Saturday Sesame Street

Hi ho! It has been a long time away from ze blog, and I have to say that after the initial couple of weeks featuring withdrawal symptoms, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

A quick rundown. I'm inclined to believe that it has something to do with the seasons, because I seem to remember around this time last year blogging dropped off in quality and quantity for a bit. It also has something to do with my low-grade health issues - back pain, eye strain, and then headaches resulting from the back pain and eye strain - making it difficult to do the thinking-and-typing-cogently thing. Also, a profound disinterest in arguing, mostly due to the difficulty in doing the thinking-and-typing-cogently thing. And - I'm not going to lie - there was a lot of Bones episodes being replayed on TNT. I do love my Bones, and I'm sure there's much to discuss in it from a feminist/philosophical/tv addict perspective - but I like having at least one show where the fandom of it is all there is to it. When something intellectually troubling happens, I like it to die a little death right there.

Anyway, this is all a long and drawn out way of saying, "I'm back, baby!"

Hopefully, that is.

And, to the 3 people who are probably still occasionally checking in to see if I've done anything spectacular with my time away, I can answer honestly with a "nope". But for your trouble, here's the song I've been obsessed with for the past couple of days:

Two Cool Posts

I was thinking about starting a Sunday Links post, like all the cool blogs do - but then I got lazy and didn't compile a list of links and didn't post the links I did think to mark, and then it was no longer Sunday but Monday and I gave up on the whole thing.

I also, maybe, might have consumed too much coffee today, because I'm still fairly hyper.

That being said, there are two posts that I wanted to highlight.

Reflections on a Gold Bikini, about Princess Leia and the lust that one particular outfit generates (excerpt):

And therein lies the crux of the fanboy lust issue for me. For all that so many of them say they love Leia for her strength, the fantasy focuses on the 10 minutes out of three films when she is forced into submission. The iconic image of sexy Return of the Jedi Leia is one of subjugation and powerlessness. In focusing their desire and fantasy on the gold bikini, the fanboys are identifying not with Han, who loves and desires Leia as a complete and autonomous person, but with Jabba, who sees her as a possession and a decorative object.

I'm sure that a lot of the lust directed at Leia in that moment is due to the massive amount of skin Carrie Fisher was exposing in that scene, and the fact that Fisher wasn't almost naked in any other part of the trilogy. But I do think that the reason why she was almost naked is almost as important. It may not be a conscious choice to be Jabba instead of Han when evaluating the hotness of Leia, but I think the point Melusine makes regarding Leia's autonomy - or lack of it - in choosing that particular outfit makes the reverence that gold bikini generates more than a little squicky is well worth considering.

Then there is a post from Sady regarding Megan Fox, called Megan Fox: Sex Symbol, Mouthy Slut, Or Something Else Entirely (excerpt):

This is what we do to women: tell them to be hot, sexy, sexual. We consistently define women’s worth around their bodies, around how attractive they are. Then, when a woman actually goes for it, and makes bank with her sexuality or her looks, we tell her that she can never be anything else. That she should have been a “good girl” all along. That, having played the game, she can never express an opinion about it: We like you better with your mouth shut.

What’s most disheartening about the Megan Fox coverage is that a lot of the harshest statements seem to come from women, and often, as in the case of Zelda Lily, in the name of “feminism.” It’s hard to tell exactly what feminism means these days, but I’m pretty sure telling women that they should be seen and not heard – saying that they can be “good,” non-sexual girls who are allowed to think, or sex objects who remain passive, vacant, and acquiescent – ain’t it.

I have to admit that I am not a Megan Fox lover - or hater. I've seen her in exactly two things, the first Transformers and an episode of the Amanda Bynes show What I Like About You, in which she had a bit part and where I recognized her only due to previously watching Transformers.

