Last Halloween I slaved over my Gaga costume, but it just wasn’t what I wanted it to be in the end. Which one should I be? I HAVE always loved her outfit from the dancing diner scene in Telephone. That way I can somewhat pretend I’m just dressing up as an American gladiator or something and people won’t judge me too hard.
OK, I’m just going to start off abruptly here. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH 50 CENT RIGHT NOW? If he’s just scheming to get publicity before his new movie comes out next year, I think he is a damn genius and should be praised for his social media miracle. He should give seminars. He should go in the history books. And his new movie, Gun, should be played on the big screen!
That’s right, friends, I have recently learned the sad news that Gun (written by and starring the man himself, 50 cent) will be sent straight to DVD. We can’t let this happen, people! I happen to be personally invested in this movie. More specifically, its trailer. My bestie is going to be making it. So as much as I want this to become a cult classic and become a part of everybody’s DVD collection, as long as everybody watches the trailer I’ll be totally happy as well. But let’s just watch the trailer AND the movie, hokay folks? Oh, and just to pique your interest, I’ll give you this little synopsis: A drama set in the world of drug dealing. Tagline, you ask? One Gun. Many Lives Lost.
Oh, and just because I like you guys, here’s the poster:
Also. You MUST start following 50 on twitter. You’ve gotta. His tweets can’t be missed. They’re so good, in fact, that the founder of twitter, @ev, called @50cent and let him know he’s the best thing that has ever happened to twitter. But that’s all according to 50’s twitter. Which is why you should really follow him.
Warning though, 18 and older readers only.
I may or may not have retweeted that.
The past week has brought about a lot of discussion on the true Achilles heel of my generation, the Millennials. The generation that has been the most obsessed over, over processed and over exposed generation to date? Yeah, that’s me. It’s so embarrassing.
Just today, as I clutched my cell phone while huddled in my car in the midst of a giant electric storm in a Target parking lot, I told my father, in complete exasperation, “Just be grateful that you don’t have to live in my generation, Dad. It’s just awful.”
He admitted that nothing could be worse that that.
The New York Times seems to agree. From all its scientific research we can conclude the following: damn it sucks to be them [read: us]. I have been obsessively contemplating the Emerging Adulthood theory brought up in this article. I look at myself, a successful young career woman, and think, I loathe adulthood, it’s nothing but paying bills and cleaning and buying groceries and washing dishes and doing laundry, I do it all, but as I italicized before, I loathe these adult duties.
Slate asked us, “What’s the Matter with Twentysomething Kids Today?” through an exploration of some very successful 20-somethings’ perspectives on their stage in emerging adulthood. I felt of all the participants, I related most to Samantha.
Samantha Henig
I pay my own bills too, Noreen, but I don’t feel like that makes me as an adult. I have plenty of grown-up responsibilities, but I’m not responsible for anyone but myself. If I want to live a totally selfish life (which arguably would still include paying my bills, for the selfish reason of wanting to avoid late fees and keep my utilities running), I can. No one is counting on me, and any wrong moves—romantic, career, financial—only hurt me. It’s that, more than my bank account or job title, that makes me feel like I’m not quite a grown-up. The stakes are just too low. And even though I’m not one for trips to Asia to find myself or whatever, the fact remains that if I wanted to and could afford to take one, there’d be nothing truly standing in my way. Like, say, a hungry toddler.
I do not meet the criteria for a full-fledged adult in one huge way: I am not married and not with child. These were never, in my mind, prerequisites for a successful journey through my 20s. Now I’m left dumbfounded, thinking I have failed to bloom to my full potential in some way or another. However, I’ve found another great validation for my failure to launch into full adulthood. And, unfortunately there’s really no other way to put it: it’s the girl power theory.
The Atlantic knows What’s Really The Matter with 20-somethings. The women don’t need the men anymore.
Women and College
In 1970, women accounted for 36 percent of college graduates. Today they account for the majority. College educated women marry later, have fewer children, and are less likely to view marriage as “financial security,” according to a 2010 Wharton study [PDF]. You can’t explain delayed marriages and older mothers without talking about college.
