Paper Mashie

So my friend teaches at a charter school. She's certified to teach Science, but because of the way the school is structured, she winds up teaching some English, too. The district eventually learned that kids were receiving instruction from a non-certified English teacher, so they arranged for an "English specialist" to show up part-time at the school to supplement lessons. Though my friend studied English in college and has been teaching reading and writing for years now, she understands the law that forced the change; it just kind of sucks because the money to pay the supplemental instructor must be taken from the charter school's already limited budget.

Here's the kicker, though: the English specialist the district has provided is only questionably literate herself. Here is the honest-to-gosh assignment she gave to my friend's students to do in conjunction with the Holocaust memoir Night:

What kind of English teacher doesn't use punctuation? What kind of English teacher doesn't write out the word "you"? What kind of English teacher uses the wrong type of "there" incorrectly twice in one sentence?

As much as I am laughing at things like "arty project", "paper mashie", and her botched cut and paste job that repeats part of the assignment a second time, this is actually tragic. In what world is my friend not qualified to teach English while this woman (who has had her job for over 15 years, mind you) is considered a "specialist"? I like her claim that she will take "of" [sic] points for spelling and grammar errors, as if she has any idea what those are.

Granted, when I was a high school English teacher, the essay I assigned in conjunction with the book Night resulted in at least one epically awful student paper. That's still not a good excuse for someone brought in specifically to teach writing to arbitrarily assign an art project rather than an essay. The public education system is fucked. It is so so so so fucked.

DID JENNIFER LAWRENCE KILL PHILIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN?!?!?!

I hear he had a heroine problem.

Person of the Year

There, I fixed it for you.

I mean, the Pope is still one of the surprisingly raddest dudes around, butlet’s not pretend that Edward Snowden didn’t twerk all over our fascist oppressors this year.

(And as someone who has twice been Time's Person of the Year, I obviously know what I’m talking about.)

The Book Report

Three O'Clock High is an unremarkable 80s high school film, but it was almost worth watching it for this one particular scene. The scene culminates in one of my new favorite throwaway one-liners - it's so quintessentially 80s that you can't help but laugh even though it's not actually funny.

Here's the only context you need: the protagonist has been challenged to a fight after school by a bully, and in an effort to avoid having to show up, he tries to get his teacher to give him a detention by misbehaving during his book report. The teacher has not been a character until now - 2/3 through the movie - and her, uh, reaction to his antics is farfetched even for this particular plot.

Still, it's the last line that really matters. I desperately want to type it, but I think it's better unspoiled. Besides, just seeing it in words doesn't do it justice. You need to see the character actor's goofy face and oversold delivery for it to resonate.

But henceforth, let's quote it to each other when we hang out, cool?

Drops of Poopiter

I can't believe it came to this, but I found myself defending Train's song "Drops of Jupiter".

It's not that I have any desire to hear the song currently - I think the 9,000 times back when it came out in 2001 were more than sufficient - but I do believe the lyrical content is stronger than most realize.

On the surface, it's just a bunch of nonsense outer space imagery. But I think the galactic references (Jupiter/Venus/moon/sun/Milky Way/shooting star) are actually part of the joke.

He's singing about a woman who finally returned from her "soul vacation" and he asks, "Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?"

So, my interpretation is that he's singing about a woman who left him for a while because she "needed space". It's not stated directly, but it would explain all of his outer space-related questions as a play on words. Was this "space" everything she hoped it would be? Granted, it's pretty hokey, but also reasonably clever. The fact that you need to work out the "space" pun on your own makes me respect it even more.

Someone didn't want to give Train any credit, however, claiming that since I'm a literature major, I might be attributing too much meaning to the text. So we had to do the unthinkable - we had to look up the inspiration for a Train song.

And, well, I was wrong. I guess the lead singer, Pat Monahan, wrote it about a dream he had after his mom died of cancer and he was picturing her floating off to heaven or whatever. I came up with a perfectly good way to rationalize this dumb song's existence, but the band blew it.

That's the last time I try to give you any credit, Train. Don't count on me to try to rationalize "Hey, Soul Sister" because there's definitely no defending that dumb song.

