Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
OH, my ovaries.
After many years of lesbian domesticity, I recently joined the ranks of the boygirl sex world. While I'd previously dated boys (ok fine, boy singular but he was so overwhelming I'd like to think I've been with many) its been many years since getting my period signaled a flood of relief throughout my being that I would not have to put my pro-choice politics to work. While I'd always been aware of how lucky I was in that respect, it's only now that I've come to understand just how lucky I was. Not only is straight sex is way more expensive than gay sex, it demands way more preparation and upkeep. It's really truly ridiculous.
Since I'm relatively new to the world of contraceptives, I thought I'd throw in my two cents. Cause I mean, what else do I have to do? It is commonly understood that the available forms of contraceptives out there are a pitiful offering. Even under a gay rock, I shared in the common rage and frustration. How many times have you heard some poor dear lament, "How the hell is it possible that in the year 2007, with all the medical and technological feats that have been made, we are really no further to ever getting decent birth control?! Why are they working endlessly on creating never-ending erections and getting horses to give birth to cloned sheep, and not putting a little more thought into something that we really fucking need!? Why is it so expensive? Why is the responsibility and the expense all on the woman? Why do all the options suck? Why is it ok for my health insurance to not cover this? How come its legal for pharmacists to not sell me my prescription on personal grounds? Why do I have to put my hormones, my emotional health, my weight, my physical health and my few hard earned dollars on the line? How is it possible that the same government that is steadily dismantling Roe v. Wade is also making it harder for me to protect myself from ever needing to make use of the law? What on earth!!!!!?"
I don't know the answers to most of those questions and I want to change it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure that I can change it, instead of changing diapers. Not including the rhythm method and plain old prayer, we're looking at 6 options:
1) condoms
2) pill
3) patch
4) shot
5) ring
6) iud
Since condoms are really annoying when you're only sleeping with one person, that's off the list, so really it's 5 options. First off, the pill. Many people are quite content with the hormonal route and to them I say "goddamn i am jealous." But having learned the hard way with a brief but crappy flirtation with ortho-tricyclin, hormonal methods of birth control are not for everyone. Nevertheless, my problem with the pill goes beyond the emotional effects: it requires a level of daily responsibility that I am certainly not incapable of, but would rather not have to deal with. Remembering to take it each day at the right time? That's just annoying and causes a very low grade but constant level of vigilance and stress. I'm not having it. Plus, raise your hand if your partner has ever chipped in for your prescription co-pay. yeah.
The patch and the shot are more attractive in the daily upkeep department. But like the pill, they both work by making major alterations to your estrogen levels. If I could protect myself from pregnancy without gaining 30 pounds, getting countless y.i.'s, and sacrificing a certain level of emotional and mental stability, oh how I would. Many people can. Since I can't, that scratches off the patch and shot.
Leaving me with only 2 options: the ring or the iud. I prudently opted for the more temporary, less invasive and more technologically advanced option of the nuva ring. Since it too works by releasing hormones, I was initially quite anti-ring, but my doctor promised me that it was such a localized small dose that there was no way I'd be emotionally affected. A few weeks later, I'm waiting for a meeting with a psychiatrist to figure out why I've completely lost my mind. I assumed it was a separate chemical issue. But I'm looking online to find out if I'm the only one on the ring who has had her period for almost an entire month nonstop and lo and behold, a message board with dozens of women saying "WTF!? My doctor said it wouldn't affect my emotions, but why am i spiraling off into voids of anger and depression at random?" and I'm reading this and thinking, "um, hello lily! perhaps its time to cancel the psychiatric appointment?' So I scrapped both the ring and the psychiatrist, and slowly emerged from my hole of sadness. a few weeks later I am sane, but protectionless.
