Dear Mr. President,
By now I feel like the last person in the country to see the movie Inception. This is probably not the case, and I don't often feel comfortable writing to you about pop culture, but this is slightly less inane than knowing who snookie is, I think. Movies, like any art, make me feel things. Love, Actually or Pride & Prejudice still make my skeptic's heart believe in the possibility of a true and lasting love. Star Wars still inspires my childish dreams of heroics and adventure. Being moved by these experiences may be temporary or even contrived, but I still enjoy it. Which brings me to Inception, a film that asks the viewer to question the nature of reality.
When I was a little girl I often wandered into empty rooms, looking for a place to be alone. I would lie down, close my eyes, and imagine the whole massive, complex world, and then the whole span of history (which, at that age, I could barely conceive of as anything more specific than immense.) I would feel so small that I would cease to exist. An impulse at the back of my mind suggested that this meant I did not exist. How could I, a girl of exactly no consequence, be real? A girl of only a few years, with no apparent purpose or significance? It was, on the whole, a preposterous notion. I wondered how I had ever thought that it was possible to have my own place in the infinite. Once I had finally reached the point of truly doubting if I could exist at all, I'd open my eyes. I don't recall if I enjoyed more the feeling of oblivion or the reassurance of my own senses. I recall reading once that the great Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had such an extreme egocentric view of the world as a child that he insisted his classmates did not exist unless he was around. Allegedly, one day when he was home sick, the class came to visit him to prove that they still existed without him there. When I read this I wondered if my own obsession with existence and nonexistence was somehow a variation on this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to try to convince you that we're all dreaming. Actually, while watching Inception, I couldn't help but think about foreign policy and the different ways we perceive our own nation in relationship to every other nation. Are we in a constant state of war, guns drawn and fingers on the trigger, enemies pausing only because of the size or number of weapons pointed back? I think some people must see the world that way, and I don't know that I can necessarily disprove their version of reality. As for my view of the world I see the way that those in power use violence and, more often, fear of violence to keep those without power believing that the enemy speaking a foreign tongue is much more threatening than the system telling people to be afraid. I don't know that any one could prove or disprove this reality, either. I can believe, all I want, but I can't convince others to share in my reality. I wonder if this is why we tend to reject evidence or information supporting politicians or policies we ideologically oppose. If my younger self was dwarfed, not by the number of people that had ever lived, but by the number of contradicting realities that must simultaneously exist to make them all right. Does my conviction about the state of reality do more harm, than good? Should we all give up these differences in perception and agree to live in the same world? Which one? Who decides?
Ok, this is perhaps venturing too far into theory for me to be really comfortable with its relevance. I experience this sensation too rarely these days, and I don't often get to the movies, so forgive me, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I wonder, does being President make it hard to distinguish between the office and your self, at times? Do you find yourself perceiving or reacting to things differently, as President, than you might have as just Barack Obama? Is there a single paradigm shift that you think is in order for the American people or for the American government, by which I mean, If you could change the way this country collectively perceives something, what would it be? For me, I would change the way we perceive our own isolation. I would have us see ourselves more clearly in strangers and better understand how the harm and injustice and exploitation we perpetuate, even through apathy, comes back to directly affect our own existences. But that's enough philosophy, for now. I want to lie in bed, close my eyes, and, just for a moment, doubt that any of us exist at all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Day 181- Vampires and Werewolves
Dear Mr. President,
On July 21 of 2007, I was dressed as Bellatrix Lestrange and, before an exuberant crowd of over 2,000, I revealed the first copy of the final Harry Potter book, and sold it to the first person in line. Less than an hour later, we'd sold a copy to every person who'd waited in line, and my roommates and I headed into the metro to go home. I'd been at work since 9 am, and it was close to 2:30am. Three men approached us on the platform and, seeing that we were reading the Harry Potter books, offered us $50 a book, cash. So you might see why I wasn't at all surprised to read that Elena Kagan was asked to comment on the Edward v. Jacob "controversy."