10 More Ridiculous Children's Books

My liberrian friend (by which I mean she works at a liberry, she's not Liberian - not that there's anything wrong with that! unless this were Back to the Future) continues to find and send me photos of some of the most ridiculous children's literature her liberry houses. Here are 10 of my favorites:

Inspired by the Everclear song "Father of Mine"

I think it's safe to assume it's also The Last Book of Salt.

Being a teenager is plenty hard, but I bet it only gets worse after your parents read this book.

Something tells me they'll regret giving a baby to Max.

Coooooooooooooooool!

The liberry needs more books of men punching kids in the face.

Forget kids: I'd scream in terror if any of these men spoke to me.

Most books have only moderate amounts of rot.

Don't sit on the bench with Alex! He has AIDS!

Oh dear.

The Millennial Problem

Ugh, fuck this millennial-hating and the Time Magazine article it rode in on. It’s a smear campaign to preemptively convince people that the problems people under 30 face are their own doing rather than inherited. What.Ever.

“Lazy”?
Lazy because they don’t have jobs… when jobs don’t exist. Never mind that those who do have jobs are probably working harder because they’re now expected to do the job that two people did not too long ago.

“Entitled”?
Yeah, fuck those young people who want “health care” and a “living wage” and “unpolluted air.”

“Narcissistic”?
A legitimate tendency, but also a learned behavior. What does our greedy, capitalist society teach us but to look out for #1 and hoard as much as you can for yourself. The 1% WANTS you to be narcissistic. If more people took the time to see outside of their own worldview, they wouldn’t stand up for the bullshit.

“Living with Their Parents”?
Want a job? Better go to college. Want to go to college? Take out $100,000+ in student loans. Want to move out? Nah, you now have to live with your parents because you are already super in the red and have a non-salaried job (if that). Good luck finding your way out of this system of debt slavery that we tricked you into.

Look, millennials have a lot of shit to work out, but let’s not pretend it has ever been a fair fight. If we’re ignorant, it’s primarily because we were raised in an underfunded, failing school system, a deliberate attempt to prevent an enlightened population from challenging the status quo. If we’re mindless consumers, it is because our supposed superiors have bred us to be just that, to find fulfillment in spending money and owning crap.

I’m mostly cynical, but as I wrote about recently, I have a shred of hope knowing that young Americans are more distrustful of American institutions than ever. Knowing the system is broken is the first step toward overthrowing it. Unfortunately, the enemy is mighty.

First they strip us of our money, homes, jobs, education, power, and autonomy. Then they have the nerve to scapegoat us for it, too? Fuck that noise.

My Favorite Films of the Last-ish Year

Okay, now that I've poked fun at, rehashed, and debated the Oscars, I want to make one more post before leaving the subject of film for a good long while: quality movies.  I realize I generally just ridicule stuff, but once in a while I genuinely like things. Just promise not to tell everyone, it'll ruin my cred. Here are a dozen of my favorite flicks from the past year:

1. Moonrise Kingdom - It's quirky in the way you expect from Wes Anderson at this point, but it's the visuals that make it a masterpiece. The scenery, the costumes, the stylistic way every single damn scene is perfectly centered. LOVE it. 
2. This Is 40 - Reviews have been pretty middling for this Apatow flick, but I found the dialogue laugh-out-loud funny and the dynamic between the married characters frustratingly relatable. It could definitely stand to have 20-30 minutes shaved off, but I was still surprised at how much I enjoyed it. 
3. Beasts of the Southern Wild - The emotions that first-time actors Quvenzhane Wallis and Dwight Henry bring to the screen (and, in turn, you), paired with the fantastic cinematography make this a must-see fantasy tale.
4. Searching for Sugar Man - It might be the first documentary to ever make me shed tears of joy rather than frustration (like most good documentaries will.) See my review of that and the other Oscar nominated documentaries here. 
5. Bernie - Jack Black plays against type as a southern man that is so adored by his community that no one wants to believe he murdered a woman. It's the mockumentary-style interviews that bring a sense of authenticity and humor to the tale. [on Netflix Instant]
6. Flight - If you miss Lost (the first episode, not all six seasons), the plane crash scene is one of the most suspenseful things I watched all year: my heart was pounding. Per usual, Denzel Washington's acting is enough to overcome any time the screenplay strays off course. 
7. The Perks of Being a Wallflower - I haven't read the book, but I'm a sucker for well-made films about angsty teens. By the end, I wasn't ready to let go of these characters. 
8. The Impossible - Like I wouldn't enjoy a tsunami movie. I hate watching violence, but when human destruction is the result of a natural disaster, I'm captivated. Sorry, but nature isn't senseless. Some might think it overdoes the sentimentality, but I bought it all, particularly because Tom Holland really sold it. That kid is gonna be a star. 
9. Lincoln - I can't argue with the criticisms (too long, too self-important, subpar acting aside from Daniel Day-Lewis), but I still enjoyed it. 
10. The Queen of Versailles - I already sang this film's praises. Read it/watch it. [on Netflix Instant]
11. Amour - I get that it's "boring", but why complicate a film with a needless plot when you have such strong characters, themes, and symbolism? 
12. The Sessions - A paralyzed man hires a "sex surrogate" so he can lose his virginity. Based on its premise, I was pretty sure I was going to hate this film for trying to hard, but its approach and conclusion took me by surprise. 