Well, if that wasn’t like looking into a fortune-telling crystal ball I don’t know what is. Women became fed up with performing manual “adult” labor all day long while the men got to make all the money and become big fancy executives. Screw that. I hate laundry. I hate dishes. Oh wait, I end up doing all of those things anyway because I’m not in the market for a husband or child! We have screwed ourselves over, women, and we’re still not real adults. This sort of thing would happen to a Millennial.
I have one final proposal for the development of the Emerging Adulthood stage. This theory, completely theorized by yours truly, is quite simple. We’re complex. We are digital natives. We want to text and listen to music and check Twitter and watch Anthony Bourdain all the time. We want to surf the web constantly. While we’re talking to you, keeping up a text conversation and playing a Word With Friends game. To put it simply, we all have mild to severe Attention Deficit Disorder.
I can imagine how young adults used to pass the time back in the old days, like say the 80s. They would listen to a record, or maybe watch a movie together — two common activities even these days. But today these simple joys have taken mutant form — I am playing you an iTunes genius playlist via my iPhone however I keep skipping through each song that lasts longer than 3:00 minutes because at that point I’ve lost my patience and can’t wait to see the next song. Or while we’re watching a movie downloaded instantly on Netflix, I might just text all night or concurrently finish somebody off in a virtual Scrabble game. Or comment on my friend’s new Facebook photos. You get what I’m saying here. ADD.
People who have known infinite options and quick fixes all their lives don’t need to commit to things. If some internship or job is unbearable, you get out of that situation and find some new opportunity. Discomfort is not worth the damage it can create — we’ve been conditioned to bail when the times get unbearable. I don’t think my parents felt the limitless options that we do; they found a good job and that was it. Financial stability is important to them, because their own parents grew up on the tail of the great depression. Us Millennials, well, we’ve known and seen opportunity and fortune — and money can’t buy us love or happiness. But joining the Peace Corps can.
Not only was Dobie theatre the home of great indie flicks and and first-runs, but it was the only place on the University of Texas campus where students could really go to the movies. It was really the only option when my friends and I all lived on the UT campus absolutely none of us owned cars. The Dobie was always just a few blocks away, and of course the West Campus frat houses acted as our bars. We were 19. But those early years weren’t even the greatest for me at that place.
The beginning of the spring semester in 2007 was uncannily marvelous. Austin was hit by ice storms. The roads were slippery, and the first few days of school had to be canceled due to inclement weather. And we didn’t know what to do with ourselves!
The first day we had off I stayed inside my 4-bedroom house on Enfield Road, and my roommates and I huddled together on the couch watching Project Runway, I can imagine. By the next day I had to leave the house, I took my chances and drove to Dobie, where I met up with my best pal, Naila, who happened to live in the private Dobie dorms. We walked sockless in ballet flats across the dead, frozen drag and into West Campus to meet up with Jeff. We later walked back to the drag, in hopeless search of an open restaurant. We settled on Austin’s Pizza (literally the ONLY thing open!) and went to see Pan’s Labyrinth at the Dobie Theatre. Because, duh, even in the frozen winter, it was open when everything else was closed.
Goodbye, sweet theater. Thanks for the good times!
It’s been eight months since Apple’s acquisition of Lala, and today CNET reported more disappointing news from the monster tech company: its plans for launching any cloud-based music services in the coming months will not only be “modest in scope,” but will lack key functionality the company had promised to music labels in past meetings. I’ll give you one guess as to what that functionality is — well, actually, I’ll just tell you — users will not be able to store their music on Apple servers. So basically, the service won’t be functional at all.
My question for Apple is simple: WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP? Apple users are patient people to be sure. Patient and masochistic. I admit I tend to gravitate toward using Apple products over its competitors. This is especially true when it comes to laptops. My seemingly retro MacBook (circa 2007) worked flawlessly for three years, but I was in desperate need of a new hard drive. I got that taken care of a few months back and the laptop works like new.
