I know that last week I said that I'd write a new post after I had a few days to recharge from the booze-a-thon that was last week, but here's the thing. The thing is that I started my second job this week on top of my internship and now I'm freaking exhausted. The internship at Grove/Atlantic is pretty great, but I was very busy this week. Yesterday I sent out 152 copies of the same book. It took four hours. Woof. Second job is at a brand new skin care shop called Cellure. The store hasn't actually opened yet so we've been running around like a bunch of bufoons trying to get everything ready. It's a really cool product line, though, so everyone should check it out. I'll wait. Neat, eh? Now I'm tired. All this is to say that I have neither the energy, nor the mental capacity right now to write a full post. Sorry. I'm a bad blogger. Here's a post I wrote in the airport 2 weeks ago. It was written at 8 in the morning and I'm not even going to read over it, so it may be stupid and/or offensive. Again, sorry (not really). Fashion Rant
I know that I am not the first to say this, nor shall I probably be the last, but as I sit at LaGuardia waiting for a flight to Atlanta, I cannot help but despair at the state of my fellow travelers’ vestments. Though I realize that flying is not the rarity and therefore not the special occasion that it once was, I can’t help but ask, “Does no one care anymore?” To look around at the people both boarding and disembarking, it seems that everyone has decided collectively to not give a shit how they’re perceived. While flying is a fairly unpleasant process, especially for those of us in steerage, and I don’t think it’s necessary to wear a suit or an Easter dress, would it kill people to not look like they had just rolled out of bed. Perhaps it would be a better experience overall if everyone came together and at least tried to look like they’ve achieved the level of success needed to be able to afford to fly. Even at my best, I generally look a touch rumpled and shabby next to my more stylish peers, so when I am one of the best-dressed people around, it’s not a good sign for society at large. Of course, there will be people who disparage this opinion, shouting, “Clothes are superficial! What does it matter what you wear so long as you know that you’re clever/successful/interesting?! Why should we kowtow to materialism and the status quo beauty ideal?!” To these people I will say, “Shut up. You are wrong, and here’s why.” Whether we like to admit it or not, the way we feel about a person on first meeting has a great deal to do with how they look. If a person is tidy and nicely dressed and appears well rested, we generally think of that person positively. Conversely, if a person appears slovenly and unkempt and like we’ve caught him readying for bed, we feel ill at ease, as if perhaps something’s gone wrong in their life and why on Earth would you want to be around a stranger in the middle of an emotional crisis? That’s just awkward for everyone involved. Obviously a plane trip is not an interview and if you would really rather be “comfortable” than have people treat you with respect, that’s your prerogative. Though as for that, who says you can’t be comfortable and also look like not a hobo?
This discourse leads me into a larger matter altogether. There are certain pieces of clothing that people insist on wearing that actually upset me upon sight:
The first offender: tennis shoes, or “sneakers” to our yankee brethren. There are precisely two times when it is appropriate to wear these shoes, and all of them involve physical activity. If you are exercising or performing manual labor, tennis shoes are 100% appropriate. They provide the proper amount of traction and support, as well as protection of the feet for such strenuous activities. If you wear them at any other time you just look depressing and you might as well change your name to Tiffani and move to somewhere in middle America, because I am sick of having to see you scuffling around.
The next offender is cargo anything. Ask yourself these questions when deciding whether it is appropriate to wear cargo pants: Am I in the military? Is this part of a required uniform? Am I doing some sort of construction that requires several easily accessible pockets in which to keep nuts and bolts and the like? If the answer to any of those questions is “Yes,” then congratulations, you are in the very tiny minority of people who are allowed to wear cargo pants/shorts. If the answer to all of those is, “No,” then climb back in your time machine, remember that it’s not 1997, and you look like a giant douche.
The next is going to involve some explanation, so stick with me here: hats. Not all hats are bad, but not every hat looks good on every person, and, in fact, it takes a very specific type of person to pull off a hat, and that type of person changes depending on the chapeau. For example, a straw fedora only looks good on the absolute hippest of hipsters; those of you trying to emulate the hipster style with a hat you picked up at Urban Outfitters, might want to look in the mirror once more. See that goon staring back? That’s you; now take off the fedora. Newsboy caps, on the other hand, look good on exactly no one and should all be burned. That may sound extreme, but it’s for your own good.