I'd also like to mention 3 more movies that I have trouble saying are "good", but might still be worth watching:

• The Paperboy - I'm going to be honest - this film is a mess and needed a few more drafts and much better direction for it to be of any substantial quality. But for all of its failed ambitions, it's still an enjoyable film. Nicole Kidman has never been more ridiculous, but somehow the performance just works. Maybe see it just to be surprised at the fact that Macy Gray can actually act.
• Compliance - A true story of a prank caller who calls a fast food restaurant, pretends to be a police officer, and instructs the employees to do some pretty awful, illegal things. You won't believe how far this prank goes. It made me feel SO uncomfortable that I actually paused it to try to find that they had exaggerated or fictionalized this account, but from all of my research, it seems like they adhered pretty strictly to the real events. You're going to scream and hate the world after this one. [on Netflix Instant]
• Killer Joe - This is another film that was horribly uncomfortable to watch. It was so gross, I honestly I didn't even enjoy it until literally the last three seconds when I had an epiphany of what the film was trying to do. It's a critique of audience's thirst for sex and violence. It depicts these things so graphically that it basically shouts at you, "Is THIS what you wanted to see? Do you like it now? Huh? Is this really what you like, you sick fuck?" I can't decide whether the brilliant conclusion is enough to justify all of the hard-to-stomach scenes that lead up to it, but if you're up for being shamed and needing a shower afterward, give it a shot. 

Women and Women First

Former Roommate: Take any of my books you want.
Me: Do you have any queer feminist theory?
Former Roommate: Are you looking for post-modern or women of color?
Me: I won't read anything that isn't both.

The joke is that her books are pretty much all feminist theory, as might be expected of someone who majored in gender studies as an undergraduate. Throughout her moving out process, my house started looking like the Women and Women First Bookstore from Portlandia.

I love feminism and I love academia, but with titles like the ones above, you have to stop and laugh at it all sometimes.

Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

I stare at her longingly

Desiring to possess her

Yet I'm always told

Don't bother

The agony of seeing her

And being unable to hold her

My hatred towards society

And their silly viewpoints

I should be able to have her

We connect in so many ways

Who feels so elevated

That they dictate conditions

Of true love?

I happen to believe

That blood relation

Makes our spiritual bond

Even closer

Susan unearthed this poem I wrote as a teenager. For a while, writing inappropriate poetry was a pastime of mine (making me an inappropoet?) and I especially got a kick out of "Forbidden Love"'s last stanza incest reveal. I submitted it to my high school literary magazine where it was initially rejected. So then I intentionally became friends with the editors, and without me having to ask, they reconsidered and ran it anyway.

I did have some reservations about publishing the poem because, in a world where people take things at face value, particularly when it was presented alongside other angsty and unironic teenage poems, I wasn't sure that my peers would get that it was a joke. But then I figured, heck, I graduate in three weeks. The real fun would be knowing that if a scandal were to arise, my sister still had two years of high school to go.

Love you, Alison!

No really… LOVE YOU!

Which I Ate Directly from the Bag

• Her: Did you eat dinner yet?
• Me: Yeah.
• Her: What'd you have?
• Me: A bag of salad, which I ate directly from the bag, a slice of bread, and a plain rice cake.
• Her: [gives disapproving glare]
• Me: Yup… did I mention I'm writing a cookbook?

