Saturday, November 04, 2006
commentary: television
It's very rare that I catch a 20/20 episode (nowadays, though I usually like what I see). I remember growing up that it was what my friends did on Friday nights while I was in church fellowship. Last night's two hour special was on privilege - money, family, but mainly money.
Several topics were touched on briefly throughout the night: nepotism in business (that Ivanka Trump seems pretty likeable), college admissions, celebrity treatment, beauty, money in the justice system and family legacies. All of these are valid topics and could warrant two hour specials on their own, which is why most of the reports left me wanting more, and feeling the slightest disappointment at 20/20's shallow coverage.
The one that incensed me the most (I was venting to Cari about it for a while afterwards) was the half-assed, lighthanded look at money in private university admissions. They interviewed a Cornell president saying that less than 50 percent of their admitted students are admitted based on money or family legacy. But what I wanted to know was what is being done about that? Have any of the students (aka the guy who scored 2400 on his SAT and got rejected from nearly every Ivy League he applied to) fought back? How do they justify it in court, or do they quash it before it reaches litigation?
Living in New York, which has the one of the largest income disparities (see this week's New York Magazine), it is apparent in every day life. There is definitely a difference between the students in my classes with their LV and Gucci purses and those that come in with no-name bottled water labeled "50 cents" on a bright yellow sticker. Living on the border of the ritzy Upper East Side and Spanish Harlem, it's a simple as walking out my door and turning left or right. On the right I find Park Ave., Madison, and the Museum Mile. On the left, noisy subways, snot-nosed children and Chinese food joints.
NY Magazine, in their money issue, did a survey of 100 school teachers, 100 uniformed workers, and 100 suits. Oddly enough, one of the results found was that 23 percent of the service workers considered designer clothes a necessity, while only 19 percent of the suits expressed the same sentiment. Granted, their definitions of "designer clothes" may differ (some people actually think of j. crew as basic...::shudder::), but that just shows the importance people place on appearance here in the City.
The entire survey can be seen on the website (for now). Although it is very NY-centric, it is interesting to see.
Still, I cannot stifle my disappointment with 20/20's shoddy coverage of privilege. They barely touched on deeper issues of how to define privilege, and seemed to justify the privileged point of view more often than the everyman point. Yes, I liked Ivanka Trump, but why spend so much time talking to her when you should be out finding someone who didn't get a promotion that went to the boss's daughter? There are so many more things that matter in conjunction with privilege and wealth that it didn't even attempt to address. So many rich kids get into Ivy Leagues. Did they also excel in a tough high school? What if they earned it? It's possible, but that possibility was completely ignored by 20/20.
Lumping things together to form a theme always runs the risk of being shallow. I'm glad they took a look at the subject, but really, don't you think you owe people real coverage?
Several topics were touched on briefly throughout the night: nepotism in business (that Ivanka Trump seems pretty likeable), college admissions, celebrity treatment, beauty, money in the justice system and family legacies. All of these are valid topics and could warrant two hour specials on their own, which is why most of the reports left me wanting more, and feeling the slightest disappointment at 20/20's shallow coverage.
The one that incensed me the most (I was venting to Cari about it for a while afterwards) was the half-assed, lighthanded look at money in private university admissions. They interviewed a Cornell president saying that less than 50 percent of their admitted students are admitted based on money or family legacy. But what I wanted to know was what is being done about that? Have any of the students (aka the guy who scored 2400 on his SAT and got rejected from nearly every Ivy League he applied to) fought back? How do they justify it in court, or do they quash it before it reaches litigation?
Living in New York, which has the one of the largest income disparities (see this week's New York Magazine), it is apparent in every day life. There is definitely a difference between the students in my classes with their LV and Gucci purses and those that come in with no-name bottled water labeled "50 cents" on a bright yellow sticker. Living on the border of the ritzy Upper East Side and Spanish Harlem, it's a simple as walking out my door and turning left or right. On the right I find Park Ave., Madison, and the Museum Mile. On the left, noisy subways, snot-nosed children and Chinese food joints.
NY Magazine, in their money issue, did a survey of 100 school teachers, 100 uniformed workers, and 100 suits. Oddly enough, one of the results found was that 23 percent of the service workers considered designer clothes a necessity, while only 19 percent of the suits expressed the same sentiment. Granted, their definitions of "designer clothes" may differ (some people actually think of j. crew as basic...::shudder::), but that just shows the importance people place on appearance here in the City.
The entire survey can be seen on the website (for now). Although it is very NY-centric, it is interesting to see.