Then came the iPhone. When I switched from a Sprint Instinct to an iPhone I was undeniably blown away by the functionality. But I mean, come on, you gotta admit that was quite the upgrade. Twelve months later and I have grown quite self conscious to be carrying a piece of hardware that’s so unjustifiably proud of its place in the market. In four words: I have Droid envy. My stupid 3G doesn’t have video capabilities and the camera can’t even zoom or flash. My freakin’ Sprint flip phones could do that. Why must Apple keep functionality from its customers?
I believe that Apple has no excuse for keeping cloud-based music services from the public. Not only did they commit a huge burglary of thousands of users’ music libraries by shutting down Lala, but they are preventing the public from technologies that are current, achievable and that should be standard.
Why is there no hope for an Apple music cloud eight months after the Lala acquisition? And why would Apple take away existing growing technology and then stunt its growth? Because Apple’s interest in selling hardware is too high. Why do you think their iPads, iPods and iPhones come in sizes? To get true value out of their products you have to super size your product, because I mean come on, who wants a phone with only 8 gigs of space when you could have 32? And why would Apple take away its own ability to super size its customers?
I think it’s a super-sized travesty. How dare a company call itself innovative and cutting edge when it keeps innovation away from the market just so profits can run higher? Apple’s loyalty is already faltering, and I wouldn’t be surprised if their hold on the phone market is slowly sabotaged by companies who are willing to keep an open perspective and freedom for developers and customers. Oh, and p.s., Google is developing some musical cloud plans of its own. Good for you, Google. May the cloud be with you.
Next time I’m looking to pop an inflated ego I’ll need turn no further than to the New York Times. Or just make sure it’s the end of the month. And yes, I realize that it’s already May but it still feels like April to me, or something. Because then I’ll know it’s time for the monthly shine-light-upon-beautiful-successful-youths piece. Last month it was The Rising Stars of Gossip Blogs. This particular article hit too close to home. I read through the name of contempt, high-and-mighty bloggers posing for their NYT photo shoot, who were probably dying to reveal the shit-eating grins they kept bottled inside in favor of cool indifference. I suddenly froze on one of the names. The spelling, her face, dear god, my ex-boyfriend’s sister was staring straight at me from inside nytimes.com.
The same girl who’d politely asked 18-year-old me to not address her by name in her comments was now featured in the New York Times. And I was some dweeb lame enough to read an article about rising blog stars in the first place. Where did I go wrong? And what had she done that made her go so right? I’ll admit, it’s a fantastic blog my ex’s sister runs, but that’s not THE POINT. The point is, I need to not personally know the current bloggette star clogging up the NYT’s traffic. Mainly because it just freaks me out.
Today the blow came in New York Times Magazine form. A bigger beast in almost every way. The article, titled All the Obama 20-Somethings brought about inspiration more than jealousy. And when I talk about inspiration, I mean by Ashley Parker, the author of the piece. Her style refreshed me and her story-telling was too legit to quit. And sadly, when I tried to Google search for her twitter page, all I found were results for Ashley Parker Angel of O-town fame.
No thanks.
And the stories about the young White House assistants were absolutely endearing. They’re just like us, but all fancy! And they get to look at sacred American treasures and hoop it up with the White House staff (if they’ve got the cajones to play, that is). Parker hints that only men are welcome participants on the b-ball court. Boiz Club.
But still, to be writing about such incredible 20-Something in itself makes a person, in my eyes, an incredible 20-Something. Parker gets to describe Obama in her work. What do you do?
“It was as excited as I’d seen anyone since election night, since inauguration,” Favreau later told me. At one point, he saw Axelrod and Gibbs telling Obama some jokes. “He was laughing so hard,” Favreau said. “I’d never seen the president laugh that hard.” Adam Frankel — the history buff of the speechwriting staff — asked if perhaps he could see the Lincoln Bedroom. “Before I knew it, the president was like, ‘Who’s coming on the Lincoln Bedroom tour?’ ” Favreau recalled. Obama showed off the handwritten Gettysburg Address and said, “I’m just here by myself tonight, so you can come in, check everything out.” (Michelle and their two daughters were in New York for the weekend.)
The night ended at close to 1:30 a.m. “We finally realized we should probably let the president go to bed,” Favreau said. Obama thanked them all again and they trickled from the White House residence and into the cool early morning.
