I can't complain.
Sure, time has little to no meaning anymore and I'm behind on some very important things, but really, I think everything's as good as could be. The "thing" hasn't come yet, hasn't happened and I'm still overlooking my shoulders. But I'm at ease.
There's finally things for me to do, things for me to watch. I feel glad, happy even...at ease.
I guess, if anything, I should get the record straight. Yesterday was the first time I wrote since christmas brake, and that was the next to something I wrote over a year ago. So, I've wanted to say so much and I even went as far as to write what would've become a lengthy little post.
It didn't happen and probably for the best, I came to that moment were nothing made sense anymore, were going on would be dragging a point to far out for anyone to fully understand or even enjoy the writing. The stuff, however unimportant that I wanted to adress was how I saw a rerun of the clueless show, the one that used to air back in the 90's and how upstet I became from it.
I have no distinct memory of ever watching one episode with my full, undivided attention. Not like I did with this at least. I've never been a big fan of Alicia Silverstone, it actually took me a trip to IMDB to see of anything she did was worth mentioning and as far as I can tell the only other thing that was ok was this one movie, blast from the past were she shared screen time with one Brendan Frasier before he was looked down upon hollywood as the douche he is.
So naturally, the show based on the movie did nothing for me when I was a kid. I remember living the TV on waiting for it to end so I could carry on watching Kenan & Kel or some other shit. What I had seen was an episode that was both ignorant, dangerous in that embelishing the skank/bitch image from the 90's. You know, female empowerment not through guts, wits and brains but by clothe, attitude and money.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for a girl with attitude. Just that it has to be the right kind of attitude. This show, the episode, what it showed me, was that it was all driven by the sort of dumb stereotypes, even stereotyping people might think as too much. Dumb black kids tryng to be guetto, nice rich white girl who is too naïve for her own good, best black friend that brings moral support and leverage.
Problem is, it was filtered by that something you can see in a lot of Disney stuff now-a-days. Sort of a marketing strategy. This girls were no Daria and sure as shit were no Clarissa, they behaved like spoiled rotten kids pretending to be hot shit. Kind of like when people tried to market the Nicole Ritchie / Paris Hilton little mobile. You don't buy it, is what happens. They can show you two youg independant women from the city that are acustomed to the high rolling lifestyle, you call it bullshit and rain down on the two coked-out sluts.
The plot revolved around an old friend who was visiting town. Anyone familiar with plot devices would've known this is the one were the kid comes to break hell in an otherwise familiar environment. The girls, self-confident and reassured of themselves, describe her as a prude....who just happens moved to New York.
The moment I heard that, I nearly lost it. I guess that was my deal sealer, the story was obviously gonna show me this screaming, beating, she-devil child brewed up amidst the rotten smells of a beast that engulfed her in flames just to spat her back out, a beautiful mess of tattos and piercings, of died-blond hair or red or pink or yellos or blue or various shades of neon.
So beautiful in all ways she came, a man eating banshee in all ways and terms. Depraved and volatile, the sort of turn-on for a guy like me. You know, a suicide girl. With fucked up hair and shitty make-up or no make-up at all. Just her torn and ragged in clothe, body and soul, patched together the way you normally would...emotional stiches.
I mean, the story drove me there...Listen, I'm a pretty jaded person. You show me a couple of Beverly Hill chicks in "supposed" high coture miniskirts with matching jackets carrying small wimpy dogs with them, groomed out to look like barbie dogs, without being able to spur out one, just o n e phrase that indicates any form of self-respect, of actual self-conciousness, anything remotely fun or riské or anything at all, even if it's just a penis joke, or a toned one for that (this was, after all, a kids show...which I guess pissed me off the most) would assured me this young women were, at the very least, aware of their own sexual pressence.
It's that which I can't take, a woman or girl pretending. Pretending not to know, not to care, not to be aware, yet can't focus on other things, can't create or deviate, just pretend and hint. The episode made notions of going out with a team of swimmers, some mention to their tiny speedos and some shit (oh...there were penis jokes after all) and how much fun that would be.
