Against the Dying of the Light

Well, it appears that the jury is in on yesterday: that shit wasn’t funny, and you (or at least some of you) watched it anyway. So, thanks. Teh Intarnetz have surprised me again, showing me that somebody’s watching youTube for something other than the “I Like Turtles” kid and Spaghetti Cat. Those of you who made it through all nine minutes of that shizz seem to have gotten the point. Also, you kind of enjoy the realness that comes from a bit of crawling. This is good, as there will probably be more crawling. On-camera lack of makeup. On-camera glasses. On-camera crying. I’m working up to it. There’s so little realness anymore.

I learned the “you’re pretty when you cry” lesson from watching America’s Next Top Model. No, really…hear me out on this. For those of you who don’t watch the show (and why aren’t you? it’s awesome), Tyra’s forever telling the women that a pretty picture is good but a real picture is better. Pretty is remarkably easy, but it takes real balls to let the camera see all the way into your eyes, to let it see inside you, to let go, drop the walls, and jump in with both feet. The models who manage this come out with better work, and the ones who are content to just suck it their cheekbones and posture usually end up getting sent home.

I could write you a whole rant about how the value of reality tv is in what you take away from it, and not just what is on the screen, but I’ll spare you. I’ve totally been Captain Wordington lately, and I’m trying to cut back.

Also, that bit about the flashing red light seems to have hit home with you guys. Good. If I have to see that light flashing in my face all the time, you should too, and maybe it’ll make all of us less complacent. I’m so tired of seeing my friends grow up and abandon all the wonderful creative ideas that they have in favor of going through the daily grind and coming home to watch sitcoms. Little by little, people walk away from the creative things that make them who they are in favor of getting married and having kids. Don’t get me wrong: if you have a marriage and kids, those things should be your top priorities…but it wouldn’t hurt to teach those kids to play instruments and Partridge Family it out. Some of my best family memories involve mom, dad and sis playing guitars and me playing along on keyboard. Dad’s desire to have sis and me sing harmony was a bit ill-fated, but nobody’s perfect. More and more I’m realizing that potential boyfriends need to be someone who will be artsy with me. Otherwise, they’re just big time sucks and I’ll eventually be resenting them for taking me away from the stuff I did before I met them. Like, instead of dinner and a movie, let’s have dinner and a craft night.

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