That being said, when I first read about the remark Fox made to Entertainment Weekly, that being:

I mean, I can’t s— on this movie [Transformers] because it did give me a career and open all these doors for me. But I don’t want to blow smoke up people’s a–. People are well aware that this is not a movie about acting.

I was genuinely surprised that it could (or would) create that much of an uproar. It seemed like a pretty duh statement. Transformers, whatever else it might be, is not an actors' film. It is about the coolness of giant robots (while forgetting to give them actual parts, because that might make it a film that needs a bit of acting), and things blowing up. It is an adrenaline ride. I haven't seen the second one yet, but that's what the first one was and that is what most Michael Bay films are. And that's not really a problem, because those movies are fun for what they are. But apparently, pointing that out is a hate-worthy offense.

Another Installment of "Stupid Things I've Done"

Last time, it was tumbling down a flight of stairs.

This time, I managed to slam my front door on my hand. 

Ow.

How Was Your Day?

Me? I went tumbling down the flight of stairs between floors 5 and 4 in my parking garage first thing this morning.

An unusual method of transportation to be sure, though surprisingly effective - and exciting!

Even so, for the next 3 flights, I decided upon the more conventionally boring elevator, cuz walking was just not happening. And you know what? It seems to be just as speedy, if less adrenaline inducing. The plus side, though, is there seems to be less of a chance for serious injury. Or even minor injury, like the bruising and scrapes and cuts I obtained.

No wonder people wait the extra few minutes and just arrive late...

Wow, Am I Behind On My Dollhouse Posts

Seriously. First one week slipped by, then two, then five! How do five weeks slip by (with four episodes) and me not analyze anything Whedon-related? It's like a travesty! There was that one post about saving Dollhouse, but that was really just recognizing someone else's creativity. In order to rectify this whole issue, I'm going to take the next four days and review each episode I missed reviewing in its week, leading up to what is in all probability the series finale on friday. Wish me luck in my ambitious endeavor!

The Song I Have Stuck In My Head

It makes getting to sleep a little bit more difficult than I'd like. And if anyone wants to know why I even know this song, it is because it is on the Bend It Like Beckham soundtrack.

In other news, In Bruges is a really weird film. I can't figure out if it is a good film with some bad parts, or a bad film with some good lines. I'm not watching it again to see though.

Bad Grammar And Mistaken Conclusions

"The cast he sports on his left wrist is a result of his refusal to take a Breathalyzer test after his car crash/DUI bust."

Don't judge me! I was bored and poking around tabloid sites. That may be because the only reading material at work are tabloids, and I perpetually forget my Newsweek, and I know that is just an excuse and that I suck. With all that in mind, though, the above sentence cannot be allowed to stand unchallenged and uncorrected. It is from a little column about Shia LaBeouf (again, no judging), and it lends to the mistaken conclusion that the cast on his wrist is the result of refusing to take a Breathalyzer test. Instead, the cast is a result of the same accident in which LaBeouf refused to take a Breathalyzer test,  and he had his license suspended as a result of that refusal. The original sentence sounds more like Shia LaBeouf got roughed up by some officers after failing to comply, which is just wrong. And yes, I am pathetic.

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

So, I haven't written something I would consider a real, substantial blog post in about a week due to the sucky job I have found myself and that takes up a lot of my energy and even more of those things necessary to write a good blog post like my self-confidence, my passion, my attention to the outside world, and my obsessive need to research the hell out of something before actually writing about it. Jay Smooth describes the whole thing well, so I'm just going to post his little hater video for now, take some advil, and try to formulate actual and understandable thoughts about my feelings relating to the world. I do have some insight about why a lot of people vote against what would seemingly be their own self-interests though, and that is because after doing mind-numbing work all day, the mind truly is numb and doesn't actually want to do things like seek out the complex issues and really consider and compare reasons for voting for or against each candidate along with the work of really figuring out where one really and firmly stands on any of those issues any way. So it becomes so much easier to allow the talking heads and the cult of personality and identity politics to take over and make a decision that should be a more rational, deliberate, and substantial reaction to the whole voting thing. I'm also going to say that I've been bad in the last couple of days by first accidentally drinking a soda (wow did I get dizzy fast!), and then had some of that alcoholic beverage thing, which also hurts that "posting something of substance" agenda (hence the advil). Now that I'm done with my naval gazing, I'm going to let Jay Smooth do his thing -because I love him:

The New Set Up

So, I figured I'd better explain the new set up of the page. Well, for one, I've set up a handy poll to gage reader response to the new look. Please vote.

