not make me want to buy "Womanizer". It makes me want to buy a bulldozer to run her over with. If Kevin Federline hasn't tried to do that already . . .

My friend Adam . . .
He's so talented. He has this voice that is so rich and soulful, it's like Stevie Wonder and India Arie and Tracy Chapman and Michael McDonald and Melissa Etheridge had an orgie and out came Adam. Although, that would be one weird looking child, and he doesn't look anything like taht, he just kinda sounds like it. Soulful white man syndrome. How do you market him? What kinds of songs should he be singing? How do you get him heard? I'm not his agent, but I heard these two songs he wrote the other day, and I think to myself, If only someone famous heard this boy, that's all it would take. But how do you get there ?

My friend Lisa . . .
She read me some of her poetry and it blew my mind. This girl shouldn't be in graduate school with me, she should be getting books published and having meetings with other intellectuals about the meaning of life. Alas, she needs to pay bills. But I mean her poetry is magical, and how is anyone ever going to read it? And it must be read. This is why I get so frustrated. I know all these people with all of these talent, and I want the world for them, and then there are these aholes that are out there with no talent, only making it,because they are related to someone, or have a lot of money, or whatever trashy story got them somewhere.

Do you have to sell your soul to make it? I mean look at Beyonce. People compare her to Etta James and Aretha Franklin. I got news for you. Beyonce ain't no Aretha. Aretha was the Queen of Soul. Beyonce is That Good Lookin' Chick Who Sings Hip Hop. Beyonce acts like a diva. Aretha is a diva because of who she is and what she does. You can't fake being a diva, you are or you aren't. I mean, don't get me wrong. Beyonce has some talent, and she can dance, and she's very pretty. But "if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it" wouldn't be a lyric I'd put my name on. I mean she's famous for songs like "bootylicious". To me that doesn't sound like legend in the making, it sounds like overproduced girl group drop out to me.

And then there is Brady, who was discussing with me the idea of finding her voice, as a singer, and I think she is on the right track, totally. You have to listen to lots of people , and find where it is comfortable for you, to be singing. I remember, always wanting to sing Pop Diva songs, and then when it got down to it, i was more comfortable with Bonnie Raitt and Joni Mitchell. They suited me more. It's amazing to me, that in my twenty some odd years I've seen so much talent, and the people that have made it, aren't the ones who was in awe of. They were the lucky ones, the rich ones, or the pretty ones.

I always was one of those people that thought, if you were talented enough, you'd make it, "they" would find you. I don't know that I believe that anymore. I mean, I've been rereading Sheri's script, and damn, I can see it in my mind, she is a phenomenal writer, with this amazing way with natural and funny dialogue that I can just see on screen. But how is it ever gonna come to life? I guess that's why I'm gonna attempt to get Gary to have people look at it. I don't even know if he'll take me seriously, but if he's as close to Andrew as Andrew makes us all think, then maybe he'll think about my request. I mean he knows what it 's like to struggle, his wife is a singer and I'm sure she didn't have an easy time starting out, trying to get recorded and get gigs and so on.

I always thought that when I found love, I wouldn't need the art. That somehow, the starving artist living in my soul would pack up her duffle and say, "kid, it's been a great ride, but i'm going to some other attention starved girl who needs me now, ciao" and that would be that. But, even though I'm in love, and I'm grateful and happy, I still love the arts, and have that need to create. I don't think it ever goes away. I just think it is always somewhere, in the background, a quiet but steady presence. And I know that if I ever want to sing, there are people out there who have confidence in my ability. And although that is not a recording contract, to me, there is nothing better than a few key people believing in your talent.

Logic Puzzle

I'm listening to my brother try to grapple with his essay for applying to law school. It's not easy stuff. He has to show so many things about himself, he has to represent himself, in these words. I don't know if I have ever represented myself well, in words, but it's not an easy thing to do. I admire him for wanting to go to Law school. I know he could've taken other routes.
He's good looking, smart, and has connections, he could've been a sportscaster, or worked in broadcast journalism. He could've kept at it with the magazine and taken that over. But I do believe that he really wants to help people. I think he always has.
I admire that. Tonight, at Ad's house, his mom made the point that lawyers are a-holes. I don't know if I agree. I think lawyers are fighters and advocates and I admire them, like I admire Pierre, for being a survivor and a fighter and I'm sure, a damn good lawyer.
I want all of Pierre's dreams to come true. I want him to be able to open his own practice one day, and to feel good about his work and himself. I think he is so wonderful, but it's hard to see it when you are knee deep in it, and it's not like Pierre had people around all his life supporting him, telling him that he was wonderful. Pierre did it for himself. There was no extra money, there was no special help. There was Pierre, his mom and a lot of dreams, some that had faded, and some that were yet to be fulfilled. Pierre did things I could never do, faced challenges I could never face. I think that is one of the many reasons I love him so much, because he is a fighter and a really good man.
I think Andrew will be a really good man one day too. I think he has growing up to do and hurdles to climb, but I think he will help people. It's like we all have this power within us to do great things. I think Pierre and Andrew will both do great things. I'm lucky to have the both in my life. They are two strong men, with lots of differences, but at the heart of it, they are both people who want to help, and are full of love.