The Odd and the Wonderful

The distasteful rediscovery of music television (and other things, of course)

30 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment

by Silbena in Personal, Thinking aloud Tags: 35 days, enthusiastic rambling, feminism, ponderings

Ok, so right now I should be both reading through my 30 pages of chemistry research for the industrial production of ethylene and doing math — probably simultaneously — but I decided that I’m going to write another blogpost instead. And eat snozzberries. I like snozzberries. Omnom. … Refer back to this post, if confused (hint: they’re red and taste like strawberries).

Anyway, so shortly after posting my previous post, I complained to mother about how I never seem to get school off my mind and that I don’t really even dare to try, because I seem to have to know and remember so much stuff at once — and she giggled a bit, called me silly and said that I should relax a bit, so I did. And ate most of a packet of chips. I have a Smith’s addiction, don’t judge me. Or, well, feel free to judge me, because mentally, I’m this huge fatty, but because of my overactive saliva production (just ask my boyfriend, he knows aaaaall about that one — mostly because in biting him, I rather drool all over him) and my otherwise active metabolism (translated to “I need to pee often”), I’m not, physically. And yeah, recently I’ve started going to the gym at least once a week, but that couldn’t have had much of an impact just yet — since I’ve only been doing it three weeks in a row. But still (I realised that I’ve been starting pretty much every sentence of this post with some sort of a conjunction; what’s up with that?), it seems like every time I go, it’s a bit better than the last. I’m BRIMMING with energy at the moment — something that frustrates my mother, who, poor being, is forced to keep up with my speed and rolls my eyes at “OH I COULD DO SOME MORE NOW” when I recover fairly quickly. I think I’ve discovered the gist of breathing and not wearing myself out too quickly (something I, as an ex-synchro ice skater [how do you even formulate that expression? o_O] have had some trouble with — I actually was forced to quit after ten years of ice skating because of various breathing problems): just keep my pulse under 180 — around 175 — and I’ll be perfectly fine for as long as I need to go.

Along with getting embarrassed at the noises some of the machine thingies made when I totally failed in using them (hey, no-one’s taught me how to!), I made some pretty interesting observations about the “wonderful” world of music television, something I haven’t had to endure for a veeery long time, mainly because I keep pretty far away from my TV, unless it’s connected to a DVD player or my darling PS3 (that I haven’t had time to play, either, sigh). I noticed that Justin Bieber (no, I didn’t actually have to listen to his whining, thank GOD FOR THAT) makes those same, overly dramatic hand gestures that people in music videos make when they’re being, well, overly dramatic in driving their deep and meaningful point (I think I recall that the name of the song was something like “Never going to leave you” or something similar — very deep and meaningful, eh?) across. They’re always the same gestures — the hand waving in the air before the singer’s face, said person looking away from or directly at the camera, usually leaning against the wall or something, with hardly anything in the background so that the viewer can concentrate on Justin Bieber’s terrible haircut — I mean, the way in which the artist just can’t seem to rein their feelings in. MUST. EXPRESS. SELF. PHYSICALLY. It’s quite silly, really; especially since the “artists” always seem to take themselves perfectly seriously when gesturing wildly like that.

Not that I can talk; signed, miss I-wave-my-hands-in-the-air-when-I’m-not-too-sure-of-what-I’m-saying.

Also, not that the other, common-for-music-television variety of music video is much better, really. There’s the RnB or rap or WHATEVER (I’m sorry, anyone who’s a fan of those particular genres — I’m more of a metal girl myself, and painfully oblivious to other genres and sub-genres of music) person — usually a guy — dressed in his overly huge clothes with their overly obnoxious logos and colours, with a matching backdrop, probably another guy or two — and some dozen scantily-clad women swaying tantalisingly in the background. I only caught a glimpse of this one, because I was pretty quick to look away, knowing how very worked up I get myself over music videos like these — I mean, the point where the camera first took a close-up shot of this girl’s CROTCH when she was wearing these short short short shorts (not that I have necessarily much against that, mind you, but CROTCH-SHOT?), that was when I decided that I should probably just concentrate on what I’m doing (cycling, at that point) instead of getting worked over something I can’t necessarily change.