Still, I cannot stifle my disappointment with 20/20's shoddy coverage of privilege. They barely touched on deeper issues of how to define privilege, and seemed to justify the privileged point of view more often than the everyman point. Yes, I liked Ivanka Trump, but why spend so much time talking to her when you should be out finding someone who didn't get a promotion that went to the boss's daughter? There are so many more things that matter in conjunction with privilege and wealth that it didn't even attempt to address. So many rich kids get into Ivy Leagues. Did they also excel in a tough high school? What if they earned it? It's possible, but that possibility was completely ignored by 20/20.
Lumping things together to form a theme always runs the risk of being shallow. I'm glad they took a look at the subject, but really, don't you think you owe people real coverage?
Friday, November 03, 2006
Where are we going?
So for the past week or so, this blog has turned into a "what am I doing for my wedding" posting area, much to my own chagrin. What this is meant to be is a place to sound off on everything, writing what I want to write about, that someone somewhere will probably be interested in reading about (aka not my own life).
Let's broaden the scope. You've heard of Bridezillas. You may have seen Bridezillas on the WE network (Womens' Entertainment, I assume?). You may have heard Bridezillas on the subway, in a restaurant, and definitely in a bridal salon. But the Bridezilla is a rare form of bride.
For the last week and a half or two weeks, I've gotten involved (to put it nicely) in the knot's message boards. If you don't know what the knot is, ask your girlfriend. She probably knows all about it.
Although I am the first among most my friends to get married, I've always thought of myself as sort of the antithesis of a Bridezilla - I'm pretty easy going, I hate tulle and bows, and Kevin would never let me boss him around (that much). Nothing has changed in that arena, thank goodness.
What I've discovered, however, is the kinder, gentler side of wedding planning. More than just fiancees bitching about planning, FMILs (Future Mother-In-Law), it's more like a support group for people going through the emotional ups and downs of wedding planning. And there are many.
The Orange County, California board, of which I am a fringe member of, has a core of 20 or so girls that go on regularly, network in other non-wedding ways, and plan GTGs (Get Togethers) every so often for all the other "knotties." And they hate drama. Just like me.
They help each other out through FMIL drama, vendor incompetencies, job hunts and long days at work. They are not expressly exclusive, although if one does spend enough time on there, they still may not feel like part of the fold. In addition to the die-hard knotties, there are numerous sometimes-posters and lurkers. I would fall into this second category, not for lack of time spent on the site, but for lack of knowledge of planning in general and unwillingness to insert myself fully into the lives of others I don't know (why would they care what I think? They don't know me. People who know me don't even care what I think.).
As my planning process begins to snowball (I bought paper in the proper color and weight to print sample Save the Dates and Invitations on yesterday), I will no doubt become more immersed, especially when I get back to the good ol' OC. I'm not a convert yet, but believe me, there's more to brides than you might think (although I think a woman is only a bride during the ceremony...before that it's fiancee and afterwards it's wife).
Lesson learned: don't knock it before you try it. People (and groups of people) will surprise you.
Let's broaden the scope. You've heard of Bridezillas. You may have seen Bridezillas on the WE network (Womens' Entertainment, I assume?). You may have heard Bridezillas on the subway, in a restaurant, and definitely in a bridal salon. But the Bridezilla is a rare form of bride.
For the last week and a half or two weeks, I've gotten involved (to put it nicely) in the knot's message boards. If you don't know what the knot is, ask your girlfriend. She probably knows all about it.
Although I am the first among most my friends to get married, I've always thought of myself as sort of the antithesis of a Bridezilla - I'm pretty easy going, I hate tulle and bows, and Kevin would never let me boss him around (that much). Nothing has changed in that arena, thank goodness.
What I've discovered, however, is the kinder, gentler side of wedding planning. More than just fiancees bitching about planning, FMILs (Future Mother-In-Law), it's more like a support group for people going through the emotional ups and downs of wedding planning. And there are many.
The Orange County, California board, of which I am a fringe member of, has a core of 20 or so girls that go on regularly, network in other non-wedding ways, and plan GTGs (Get Togethers) every so often for all the other "knotties." And they hate drama. Just like me.
They help each other out through FMIL drama, vendor incompetencies, job hunts and long days at work. They are not expressly exclusive, although if one does spend enough time on there, they still may not feel like part of the fold. In addition to the die-hard knotties, there are numerous sometimes-posters and lurkers. I would fall into this second category, not for lack of time spent on the site, but for lack of knowledge of planning in general and unwillingness to insert myself fully into the lives of others I don't know (why would they care what I think? They don't know me. People who know me don't even care what I think.).
As my planning process begins to snowball (I bought paper in the proper color and weight to print sample Save the Dates and Invitations on yesterday), I will no doubt become more immersed, especially when I get back to the good ol' OC. I'm not a convert yet, but believe me, there's more to brides than you might think (although I think a woman is only a bride during the ceremony...before that it's fiancee and afterwards it's wife).
