Emotional Porn

So apparently the movie Twilight, based on the Stephanie Meyer teen-loves-vampire book, opens tonight. (Or tomorrow. At midnight, anyway, according to the news reports of the throngs already lining up in prom dresses -- ??? -- to go see it.)

I have to admit that I read the book. I knew nothing of the hype (easy to miss up here in farm country, where my only friends are the 5-and-under set) when my cute SIL loaned it to me. "I don't know what you'll think," she said. "I thought it was only okay, but plenty of women in my neighborhood are convinced it's The Best Book Ever; they totally have a testimony that Twilight is True." With that rousing endorsement, I took it home and began reading.

I guess it was a page-turner; I kept turning the pages. It only took me a few days to get through it -- which is impressive, considering how little time or mental energy I have for reading these days. But I finished the book with a feeling of profound irritation: First of all, I kept waiting for Edward's "family" to eat Bella, lol. Some of them (don't ask me to remember the names; it's been a while and nothing really stuck) glowered suspiciously at her from their seats in the high school cafeteria nearly the entire book, ultimately for no good reason. What a wasted set up. Secondly, the real danger, climax, and denouement.... Well, it was just lame. "Really? That's it?" I thought at the time. "That's all?" Yes, apparently that was all.

My primary irritation, however, stemmed from the frustration that real life just isn't like that. ("What," my brother asked, "you mean there aren't really vegetarian teenage vampires roaming the Northwest? I'm shocked!") No, perfect, brilliant, mysterious, gorgeously bright and sparkly boys do not fall for dull and unremarkable girls. It's the same irritation I feel after watching certain romantic comedies: You get all grinny and stupid as the credits roll -- awww, wasn't that sweet? -- and then the sugar high ends and you feel disgusted with yourself for having bought into such cheesy tripe.

I've had a difficult time articulating that sentiment for some reason, but I came across a term that describes it perfectly: Emotional porn. Twilight, romance novels in general (whether explicit or not), and a specific subset of chick flicks and RomComs exploit the universal desire for emotional connection, but in a way that is neither realistic nor healthy if one were to base or judge her own relationships on them. Just as visual porn can warp men's views of what real women are, should be, or behave like, emotional porn gives women a warped sense of how a good man should behave and of what it is to be in love ("love means being stalked by a controlling -- oh, I mean 'protective' -- boyfriend who watches you while you sleep! How romantic!").

Obviously I don't think most women are stupid enough to make such an overt connection from fiction to their real lives; they know it's just a fairy tale. But read / watch enough of it -- especially when you're young and impressionable (the books are supposedly geared toward teens, though I only know adult women who have read the series) -- and it seeps into your subconscious. Attitudes are subtly affected by the exposure, like it or not, and when the material is glorified the way Twilight has been (sorry, Tolstoy, Faulkner, Harper Lee, but Twilight is the BEST BOOK EVERRRRRR) you start to ignore the bad aftertaste and bask instead in the grinny sugar high. "Wow," you swoon. "I wish my husband was more like Edward."

Feel free to call me a Grinch, but I feel the same way about most fairy tales, too. Plenty of women miss out on what could be a more rich, full, and independent life because they're waiting for some white knight on a steed to come save them from their banal existence. Don't get me wrong, my daughters have all sorts of Disney Princess crap, but I really do try to minimize or alter what I consider these damaging cultural messages.

I haven't read any of the other books in the Twilight series; from what I've heard of how the plot develops, I think I'm glad. The last book, in particular, sounds really creepy! (But not in a good, spooky vampirey way, lol. More in an incestuous fundy way.) I have mixed feelings about the series' author, Stephanie Meyer. On the one hand, um, see above. On the other hand, though, she's one of my "tribe." She's a regular ol' Mormon girl, a BYU grad and a SAHM, who's done really well for herself. Yay for her! I don't begrudge her the success; I'm sure it couldn't have happened to a nicer person. I just wish she hadn't made all her money in porn.


