- I am soon to be in need of a new car and a new phone and some studio lighting, and B and I need a bigger bed. That’s a lot of expensive purchases that ought to be made, but before doing all that, we’re getting a dog. Not a replacement dog, an additional dog. Maude has always seemed like she could use an Evil Minion, and who am I to deny her? She’d make a great Overlord. We’re in the final stages of adopting a 5-year-old chihuahua with a history similar to Maude’s, and I’ll let you know how it goes. There will of course be pictures.
- I saw Shutter Island. It was beautifully acted and shot and the dialogue was good and stuff. The movie started out looking like it was going to be about WWII, post-WWII anti-communist sentiment, and the history of treatments for mental illness. Those are three of my favorite subjects! But then (no spoilers here) the movie turned into something else entirely, and I was disappointed. It’s probably just me, though; I’m sensitive about how mental illnesses are portrayed in fiction.
- I went to whatever SXSW Interactive stuff didn’t require a badge. Which was pretty much everything I wanted to see anyway. I got to spend time with most of my favorite SXSW people and introduce them to B and Maude. I got to help pay tribute to my friend Brad and see 20×2 where they also paid tribute to Brad which made me cry, and so forth. Good times.
- Then I got a cold. This is unsurprising, as I went on a cruise for a week and then worked a lot for a week and then worked/partied for a week. So right now I feel like the critical-thinking part of my brain has shut itself off, which does me no favors at work or when I’m trying to write.
- Oh, yeah, and I WENT ON A CRUISE. I’ll have to tell you about that later because I’m pretty busy dealing with #’s 1 and 4. But it was a lot of fun and a lot of weird.
Lots of homebody shit in this one. February’s usually like that, isn’t it? You guys had better get ready, though, because all the face-meltingly awesome stuff I did on the cruise will be on the list for March!
- made a paper garland for a party
- sewed a hat
- sang the karaoke song I always knew I’d be good at (Yay, I finally found a song list with Brass in Pocket on it!)
- made my own calendar (sort of)
- made a pincushion
- bought a serger (and loved it!)
- sang along with 80’s power ballads until my throat hurt
- used professional lighting for a photography gig
- discovered how much I love watching Chuck
- sewed using oilcloth
- bought a bag from Cinnamon!
So. I’m going on a cruise next week. I know, right?
Here’s how it happened. A cruise isn’t necessarily the vacation I’d choose myself, given a week off and X dollars to spend or whatever. But my close friend Sharlee is turning 30 on March 3rd. To celebrate, her husband Dusty picked out a cruise, got a travel agent, and told all of Sharlee’s friends to call and book it! So I called and booked it. I like to do things I’ve never done before, and I’ve never been on a cruise or to Mexico or on a cruise to Mexico, so here I go. It’ll be Dusty, Sharlee, six of Sharlee’s other friends & family members, and me!
A person of my specific temperament (a bit cynical, often cranky, not good with unfamiliar situations, and frankly kind of a snob) is not especially suited to things like cruises, where there are group activities and large numbers of children and forced hospitality and people with no sense of personal space. I’m reminded of this scene from an episode of Modern Family:
Mitchell: One of my favorite childhood memories was attending the Moscow Marionette Theatre.
Cameron: I grew up one mile away from Missouri’s largest waterslide.
Headleys are more Marionette-Theatre than Missouri’s-Largest-Waterslide. When Megan and I were kids, our parents took us to plays and symphonies, mostly. If we went to something like a baseball game or an amusement park we’d get one diet soda apiece, leave before the traffic got too bad, and eat a sensible dinner at home. I don’t think I ever saw the 9th inning of a live baseball game until I reached adulthood. In other words, the Headley family motto should be: If It’s Going To Be Crowded And Hot, We’ll Just Stay Home And Read A Book.
So I’ve had to do a lot of research and give myself a lot of pep talks for this cruise. I know without a doubt that I’m going to have fun—I love traveling, swimming, trying new things, boats, and spending time with my friends—but I’d like to do so without ever turning into Cranky Alison, or Alison Who Hates Nearly Everyone, or This Music Fucking Sucks Alison. So I found out what my cabin will look like; I made a list of what I’d like to do on and off the boat; I checked what time meals are served, how money is handled, where to wash my clothes, what kind of snacks I can bring, what people usually pack; and I even looked at maps of the ship. I am Prepared.
Sometimes people ask me, “Why can’t you just relax and enjoy things, Alison?” Actually, they ask me that a lot. Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s not in my nature, and I don’t think it ever has been. What I do instead is maintain enough self-awareness to compensate for my high-strung temperament and make sure it doesn’t get in the way.
To prevent Cranky Alison from showing up, I’ve got my own room on the boat. That way I can go to sleep and wake up whenever I want, take all the naps I please, spend as much time alone as I need, and use up all the space in the bathroom. I’m going to bring lots of books, and I’ll make sure my iPod is always charged in case I need to employ some Pixies or Phoenix to clear any bad music out of my head. I’m packing nearly everything I’ve seen suggested: earplugs, duct tape, dramamine, alcohol-based hand sanitizer, woolite, two emergency ponchos, ziploc bags, three kinds of sunscreen, flashlight, string, the works. I even sewed myself a little passport cover.
Here are some weird cruise fears I’m having that my excessive preparation can’t eliminate:
- The book(s) I bring with me won’t be enjoyable (I’m picky), so I’ll be left with nothing to read.
- A wild pack of unsupervised children will throw me overboard.
- I will be forced into a conga line (and I know who’s going to do it).
- The becostumed cruise mascot will make me try to have fun, and I will kill him.
- Someone will stand at the bow of the ship and say that they are king of the world, and I will kill them.
- I will take too long on a shore excursion and miss the boat and have to live in Mexico for awhile.
