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kaleidescopeeyes88
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Name: kaleidescopeeyes88
Metro:
Gender: Female
Interests: Being snarky, more than anything else.
Expertise: ACK! WHY ARE YOU PRESSURING ME???
Message: message me
Member Since:
9/13/2005
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| Off to Philadelphia! Four days, three interviews, two travel buddies, one killer interview outfit. Bring it!
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| I've spent much of my winter break singing songs from A Chorus Line and reenacting scenes from The Sound of Music with my brother, so it was only a matter of time before we moved on to songs from Disney movies. The other night, I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom while my brother was in the living room finishing a dress he's making for his roommate. (It's the gold lamé dress the Baroness wears in The Sound of Music. You know, the fabulous one with the big poof. They're going to a Sound of Music sing-a-long in January. I'm way jealous.) For some reason that I don't remember, I start singing "Les Poissons" from The Little Mermaid. (We must have been making fun of French people or something.) Somehow that song turned into "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast. I can hear James singing along with me as I get to the slow part in the middle that goes, "Life is so unnerving for a servant who's not serving. He's not whole without a soul to wait upon. Ah, those good old days when we were useful... Suddenly, those good old days are gone. Ten years we've been rusting, needing so much more than dusting. Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just lay around the castle..."
And then, at the line, "FLABBY FAT AND LAZY, YOU WALKED IN AND OOPSY DAISY," James bursts into the bathroom and we both start singing, just a little bit too excitedly, Mrs. Pots's verse, "IT'S A GUEST! IT'S A GUEST! SAKE'S ALIVE, WELL I'LL BE BLESSED!" For some reason, at the exact same moment, we both take on a weird Julia Child voice when we sing this part. For some reason, we both bop up and down like a couple of freaks as we sing it. And for some reason, we both find this HILARIOUS and laugh to the point of tears.
I don't know how we both manage to sense exactly when and how to turn this song retarded. I don't know why the whole thing was so damn funny to us, either. And now, all that one of us has to do to make the other one laugh is to go, "Flabby fat and lazy, you walked in and oopsy daisy!"
We experienced a similar moment over Thanksgiving break, when we were playing Taylor Swift's "Love Story" on Band Hero at 2 in the morning, and when we both simultaneously got a little bit too gleeful singing the song's climactic verse, "MARRY ME JULIET, YOU'LL NEVER HAVE TO BE ALONE!"
Of course, mom and dad don't know how to respond to these demonstrations except to tell us to stop being so damn loud. Or to ignore us.
Well, this tells me two things: 1.) My brother an I share a very special bond that expresses itself in unexpected (and stupid) ways, and 2.) We really are funny to no one but ourselves.
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| James and I are watching the PBS documentary series, Broadway: The American Musical, during which it's mentioned that the show Finian's Rainbow explored race relations in the Deep South.
James: What? I thought that musical was about a leprechaun.
Me: Me too. Doesn't that show have that song, "How Are Things In Glocca Morra?" How does that fit in the Deep South?
James: I don't know.
Me: I'm hella confused.
Turns out, Finian's Rainbow IS about a leprechaun. Who follows an Irish dude and his daughter who move to Fort Knox to bury a stolen pot of gold or something. And then a racist US senator gets involved, and somehow the daughter turns him temporarily black.
I'm still hella confused.
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| Got word this morning from another school (and one at a pretty awesome location, too) that they want to interview me at the MLA. Sweet.
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| In last week's episode of GLEE (a show that I love love love), drama queen Rachel Barry tries to enlist someone to pose with her as co-captain for a quarter-page spot in the yearbook. None of the other gleemates want to be in the yearbook, fearing that they'll be immortalized as high school outcasts. Rachel doesn't care. She stands proudly for all that she does, even if it means getting a slushy thrown in her face every day. She eventually gets Finn to agree to be her co-captain, but he flakes out on her at the photo shoot. Clearly upset and feeling dissed, Rachel resigns to representing the glee club alone, but only after looking at herself in the mirror and telling herself, "Snap out of it. Stop defining yourself by how other people think of you. Or how they disappoint you." She sings to herself a song that gets her through professional and personal disappointments: "When you're smiling, when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you." Then, like a pro, she beams for the camera.