The Second Annual Never Ending Past Bowl Challenge

A month ago, I said I would recap the Olive Garden Never Ending Pasta Bowl contest, and now that I'm actually blogging again, it's time to give the blow-by-blow.

No one lost their pants in the restaurant this time (that memory still haunts me), but a lot of competitors upped their game, with a new record being set.

Altogether, we had 8 eaters: Jessica (the defending champ), Preston, Allison, Matt, Melinda, Ted, Joyce, and me. A lot of shit talking went down as we waited an hour for a table at the Olive Garden. The entire time, we had our eye on an empty table large enough to accommodate our party. "Why can't we just sit there?" we'd say periodically. And then, after an hour, they sat us there. Not sure why Olive Garden dicked us over, but the wait just helped our rumbling stomachs (we had been starving ourselves leading up to the contest) get hungrier.

Our waiter was a strange guy with a British accent. Ted tried to mock what he thought was a fake accent, but it turned out it was real, leading to some weird tension. That sucked because an eager server is critical to the process of getting lots of pasta to us quickly. But we finally got our first dishes and they were all scarfed down in probably less than two minutes.

We discussed - at length - the rules regarding the bathroom. You could poop because the poop is going to be in there from earlier (not the pasta), but vomiting was a no-no. To ensure that no one cheated at this, we initially mandated a buddy system on trips to the bathroom, but then just decided to use the honor system instead. That's when Jessica excused herself to the restroom and the fishiness began.

We had been sitting around waiting for our waiter to come back to put in our next order for what seemed like forever. I think they had us pegged as overeaters, so they were intentionally stalling with us. Finally, the waiter came back with a single bowl of pasta for Jessica. We were all outraged and confused. It turned out, Jessica used her trip to the restroom to pull the waiter a side and put in an advanced order on her next bowl. As a result, she was able to finish her second bowl before the rest of us even ordered our second one, putting her at a massive advantage.

Some accused Jessica of cheating. It might be a little unethical - it's certainly not a move I would have pulled - but it wasn't against any rules. Ultimately, I felt played, but I respected her unconventional move as it showed how much she wanted the victory. I had been determined to not let her lap me a pasta bowl so she could play defensively as she had the year before, but she figured out a way to do it anyway, and good on her.

Ted, the guy who talked the most smack coming into the competition, didn't even order a third bowl, instead asking for a Limoncello dessert. (Perhaps he didn't want to overdo it after being cut off as a lush the previous year.) It was an early, unexpected forfeit that changed the game. Allison followed suit, not getting more than a few bites into her third bowl before throwing in the towel. She had boasted how confident she was while we waited for our table, but now the two biggest talkers were out. 

Joyce quit at three, as did Melinda, who can be proud since she hadn't even planned to compete. I felt super done after three bowls, but I wanted to beat my performance last year, so I ordered a fourth, along with Preston and Matt, while Jessica ordered a fifth. It was about this point that the waiter made a comment about how our contest was like "The Island of Doctor Moreau." None of us could figure out how that reference corresponded with the situation at hand, but whatever, go ahead and insult us, weird waiter dude, just be sure to bring us more breadsticks.

When she got her fifth bowl, however, Jessica didn't touch it, insisting she was letting the rest of us catch up. As it turned out, she was just concealing how sick she was, hoping to recover in time. Preston and I both finished bowl four and tapped out. We kept waiting for Jessica to eat her fifth bowl to clinch the title, but she couldn't bring herself to put anymore pasta in her mouth. And that's when Matt saw an opening and decided to order a fifth bowl.

I thought Matt going for it would be enough to push Jessica to dig into her bowl, but she didn't touch it as Matt - seemingly effortlessly - finished his bowl to claim a decisive win. A nice waitress came and sat down to watch the conclusion. 

So we have a new pasta victor! It was nice to see Hungry, Boastful Jessica knocked down a peg. And sure, I only tied for second, but by eating a whole extra bowl this year, I fulfilled a goal! It usually feels really good to fulfill a goal, but in this particular case, it just made me feel nauseated. 

Are You Deaf in Your Ear, Motherfucker?