Which left me with one final option: the iud. So I did it. I feel so retro! I feel so sore! But I'm crossing my fingers that just this once protection could be easy and reliable. is that so much to ask? i think not. It certainly does not answer the questions of finance and inequality: 500 uninsured dollars paid entirely from my nonexistent salary. And while it promises 5 years of total ease, it was still one of the more painful procedures I've had done in my life. Still, I am hopeful. While it got a bad rap somewhere in the 80's, the negative rumors have been fairly unfounded and every doctor and article I've consulted has agreed that it is the most effective option out there and the simplest to use. So we shall see.
I suppose it's a bit odd that I've now shared the trials and tribulations of my uterus with a bunch of total strangers, but i feel like this is an issue that is often grappled with but rarely questioned. It's not enough to sit around with your lady friends saying, dude, this sucks. yeah, it does. yeah.
Because DUDE: this more than sucks. What on earth? I know I'm clearly on a very extreme end of the hormonal-sensitivity spectrum, but I wanted to offer my experiences because I'm pissed off and its not just pms. It's the whole goddamn system. Something has to change. What are we going to do about it?
Since I'm relatively new to the world of contraceptives, I thought I'd throw in my two cents. Cause I mean, what else do I have to do? It is commonly understood that the available forms of contraceptives out there are a pitiful offering. Even under a gay rock, I shared in the common rage and frustration. How many times have you heard some poor dear lament, "How the hell is it possible that in the year 2007, with all the medical and technological feats that have been made, we are really no further to ever getting decent birth control?! Why are they working endlessly on creating never-ending erections and getting horses to give birth to cloned sheep, and not putting a little more thought into something that we really fucking need!? Why is it so expensive? Why is the responsibility and the expense all on the woman? Why do all the options suck? Why is it ok for my health insurance to not cover this? How come its legal for pharmacists to not sell me my prescription on personal grounds? Why do I have to put my hormones, my emotional health, my weight, my physical health and my few hard earned dollars on the line? How is it possible that the same government that is steadily dismantling Roe v. Wade is also making it harder for me to protect myself from ever needing to make use of the law? What on earth!!!!!?"
I don't know the answers to most of those questions and I want to change it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure that I can change it, instead of changing diapers. Not including the rhythm method and plain old prayer, we're looking at 6 options:
1) condoms
2) pill
3) patch
4) shot
5) ring
6) iud
Since condoms are really annoying when you're only sleeping with one person, that's off the list, so really it's 5 options. First off, the pill. Many people are quite content with the hormonal route and to them I say "goddamn i am jealous." But having learned the hard way with a brief but crappy flirtation with ortho-tricyclin, hormonal methods of birth control are not for everyone. Nevertheless, my problem with the pill goes beyond the emotional effects: it requires a level of daily responsibility that I am certainly not incapable of, but would rather not have to deal with. Remembering to take it each day at the right time? That's just annoying and causes a very low grade but constant level of vigilance and stress. I'm not having it. Plus, raise your hand if your partner has ever chipped in for your prescription co-pay. yeah.
The patch and the shot are more attractive in the daily upkeep department. But like the pill, they both work by making major alterations to your estrogen levels. If I could protect myself from pregnancy without gaining 30 pounds, getting countless y.i.'s, and sacrificing a certain level of emotional and mental stability, oh how I would. Many people can. Since I can't, that scratches off the patch and shot.
Leaving me with only 2 options: the ring or the iud. I prudently opted for the more temporary, less invasive and more technologically advanced option of the nuva ring. Since it too works by releasing hormones, I was initially quite anti-ring, but my doctor promised me that it was such a localized small dose that there was no way I'd be emotionally affected. A few weeks later, I'm waiting for a meeting with a psychiatrist to figure out why I've completely lost my mind. I assumed it was a separate chemical issue. But I'm looking online to find out if I'm the only one on the ring who has had her period for almost an entire month nonstop and lo and behold, a message board with dozens of women saying "WTF!? My doctor said it wouldn't affect my emotions, but why am i spiraling off into voids of anger and depression at random?" and I'm reading this and thinking, "um, hello lily! perhaps its time to cancel the psychiatric appointment?' So I scrapped both the ring and the psychiatrist, and slowly emerged from my hole of sadness. a few weeks later I am sane, but protectionless.