From the show's pilot episode, I've identified with Rachel. Which is sort of embarrassing. I'd like to think that I'm not nearly as pushy or arrogant as she is. (Especially given the fact that I know I'm not nearly as talented as she is, either.) I've been trying to figure out why I'm so fond of this character that is so obviously unlikeable. And then this moment from last week's episode crystallized for me so many interactions I've had with other people, and why I've chosen the friends that I've chosen.
When I was at home during Thanksgiving weekend, I was excited to tell my whole family about the various rabble-rousing activities for public education that I've thrown myself into. My activities have actually landed me a lot of unexpected opportunities. I got placed on a panel of student presenters for the "UC Commission on the Future," which is really just a bullshit PR tool invented by the Regents of the UC, but gives me a chance to help take our message directly to the administration. (Which we did! We totally ripped them a new one.) Being on that commission, and being quoted in the news, caught the attention of a professor in my department, who was a former chair and who is also on various administrative committees. She wants to speak with me one-on-one to strategize how students and faculty and work together in the movement. In short, I haven't merely been causing trouble on campus-- I've been earning respect from people who actually have a little bit of power. I kind of feel like I'm climbing to the top of my game in some ways. My dad, who's a bit of an anarchist himself, proudly tells me about my great-grandfather who was a revolutionary against the Qing dynasty, and who then had to flee to Vietnam to escape persecution. My mom is usually horribly afraid of any kind of activity that could be considered unlawful or disrespectful of authority, but was quick to express encouragement after seeing me speak at a rally on November 18. She marveled, "How can a person so small have a voice so big?" My aunt, who at first cautioned me for putting my career in jeopardy, has since told me that she admires me for my bravery. So all in all, I've received plenty of support from my family. And from a good deal of my friends, too. Especially the ones with whom I've worked alongside these last few months.
But still, most people in my life aren't in tune with any of this. It's disappointing when I see my cousins, who themselves have been beneficiaries of public education, fail to seem remotely interested when I tell them about the state of peril that the University of California is facing. It's disappointing when friends who I thought were in my corner don't even bother to take two seconds to say, "Hey, good job!"
I realize that it's unfair of me to be disappointed. People are entitled to their own interests, and I suppose any number of my friends could be disappointed in me for not being more excited about the choices they've made and the projects they've taken on. But that's the thing about committing yourself to your convictions and following them up with action-- It creates conditions that bring to light who you can count on and who you can't. It's perhaps no coincidence that I've become closer with my friend V over the last few months-- She and I share a passion for activism; and more importantly, she and I share a similar work ethic. One thing I admire most about her is that she insists on doing everything that she does-- whether it's in the discipline she puts into her scholarship or the attention to detail she puts into putting together a costume for a themed party-- with excellence. She inspires me to go that extra mile.
But every positive inspiration also exposes the opposite. When I get to meet people who roll up their sleeves, jump to a task, take responsibility for what they do, and believe in their capacity to bring change, I am reminded of the people in my life who slack off, who wait until someone else steps in to do work for them, who rarely contribute, who only step up when someone demands that they do, who fail to clean up their own messes. And as forgiving and understanding as I want to be, I can't help but be disappointed. I can't help but see these flaws in them in just about every interaction that we have, whether it is planning an event together, splitting the bill, or just performing mundane tasks.
I don't know yet how to deal with this kind of disappointment. There's something lonely about it. I don't know if it means that I've changed so much that I've had to leave some friends behind. I don't know if I have to simply adjust the dial on some of my relationships. I don't know if I'm just simply too demanding and uptight. I suppose the only thing that I can do while I figure all this out is to just be a pro and smile through it. I can't make people do or feel things they won't. But I can keep doing what I do with pride. And know that I'm already being rewarded for it.
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