The final item I will discuss has not always been an object of my disgust; in fact, I am ashamed to say, I wore this item for many years and so am using my knowledge to help others. I also know that I'll probably get in trouble with a lot of my friends for saying this, but I'm willing to take that chance, because I am an innovator. Offender #4: Flip flops. Like the cargo pant, flip flops are appropriate at exactly two times: the beach/pool and communal showers. Actually, I’m being generous with the beach/pool, but it’s understandable that one would not want to get their cute sandals sandy/chlorine-y. Not only do these “shoes” (if you can even call them that) make a horrible sound, but they make everyone’s feet look fat and flat and sad, like little pig feet sprouting from enormous cankles. I have been told on more than one occasion that I have beautiful feet (seriously, and, yes, I realize how creepy that compliment is), so if they make my feet look bad, they must be truly awful. For some reason, the professional women of New York have decided that flip flops are the most comfortable shoes in the entire world and immediately change into them upon leaving the office. To them I must say, “You have a good job; you are obviously successful, so why do you feel the need to look like idiot trash? Go buy some Tory Birch flats and be done with it.” Of course, not everyone can afford Tory Birch, myself included, but luckily we live in America where you can get a comparable knock-off of just about anything. I’m sorry if I sound like a snob (not really), but I’m sick of being ambushed by sadness and anger every damn day. Take some pride in your appearance, or at least try not to look like a blob of melancholy.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Friday, September 16, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
How I Feel About Harry Potter
I have been hesitant to make this post for about the past month for a couple of reasons. 1) A lot of my best friends (including my roommate) are absolutely obsessed with Harry Potter. 2) I would like to try to submit it to real websites where they'll pay me to write, and often those sites won't accept stuff if it's already been published, and, apparently, putting stuff on my stupid blog that about 4 people sometimes read counts as "published" which makes about as much sense as the things I'm about to make fun of.
I decided to go ahead and "publish" this because I figure if I can get more people to read my blog by posting my best writing, other people will ask me to write more articles for which I will get paid. Hopefully.
Anyway, these two rants were inspired by my midnight viewing of the most recent Harry Potter, my texts to my brother about that viewing, and an article from Sports Illustrated he sent to me later about Quidditch leagues on college campuses. In short, I'm worried about our generation.
DISCLAIMER: I do not hate Harry Potter. The movies are entertaining, and I'm sure the books are great for a lot of people who aren't me. That said, it's still a series for children and teens and no amount of arguing will elevate the stories and writing beyond that plateau, so please stop trying to convince me.
Rant 1:
The Harry Potter showing last night was freaking horrendous. The movie is good, well, as good as it could be. I enjoyed it, but the fans are so pathetic; it's depressing. First of all, Lyndsay made me get in line an hour early, as I told you, and the line stretched around an entire city block. If you already have tickets, which means that you have a seat inside, why the hell are you waiting in line? I understand not wanting to sit in the front row, but come on. And the amount of middle-aged adults that were in line sans children kind of made me want to join those people who always protest the movies with signs that say things like "Harry Potter=Satan." Every time something even marginally entertaining happened, they either applauded (a reaction to movies that has never made the slightest bit of sense to me; do they have that little impulse control that they can't help but clap for people that aren't really there?) or laughed so hard that I couldn't hear the movie, which really annoyed the hell out of me. Several people cried, and it took every bit of my energy not to start laughing hysterically. How are they having such strong reactions to something they already know is going to happen? It's not like the acting is that amazing or the writing that incredible. I honestly don't understand what happened to our generation (and apparently the one that preceded us) that so many people cling so desperately to the story of a bespectacled wizard child, a story of good v. evil that is about as original as a body switch movie. Are people's lives that pathetic that they have to throw themselves so totally into a series of children's books? It actually worries me. A lot. I also realized that by going to the movie last night, I'm part of the problem. Yikes.
Rant 2 (in response to this):
I already knew that there were doofuses playing quidditch on college campuses, but I had never seen pictures before, so it didn't seem real to me until now. As a result, I have many questions.
1. Why do they need the brooms? In the books/movies the brooms are how they fly, but, since we are not in fact in the mind of an old hippie who took too much of the "bad acid" in 1967 staring out a window, brooms do not fly, so they seem to just be a way to actually make the game harder.
2. Since there is no such thing as a "golden snitch" in this non-peyote-fueled world, do they just throw a tiny ball at each other really fast?
3. What happened in their childhoods to make being on a quidditch team seem like something that is not going to make future friends and employers either laugh or back slowly away?
4. Why is Sports Illustrated publishing this? Have they just decided that because print media is becoming outdated that they no longer have to have any sort of credibility and who really gives a shit anymore anyway?
5. Did everyone in the country just get smacked on their little heads with a ball-peen hammer when we were out of the country at some point?
Thanks, Sports Illustrated, for making me want to totally divorce myself from my entire generation. Harry Potter is a wonderfully fanciful children's book that should be read and enjoyed. The movies are entertaining and well made. But when people start taking things they see in movies and books and acting them out in real life we end up with a country full of fat, pale, middle-aged people living in their mothers' basements. It's all yours, China; I'm out.
Also, I am glad that your Potter viewing experience wasn't nearly as horrific as mine. I understand that plot lines are often recycled, and that's perfectly fine, but it's when people take something like Harry Potter, a dumbed-down version of Lord of the Rings as you said, and act like it's freaking Citizen Kane is when I begin having problems.