And two, I loved my old page. It kind of felt like it fit the name, Art at the Auction. But something changed, recently. The names of the blogs in the blog roll used to be bigger, and in a different color, than the most recent post highlighted underneath. I have those blogs up there first and foremost for my own convenience (I'm selfish like that), and the change to the format both irritated me and made my eyes hurt. And so I began poking around for a new page. This is the one I settled on, for a couple of reasons. One, it is stark, so it isn't like I'll grow attached to it if they ever fix my problem with the old layout or if I find a great new layout. 

Two, I like the stretch of the writing. The little column I used to have made me worry about how much I was writing, if people would even bother to read it. I've read articles that detail how large blocks of text and forcing the reader to scroll down the page limits on-line readership. Apparently the way to keep people is by not writing very much, adding bullet points, bolding some text, and adding some hyperlinks. But at that point it is less like writing and more like just impersonally throwing up facts on a blank wall and seeing what sticks. And that isn't really what writing is about. Maybe I'm a writing luddite, but I like books. I like articles that explore the writer's ideas -especially on blogs- and I like turns of phrases. I like authors more than subjects. I like subjects too; but one of the things I learned in college is that a great professor, someone who truly knows how to engage students and impart information, is much better to take than an interesting-sounding class. Sometimes the two overlap. Existentialism with one of my favorite professors was a home run. But sometimes the two don't, and taking Chekhov's Plays with a bad professor was so much less enjoyable than taking O'Neill and Williams with a good professor -even though I hate Tennessee Williams. So, I wanted a blog to both impart information and articles that I found interesting and also to give -sometimes righteously angrily, sometimes wittily, sometimes bemusedly, sometimes hopefully- my take on said information.

So, please, vote in the poll. And if you have some time on your hands and want to help (or just really hate the new layout), scout out new layouts for me that I may have missed because I was underwhelmed at the selection I beheld.

I'm A Horrible Person

Am I a terrible person because I laughed at this? I kind of feel like I am. But temporary tattoos placed on unconscious people strike my funny bone hard.

That being said, I hope she wins her suit, simply because I'm totally aghast that any doctor would think it would be cool or fun to place a temporary tattoo under someone's panty line. That is all sorts of wrong, and it isn't something that I think would happen to a man in a similar situation. Maybe I'm wrong about that part of it, but the rose tattoo and the placement of the tattoo all seem designed to sexualize the patient and not cheer her up. On her shoulder, on her arm, those are safer places for a stealth temporary tattoo placement. It would definitely fall under the category of an odd thing to do, but still. And yeah, most people probably know that your doctor sees areas of your body normally categorized as "private", but I myself hope the doctor does so as clinically as possible and isn't stopping to investigate the area for marking of any sort. To highlight a patient's complete vulnerability in such a fashion seems cruel in a way; a sort of "You're unconscious the entire time, and I can do whatever I want to you without your consent or knowledge". A true God complex moment, in other words. To wake up with a tattoo in such a place would be unnerving. This patient does deserve something for that.

And reading the comments about it being "harmless" and that she's only in the suit for a payday make me feel like a worse person for laughing at this woman's situation. I don't know the gender of the people leaving such comments, but I'm simultaneously thrilled that they have never experienced the vertigo that comes when a person feels entirely vulnerable and powerless, and saddened that they do not have the capability to empathize or sympathize with someone who has experienced that.