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I have no idea why the title is funny to me, but here I am cracking up and drooling all over myself.
Last year around this time, I wrote a blog entry about my spring break. I was going through my self education phase where I felt like I had to watch all the cult classics/wackiest films I could find. I needed to broaden my mind and give myself a bit of culture. I was also thinking of working in film at that time, which I’ve since revised. I’m not sure what I’m going to do in the future, because I all care about is right now. But I digress.
Historically, my spring breaks have sucked. Some sort of evil vortex lies over this time of year.
The first really horrible spring break that I remember was four years ago, when all I did was lay around my room reading. This in itself doesn’t sound too bad, but it actually was a nightmare. It gave me plenty of time to self critize and ask myself what the hell I was doing with my life. And I also learned about time management, which ended up being good. But all in all, it was a very depressing time.
Then we have Freshman year. We were having a holy flood of sorts in Hawaii. Forty days of non stop rain and no sunshine. So spring break starts and I already have a seasonal disorder type thing, due to the lack of sun. My face is also an oil well because of all the moisture. On the fun side, my friend Kim came to visit me. We had some crazy times but there were definitely a couple of low points that I won’t get into now, because it is the past and over with. Let me assure you they were not fun or happy. Looking back, it really wasn’t that bad, but I distinctly remember feeling very gross and sad, mainly due to the fact that the weather was horrible, there was complicated drama, and I was just starting to grow up.
Sophomore year spring break was not exactly an all time low, but let me tell you that it wasn’t an all time high either. My favorite teacher had just drowned to death, leaving his wife and two young children. It’s something that I’m still struggling with. The event threw me into a depression that I didn’t see coming, and I had to work my way out of it on my own, because, first of all, I had no idea that it actually was depression, and second of all, I didn’t tell anybody at the time how I was truly feeling. I kept it inside and had to go through it on my own. I was sad and confused and hurting and slightly unbalanced, but I was able to learn and eventually grow from it in a positive way.
This spring break contained neither dead teachers nor teen drama. It wasn’t a waste, either. It was just there. I had a whole bunch of plans for this break, lots of dreams and hopes for a certain romance, many adventures that were to be had. It turned out that the dreams were more fun to think about than to live. I think I got too caught up in the fantasy of spring break–something that I had so truly convinced myself was reality. I tried to live my dreams, but they just fell flat. I realized that sometimes you want to experience adventures with another person; you can’t always explore by yourself. Here comes the venting: The tall concrete buildings mocked. The streets laughed with their hands covering their mouth. My neighbor died. My finger got slammed in a car door. I went to the doctor for the first time in two years (alone, by choice). They drilled my finger open. I walked out of the emotionally sterile hospital and around town by myself, clouded by the stress of pain and release. I didn’t cry. I read a book about death, and realized that I was still enormously sad about Mr. Johnson. I thought I had figured out death and pain, at least for now. I realized that I was wrong.
Ahh, that’s better.
Books that I read over spring break:
The Brothers Karamazov
Waiting for Godot
Essays in Existentialism
White Noise
End Game
Donorboy
Dry
Possible Side Effects
Sellevision
Moves that I watched over spring break:
If…
Closer
Breakfast at Tiffanys
My Fair Lady
Funny Face
I HEART Huckabees
Easy Rider
Garden State
Wow, that’s not a very good list. Half of those on the list I already saw a million times. I think I should watch more movies again. My old list was way better.
Just letting everyone know that I’m not looking for sympathy or whatever. This is just something that I need to write and let out. Usually my life is wonderful and exciting. Like all things it has it’s lower moments, and I accept that happily (haha, ironic). I love my life. I look forward to getting back to into a momentum and out of this quicksand.
I NEED NEW EXPERIENCES! I NEED SURPRISE! I need to be jarred awake again because somehow I fell asleep!
This is a PSA I made last year with the help of another Punahou student. We made it in about two days, which explains some of the rough edges. In general, though, I think it’s concise and gets to the point we were trying to make: the little things we do add up. I know that my school is a front runner in sustainable education, but we still waste energy in pointless ways. Like it suggested in the video, turning off the lights when no one is in the room, not using an insane amount of paper towels, fixing dripping faucets, turning the air conditioning off occasionally…these are all things that are simple, and just make sense. And they save money (for those of you without moral compasses that need extra motivation).
Just thinking of this reminds me of a story I heard on NPR last weekend. It was about a man who wrote stories about the Great Depression. His parents were poor, and from their experience with the Depression they became obsessive about turning off faucets and lights trying to save money. He ended up inheriting this tendency, and now his children think he’s nuts.
His children are my generation. It’s somewhat ironic that we actually do need to turn off lights and faucets, not to save money, but to save energy. Wastefulness, however glamorous, is never a positive thing.
My generation is wasteful, though. It really does drive me crazy to watch my consumerist peers go mental at post-Christmas sales, or new shipments of fashion to the big corporations that strip the soil of nutrients, salinate the soil, and exploit child labor. It is literally disgusting to know that the brand new shiny clothes we’re wearing are not only filled with toxins, but are made by oppressed peoples just trying to make a living for their families.