Again, Harry Potter is a lovely series, but obsession over anything is worrisome to me, especially when that anything is a wizard series aimed at the 9-16 age bracket. I know that I'm not the coolest person on the planet (I'm wearing a Three Keyboard Cat t shirt), and that I've momentarily become obsessed with certain pop culture phenoms (I once spent around 8 hours googling Robert Pattinson. He's good-looking, I'm not made of stone, give me a break), but, like many well-adjusted humans, I let things go after a few days or weeks; I don't adopt a lifestyle so that every aspect of every day reflects some fictional world. In 100 years (if the Mayans were wrong, that is), there will be whole psychological theses published on this specific brand of personality disorder. Rant over. Maybe tomorrow I'll rant about Kanye and Jay-Z, because this new album is insane, and I don't mean that as a compliment.
Photo: Michael J. LeBrecht, Sports Illustrated
I decided to go ahead and "publish" this because I figure if I can get more people to read my blog by posting my best writing, other people will ask me to write more articles for which I will get paid. Hopefully.
Anyway, these two rants were inspired by my midnight viewing of the most recent Harry Potter, my texts to my brother about that viewing, and an article from Sports Illustrated he sent to me later about Quidditch leagues on college campuses. In short, I'm worried about our generation.
DISCLAIMER: I do not hate Harry Potter. The movies are entertaining, and I'm sure the books are great for a lot of people who aren't me. That said, it's still a series for children and teens and no amount of arguing will elevate the stories and writing beyond that plateau, so please stop trying to convince me.
Rant 1:
The Harry Potter showing last night was freaking horrendous. The movie is good, well, as good as it could be. I enjoyed it, but the fans are so pathetic; it's depressing. First of all, Lyndsay made me get in line an hour early, as I told you, and the line stretched around an entire city block. If you already have tickets, which means that you have a seat inside, why the hell are you waiting in line? I understand not wanting to sit in the front row, but come on. And the amount of middle-aged adults that were in line sans children kind of made me want to join those people who always protest the movies with signs that say things like "Harry Potter=Satan." Every time something even marginally entertaining happened, they either applauded (a reaction to movies that has never made the slightest bit of sense to me; do they have that little impulse control that they can't help but clap for people that aren't really there?) or laughed so hard that I couldn't hear the movie, which really annoyed the hell out of me. Several people cried, and it took every bit of my energy not to start laughing hysterically. How are they having such strong reactions to something they already know is going to happen? It's not like the acting is that amazing or the writing that incredible. I honestly don't understand what happened to our generation (and apparently the one that preceded us) that so many people cling so desperately to the story of a bespectacled wizard child, a story of good v. evil that is about as original as a body switch movie. Are people's lives that pathetic that they have to throw themselves so totally into a series of children's books? It actually worries me. A lot. I also realized that by going to the movie last night, I'm part of the problem. Yikes.
Rant 2 (in response to this):
I already knew that there were doofuses playing quidditch on college campuses, but I had never seen pictures before, so it didn't seem real to me until now. As a result, I have many questions.
1. Why do they need the brooms? In the books/movies the brooms are how they fly, but, since we are not in fact in the mind of an old hippie who took too much of the "bad acid" in 1967 staring out a window, brooms do not fly, so they seem to just be a way to actually make the game harder.
2. Since there is no such thing as a "golden snitch" in this non-peyote-fueled world, do they just throw a tiny ball at each other really fast?
3. What happened in their childhoods to make being on a quidditch team seem like something that is not going to make future friends and employers either laugh or back slowly away?
4. Why is Sports Illustrated publishing this? Have they just decided that because print media is becoming outdated that they no longer have to have any sort of credibility and who really gives a shit anymore anyway?
5. Did everyone in the country just get smacked on their little heads with a ball-peen hammer when we were out of the country at some point?
Thanks, Sports Illustrated, for making me want to totally divorce myself from my entire generation. Harry Potter is a wonderfully fanciful children's book that should be read and enjoyed. The movies are entertaining and well made. But when people start taking things they see in movies and books and acting them out in real life we end up with a country full of fat, pale, middle-aged people living in their mothers' basements. It's all yours, China; I'm out.
Also, I am glad that your Potter viewing experience wasn't nearly as horrific as mine. I understand that plot lines are often recycled, and that's perfectly fine, but it's when people take something like Harry Potter, a dumbed-down version of Lord of the Rings as you said, and act like it's freaking Citizen Kane is when I begin having problems.
Again, Harry Potter is a lovely series, but obsession over anything is worrisome to me, especially when that anything is a wizard series aimed at the 9-16 age bracket. I know that I'm not the coolest person on the planet (I'm wearing a Three Keyboard Cat t shirt), and that I've momentarily become obsessed with certain pop culture phenoms (I once spent around 8 hours googling Robert Pattinson. He's good-looking, I'm not made of stone, give me a break), but, like many well-adjusted humans, I let things go after a few days or weeks; I don't adopt a lifestyle so that every aspect of every day reflects some fictional world. In 100 years (if the Mayans were wrong, that is), there will be whole psychological theses published on this specific brand of personality disorder. Rant over. Maybe tomorrow I'll rant about Kanye and Jay-Z, because this new album is insane, and I don't mean that as a compliment.
Photo: Michael J. LeBrecht, Sports Illustrated
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