Which left me with one final option: the iud. So I did it. I feel so retro! I feel so sore! But I'm crossing my fingers that just this once protection could be easy and reliable. is that so much to ask? i think not. It certainly does not answer the questions of finance and inequality: 500 uninsured dollars paid entirely from my nonexistent salary. And while it promises 5 years of total ease, it was still one of the more painful procedures I've had done in my life. Still, I am hopeful. While it got a bad rap somewhere in the 80's, the negative rumors have been fairly unfounded and every doctor and article I've consulted has agreed that it is the most effective option out there and the simplest to use. So we shall see.
I suppose it's a bit odd that I've now shared the trials and tribulations of my uterus with a bunch of total strangers, but i feel like this is an issue that is often grappled with but rarely questioned. It's not enough to sit around with your lady friends saying, dude, this sucks. yeah, it does. yeah.
Because DUDE: this more than sucks. What on earth? I know I'm clearly on a very extreme end of the hormonal-sensitivity spectrum, but I wanted to offer my experiences because I'm pissed off and its not just pms. It's the whole goddamn system. Something has to change. What are we going to do about it?
Saturday, October 13, 2007
If these phones could talk
I got rid of my text messaging when I was living in Portland last fall. A variety of factors led to the decision: zero social life, zero money, several ex-boyfriends, etc.
Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.
It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.
It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.
I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.
Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.
It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.
It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.
I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
What I Tell Myself to Feel Better
I have recently begun my third experiment with online dating. I guess it’s what I do in the fall. Fall 2005 was match.com, Fall 2006 was jdate, and now I’m 10 days into nerve. So far, no luck.
Even in the year 2007, when it sometimes seems rare to hear of an adult couple who got together after college without the aid of the internet (You met at work? Really? At a party? Wow…), the consensus about online dating still seems to be that it’s an easy way out. It’s for people who don’t have game. Those of us who, for whatever reason, have trouble communicating to people we find attractive or interesting (or, ideally, both) that we’d like to see them again. The internet allows us to skip all of the strategizing and innuendo and eye-batting. If I contact you through a dating site, it’s not because I’m just being nice or I think you might be able to get me a job or because I just need a social crutch at a party where I don’t know anyone. I’m contacting you because I might want to date you, period.
No doubt there is some truth to that perception of the internet dater, but things are changing. Single people who have no trouble meeting other single people at bars and parties have joined the online dating community (in New York, at least). I have a number of outgoing friends—male and female—who’ve given it the old college try. When they first told me I was surprised. Aren’t these my friends who have a gift for meeting strangers, who are energized rather than drained by putting themselves in new situations and making themselves available to new people? Why would they resort to using a dating site?
The answer is that although it may be easy for them to get a date offline, that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get a date that they want to see more than once or twice. Meeting someone you really, really like is hard and rare, and the internet is becoming just another real physical place where you could meet someone new or bump into someone you already know. (Anyone who’s tried online dating recently will tell you that they’ve recoiled from their computer screens coming across the profiles of exes, family friends, or coworkers in the same way that they would avert their eyes or suddenly change direction when seeing someone unexpected on the subway or the street.)
The internet may still be an easier way to “put yourself out there”—a phrase so often used by friends in relationships when they’re asked (or not asked) for dating advice—but it does not change who you are. Speaking very generally, those who are bold and flirtatious at parties are bold and flirtatious online too—they’ll contact a lot of people, write long emails full of question marks and exclamation points, and welcome that moment when the connection is made and the phone numbers are exchanged. Likewise, those who are shy and reserved at parties are shy and reserved online. They wait to be contacted, and when they are they hesitate to share too much too fast. The prospect of talking on the phone or meeting in person is terrifying and put off as long as possible. And those of us who are friendly enough and enjoy being social but have lazy or pessimistic tendencies and are good at making excuses don’t really change once we go online, either. We can write a good profile and a witty email, but maintaining our virtual dating lives can end up taking a lower place on our priority lists. Whether that’s because of unrealistic expectations or insecurity or cynicism or what is a whole other blog posting.