I want to be disappointed by this, but I can't help finding it sort of endearing. Don't get me wrong, the Twilight phenomenon has never appealed to me at all, but the young girl who went to the midnight shows of all the Star Wars special editions, or who, (even as a poor 21-year old) refused to sell my $21 copy of the Deathly Hallows for $50 so that I could stay up 12 straight hours reading it, understands those fans, to a point. I can't help but be impressed that these stories, intended to do little more than entertain children, have swept up much of the adult population in a shared experience. The people who hate Twilight, or who joke about it, are as caught up in this phenomenon as those who love it. Maybe the bookseller in me is always gratified to see people excited about reading, but I think it's more than that, too. I think that, having lived in so many places in my life, and always feeling a bit transient, it is comforting to know that we're all looking at the same sky, so to speak. That, on July 22nd, 2007, when I looked around on the metro, I was seeing the same sea of orange covers that friends and strangers alike were encountering on planes, in classrooms and cafes all over the world. That art, which is glorious in its celebration of our differences, the unique experience it offers each of us, also allows us to see how much we have in common.
Certainly, as a bookseller, I have also witnessed those who have been taken in too deeply by their fantasies and fandom, who have lost sight of reality and may never recognize it again. I don't know that fiction can be blamed for offering such an alluring alternative for those who find reality too painful. And, while I respect the Senate and the process of judicial confirmation too much to wish it to appear trite or silly, I am confident that werewolves and vampires will be far from the most ridiculous or undignified things that Kagan will be questioned about in the coming days.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
On July 21 of 2007, I was dressed as Bellatrix Lestrange and, before an exuberant crowd of over 2,000, I revealed the first copy of the final Harry Potter book, and sold it to the first person in line. Less than an hour later, we'd sold a copy to every person who'd waited in line, and my roommates and I headed into the metro to go home. I'd been at work since 9 am, and it was close to 2:30am. Three men approached us on the platform and, seeing that we were reading the Harry Potter books, offered us $50 a book, cash. So you might see why I wasn't at all surprised to read that Elena Kagan was asked to comment on the Edward v. Jacob "controversy."
I want to be disappointed by this, but I can't help finding it sort of endearing. Don't get me wrong, the Twilight phenomenon has never appealed to me at all, but the young girl who went to the midnight shows of all the Star Wars special editions, or who, (even as a poor 21-year old) refused to sell my $21 copy of the Deathly Hallows for $50 so that I could stay up 12 straight hours reading it, understands those fans, to a point. I can't help but be impressed that these stories, intended to do little more than entertain children, have swept up much of the adult population in a shared experience. The people who hate Twilight, or who joke about it, are as caught up in this phenomenon as those who love it. Maybe the bookseller in me is always gratified to see people excited about reading, but I think it's more than that, too. I think that, having lived in so many places in my life, and always feeling a bit transient, it is comforting to know that we're all looking at the same sky, so to speak. That, on July 22nd, 2007, when I looked around on the metro, I was seeing the same sea of orange covers that friends and strangers alike were encountering on planes, in classrooms and cafes all over the world. That art, which is glorious in its celebration of our differences, the unique experience it offers each of us, also allows us to see how much we have in common.
Certainly, as a bookseller, I have also witnessed those who have been taken in too deeply by their fantasies and fandom, who have lost sight of reality and may never recognize it again. I don't know that fiction can be blamed for offering such an alluring alternative for those who find reality too painful. And, while I respect the Senate and the process of judicial confirmation too much to wish it to appear trite or silly, I am confident that werewolves and vampires will be far from the most ridiculous or undignified things that Kagan will be questioned about in the coming days.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Day 154- The Millennials
Dear Mr. President,
I was pleasantly surprised to learn tonight that my generation has a name. We are, apparently, the Millennials. (I don't recall being asked for input when this name was chosen. I doubt I'd have approved, but I suppose it's better than "Generation Y") Timothy Egan is calling on us to "save" our country from the boomers. I have a lot of respect for Mr. Egan, and I did find it surprising to learn that more 18-29 year olds voted in 2008 than those over 65. This has clearly not escaped the notice of Organizing For America, which almost daily contacts me asking for participation or support. I am comforted by this. Demographics are on my side, as the ruling class of this country grows (slowly) younger, my hope is that things will (slowly) improve. I think Egan's points are well-taken; my generation's views on gay rights, environmental issues and the wars launched under President Bush may have been ahead of our time and now widely accepted. However, our participation has done little to fundamentally change the system or the way we ourselves are perceived by those in power. (Evidenced even here, by Egan's quip about our ability to leave our facebook pages long enough to elect you, forgetting, perhaps, the role that social networking and blogs played in that election.)
