My favorite Christmas song, "Fairytale of New York," performed by The Pogues in 1988.
Merry merry.
…talking about the fact that Britney Spears’ 16-year-old sister, Jamie Lynn, went and got herself all knocked up. Here are two of my favorite quotes from the news so far. My reactions are in italics.
"I definitely don't think [premarital sex is] something you should do; it's better to wait," she told OK! Magazine.
Yes, premarital sex = guaranteed pregnancy. Married women will never be faced with an unplanned pregnancy. Definitely don’t talk about how you wish you were better educated and made smarter decisions about birth control, which can be really effing hard to do when you’re 16.
"I didn't believe it because Jamie Lynn's always been so conscientious. She's never late for her curfew,” said Lynne Spears, grandmother-to-be.
Talk about stating the obvious, Grandma Spears. Teen sex really IS a matter of etiquette, after all! In general, studies show that high levels of politeness and “conscientiousness” definitely correlate to low rates of teen pregnancy. NOT.
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*that’s what she said
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More required reading on this topic:
Your family was one of the most impoverished in our town. In fifth grade, your house burned down and it was horrible; but after the fire, you and your siblings had brand new wardrobes and the town built you a new home.
You sang and danced to Arrested Development’s “Mr. Wendel” in the living room, distracting your sister and me from a school project. You were older, full of angst, and hated almost everyone in our town, but we always liked each other. You were in my dream the other night.
I've decided to try participating in x365, which is a year-long daily posting project. The subject: 365 people you've met in your life who have had some kind of impact on you.
I'm breaking the rules a bit -- you're supposed to keep the word count
to your age, but as I am a mere 26 but still overly verbose, I'm
keeping it to below 50 words.
I've been really excited to see Juno for a while now because I am always in the mood for a quirky comedy full of witty banter starring my boy-crush Michael Cera (seriously, MC, call me when you're 21).
I've been really really excited to see it ever since I read that A.O. Scott called the film, "a feminist, girl-powered rejoinder and complement to Knocked Up" in his New York Times review. It got me brains a-thinking.
So, here I am for days musing, "Was Knocked Up really that un-feminist?" but also being kinda busy and without time for my daily internet catch up on all things pop culture, gender issues, and Michael Cera (honestly, MC, should I just post my cell phone number on my blog? Sorry, Matt...). But lo and behold, the Juno vs. Knocked Up debate has begun, fueled by a poorly timed quote from Katherine Heigl, when she told Vanity Fair that it was hard for her to love the sexist Knocked Up! Hooray!
Since I haven't seen Juno yet, I can't totally weigh in with my OFFICIAL opinion, but I did see Knocked Up twice (once with my mom, who, incidentally, loved it), so I can tell you that I did not consider the film to be anti-women or un-feminist on the whole.
Relationships are really hard. Sometimes you have to be the worst, ugliest version of yourself to make your relationship the best, prettiest version of itself. Lately, thanks to Katha Pollitt, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a feminist and I'm really digging her whole society- vs. self-based concept. I think that theory is really applicable to our micro-societies that are our relationships: if we're with people who are fighting for equal ground -- who fight to truly understand us and live, love, and share equally in our lives on our level, then that's feminism in action for you.
For me, Knocked Up is a film about relationships and the mystery of making romance reality, whether it's a night old or a decade old. Ultimately, the characters are fighting for equity and understanding in their relationships. They're risking the ugly for the pretty. Because it's a comedy, the ugly is hilarious, and yeah, sometimes it's the male characters (or is it just the actors?) whose uglier selves are the funniest.
To make the film stand apart from romantic and other comedies starring their "Frat Pack," filmmakers Jud Apatow and Seth Rogen threw in a pretty unique conceit: what if you had a baby when both you and your relationship were horrifically unprepared -- the LEAST prepared they could possibly be? Interestingly enough, Apatow and Rogen chose the hottest-button feminist issues to heat up their film's appeal -- babies n' marriage n' careers -- but I'm glad this film is opening up some intelligent debate about the portrayal of women in film, particularly comedies.
Critics are comparing Knocked Up and its alleged un-feminist messaging to other films of that genre, most recently and understandably, Juno, but I think they need to add an additional canon by which to compare it: Apatow and Rogen's other TV and film work, which has some pretty awesome, hysterical, and well-balanced messaging for both the boy and girl sets.
I'm totally going to try to squeeze in Juno this weekend, so stay tuned. Until then, here's some required reading on this topic:
- "Seeking Mr. and Mrs. Right for a Baby on the Way" A.O. Scott's review of Juno in The New York Times
- "Katherine Heigl's Knocked Up" by Meghan O'Rourke on Slate.com
- "Knocked Uptight," Jezebel.com
- "Katharine Heigl Clarifies Knocked Up Remarks," People.com
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t totally mesmerized by
what Jezebel.com is calling “Badonkgate”,
Jennifer Love Hewitt’s fiery reaction to some papparazzi photos of her in a
bikini.
“A size 2 is not fat! Nor will it ever be. And being a size 0 doesn't make you beautiful,” says JLH in her website statement that has been getting tons-o-press. She beseeches: “To all girls with butts, boobs, hips and a waist, put on a bikini – put it on and stay strong.”
You should learn why this is a mixed message that can be dangerously misinterpreted, so please check out what Claire over at the 5 Resolutions blog has to say in “J. Love Loves Her Size 2 Body. Did You Hear That, World? She’s a Size 2!”