So the good news is that the stigma attached to meeting someone great on the internet is fading away. My friends who are in relationships that were conceived online will kick themselves for telling everyone they met on the PATH train, because maintaining the lie takes so much unnecessary energy. The bad news is that it turns out there really isn’t any way to make meeting a great person easy. At this point in life, we are who we are, on- or offline. For most people, what you get out of the search represents only a fraction of what you put into it, and often the real pay-off comes simply by getting lucky.
Even in the year 2007, when it sometimes seems rare to hear of an adult couple who got together after college without the aid of the internet (You met at work? Really? At a party? Wow…), the consensus about online dating still seems to be that it’s an easy way out. It’s for people who don’t have game. Those of us who, for whatever reason, have trouble communicating to people we find attractive or interesting (or, ideally, both) that we’d like to see them again. The internet allows us to skip all of the strategizing and innuendo and eye-batting. If I contact you through a dating site, it’s not because I’m just being nice or I think you might be able to get me a job or because I just need a social crutch at a party where I don’t know anyone. I’m contacting you because I might want to date you, period.
No doubt there is some truth to that perception of the internet dater, but things are changing. Single people who have no trouble meeting other single people at bars and parties have joined the online dating community (in New York, at least). I have a number of outgoing friends—male and female—who’ve given it the old college try. When they first told me I was surprised. Aren’t these my friends who have a gift for meeting strangers, who are energized rather than drained by putting themselves in new situations and making themselves available to new people? Why would they resort to using a dating site?
The answer is that although it may be easy for them to get a date offline, that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get a date that they want to see more than once or twice. Meeting someone you really, really like is hard and rare, and the internet is becoming just another real physical place where you could meet someone new or bump into someone you already know. (Anyone who’s tried online dating recently will tell you that they’ve recoiled from their computer screens coming across the profiles of exes, family friends, or coworkers in the same way that they would avert their eyes or suddenly change direction when seeing someone unexpected on the subway or the street.)
The internet may still be an easier way to “put yourself out there”—a phrase so often used by friends in relationships when they’re asked (or not asked) for dating advice—but it does not change who you are. Speaking very generally, those who are bold and flirtatious at parties are bold and flirtatious online too—they’ll contact a lot of people, write long emails full of question marks and exclamation points, and welcome that moment when the connection is made and the phone numbers are exchanged. Likewise, those who are shy and reserved at parties are shy and reserved online. They wait to be contacted, and when they are they hesitate to share too much too fast. The prospect of talking on the phone or meeting in person is terrifying and put off as long as possible. And those of us who are friendly enough and enjoy being social but have lazy or pessimistic tendencies and are good at making excuses don’t really change once we go online, either. We can write a good profile and a witty email, but maintaining our virtual dating lives can end up taking a lower place on our priority lists. Whether that’s because of unrealistic expectations or insecurity or cynicism or what is a whole other blog posting.
So the good news is that the stigma attached to meeting someone great on the internet is fading away. My friends who are in relationships that were conceived online will kick themselves for telling everyone they met on the PATH train, because maintaining the lie takes so much unnecessary energy. The bad news is that it turns out there really isn’t any way to make meeting a great person easy. At this point in life, we are who we are, on- or offline. For most people, what you get out of the search represents only a fraction of what you put into it, and often the real pay-off comes simply by getting lucky.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Product Update
Doritos now sells a 2 in 1. 2 flavors, 1 bag. Can't seem to decide between tacho nacho and cool ranch? They now come together. Have you ever heard of such a thing?!
I will continue to blog about chips until somebody else posts. Please. I've lost Friendster. I can't lose this.