This thought strikes me most often when I am asked about my tattoos. I have seven, and will soon have eight. According to a recent post on the freakonomics blog, 36 percent of 18-25 year olds, and 40 percent of 26-40 year olds have tattoos. When people express their concern that the body art I have no will be detrimental to my professional success, I like to consider this statistic. I currently have a job where, despite making less than $10/hour and having little to no consequence in society, I have to keep my tattoos covered up. I respect that, as my employer, this company can make me wear whatever it pleases. I do not generally find that my tattoos affect my ability to make coffee, or my customer's enjoyment of said coffee. While I do think that my tattoos say something about me as a person, I don't think that having tattoos in general does. I reject the notion that they make me less professional or respectable, and that is because I respect myself (and my professionalism) more than I care for the opinions of those who would judge me on what they see. (Arrogance? Perhaps. I'll call it self-assurance and be quite content to keep it. ) My generation's willingness to accept a person for what is on the inside may largely be attributed to the often-faceless modes of interaction we have with one another online, and helps us to get past the kind of appearance-based prejudices that still hinder our parents.
But my generation has our faults, too. We often mistake awareness for action; blogging about something or updating our facebook status to support a cause is fine and good, but we vote most effectively with our dollar, and too many of us forget our idealism once we have to put money on it. Our demographic being among the most targeted by advertisers, we ought to have a greater impact on the policies of those companies whose products we consume than we do our government. I have many friends who are game for any kind of political discussion or debate, but who grow defensive and angry when their own purchasing decisions are called into question. If we're really going to steer this country in a better direction than our parents, we have to put our money where our well-intentioned tweets are.
I respect your and OFA's efforts to engage us; I can offer my personal pledge to do my part to help elect progressive candidates in 2010. But beyond voting, beyond organizing voting efforts, my generation has to do more. Egan, and OFA, are not asking us to save the country with our progressive vision, they're asking us to do so by electing the last generation of progressives. To show up on election day, and then to let the grown-ups take things from there. I think it's time that more of us ran for local, state and federal office ourselves; that we begin shaping our destinies through direct participation and not just by voting.
Finally, I'd like to acknowledge the death of one Millennial, Turkish-American Furkan Dogan, who, at 19, was killed on the Mavi Marmara, attempting to do bring hope and aid to the people of Gaza. His death ought to remind all of us, young and old, to honor those giving their lives for justice. If we had more elected officials willing to demonstrate this kind of courage, perhaps the youth of this nation would not be called upon to do it for them.
And now, I return to my mindless social networking. See you on Election Day.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I was pleasantly surprised to learn tonight that my generation has a name. We are, apparently, the Millennials. (I don't recall being asked for input when this name was chosen. I doubt I'd have approved, but I suppose it's better than "Generation Y") Timothy Egan is calling on us to "save" our country from the boomers. I have a lot of respect for Mr. Egan, and I did find it surprising to learn that more 18-29 year olds voted in 2008 than those over 65. This has clearly not escaped the notice of Organizing For America, which almost daily contacts me asking for participation or support. I am comforted by this. Demographics are on my side, as the ruling class of this country grows (slowly) younger, my hope is that things will (slowly) improve. I think Egan's points are well-taken; my generation's views on gay rights, environmental issues and the wars launched under President Bush may have been ahead of our time and now widely accepted. However, our participation has done little to fundamentally change the system or the way we ourselves are perceived by those in power. (Evidenced even here, by Egan's quip about our ability to leave our facebook pages long enough to elect you, forgetting, perhaps, the role that social networking and blogs played in that election.)