One of the best things about losing my hearing in one ear (it's a lengthy list, I assure you) was that it reminded me of a song I used to love with a chorus that goes, "Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?" I'm not sure where else - other than the ear - people go deaf, but the song still manages to make its point.

The song is "No Means No" by the female rap duo BWP, an acronym for Bytches with Problems. BWP is certainly not the most remembered hip hop act from the early 90s, but they will always hold a place in my heart for being so damn raunchy. Seriously, all of their songs are super sexually explicit and about how much they love getting laid, but then they throw in a single track called "No Means No". Admittedly, the point might be better made if the singers didn't admit they would have had sex with the guy were it not for the poop stains on his underwear, and then concluded the song with a command for the guy to drop to his knees to perform oral sex. But still, no DOES mean no. That's their prerogative to say when and how and with who. No means no! Didn't you hear them? Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker? 

BWP also has an official music video for the song, but the language has been so sanitized for play on MTV that it's not nearly as fun. I'm going to post the lyrics in full because they should be read as poetry, and I've bolded my favorite parts.

No Means No - BWP

Get out of here, get off of me!

Damn, hard up bitch.

Get the fuck, I said no, motherfucker!


No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf, motherfucker?

No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?


You steadily try to go pound for pound,

shove it on in without me being down.

Swear to God, it's like you got ten hands,

and each and every motherfucker down my pants.

What must be said? What more must I do?

If I wanted dick, I'd be fucking you

But here we go again, a constant fight:

No, you ain't getting no pussy tonight!

No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf, motherfucker?

No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?


Yeah, you took me out last night,

we had dinner with candlelight.

You spent a lot of money, flashed on the scene.

Yeah, I wanted everything I seen.

I wasn't gonna say, "Don't buy that ring,"
'cause to me, motherfucker, all cash is green.

The evening now has come to an end.

(Man) How 'bout a nightcap in my den?

Yeah, well I'll chill for a while

and put on an ignorant smile.

He inched over, licked my neck.

Next thing you know he was sucking my breast.

Damn, time for me to be going

before I end up in a bed fucking, you knowing.

(Man) What's up with that, baby, why you gonna fess?

(Man) I know your no means yes.



Pulling on my panties, tugging on my bra.

In my mouth, he stuck his tongue far

down my throat, I almost choked.

But no means no, my brother

Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?


Me, a bitch about to get slammed

by a brother on a tip of a forceful man.

Damn, I don't understand,

are you that desperate, man?

Damn, I told you more than once tonight

Keep your hands out my pussy, alright!?


Now me, the bitch, I could have got fucked,

but I ain't that hard up.

And he, the skeeze, he could have got pleased,
but the brother had the funk disease.

He want to fuck and do the wild thing.

Man, wash your dick, make sure it's clean.

Get up, fool, go shower down;

nigga, your drawers are brown.

Stand up for a kiss and wait for me to pucker?

You dirty motherfucker!


With one swift kick, kick him straight in his dick.

At least a month, he's gonna have to just lick,

'cause when I go, bitch, I fuck up shit.

He lucky he wasn't castrated.

We went out, and you spent some cash,

that don't mean that you bought this ass.

Come 'round here hawking for the pussy.

Drop to your knees, bitch -
yo, get busy!

Always boasting how you fuck so strong,

we can't even talk if your tongue ain't long.

No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf, motherfucker?

No means no, my brother.

Are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?

Hopefully, now "are you deaf in your ear, motherfucker?" will become a common phrase in your life, too. And if you like BWP, let me know. There are definitely some more great songs that I can share.

Awful Children's Books

My friend Kim is very fortunate to be a children's librarian. Aside from having to deal with children (shudder), she gets to weed funny, dated books from her library collection. It's just like my favorite blog I never remember to read, Awful Library Books!

Kim was kind enough to share some of her more memorable finds with me:



Surprisingly, that computer looks even less modern than...

Woo too, space puppets! If that's not enough puppet action for you, try this peregrine falcon puppet that's trying to raise a chick.

I guess its mother died? Much like this bird...

Great cover art! And it's part of a series...

It turns out there are a lot of books about handicapped kids in Kim's library.

THEY WOULDN'T QUIT.