A combination of Glee and my ever-flattening sing-along-with-the-radio-voice, I’ve been feeling inspired lately to put my pipes back to work. I happen to know two of my co-workers are former high school show choir nerds as I was. I could sing Alto 2, My other co-works are mezzos I believe, all we need is a soprano. Hell, I guess we could find guys, too. My mind delights in the possibility of forming an a capella group for 20somethings. In Burque. Again, coolest or lamest thing I’ve ever suggested? I don’t know.
But I miss singing! And anyway, these men have received my stamp of approval. Introducing the University of Oregon’s premier male a capella group — On the Rocks. (See above.)
I can’t believe there is a #mediamiragegroupie, y’all. Today I got this tweet that totally blew my mind.
I started thinking that maybe I have been taking my ability to publish whatever I want to my lil’ Web site (keeping it old school until I get called a granny, don’t even care). See that there? I can still say “Web site” here. Suck it, AP Style! (But not really, you know I love you.)
There is a short list of reasons why I have found myself abandoning the blog. I could list them out, but I’ll spare the details. For the most part it comes down to three main causes:
1. I just don’t think anybody’s reading this.
2. I’m bored with blogging about the state of the media.
3. Believe it or not, SXSWi killed my new media mojo.
There I was, a first-time SXSWi attendee. I had high hopes — I was going to watch a keynote by Evan Williams, get my QR code scanned by hundreds of new people that I networked with and my twitter friends list was about to be BLOWN THE FUCK UP! But alas, that’s not how things went down.
Twas the night before SXSWi and I slept at my parents’ condo in Canyon Lake. We ate at the same restaurant we always do for dinner, my parents played on Facebook with their BlackBerries all night, and then I lay awake until deep into the early morning, contemplating my jaunt back to Texas. I should mention that I’d traveled all day from Albuquerque to Austin and woke up very early to vomit-inducing excitement and anxiousness about my trip back to Austin. And when I say vomit-inducing I am being quite literal and serious.
My trip back to Austin was heavily delayed by traffic. I had totally forgotten what it was like to sit bumper-to-bumper for an hour. That sure doesn’t happen in New Mexico.
I finally got my dad’s huge red pick-up to West Campus, and I drove to my default tow-free parking lot in a friend’s apartment complex.
The sun shone brightly across the shady streets that intersect with 30th Street. My skin felt warm and the air felt perfect outside. I hadn’t spoken to my friend yet, but I knew he’d be home. Day one of SXSWi abandoned. I couldn’t bear the thought of being yards away from Tim and not visiting. The thought sickened me. Made me want to vomit. I spent the afternoon sitting in his courtyard and visiting with he and his brand new dog. Wouldn’t trade that day for the world.
I finally went to the festival the next day. I arrived late. I went to panels. Nobody talked to me. I’ll admit I didn’t bust out conversation with others either, but for good reason. It was like a staunch college lecture hall where nobody dare chat with a stranger. I managed small talk at some panels, and on the next day when I wore a low-cut dress I almost instantly regretted it upon entering the Convention Center. My breasts were the focal point of nearly every nerd that crossed my path. The nerd-to-girl ratio was appalling, frightening and disturbing. And every set of eyes that crossed my path and didn’t check out my rack were almost certainly looking at their iPhone screens. Checking their mayor status on Foursquare. Important shit, and shit.
That’s cool though. iPhones are cool. Social media is a powerful tool. HTML5 is going to kick ass. Geo-tagging and QR codes and barcodes and check-ins, they’re all fabulous and fancy. But I’ll be honest with you, after one spin around the trade show I couldn’t help but think, “How in God’s name are all these exhibitors gainfully employed?” How is it possible that there’s a real need for all this garbage? How are virtual services and internet-based tools so valuable to us?
After five-plus hours of attempting to shield cleavage I went home hungry and disappointed. Disappointed by the hype. Or the hype’s inability to live up to itself. The people I’d met either schmoozed me or looked down upon my noob status. Both of which I don’t enjoy. I did have a pleasant run-in with an ex-colleague, but that, of course, is a whole different story. Of course a journalist would be a pleasure to have as company.