It makes me want to wear red and start chanting the Communist Manifesto.
The most tragic part is that I know I’m a filthy hypocrite. I suppose I’m not the worst of them out there, but I can’t say that I didn’t buy that new Lucky jacket I wanted, or that new bag from Red or Dead. I’m a consumer. I’m a teen.
In my own defense, I try desperately to fight this urge to burn cash, and sometimes I win. Or I channel my buying power to something green. For example, I buy organic fair trade jeans and t-shirts, and bamboo materials (which are better for the environment). I also buy my produce from local farmers, and I buy meat that’s organically fed and free range. I’m getting better at turning off my lights, taking shorter showers, and raising awareness. I catch the bus. I try.
I guess that’s all I can do.
But it’s not that hard. Making simple, environmentally-conscious choices really do change the world.
Note: This screen play is in response to the different African-American and female stereotypes that were completely false, and yet widely accepted as fact.
Scene 1: The Morning
Girl (Kat) is sleeping in bed, sleeping lightly. The lights are on, and her computer’s alarm is going off (it’s playing the Beatles “It’s a Hard Days Night”). A woman (Mom) is looking at her.
Mom: Kat! Wake up. You’re going to miss your bus and I’m leaving for work any minute. Are you sick? You look pale.
Kat (yawning): Ahh, I’m getting up. Don’t worry. I feel a lot better today.
Mom: Ok, hurry up! You have ten minutes.
Scene 2: American Literature
Kat is running up the stairs of Pauahi, trying to get to class on time. Her teacher is standing at the head of the class, talking about MLA citations.
Kat: Hi, sorry!
Teacher continues with the lesson. Kat sits down. Scene cuts into later in the class. They are discussing black stereotypes in the 1800’s.
Teacher: So, we talked about all the black stereotypes. The one that we’re going to focus on today is the “Nanny”. The “Nanny” was a plump black woman. She was the one who cleaned, cooked, and organized all the household affairs. She was in control of the family members, and very strong.
Kat: But wait, if the “Nanny” was a powerful and strong woman, doesn’t that go against the typical “woman” stereotype? Isn’t that the exact opposite of what a woman should be back then? And why was the woman so fat and old?
Teacher: Exactly. The “Nanny” was the anti-thesis of the stereotypical white woman. White men liked the stupid helplessness of the white woman, which was part of her sex appeal to them. If the black women were anything like the white women it would go against the purpose of the bad stereotype. They had to make it so the white woman was NOTHING like the black woman. The black woman had to be someone that would follow orders, but still have control of the tasks assigned. It’s sad because often times the black woman was raped and sexually abused by the white male slave owner. But that was, of course, never spoken of.
Teacher (after taking a quick pause): Songs, novels, paintings, and comedians perpetrated these ideas of blacks being inferior to whites. The image of a black person as big lipped, fat, stupid, happy, and subservient was a “common knowledge” type things.
Kat (whispered): I still don’t understand how they could be put down in this way.
Scene 3: A “Dream”
Kat is in the Pauahi Bridge, where she usually hangs out. She is feeling really tired and a bit sick again. She decides to lie down.
Voice over (sleepy voice): It’s ridiculous how pop culture and stereotypes start with one big truth wanting to be made into one big lie. The white population was must have been desperately afraid of the black population. I guess all oppressors are secretly afraid of the ones they oppress.
Camera fades to black as she falls asleep on the carpeted ground.
Kat: What’s that noise?
Kat wakes up on a moving bus. There is a black woman in front of her, quietly sitting while a white man yells at her.
James Blake: Y’all better make it light on yourselves and let me have those seats.
The woman didn’t stand up.
James Blake: Why don’t you stand up?
Rosa Parks: I don’t think I should have to stand up.
James Blake: If you don’t stand up, I’m going to have to call the police.
Rosa Parks: You may do that.
White man sitting in the front: You stubborn nigger! Don’t you know the Jim Crow laws require you to get your fat black ass off of the good seats and move to the back if a white man wants to sit there? Don’t play dumb with me.
Rosa Parks: We all have a right to sit on this seat if we want to. I was here first, sir.
Kat: She was there first. Let her stay.
James Blake (shoots a hateful glance a Kat): Excuse me miss, but this isn’t exactly the place for a woman to make a decision. You go back to your sewing and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.
Kat gets off the bus and walks down the street. There is a large demonstration going on and there is lots of cheering.
Martin Luther King Jr. : But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
Kat (yelling with the crowd): Stereotypes must be broken, and we must do the shattering.
Scene 4: A disease
Kat is seen cheering for Martin Luther King Jr. and then suddenly she is standing alone in a cotton field with black field workers around her. The date is 1789.
Kat: I know where this is.
Field worker #1: How ya doin’ miss? Whatch you doin?
Kat: I’m sorry to bother you, but is this the South?
FW #2: I think you shod go on ova to the big house, right der. Talk to dem white folks.
Kat: Ok, thanks.
White woman (southern accent): Pardon me, miss, who are you?
Kat: I’m Katherine.