This thought strikes me most often when I am asked about my tattoos. I have seven, and will soon have eight. According to a recent post on the freakonomics blog, 36 percent of 18-25 year olds, and 40 percent of 26-40 year olds have tattoos. When people express their concern that the body art I have no will be detrimental to my professional success, I like to consider this statistic. I currently have a job where, despite making less than $10/hour and having little to no consequence in society, I have to keep my tattoos covered up. I respect that, as my employer, this company can make me wear whatever it pleases. I do not generally find that my tattoos affect my ability to make coffee, or my customer's enjoyment of said coffee. While I do think that my tattoos say something about me as a person, I don't think that having tattoos in general does. I reject the notion that they make me less professional or respectable, and that is because I respect myself (and my professionalism) more than I care for the opinions of those who would judge me on what they see. (Arrogance? Perhaps. I'll call it self-assurance and be quite content to keep it. ) My generation's willingness to accept a person for what is on the inside may largely be attributed to the often-faceless modes of interaction we have with one another online, and helps us to get past the kind of appearance-based prejudices that still hinder our parents.
But my generation has our faults, too. We often mistake awareness for action; blogging about something or updating our facebook status to support a cause is fine and good, but we vote most effectively with our dollar, and too many of us forget our idealism once we have to put money on it. Our demographic being among the most targeted by advertisers, we ought to have a greater impact on the policies of those companies whose products we consume than we do our government. I have many friends who are game for any kind of political discussion or debate, but who grow defensive and angry when their own purchasing decisions are called into question. If we're really going to steer this country in a better direction than our parents, we have to put our money where our well-intentioned tweets are.
I respect your and OFA's efforts to engage us; I can offer my personal pledge to do my part to help elect progressive candidates in 2010. But beyond voting, beyond organizing voting efforts, my generation has to do more. Egan, and OFA, are not asking us to save the country with our progressive vision, they're asking us to do so by electing the last generation of progressives. To show up on election day, and then to let the grown-ups take things from there. I think it's time that more of us ran for local, state and federal office ourselves; that we begin shaping our destinies through direct participation and not just by voting.
Finally, I'd like to acknowledge the death of one Millennial, Turkish-American Furkan Dogan, who, at 19, was killed on the Mavi Marmara, attempting to do bring hope and aid to the people of Gaza. His death ought to remind all of us, young and old, to honor those giving their lives for justice. If we had more elected officials willing to demonstrate this kind of courage, perhaps the youth of this nation would not be called upon to do it for them.
And now, I return to my mindless social networking. See you on Election Day.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Day 66- Oh no, I'm writing about the Oscars
Dear Mr. President,
I started watching the Academy Awards tonight, but had made other plans in the evening, and decided not to watch the second half. I hear that Hurt Locker beat out Avatar for best picture. I doubt you've seen either movie, but if you have, I hope you'd agree that this was a good call. One movie suggests the audience contemplate, even question their emotional response to the story, the other manipulates and demands certain emotions from its views.
I think what upset me most about Avatar was the false sense of sympathy it would generate in many fans. Of course, the way the story is told, the Innocent Blue Natives must be the sympathetic characters. The audience would see them, like them, and cheer for them in the Epic Battle scene at the end. But then, as the credits rolled and the lights came on, the audience files out, goes about their daily lives, living, as too many of us do, without concern for the consumptive, greedy, materialistic existences we unconsciously lead, or how they affect the rest of the world. I'll admit the ignorant American stereotype is not a fair one, but every year there seems to be one blockbuster extolling the damages of our lifestyles to the rest of the world and to ourselves, and every year we seem happy to pay $8 to ignore the message being spelled out for us.
I do think Americans live in a way that is damaging to the developing world. We ignore the struggles of our own dwindling native population, minimize the crimes committed against them in the early days of our nation, and continue to ignore, condone or even support the oppression and extermination of other native populations by imperial projects around the world. And then we watch multi-million dollar movies about how wrong this is. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
What frustrates me more is that I don't know the answer. I don't know how we could make up for our past crimes, or how we can live better now, or how we can avoid them in the future. It isn't enough to be angry about it, it isn't enough to feel guilty about it, it isn't even enough to write a letter to the President about it. We've got to have a plan.
Tonight I had drinks with a friend, who told me that all white Americans suffer from the same combination of power and privilege. She contends that it makes all of us, to varying degrees, racist, and that the only thing we can do is make a conscious effort to work against the programming. I agree with this, but how responsible are we as individuals to convince others to fight this programming, as well? I suppose this struggle is the same one that religious people go through all the time. I think I know the right way to live, and I can try to do that every day, try to make the right choices and think the right thoughts and work to ensure that my life doesn't come at the expense of others. But I'm only one person. Should I then be attempting to convert others to my way of thinking? I think this is why I'm so bad at religion. I have beliefs, and I'm pretty confident in them, but I'll never be sure enough that I'd want to proselytize others.