I just want to clarify that I don’t necessarily get worked up over those music videos over the blatant objectification of women — instead, I get pissed at the women who allow themselves to be portrayed in such a way. As a long-time text roleplayer (it’s kind of like communal storytelling, just from a certain character’s perspective) in an environment that consisted mostly of teenaged boys, I’ve been subjected to a lot of “go to the kitchen and make me a sammich, bitch” and “you’re a woman, hence you suck.” However, I never allowed comments like these, and I’m very good with establishing what I want and what I don’t want said to myself. It didn’t take entirely too long for me to be established as an equal — or even superior — to most of the male roleplayers in that particular environment. And thus I had no sympathy for girls who would come along later and whinge about how they were treated badly, either offgame or ingame. I firmly believe that you’re treated just as you allow yourself to be treated — and I believe that the objectification or sexualisation of women is also the fault of the countless women who allow themselves to be objectified. We’re not allowed to go to men and growl about being treated like a pair of tits and a nice ass, if some women carry themselves like that. Do women with an ounce of self-respect a favour: smack a slut (unless it just excites them more).

Uh. Well, I’m glad I said that, in any case. I hope I didn’t antagonise any women who might be reading this post — I’m not necessarily saying that it’s ALL women’s fault, either, but I’m just sayin’ that sometimes feminists who are a little trigger-happy, or so to speak, don’t really consider this point of view.

ON TO HAPPYLAND, now — let me answer you a prompt.

Day 20: Objects or things that are in your bed

Oh, hell, I was going to take a picture of the plushies in my bed for this one.. *glances over to bed with its messy covers, and then back at laptop* Uh. Will you forgive me if I simply describe the different plushies I have there, instead of actually having to go through and sort them out — I’ll tell you what, if I can be bothered, tomorrow, I’ll just take the picture then and then update this post with it, right? Right!

It’s nice to ask these questions when writing this to myself, since I’m always right. Hee.

UPD 1-Sep-2010: Alrighty, after wrestling with my iPhoto a bit, I finally got the images to prance merrily into my mac. Geez. Apparently it’s a known issue, though; something they should fix at some point. ANYWAY. Here’s the furry things:

You might notice that there’s a few cows there — and I can tell you, there’s even more of those stowed away in my closet, waiting for me to get my own place and fill it with cow plushies and then eventually choke on lint and dust, because I’m too lazy to clean them out properly. Few of them actually have names (shock and horror as it is): the cow to the front right, she’s called Moo-Moo (originally enough; but hey, I was like 10 when I got her), and she was my first cow plushie, before I started actively collecting them. The bear at the front is Chocolate Bear, an indication of its colour, and of the fact that he was bearing chocolate when I received him for my eighteenth, and as a reference to Scrubs. The mushroom to the left is just a mushroom, but I had to mention it because it’s awesome and people have weird obsessions to it. Also, you can see Mr Epilepsy Pillow in the background. I love him. And, of course, the most important one who doesn’t actually live in my bed anymore, because I’m concerned for his frailty, but whom I had to include in the picture: the worn-looking elephant just left from Chocolate Bear is called Clever Elephant, and he was actually my first plushie ever. First, as in my parents had just brought me home from the hospital and had him and a few other plushies in the crib so that it wouldn’t feel so huge and I cuddled him close first. He’s seen a LOT, that one; and now he’s also become a character (albeit slightly altered) in my ongoing novel. :3 End of UPD

Aaaanyway, my bed contains pretty much everything. It’s an Australian double-sized bed (I don’t know how that corresponds to European or American sizes), which is pretty much big enough for me to sleep curled up, or diagonally, as I am wont to do. It’s a nice bed, and it has an electric blanket for when I get cold (I have talked about how I’m cold-blooded and my body seems to adapt to the heat of my environment and hence I get really cold in the winter, right?), so that makes it even nicer. I hardly ever make my bed, because that’s some extra effort in the mornings for a decidedly non-morning person. Besides, I’m pretty much the only person who lives in my room (my significant other doesn’t count, nor does the monster that lives in my closet), and I don’t mind it being all messy, so why should anyone else?

Also, during the day, or when I need to use my desk, I usually just brush everything off it and on my bed. If I’m in my office chair, I’m not in my bed — and so the stuff I don’t need or the stuff that’s in the way, like the keyboard to my desktop, is put on my bed, along with any piles of schoolbooks that I may need. Yeah. The short answer for this prompt, too, would’ve probably been “everything,” and if I was feeling really cheeky, I might add: “that’s on my bed.” Hee.

Day 21: Something illogical that you think or do
Day 22: A very old picture of you

Hey, that was the first time in some time in which I actually posted in two days in a row! I’m very proud of myself, even if I procrastinated my math homework for doing it. Well, my justification for that one is that currently, I’m only two exercises behind — and, at times, I’ve been about five. It’s really not a biggie, and I’ll be able to catch up (hopefully) after this whole Chem SAC thing is done. … That’s likely just wistful thinking, because I see more work looming in the horizon, but hey, one can have irrational dreams, right?

Peace and love and unicycles for everyone, and sorry about the rather word-heavy post. I was a bit enthused there. <3