But PR people and marketers and all these tech savvy folk in general have a way about them — a way of destroying a gathering of humans and a way of making fascinating technology unattractive to me. They make me want to run away from their group. They only want my friendship if there’s a definite gain for them. Guh, why did I sign up for this shit?!
I have lodged myself into a career that’s full of journalists working hard for a bunch of PR agencies. What does that make us, anyway? Are we still journalists when we constantly have to surrender our AP Style intuition to our client’s fancies? I’d say no, we just edit press releases. We’re working for the dark side now, feeding the PR to journalists. I loved the way new media was used for journalism. I loathe the way it’s used for PR.
I don’t know where the future will take me or anyone else. You included, dear readers. I don’t know where technology will take us either. I don’t know if I need technology to be taken anywhere. I had big hopes and dreams for my digital career, but let’s be honest, Corporate America doesn’t have room for free-thinking new media lovers. It doesn’t have employees who tweet or the flexibility to listen to your ideas. There are a few radicals out there, but for the most part things stay as the way of the establishment. There is an order of things. Everything stays in its place.
Is my place in this established life or in the innovation of the future? Direction is hard to come by these days. Seems like most of us are just trying to get by.
This week I was tipped off to the cutest, most ironic and totally underground Web site I’ve seen in quite some time: hipster puppies. (btw, thanks for the link, @rachelwentcrazy!)
Now I must admit that in general I am much more partial to funny cat pics on the Web, but I’m sorry to inform you that cats just don’t look as funny in hipster clothes as dogs do. However, you be the judge: there’s also hipster kitties for all my fellow cat lovers out there. You’ll find that they just took (internet) famous cats and made them seem like hipsters. But I think those kitties are way too mainstream for the site, IMHO.
Here’s an adorable sampling of the pups.
barney is more concerned with “dynamic range compression” and “the loudness wars” than the fact that he has shitty taste in music
no one is angrier than walter that you can’t buy sparks in san bernardino anymore
for tillie, having a mad men premiere party means dressing up, drinking manhattans and being totally fucking insufferable
trigger says the words “bike culture” out loud at least once a day
butters is going to stand directly in front of you and snap pictures for an hour straight because the perfect shot of dave longstreth isn’t going to take itself
perry could have easily informed the waiter that his order was wrong, but has decided to just write a bad yelp review instead
Check out the rest at http://www.hipsterpuppies.tumblr.com!
In case you missed this story like I did, the Internet has in fact been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. According to Mashable.com, “The nomination was made after a petition by the Italian version of Wired Magazine, which cited the Internet’s contributions to “dialogue, debate and consensus through communication.” Signatories include Iranian activist Shirin Ebadi, and organizers say the nomination will make for a legitimate entry.”
Two nights ago I stumbled upon a letter from Riccardo Luna of Wired Italy to Pete Cashmore of Mashable. He brought up some beautiful points about the internet’s new nature with the rise of social media. It’s like a living, breathing creature propelled by each individual user’s thoughts, hopes, comments and, let’s face it, rants. After reading Luna’s letter I started to feel completely differently about the Web. In my mind it has become like an ocean reef — it’s not in fact an inanimate object, or a Web site or an index of facts, it’s a new, super-human entity, created by us, which can immortalize us forever.
And as noted by Luna, Web access can now be considered a universal right. (After all, if Hillary says it, IT’S TRUE.) Our right to express ourselves on the Web makes its nature more human. Says Luna:
[The] Internet is not about computers, but living. It is the greatest social interface humanity has ever had. It is a weapon of mass construction. As we have put out in the official manifesto of the campaign, “digital culture is promoting a new kind of society through communication and education.” And communication and education are the roots of a peaceful world. One may not see it clearly now, but in the long run, new generations growing up in this increasingly digital world will bring ahead values of cooperation, sharing of knowledge, mutual respect.
The Internet has definitely been an equalizer among us, which I believe has brought a high degree of peace on our fair planet. But when considering whether the ‘net can really win this I question all the violent crimes and murders that have come about from creepy old men stalking young pretty girls through the same social interfaces that connect us all as one race. Can an entity really win the award when it also opens up a playground for pedophiles and killers?
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