And then there's this book about Jamie. According to the text, he's slow, he doesn't have many friends, and he suffers from an "invisible handicap. [He is] not retarded." So, like, an autism book before autism? Wish I could read the whole thing to know if it's more or less offensive than my other favorite kids' book My Brother Steven Is Retarded.

Overheard at Trader Joe's

Woman 1: Well it was so good to run into you. Let's get together soon.

Woman 2: I know, we'll make it happen. Goodbye!

Woman 1: Bye!… Oh wait, one more thing, how do you like Fifty Shades of Grey?

Woman 2: (astonished) Wait, what?

Woman 1: Have you read it?

Woman 2: I'm reading it right now! How did you know?

Woman 1: I just figured, of course you'd read that.

Woman 2: I love it, I can't put it down.

Woman 1: Yeah, I just tore through the whole trilogy!

Woman 2: I'm still reading the first one.

Woman 1: Well enjoy it!

Woman 2: Oh trust me, I AM! I still can't believe you knew I was reading that.

She knew you were reading that because you have the same awful taste as her. She knew you were reading that because you don't read anything unless ten million other women read it first. She knew you were reading that because you wouldn't know good writing if it tied you up and performed oral sex on you.  

Maurice Sendak Is the Kind of Old Man I Want to Be...

...dead! I kid! Maybe.


I feel like I missed out on an important childhood experience as I see everyone memorialized the newly deceased Maurice Sendak today. The thing is, I've never even read Where the Wild Things Are. The closest I came was when my 3rd grade teacher cut all of the words out of the book (she said the story was rubbish) and had us write our own plot to accompany the illustrations. 

Nonetheless, I'm sad, especially because I had been hoping to get to know the man better. I am a newly converted fan of Sendak thanks to his interview with Stephen Colbert a few months ago. I think it's my favorite televised moment of 2012. If you haven't seen it, watch it. If you've already seen it, you know you love it enough to watch it again. Part 2 gets even better, particularly when Sendak starts sniffing markers to get high. 

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Grim Colberty Tales with Maurice Sendak Pt. 1
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog Video Archive

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Grim Colberty Tales with Maurice Sendak Pt. 2
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog Video Archive

I know that "Crazy old Maurice, he's always good for a laugh" is a line from Beauty and the Beast, but I think it applies to these videos, too. Sendak may not have had a profound impact on my childhood, but he will definitely influence how I spend my elderly years. I aspire to his standard of curmudgeon-dom. 

Sparks Notes

I Would Be SO Good at Writing Nicholas Sparks Novels

^ I wrote this piece for Hello Giggles today. 

Basically I got to try my hand at being a laughably cruddy romance writer. Unless you're a publishing company who actually likes my ideas, in which case, yes I am talented, and I'm willing to sell out for a pretty cheap price, so let's talk. 

I've put off doing my first article for HG because the site is about creating a safe internet space for young women free of the typical "boy's club humor" and I respect that. Therefore, I've been apprehensive of being condescending to the largely young, female readership when it is my nature to just be flippant about everything. Then I clearly threw caution entirely to the wind by taking on the favorite author of many a young female, Nicholas Sparks. Fortunately, it seemed that nearly everyone saw the humor in it. Take THAT Nicholas Sparks!

Then I just noticed that Hello Giggles put a poll up on its Facebook page a few hours after publishing my article that asked which Nicholas Sparks novel is their readers' favorite. Now there are dozens of girls saying "The Notebook!" and such without any irony. So alas, it looks like I haven't singlehandedly taken down Nicholas Sparks… yet*. In the meantime, I'm going to keep checking back to the Facebook poll until I see one of the young ladies mention one of my Nicholas Sparks books as her favorite. 

----

* No, but really, we should take Nicholas Sparks down. In this interview, he puts down romance novelists for being repetitive with their stories, but then differentiates himself from them by saying he is a fiction writer on par with Shakespeare and Hemingway. Sparks also insists, "There are no authors in my genre. No one is doing what I do," and cites his own book as the all-time best coming-of-age tale. DOUCHE DOUCHE DOUCHE!

The Lorax

The Lorax is a great book with a great message, but I preemptively soured on the movie version when I learned that the film had over 70 corporate promotional tie-ins. Calling it hypocritical for a book that is anti-corporation and pro-environment to lend its characters to a car commercial is an understatement. Viewing it as willfully ignorant of Dr. Seuss's central thesis, I was so apprehensive to see the movie, that I insisted on getting three sheets to the wind first.