~RCH~

Photo-Off: Contrast

Scene (and Herd)


Nikon D70 - 85mm fixed lens; 1/60 at f/4.5; ISO 640.

So I went with the technical interpretation of the theme: Black and white; it doesn't get more contrasty than that! I stuck these plastic zebras on a piece of white posterboard, propped against the living room couch, my ghetto version of a seamless background. Our large picture window provided the natural light, and voila. Zebras. LOL.

There's also this one, on which I went to town with shallow depth of field:


Nikon D70 - 85mm fixed lens; 1/60 at f/3.5; ISO 500.

Kind of random, but oh well! We were sick around here! ;-)

Mary, your Photo-Off challenge for next week is (*drum, drum, drum, drum, drum, drum*) Street. Have at it!


~RCH~

Better than a status update

I've fallen down on the blogging job. I blame the family's recent illnesses -- I had day-long nauseating headaches all through the beginning and middle of last week, then Dos and Tres had stuff coming out both ends toward the end of the week and all weekend -- and I also blame Facebook. Facebook is of the devil. It allows me to broadcast little tiny snippets of my life to 60 of my closest friends (who knew I had 60 friends?) through status updates ... and then I feel like I have nothing left to blog because I've said it all already.

But tough luck, because I'm going to say it again. Or say different stuff. Or, you know, whatever.

Facebook

I signed up a little more than a week ago, and within a few minutes of setting up my account I had about twenty friend requests. I had no idea I was so popular! And how did they all know I was there? Had they been stalking me? Searching Facebook high and low several times a day, every day, waiting for the moment I would grace them with my beatific presence? LOL. Obviously not, but it simultaneously amused and freaked me out.

Crazy Monkey

My preferred nickname for Tres is Crazy Little Monkey. I think I may have overused it, because I've begun to think of her more literally as a monkey: A chimpanzee, specifically. The kind you might see wearing a diaper and hamming it up with her animal trainer on the Tonight Show. She's just the perfect size; she fits on my hip just right and her little hands are so busy and expressive as she grabs my nose and tries to rip it from my face.... Ah, I love my little simian.

Dream Logic

I dreamed last night that I ran across two old friends from high school (probably through Facebook, lol). I tried asking the boy if he thought I had been a drama queen back in the day -- "and don't worry about hurting my feelings if you did," I said, "because I wouldn't ask if I didn't want an honest answer" -- but I couldn't understand his reply; apparently he had spent a lot of time in New Zealand in the years in between and had acquired a very thick accent. I suppose that means I only pretend to want to know uncomfortable truths about myself, lol. Oh well. I finally understood, through his wife's translation, that he thought I had been ragingly melodramatic, but not a drama queen in the sense of being an overbearing diva. So is that six of one, half a dozen of another...?

Next I dreamed I was in a parking lot when a leopard print Cadillac -- convertible, with the top down -- pulled in. Five goth dressed teenagers jumped out and ran over to a carousel, where they proceeded to set up for a concert and rock out. I snuck a few photos of them with my camera phone (I never have my Nikon on me when I need it!), until one of the goth girls stopped playing and yelled at me to cut it out. "Are you some kind of photographer?" she asked me. "No," I said. "I'm going to write the great American novel." She raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Or the great American short story." She stared. "Or, um, maybe just the great American haiku." Then I slunk away.

There's a shocking dream revelation: I have no attention span!

Two Quote Book Quotes

UNO: Mom, when it's my birthday, I get to be the Evil Queen and everybody has to do what I say! I can't wait.

* * *

DOS, taunting me as I lost Mario Baseball to Uno (final score 32-14): M-O-M. That's how you spell loooooooooser!

RCH: Hey, that kind of hurts my feelings!

DOS: I mean, that's how you spell Girl Who Tried Her Very Best But She Didn't Win But That's Okay!

School Policy

Uno had a meltdown last night because we refused to take her bowling. She had come home from school with an important note her kindergarten teacher passed out: [Local Bowling Alley] Family Night! All games $1.50, with $1.50 for hot dogs and drinks. One night only! Call to reserve your lane! It never would have occurred to Uno that we should go bowling if she hadn't been given that advertisement.