White woman: My name is Katherine too! Where are you from? Do you have parents young lady? Or maybe a husband?
Kat: Yes, sorry. Can I ask you a couple questions though?
Katherine: Why, yes, I suppose you can.
Kat: Do you have a black woman as a house slave?
Katherine: Of course I do. Everyone has one of those around.
Kat: Can I meet her?
Katherine (looking disgruntled and confused): I suppose I could take a couple of minutes to show you. Then I have to get back to the sewing.
They walk to the house and into the kitchen where a black woman is slaving over a boiling pot. It’s extremely hot in the kitchen, but she’s still wearing a full house dress that seems to be improperly put on. She’s very pretty. She has a young face, slim waste, clear face, and bright eyes. Her hair has fallen out of a bun.
Katherine: This is our house slave, Tamera.
Kat: Hi Tamera.
Tamera (very shyly): Hello, miss.
A strange noise comes from the cupboard. Kat walks over and opens it.
Kat: What the hell?!
A white man falls out of the cupboard, his pants are down.
White man: I was just looking for some barley.
Katherine (rushed): I have to go finish sewing.
Katherine rushes from the room, very upset. Man starts grabbing Tamera by the hair and swinging her around, hitting her. She is very bloody and her arm looks broken.
Kat: STOP IT! STOP! Tamera, wake up, girl! You don’t have to take this, run away! Be free! WAKE UP!
Scene 5: The Wake
The scene fades into the Pauahi Bridge again. Kat is sleeping on the floor, drooling a little.
Mr. Mindich: Kat, wake up!
Kat (mumbling): Run away… don’t’ hit her… stop…
Mr. Mindich (nudging Kat): Kat, we have class in here, you need to pack it up.
Kat: What? Oh, sorry. I’m ready.
Kat walks away to AP U.S. History. She later learns that all the things she dreamed about were reality at one point for many women. She then learns about the feminist movement, the cult of domesticity, and the civil rights movement.
this weekend. But I got through it, and these things helped me survive:
Much love and good vibes to all.
I’m sick in bed, so I decided to watch a movie (one of my favorites) to cheer me up. This is one of the funniest/scariest scenes in the movie.
Some quotes that stand out for me are
“-Can I trust my habitual mind, or do I need to learn look beneath these things?
-We don’t need to ask these kinds of questions, do we Mom.” [organized religion]
“-What do you do?
-I’m a fireman.
-God bless you! A hero.
-I’m not a hero. We’d all be if we could stop using petroleum.
-God gave us oil! How can God’s gift be bad?” [fossil fuel consumption]
“How did Sudan happen, ma’am? Could it possibly be because of dictatorships that we support for some stupid reason?” [corrupt politics]
I know I’ve blogged about this before, but I LOVE JASON SWARTZMAN. He does all the best movies.
passions to be
remembered, not just
forgotten in the rat
race, this one big face
of society
don’t play with me
don’t hate me
fake me
sexually harass me
cause I am you and you
are
me
there are no boundaries
when you raped me
did you remember
you have a mother who birthed
me
did you remember where
you came from
hearing the drum
of adrenaline
fight it, friend
cause I am you and you
are
me
when you hurt
me
you
hurt your
sanity
did you pay for me?
paid for the minutes
of ecstasy
in between me
dollar bills don’t
fulfill me
but I can’t leave this
it will follow me
and all I have left
are wasted passions
stained white on the
newest fashions
emptiness
inside
cause I am you and you
are me
when you pay for me
you bring hatred to the he
and cheapen the sacred she
I’ve joined the cult of
domesticity
swearing on chastity
before you marry me
cleaning the pantry
before you have sex
with me
raising the children
becoming the anti villain
becoming what you dream for
when you’re work-bored
what you cheat on when your
passion’s bored
feeling these binds on my hands
when I’m stuck at home and
I can’t vote
I can only hope
we don’t have a voice
we don’t have a choice
but speak, sister speak
cause I am you and
you are me
and you have made
my history
we volunteer to stop the violence
hone the campaigns
of more than abstinence
giving voice to the
silence
binding ourselves in an
alliance
of humanity
of men-and-women affinity
leaving behind golden vanity
sexist racist
profanity
and battling anti-organity
holding to truth,
love, and integrity
finding peace above the piles of grimy
blood soaked history
cause I am you and you
are
me
there are no boundaries
The stanzas are different points of view of women and their experiences. None of them are mine directly, but they are from stories that I’ve heard from friends and family. Some of them are historical, like the stanza about the Cult of Domesticity. They were inspired by books I’m reading about women’s suffrage. I haven’t been raped or sexually abused or entered into prostitution. But these things exists, and if I feel compelled to write about them, both to spread awareness, and to express pent up sadness and frustration, then that’s my choice.
This is just a rough draft. I wanted to try out the slam poetry style. I’m probably going to come back and hack away/change a whole bunch of stuff. It’s me tonight wanting to speak up about some things I’ve been thinking about. I originally recorded a podcast telling the story of the women in my family, but it got too personal and I didn’t want to publish private business of people other than myself.
So, allegorically yours,
Lindsea
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