Maybe I was liquored up enough to be forgiving, but I'm pleased to report that the movie itself is not a bastardization of Seuss's work. Evidently the marketing team didn't bother to watch the movie when they took over, but as far as the screenplay goes, it clearly illustrates unrestricted capitalism's destruction of the planet.

My friend Alex argues that it's important to look beyond the hypocrisy and just be thankful that big companies are still willing to make a movie about environmentalism at all. While the issue is a little more gray than that, I can agree that I'm glad that this message is out there. I say that as someone who got so worried about the earth that I had to leave a K-Pop night club early this past weekend. My friends were having a discussion about how much longer the human species could survive with the way we're destroying our own planet (consensus except for one: we're screwed soon unless we act on a massive scale, like, yesterday). I'm not upset the conversation happened, we need to talk about these things more often, actually, but I couldn't transition back into a place of "let's do shots and laugh at Korean pop music videos."

We're polluting, destroying our own food and water supplies, and using plastic like it's not a major problem. We protect the right for a small number of individuals to make money over our collective right to live. Today's big shots seem to forget that you can't make history if we don't have a future. Plus, even though we'll face an overpopulation epidemic soon (which I suppose climate change, famine, and disease will wipe out in time), this country is still subscribing to beliefs that make practicing birth control immoral and global warming is propaganda. We need to come together and use our intellectual capacities to solve these problems rather than listening to the fictions of the elite, but even that is increasingly unlikely as we let our educational system erode and promote a society that is discouraged from thinking critically.

I feel like the more I pay attention, the more depressed I get. I'm definitely not as "fun" as I used to be. It's a weird situation where I know I could just choose willful ignorance and have a relatively good, happy life. I could live in the now and let future generations deal with the problems that will hit them even harder. However, I can't shake my sense of responsibility. The Lorax is right, it's time we all start caring a whole awful lot.

Teachers Outside of Class

My yoga teacher friend invited me to a literary/comedy event a weeks ago. It ended up being even trendier than I expected; I saw Megan Amram, Sugar from Survivor, Moby, and enough unconventional hats to fill a Hipster Haberdashery.

However, none of those encounters are as notable as one we had with my friend’s yoga student. (Except for maybe Moby - he didn’t wash his hands after using the bathroom. True story.) My friend went ahead and said hello to her student, which really flustered her. “Oh my god! What are you doing here?” the student said. “I can’t believe I ran into my teacher here, it’s so weird seeing you outside of the studio.”

It was reminiscent of when I ran into one of my high school students at the grocery store. At first he tried to hide from me, but then he wanted to see what was in my basket, in what I believe was an attempt for him to see evidence of my humanity outside of being a teacher. (He eats!) I know when I was little, I bought into that thought that teachers did nothing but teach and slept under their desks at night. (For the record, I have napped under my desk before.)

But this encounter was hilarious because here was a grown-up, maybe a couple of years younger than my friend, looking at my friend in the same manner. She was barely able to comprehend seeing her yoga instructor in another context; she might as well have asked “Shouldn’t you be in the lotus position right now?”

Believe it or not, yoga teachers are people, too.

Baby

Baby
By Nicole L.

I have to choose when you breathe your last breath,
This is a hard burden laid on my chest,
I must choose for your future: life or death,
But for you my Baby I want the very best.

Although it hurts, I know what I must do,
Baby, I must now lay you down to sleep,
It may hurt me, but it's the best for you,
But the memories in my heart I will keep.

I love you that is why this hurts me so,
It hurts my soul and so deep in my heart,
Baby, I never want to let you go,
But deep inside I know we'll never part.

Baby, I love you but I must let you fly,
Baby, I love you, but I must say goodbye.

My friend Nikki wrote this poem in seventh grade. After it was published in Nikki's middle school's literary magazine, her teachers and peers understandably assumed that she had had an abortion. In actuality, the inspiration for this poem came from the tough decision to euthanize her sick cat. But because her cat's name was "Baby" and she neglected to make any reference to its feline features, she was pretty much asking to be gossiped about as a practicing pro-choice preteen.

If this poem is any indication, she was far too young and naive to be in that situation in the first place.