As for me, I’m responding most strongly and personally to Jezebel’s questions:
“Is the American populace so ignorant and
dumbed down that the only thing that can keep their
attention is the process by which the consumption of
more
calories results in more body weight
and
vice versa? No but really truly?”
Last year, I asked the women in my family essentially the same question: why is talking about our weight so goddamn interesting?
I had been thinking about how – and how often—the women in my family talk about our bodies and I realized I didn’t like it. We are not petite skinny people, blood- and non-blood relatives alike. We are from tall and strong ancestors who had the flesh and bones to withstand famine, the Iron Curtain, and a labor camp in Siberia. With those genes, as well as some psychology and brain chemistry thrown into the mix, comes some weight issues.
So, often, when I would see family they would say things like, “You look skinny, Al. Are you eating?” or “Have you lost weight?” Or, if I mentioned over the phone or in an email that I was psyched about running more or trying Pilates I got reactions along the lines of, “Wow. You must be losing a ton of weight.”
Family gatherings are often a time to discuss gaining weight, not losing weight, or the fear of both.
I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings because it’s not easy to feel good about your body. In our culture, it’s hard work to have even a minute when you don’t absolutely hate your body, and the women in my family are no different from most girls and women around the world.
I know I’m young and haven’t been faced with the lifetime of body changes and issues most of my older female relatives have had to come to terms with. But I’ve lost weight and I’ve gained weight and I’ve loved my body and hated my body, so I’m not all that different from members of my family and every other woman. Hell, I’ll probably lose and gain some more weight even in just the next month or so.
But I know that as long as I do the things that make me
feel, well, just like the best version of myself, that’s going to make me feel
beautiful, and I’m not a size 0 and far from a size 2.
Incidentally, those
things? You know, the books I read, the places I run through, the work
I do, the
people I love, the lame blog I keep...? Yeah, those are the things I’ll
be
focusing on sharing with my family over the holidays. And they're
wayyyyy more interesting than the weight I've lost, the weight I've
gained, or the size of my pants, which, as the lovely Jezebels point
are nothing more than millions of boring, boring calories.
And back to Ms. Love Hewitt: if you’re reading, I hope you do the same.
*Only if you don't read the following:
"Taking Marriage Private," a New York Times op-ed by Stephanie Coontz [registration required]
Jezebel.com's coverage of The Hills. Most recently: Please Don't Leave, JustinBobby
Both of these leave me with a satisfied urge to firmly nod my head and say, "Dang. What SHE said!"
I flew to Boston from LAX last night after a pretty hectic week of work in Southern California. I am generally a patient traveler. In recent months I've endured breaking down in a Greyhound bus in the middle of Connecticut and people having sex in a nearby restroom on an Amtrak train, so...yeah. Seasoned traveler here.
However, my flight last night must have been specially reserved for fidgety five-year-olds in adult-sized bodies. The man sitting next to me was a hand-talker and kept making flailing conversational gestures into my personal space, while everyone else around me just could NOT sit still.
But this is not about the most irritating 4 hours and 45 minutes I've ever spent in an enclosed metal death trap at 37,000 feet.
This afternoon I went running in the neighborhood where I grew up. On the fringes of our cul-de-sac are apartment buildings -- as kids, we referred to them simply as "the apartments." There were some pretty unwholesome and downright criminal things that went on in that part of the neighborhood, and the apartments had a bit of a reputation, so in high school, my friends referred to that area as "South Central Salem."
But running today I saw them in a different light. A Brooklyn-tinted light maybe? Or an adult-tinted light perhaps? Either way, I saw lush green lawns, plenty of parking, and central air conditioning units. Maybe the kind of light that makes you want to move back to your hometown a few blocks away from your parents.
There was a great interview with writer Katha Pollit on NPR's Fresh Air last week. She was on to talk about her new book, Learning to Drive: And Other Life Stories, which includes two of my favorite essays.
Pollitt gets some flack from time to time from feminists. The title essay of this latest book is essentially about how she only forced herself to learn to drive after she had run out of reliable men in her life who would drive her around. Another essay, "Webstalker," is about how she obsessively Googled her then-recent ex-boyfriend, desperately trying to trace past infidelities she thought he may have committed during their seven-year relationship.
You should listen to the Fresh Air interview because Pollitt (and my girl, champion interviewer Terry Gross, of course) will make you think seriously about two things:
Many popular memoirs, personal essays, and non-fiction narratives are stories of triumph against adversity and redemption. Pollitt is taking some hits for writing about failed relationships with men, admitted character flaws, and overall bad habits because she writes about losses without the promise of any wins. At the end of the title essay, she fails her driver's test and her relationship has deteriorated. During the Fresh Air interview, in so many words, she asks why she just can't be a loser. Sometimes she loses and those stories should be just as compelling as tales of triumph.
During the interview, Pollitt is also asked about her views on feminism. This is the best part of the interview. She has a lot of great insights, but I'll spoil it a bit and sum up my favorite one. Feminism, says Pollitt, is about changing society--not yourself. It's not a self-help program. Feminism will not--it should not--guide you on how to dress, what to eat, what to read, how to cut your hair, or where, when, and if at all you choose to shave, wax, or pluck...
What are you doing reading my lame blog? Just listen to the interview already!