When the New York friend makes an entrance I'm left to my own damn shame. Here I was hoping for a punk rock goddess, got a goth instead. And goth in terms of the show was a nice pale girl with black hair, black lipstick and a black gown type of thing. She wanted to see the last places were famous people died and smoked weed. Actually that was it, she pulled out one joint, the others went bat-shit crazy.
Because, you know, theres no such thing as controversy and vices in Los Angeles, especially not in Beaverly Hills, what with all the trying to look good, school and shenanigans this kids got themselves into, besides the social stigma of being caught indulging in vices. I mean, sure they were in High school, looked like 20-somethings and dressed like rich tramps, but to think they would even consider to be in the same space as one joint would be enough to get all offended and what-not, even though California is fucking hash land of the States, right besides Arkansas and New Jersey.
In the end, the girls who are the epitome of shallowness end up showing the goth girl from New York a very important lesson on life. Don't smoke weed, because users are loosers and to resolve her dady issues, since that was what drove her to drugs in the first place. Not the harsh realities of a metropoli such as New York were thousands of people drive a subway system every day without even looking at each other, were things like Punk and Jazz were born, were everyday is a continous look at both the constant decline of humanity and the remaining last breaths of life into mankind brought about by the same things that caused it's detereoration.
New York, birthplace to culture, modern and old, breeding grounds to all forms of artistic expression, lair to perverts and murderers, that rolls on tears and laughter from every single person. The most ugliest prettiest place on earth. Yeah, she lived there. She moved to that place, became a light goth and started smoking weed...beacuse her caring, loving father wasn't paying that much attention to her.
I call bullshit. On both the girl and the show. It sure as fucking hell ain't no Clarissa explains it all. See, now that's character, that right there is a girl with attitude. The "I'm to cool for school attitude that is much more beliavable in a woman.
I wanted to write about that. About how much it affected me in order to write up a shit storm on my blog. About how much it disgusted me. About how narrow minded I can be when it comes to that specific subject, or how mysoginistic I might be, and how I don't consider myself one, because I believe full hartedly that anything women can do, they can do it better. They sure as shit can make it better than me, which is why I have to make an effort to best myself every now and then. About how it bothers me, because it makes women like my sister or my mother or my friends go unnoticed.
And how, after all, I thank them because it makes women like my sister and my mother and all my female friends stand out, shine, take a goddamn stand. It makes them reassure how they're women, tough as any motherfucker, treating words like granades, showing with their natural born talents what most men could achive with flamwthrowers. They shift and shape everything they touch and grow as human beings into one natural, ever-lasting mind set.
They fight, they bite and claw and strait up fuck your shit up, if you so much as stand in their way, and they do all this looking like a gabajizzikillfuckyougoodandstrongillion dollars.
I wanted to write about how an exchange student from Korea changed all our lives when she stayed here. My closest friends and myself saw it all unfold right in front of us, this girl looked plain and simple. In the course of her stay, she returned the smile to the face of one of my closest friends, found great ipmortance in the menial things, brightened up each and every single gathering and right before she left, she changed Let It Be by the beatles forever.
I wanted to write about her, about the importance of a woman with actual soul, of a friend just like that which was far away in Germany, about friends near and dear with exhuberant amounts of soul that would soon be far away in Spain. About all the things in between.
But I didn't.
I didn't felt the drive to do so, the need to do so. Just watched the time pass. Winter brought on the rest of the days, and with them came despair and unpleasentness. Now I talk about it to make ammends, because I was beaten, defeated so to speak, except for one single moment throughout all these.
One moment, living continuosly in my heart, going to and fro, with all the people and all the goodness in it. All the fun and fidelity and just, all the brightness of that moment. One moment, in a stage in front of several people.
I write this now, my friend has ling returned from Germany, shortly my other friends will return from Spain. What's done is done, as far as my life is concerned and for every defeat there's just the chance and one victory which made it all worth-while.