I will continue to blog about chips until somebody else posts. Please. I've lost Friendster. I can't lose this.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Doritos Follow-Up
looks like somebody over at the av club (who may or may not be paid to be funny/younger than us) is blogging about doritos
http://www.avclub.com/content/tolerability/jun-05-2007
is it pathetic that i feel validated? yes. yes it is.
http://www.avclub.com/content/tolerability/jun-05-2007
is it pathetic that i feel validated? yes. yes it is.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
selling out
i read today about clif bars. clif bars were named after the father of the inventor, gary. gary had the opportunity to sell the company to quaker oats for 120 million dollars, eight years after it was started. gary almost signed the papers (pen in hand!) and then walked out of the meeting. he decided not to become a super millionaire like paris hilton or donald trump or other admirable millionaires, but to keep the company and struggle through all the good and the bad.*
*according to the san francisco Guardian.
i think i would have signed the papers and now i feel bad.
*according to the san francisco Guardian.
i think i would have signed the papers and now i feel bad.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Strange Tastes
Stopped in at the general store on 6th and Sterling this afternoon. On my way to the Vitamin Water, I spotted Wild White Nacho Doritos and Blazin' Buffalo n' Ranch Doritos. What happened to Cool Ranch?! Is being this out of touch with American snack food a sign of adulthood? Why there was a time when I knew exactly what was going on in the world of Pringles, Baked Lays, and most certainly, Doritos. Perhaps I should do some serious taste-testing reseach in anticipation of BBQ season at Prospect Park.
Dear friends, I am the recipient of both a doughnut and a quesadilla maker and am now the author of a posting on the state of Doritos. You would think I had some sort of eating disorder. I don't. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't announce it on this blog. Maybe on my other blog, but not on this one. Ok, one more thing: Cup of Noodles now offers a Salsa Picante Beef flavor. Wow!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Another REAL Craigslist Posting
Addociate Editor/Writer
Reply to: edread@weeklyreader.comDate: 2007-03-27, 4:29PM EDT Weekly Reader Corporation, one of the country's leading publishers of classroom periodicals and educational materials seeks an assistant editor (wait, i thought it was for an addociate position) for its secondary-level literary team in producing two classroom periodicals - READ and WRITING.(what if I'm more interested in READING and WRITE?) Responsibilities include supporting the editorial and design team in planning, writing and editing the periodicals, including teacher's guides. The ideal candidate must be well-organized, detail oriented, tech savvy and be able to work quickly under pressure. He or she must also be a creative thinker, superb writer, researcher and team player. Must be familiary with teen interests and culture. (Check) Excellent entry-level position into field of educational publishing. Must have a degree in journalism/English/education or related fields. Position is available on-site only, in our offices in Chappaqua, N.Y. We offer an attractive salary and full benefits package.
Reply to: edread@weeklyreader.comDate: 2007-03-27, 4:29PM EDT Weekly Reader Corporation, one of the country's leading publishers of classroom periodicals and educational materials seeks an assistant editor (wait, i thought it was for an addociate position) for its secondary-level literary team in producing two classroom periodicals - READ and WRITING.(what if I'm more interested in READING and WRITE?) Responsibilities include supporting the editorial and design team in planning, writing and editing the periodicals, including teacher's guides. The ideal candidate must be well-organized, detail oriented, tech savvy and be able to work quickly under pressure. He or she must also be a creative thinker, superb writer, researcher and team player. Must be familiary with teen interests and culture. (Check) Excellent entry-level position into field of educational publishing. Must have a degree in journalism/English/education or related fields. Position is available on-site only, in our offices in Chappaqua, N.Y. We offer an attractive salary and full benefits package.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The Sterling Youth
As I was walking home last night I passed by three Park Slope teenage girls. They were laughing about something. Once we had crossed paths, I overheard what they were talking about: Accordian Hero. Like what if they made another guitar hero video game but it was for accordians. I laughed too. I thought it was a funny idea. Also funny were the accordian sounds they were making. Definitely drunker than I was. Ahhh the youth. They'll be here in no time.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Friday, March 09, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Yes, this would be my second Britney-themed post
And yes, I do feel like a loser.