- I will get fish bites.
- Maude will die while I’m gone.
But those probably won’t happen. What will mostly likely happen is that I will wear a ton of sunscreen, be cranky once or twice for short periods of time, have a lot of fun, and not miss being at work one little tiny bit.
(And yes, I did read David Foster Wallace’s “Shipping Out.” DFW, I’ll be thinking about you, wherever you are.)
ye olde fish in a blender
Dudes, bluishorange.com is 10! I’ve been running this motherfucker ever since February 23, 2000, when I didn’t have any lunch money. Why didn’t I bring lunch with me that day? Why didn’t I go out and buy some food with my bank card? Hell, that office was a whole 10-minute drive from my then-apartment, so why didn’t I just go eat at home? These are questions for the ages, my friends, and we’ll probably never know the answers.
Anyway, here it is, a list of things about 31-year-old me that would surprise 21-year-old me:
- I have not become a professional writer.
- Not being a professional writer does not bother me too much.
- Not being famous does not bother me too much either.
- I knew how to sew, knit, make jewelry, and do a whole host of other craft-related things. If you name it, I can probably figure out how to make it.
- I have not even moved to another state, let alone another country.
- I am still a damn web designer.
- I went to my 10-year high-school reunion and didn’t hate it.
- I own and know how to operate a very nice digital camera, and have been paid for doing so.
- I own and know how to operate a chihuahua.
- I drove all the way around the United States. With the chihuahua.
- IN THE SAME DAMN CAR I HAD IN 2000.
- I recycle.
- My diet consists mostly of vegetables and not pasta flavored with packets of gelatinous cheese-like goo.
- And yet I’m 30 pounds heavier now than I was then.
- I have been to jail.
- I have been to Ecuador.
- This website is still here.
Or maybe the things that would not surprise 21-year-old me are more interesting:
- I am not married.
- I do not own a house.
- I do not have any children.
- It is still very important to me to have a job in which the main goal is not selling people mass-produced stuff they don’t need, or trying to convince them that they need more stuff.
- I’m still sporting more than one hair color at any given time.
- I have not removed any of my piercings.
To celebrate this dubious milestone, I’ve gathered some of my favorite posts into a best-of category. And here’s another thing that might have surprised 21-year-old me: looking through my archives to find those posts was difficult. Looking through my archives is always difficult, really. They’re a record of all the stupid things I’ve done and ill-advised decisions I’ve made and people I wish I hadn’t hurt and people I wish I’d never met in the first place. One’s twenties is the appropriate time for such things to take place, but mine are chronicled on the internet! For everyone to read about in often-cringeworthy prose!
See, 21-year-old Alison? It’s a good thing you’re not famous.
I’m not much of a football fan. When I was a waitress, I’d always volunteer to work on Superbowl Sunday, in hopes that someone would volunteer to work for me on Oscar night. Since then, my Superbowl-watching has been confined to the years when someone I know has a Superbowl party or people come to my house or whatever. Left to my own devices, I spend Superbowl Sundays sewing or knitting or watching DVDs or whatever.
This year my boyfriend wanted to watch the Superbowl, so we invited my sister and her husband over for food, drinks, football-explaining (my boyfriend’s forte) and general mocking (my forte). Dear readers, if you saw the Superbowl, I’m sure that my anger regarding a number of the ads will come as no surprise to you. The message in many of them was: Women are bringing you down, men! Bitches have removed your spine! They’re making you watch vampire TV shows! They’re bossing you around! They’re inferior to a set of tires! It’s time to remedy this by buying stuff and acting like an asshole.
(Side question: Regular Superbowl watchers, is there always this much misogyny in the ads? I don’t remember it being this bad before, but as I said, I’m a sporadic viewer.)
Anyway. The worst, most rage-filled ad as far as I’m concerned was the Dodge Charger one (which you can see here; I’m not going to embed it). I found this clever response to that ad and posted a link to it on Twitter:
A woman I follow on Twitter wrote that she didn’t watch the game, but from what she could tell, the ads were pretty alienating to the female audience. I responded:
Yeah, a LOT of the ads were of the “WOMEN BE SHOPPIN’” variety. Made me wish @sarah_haskins was still doing “Target Women.”
Then I said:
Our superbowl: leftover party food, @meganheadley falls asleep, @luiztauil watches the game, I bitch to @bpriker about sexist commercials.
I got these two replies within two minutes of each other:
@bluishorange yuck. I hope the fallout from the critiques doesn’t further it with “women are too sensitive and can’t take a joke”
@bluishorange I tried bitching about the sexist commercials, but everyone thought I was being an overly sensitive whiner. ARRRG.
It took a lot of exposition for me to make this point, but here it is: Thinking critically about the portrayal of your gender, race, nationality, sexual orientation, etc, in the media does not qualify as being oversensitive. Speaking up about it does not mean you can’t take a joke.
The fact that two people I know worried at nearly the same moment about being thought of as oversensitive whiners is evidence to me that this sort of “Oh, lighten up!” response is still pretty common. Well rest assured, people, I’m not planning to lighten up on this issue anytime soon. It’s not that hard to create TV shows and movies and advertisements that are funny, interesting, enlightening and engaging without insinuating that women are bitches; and it’s up to us, the viewers, to demand that standard.
I’m fortunate to have a boyfriend who is happy to discuss sexist commercials and sexist other things and general feminism with me. He maintains that the ads like the ones aired during this year’s Superbowl are offensive to both sexes: they’re hostile towards women, but they also assume men to be thoughtless, anti-intellectual cads. And I think he’s right. Gentlemen, if you’re part of the “lighten up” contingent, you may want to start evaluating how you’re being portrayed.
P.S. Matt Haughey made a good response video as well:
Parisian Love, Part II from Matt Haughey on Vimeo.