This is why cultural phenomena like Avatar are so frustrating; even if this particular film's anti-imperialist message is close to my own political views, its simplification of things, its forcing this nuanced and complex idea into a palatable and didactic doctrine, does not ask its audience to think. We're losing our critical thinking skills, and accepting what we are told, what is forced upon us, because it is simpler and easier and more convenient. I'd like to think, at the end of the day, that is is more important to engage with an issue, to try and understand it from as many perspectives as possible, than to come up with an answer or a conclusion about it.
Anyway, I'm not entirely comfortable pontificating quite this much about an award show. What role, if any, does pop culture play in your own life? You have a healthy appreciation for Harry Potter and Jay-Z, so you can't be completely insulated from these trends, but I'd imagine your job prevents you from being exposed to much of it these days. Do you think that we place too much value on the entertainments that distract us from issues? Or do you think that some degree of escapism is necessary, even healthy?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I started watching the Academy Awards tonight, but had made other plans in the evening, and decided not to watch the second half. I hear that Hurt Locker beat out Avatar for best picture. I doubt you've seen either movie, but if you have, I hope you'd agree that this was a good call. One movie suggests the audience contemplate, even question their emotional response to the story, the other manipulates and demands certain emotions from its views.
I think what upset me most about Avatar was the false sense of sympathy it would generate in many fans. Of course, the way the story is told, the Innocent Blue Natives must be the sympathetic characters. The audience would see them, like them, and cheer for them in the Epic Battle scene at the end. But then, as the credits rolled and the lights came on, the audience files out, goes about their daily lives, living, as too many of us do, without concern for the consumptive, greedy, materialistic existences we unconsciously lead, or how they affect the rest of the world. I'll admit the ignorant American stereotype is not a fair one, but every year there seems to be one blockbuster extolling the damages of our lifestyles to the rest of the world and to ourselves, and every year we seem happy to pay $8 to ignore the message being spelled out for us.
I do think Americans live in a way that is damaging to the developing world. We ignore the struggles of our own dwindling native population, minimize the crimes committed against them in the early days of our nation, and continue to ignore, condone or even support the oppression and extermination of other native populations by imperial projects around the world. And then we watch multi-million dollar movies about how wrong this is. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
What frustrates me more is that I don't know the answer. I don't know how we could make up for our past crimes, or how we can live better now, or how we can avoid them in the future. It isn't enough to be angry about it, it isn't enough to feel guilty about it, it isn't even enough to write a letter to the President about it. We've got to have a plan.
Tonight I had drinks with a friend, who told me that all white Americans suffer from the same combination of power and privilege. She contends that it makes all of us, to varying degrees, racist, and that the only thing we can do is make a conscious effort to work against the programming. I agree with this, but how responsible are we as individuals to convince others to fight this programming, as well? I suppose this struggle is the same one that religious people go through all the time. I think I know the right way to live, and I can try to do that every day, try to make the right choices and think the right thoughts and work to ensure that my life doesn't come at the expense of others. But I'm only one person. Should I then be attempting to convert others to my way of thinking? I think this is why I'm so bad at religion. I have beliefs, and I'm pretty confident in them, but I'll never be sure enough that I'd want to proselytize others.
This is why cultural phenomena like Avatar are so frustrating; even if this particular film's anti-imperialist message is close to my own political views, its simplification of things, its forcing this nuanced and complex idea into a palatable and didactic doctrine, does not ask its audience to think. We're losing our critical thinking skills, and accepting what we are told, what is forced upon us, because it is simpler and easier and more convenient. I'd like to think, at the end of the day, that is is more important to engage with an issue, to try and understand it from as many perspectives as possible, than to come up with an answer or a conclusion about it.
Anyway, I'm not entirely comfortable pontificating quite this much about an award show. What role, if any, does pop culture play in your own life? You have a healthy appreciation for Harry Potter and Jay-Z, so you can't be completely insulated from these trends, but I'd imagine your job prevents you from being exposed to much of it these days. Do you think that we place too much value on the entertainments that distract us from issues? Or do you think that some degree of escapism is necessary, even healthy?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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