Nevertheless, I have to admit that I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. By now, everyone’s seen the shaved head, the photos of her violently attacking paparazzi with an umbrella, the much gossiped-and-no-doubt-still-unconfirmed story of how she lost her shit in the mental ward, wrote 666 all over her bald head, ran around screaming that she was the antichrist, and then attempted to hang herself with her bed sheet. The general blog consensus is a mix of ‘oh poor brit!’ and “yeah THERE’s a shocker’. But I don’t mean I’ve been thinking of in a gawking gossiping kind of way. I mean, I’m suddenly sympathizing with her, I’m worried about her, I’m proud of her, and in a weird way, I’m jealous of her. (I’ll get to the jealousy later.)
As I write this it’s becoming instantly clear that I’m obviously projecting and that really this is all about me. but whatever. The point is, until she started unraveling, I really didn’t think about Britney, or care about her at all. I mean, sure I’d read little gossip clips about her, but with very minimal interest. And let me tell you, it doesn’t really take much to get me interested in crazy young famous people. The reason is that she just wasn’t real at all. Much like the Olson twins, she was so untouched by reality in her weird weird life that it was kind of hard to care. Like caring about the plight of a muppet. It’s fun to watch Oscar the Grouch be grouchy, but you don’t really care to learn what put him in such a bad mood, you know? But watching her destroy herself, she suddenly makes perfect sense to me:
She’s born into this crazy high pressure family, loves attention and pushes her self to succeed at a young age to the point where her whole identity and sense of self is based on everyone else approval. And then she starts hearing the negative feedback. At first she tries to appease the displeased, but it keeps just getting worse until she can’t take it anymore (this would be circa her first marriage, when she starts getting that ‘I’ve been up all night drinking champagne” gray flabby look about her face) so she finds a nobody (Kevin) and marries him as a kind of opt-out. Because she’d theoretically be going towards something (a family) instead of running away from something (her failure in the eyes of American media), even though ultimately all she wants to do is disappear. But America doesn’t buy it and revels in her absurdity. She says goodbye to her music fans, gets preggers (yet another opt out – this time escaping the body image judgment) and eats Twinkies to her hearts delight. She’s almost sort of kind of happy. Then she has the baby and the media makes fun of her more. So she instantly gets pregnant again to avoid the media wrath and again, she’s taunted.
As Jayden is born, her untalented husband makes a fool out of herself, and she’s barely even getting negative attention anymore let alone the adoration and lust that has sustained her self esteem for the past 2 decades. She gives one last ditch attempt at gaining back her media-fed dignity, by divorcing Kevin, losing a ton of weight really quick, and befriending a Hollywood starlet (Paris, although that’s not a really apt title for her). She gets some positive feedback but not enough, and she realizes that a piddling little “woah, check out Britney!” here and there isn’t worth the inner pain she’s created. She can’t sustain it. But she’s tried the opt-out clause and it didn’t work, so she does the only thing she can do to gain immunity: she gives up all responsibility and has a total breakdown and loses her shit. People can make fun of her, but they’re not really judging her because as a crazy mess, she’s un-judge-able. She’s just a sad story with a sad ending that we can pity and then forget.
Sorry, that was longer than intended.
So here’s the point: I get her. I’m so relieved that she lost her mind, that she didn’t just shut off her emotions and turn into a nightmarish automaton like Paris. She may be an absolute mess, but she’s a real mess, and that’s commendable. And the jealousy, I mean whatever – who doesn’t want a get out of jail free card? Maybe I’m alone here, but I hate being an adult, I hate the pressure that I put on myself, I hate trying to succeed, trying to find meaning and ultimately just feeling like I’ve failed. Most likely I will never let myself go completely, because its no vacation either, and its REALLY hard to pull yourself out of once you’re in (mostly because its hard to later change your mind and try to convince everyone else that you’re actually capable of sanity and success). But goddamn I want to. And maybe that makes me crazy. I’m pretty sure it does. Crazy enough for immunity though? Not so much.