It's not the first time we've had an issue like this, either; she has been pitched ballet lessons, membership in the Girl Scouts, pizza.... These aren't fund raisers; none of them have any affiliation with the school. I don't understand why a public school would allow community businesses to directly target five-year-olds. Stick a coupon in the weekly paper if you want to advertise, but don't promise my child an evening of cheap bowling without asking me first.

Ugh.

Does anybody else's school do this? Or is it just our little town being weird again?

Contrast

My Photo-Off challenge comes due tomorrow. This week's assignment? Contrast! I wasn't sure whether to tackle it conceptually (muscley, tattooed biker holds kitten! -- Nevermind that I have neither a biker nor a kitten) or technically (bright vs. dark). I had planned to use last weekend to go exploring, head down into the city maybe to see what contrasty subjects I could rustle up, but instead I spent the weekend cleaning poop and vomit out of the carpet. Oops. I did take some photos at home on Friday that I may pick from amongst, but I am keeping my eyes open and my camera ready in the meantime. I may find a really great last minute subject; you never know!

I really do enjoy these challenges. :-)

The End

I'm sure I could continue to babble on about everything and nothing, but it's time to get the girlies from school! You've got a guaranteed post from me tomorrow, when I reveal my Photo-Off pic. Until then....


~RCH~

Recent Tres-isms

Uno and Dos have taught Tres how to give high fives. We've also tried to teach her "bones" -- the fist bump ala her cousin and birthday buddy, Peter -- but she is obsessed with fives to the exclusion of everything else. Her diction isn't all that great, though, so when she puts her hand out to be smacked she doesn't actually say, "High five!" No, my sweet baby thrusts her hand in the air, a big smile on her face, and squeals, "Die!"



DH and I got a babysitter last night while we went out to play canasta with K and W, two of his elderly patients. We came home to discover that the babysitter had taught Tres to say hello, in addition to her standard hi. She smiled and waved to me when I walked in the door, cooing "Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!" Super duper cute. I took her in my arms, gave her a smooch, and told her to say bye to the sitter. Tres waved her little hand again and -- in a perfectly logical extension of what she'd just learned -- said, "Byelo!"

Oooh, I could just eat that kid up. :-)


~RCH~

Photo-Off: Renaissance

Here's my answer to Mary's Photo-Off Challenge



It's not what I wanted. I think I could do better if I had any lighting equipment (at the very least an off-camera flash) or if I'd had better natural light (I have no North / South windows in my house, boo-hoo). I wanted to get crisp definition on the light and shadows of the folds of her dress, and I don't think I did that very well. Perhaps a smaller aperture (right? A bigger F-stop, anyway, for a less shallow depth of field) would have helped? And I think the column in the back is more distracting than I meant it to be. :-P

The pose, at least (based on my research), is pretty spot-on, lol.

Here's what I may have done if it were Spring. It looks sort of stupidly contrived as it is (I did, after all, dig up the grass and dandelion and transplant them to the dead leafiest place I could find), but oh well. It is, perhaps, a little more original than the portrait.... Eh?



So, your thoughts, readers? Which do you like better?

Mary's next Photo-Off Challenge should be fun for her: Pink! Yay. I look forward to what you come up with, seester! :-)


~RCH~

Pilers vs. Filers and the race for the White House

DH and I have very different organizational styles: He likes things neatly filed away and out of sight; I feel most productive when I have stacks and piles out in front of me. My way looks messy, I admit, but I promise there is order and purpose in the chaos.

DH's anxiety flares up when he sees the state of my desk. I feel great anxiety any time he threatens to "clean it up" for me, as he did on Sunday.

The two older girls came into the room at the height of our discussion about organizing the desk. "Stop fighting!" the very sensitive Uno said. Now, we weren't fighting (I wouldn't have been talking to him at all if we were, lol, because I'm so mature like that); we just happen to enjoy banter and spirited debate especially where our views differ (and frankly, even when we agree). That's pretty much always been our dynamic.