Nevertheless, I have to admit that I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. By now, everyone’s seen the shaved head, the photos of her violently attacking paparazzi with an umbrella, the much gossiped-and-no-doubt-still-unconfirmed story of how she lost her shit in the mental ward, wrote 666 all over her bald head, ran around screaming that she was the antichrist, and then attempted to hang herself with her bed sheet. The general blog consensus is a mix of ‘oh poor brit!’ and “yeah THERE’s a shocker’. But I don’t mean I’ve been thinking of in a gawking gossiping kind of way. I mean, I’m suddenly sympathizing with her, I’m worried about her, I’m proud of her, and in a weird way, I’m jealous of her. (I’ll get to the jealousy later.)
As I write this it’s becoming instantly clear that I’m obviously projecting and that really this is all about me. but whatever. The point is, until she started unraveling, I really didn’t think about Britney, or care about her at all. I mean, sure I’d read little gossip clips about her, but with very minimal interest. And let me tell you, it doesn’t really take much to get me interested in crazy young famous people. The reason is that she just wasn’t real at all. Much like the Olson twins, she was so untouched by reality in her weird weird life that it was kind of hard to care. Like caring about the plight of a muppet. It’s fun to watch Oscar the Grouch be grouchy, but you don’t really care to learn what put him in such a bad mood, you know? But watching her destroy herself, she suddenly makes perfect sense to me:
She’s born into this crazy high pressure family, loves attention and pushes her self to succeed at a young age to the point where her whole identity and sense of self is based on everyone else approval. And then she starts hearing the negative feedback. At first she tries to appease the displeased, but it keeps just getting worse until she can’t take it anymore (this would be circa her first marriage, when she starts getting that ‘I’ve been up all night drinking champagne” gray flabby look about her face) so she finds a nobody (Kevin) and marries him as a kind of opt-out. Because she’d theoretically be going towards something (a family) instead of running away from something (her failure in the eyes of American media), even though ultimately all she wants to do is disappear. But America doesn’t buy it and revels in her absurdity. She says goodbye to her music fans, gets preggers (yet another opt out – this time escaping the body image judgment) and eats Twinkies to her hearts delight. She’s almost sort of kind of happy. Then she has the baby and the media makes fun of her more. So she instantly gets pregnant again to avoid the media wrath and again, she’s taunted.
As Jayden is born, her untalented husband makes a fool out of herself, and she’s barely even getting negative attention anymore let alone the adoration and lust that has sustained her self esteem for the past 2 decades. She gives one last ditch attempt at gaining back her media-fed dignity, by divorcing Kevin, losing a ton of weight really quick, and befriending a Hollywood starlet (Paris, although that’s not a really apt title for her). She gets some positive feedback but not enough, and she realizes that a piddling little “woah, check out Britney!” here and there isn’t worth the inner pain she’s created. She can’t sustain it. But she’s tried the opt-out clause and it didn’t work, so she does the only thing she can do to gain immunity: she gives up all responsibility and has a total breakdown and loses her shit. People can make fun of her, but they’re not really judging her because as a crazy mess, she’s un-judge-able. She’s just a sad story with a sad ending that we can pity and then forget.
Sorry, that was longer than intended.
So here’s the point: I get her. I’m so relieved that she lost her mind, that she didn’t just shut off her emotions and turn into a nightmarish automaton like Paris. She may be an absolute mess, but she’s a real mess, and that’s commendable. And the jealousy, I mean whatever – who doesn’t want a get out of jail free card? Maybe I’m alone here, but I hate being an adult, I hate the pressure that I put on myself, I hate trying to succeed, trying to find meaning and ultimately just feeling like I’ve failed. Most likely I will never let myself go completely, because its no vacation either, and its REALLY hard to pull yourself out of once you’re in (mostly because its hard to later change your mind and try to convince everyone else that you’re actually capable of sanity and success). But goddamn I want to. And maybe that makes me crazy. I’m pretty sure it does. Crazy enough for immunity though? Not so much.
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