I explained to her that we weren't fighting, we were just hashing out our different ways of doing things. "I like to organize things into piles," I told her, "and Daddy likes to put them away in a drawer. Dad wanted to organize all this stuff his way -- but I'm the one who uses the office most and needs all these papers, so if he put them away I wouldn't know where to find anything."

See? Makes perfect sense. I win. Case closed.

"Well," DH said. "All Mommy has to do is let me alphabetize it, and then she can find anything she needs."

I balked, my anxiety flaring up again. Alphabetizing won't help if he's the one doing it! Let's consider: Would he put the car insurance policy under Auto? Car? Insurance? Would our largest monthly bill be under M for Mortgage or H for House Payment? Ack. No, no, no. He is not to touch my piles. I know where everything is and he'd better not touch anything, I told him.

"Ah, come on. Why won't you let Daddy do it?" Uno asked. "Don't you know your whole alphabet?"

DH thought that was hilarious, and in a very serious tone asked Uno if she would begin the important job of helping me learn my ABCs. They high-fived on that while Dos (who very sweetly took my side) and I rolled our eyes and laughed with them.

Silly family.

My desk, in case you wondered, is still a lovely mess of organized chaos on Wednesday. DH vows that he will live to fight another day! ;-)

The thing is, I know that DH isn't wrong in wanting to clear off the desk. I believe he would concede that I'm not wrong, either, in wanting to know that every scrap of paper is where I put it. We just have different ways of accomplishing our organizational goals -- which brings us (clumsily) to the US Presidential election, decided last night in the favor of Barack Obama.

I know that there are plenty of people in my community and in my own family who feel not only disappointed in the election results, but anxious. They may be the proverbial filers to my piling tendencies, and the thought of having the nation's affairs put in order by someone who does things so much differently makes them nervous. I totally get that. But I hope they also realize that, while he sees things from another point of view, Pres. Elect Obama has just as much love for this country as his opponent does and that, like Sen. McCain, he only wants the best for the nation and its citizens.

At some point my piles are going to outgrow the available space on the top of my desk; at some point I am going to have to compromise with DH and file the old papers away. The thought makes me a little queasy -- it feels wrong and unnatural, lol! -- but eventually I'll have to buck up and do it. I think I'll feel far less uneasy if DH and I work together to file things than if, say, he surprised me with a clean desk one day when I'd been out grocery shopping (ooooh, that would be bad).

The same thing goes for the country: The Democrats won't be able to deliver on all their promises without a little compromise and concession; the Republicans, again the minority, certainly won't. And in either case, whether you identify with the party of the Filers or with the Pilers, I think that anxiety you feel over the other will lessen if you remain involved in the process. That's not to say you have to run for office, yourself, but keep aware of current events; write to your elected representatives about issues you care about, locally and nationally; don't vote just once every four years, but for all the little local elections, as well.

We live in an amazing country. I feel like we're in good hands -- and not just because my preferred candidate won the presidency, but because I know that my more conservative friends and family are intelligent, informed, and passionate about politics and the direction our country is headed. We may have different ways of accomplishing our goal of a stronger, better America, but in the end we do have the same goal; because of that, I'd say our future looks pretty bright.

(And hey, DH.... Pssssst! Don't touch my piles.)


~RCH~

We'll find out soon

UNO: Hey Mom, who do you think is going to be our president? John McCain or Rebock O'Rama?

RCH: I don't know, kid. We'll have to wait and see.

UNO: I know it can't be Abraham Lincolnton because he's dead.

RCH: Right.

UNO: Or George Washington. He's dead too.

RCH: Right, because that was a long time ago. Hundreds of years ago. People don't live that long.

UNO: I know, but John McCain and Rebock O'Rama aren't dead yet.

RCH: No, we hope they'll both stick around for a while. No matter who wins.


~RCH~