Lesson learned: don't knock it before you try it. People (and groups of people) will surprise you.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
t minus 48
Yup. 48 days and counting until I'm back in the sunny OC. Nearly 2/3rds of my countdown has passed...just in the home stretch. Can't wait, although I must admit it's a bit harrowing thinking about finals and grades.
Been brainstorming wedding schtuff. Keeping me busy. More later on joining the cult of knotties on the web (uh...yeah) and pulling my hair out.
Been brainstorming wedding schtuff. Keeping me busy. More later on joining the cult of knotties on the web (uh...yeah) and pulling my hair out.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
A Jolly Yellow Giant
That is what I feel like sometimes here in New York. What? A giant at 5'4? You'd be amazed at how many short people there are in NY. I can actually look over peoples' heads on the subway sometimes.
I've always thought of my height as average. Way back when, in the 1990s sometime, I remember reading somewhere that the average American woman was 5'4 and 130 lbs. It always made me feel good about myself that I was of average height and skinnier than most.
I remember the time in third or fourth grade (can't remember since I had the same teacher for both grades) on school picture day, when we were split into groups of "tall," "medium," and "small." We then arranged ourselves within the groups into descending height order. That was the first year I ever got into the "medium" category. Granted, I was the shortest person in the medium category, but that medium title meant a lot to a 9 year old girl who was shorter than her 7 year old brother (actually, I think we were the same height then...he didn't surpass me until I was in 5th grade).
Even among my Asian friends, I've never been tall. Certainly, I've never been short short, but I've always been average. Average height, average grades, average income. Average, average, average.
In New York, national averages don't mean much. It's a completely different world. Incomes are higher (in general), housing prices are higher (drastically), even McDonald's is more expensive in the City than in the outter boroughs (and I'm not joking).
Up until I moved to New York, I only knew of one guy (non-Asian) that was my age and shorter than me (by a hair) - my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend's best friend, Lance. Suffice it to say, he compensated by driving over 100mph on a regular basis and was training to be a highway patrolman (ironic, anyone?).
I even had a former boss refer to me when talking to my other coworkers as "really tall." He actually estimated me to be 5'7. Funny, because the girl he was talking to was 5'7 or 5'8 and she's several inches taller than me (very noticeable). My boss was even slightly taller than me I think (although maybe not when I had heels on).
My darling friend (and mother to be) Kathleen put it best (not about me but about another friend of hers) - "she reads tall." It refers to people (not just women) who look taller than they are, usually because of size (slimming is also elongating), posture (K's friend was probably a dancer like she was), and overall carriage. Hopefully I fall into the category of people that read tall instead of people that just look distorted.
But for now, I'll just look down at the heads below and smile and smug smile (inside of course).
I've always thought of my height as average. Way back when, in the 1990s sometime, I remember reading somewhere that the average American woman was 5'4 and 130 lbs. It always made me feel good about myself that I was of average height and skinnier than most.
I remember the time in third or fourth grade (can't remember since I had the same teacher for both grades) on school picture day, when we were split into groups of "tall," "medium," and "small." We then arranged ourselves within the groups into descending height order. That was the first year I ever got into the "medium" category. Granted, I was the shortest person in the medium category, but that medium title meant a lot to a 9 year old girl who was shorter than her 7 year old brother (actually, I think we were the same height then...he didn't surpass me until I was in 5th grade).
Even among my Asian friends, I've never been tall. Certainly, I've never been short short, but I've always been average. Average height, average grades, average income. Average, average, average.
In New York, national averages don't mean much. It's a completely different world. Incomes are higher (in general), housing prices are higher (drastically), even McDonald's is more expensive in the City than in the outter boroughs (and I'm not joking).
Up until I moved to New York, I only knew of one guy (non-Asian) that was my age and shorter than me (by a hair) - my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend's best friend, Lance. Suffice it to say, he compensated by driving over 100mph on a regular basis and was training to be a highway patrolman (ironic, anyone?).
I even had a former boss refer to me when talking to my other coworkers as "really tall." He actually estimated me to be 5'7. Funny, because the girl he was talking to was 5'7 or 5'8 and she's several inches taller than me (very noticeable). My boss was even slightly taller than me I think (although maybe not when I had heels on).
My darling friend (and mother to be) Kathleen put it best (not about me but about another friend of hers) - "she reads tall." It refers to people (not just women) who look taller than they are, usually because of size (slimming is also elongating), posture (K's friend was probably a dancer like she was), and overall carriage. Hopefully I fall into the category of people that read tall instead of people that just look distorted.
But for now, I'll just look down at the heads below and smile and smug smile (inside of course).
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
November's Eve
What is it about November that we must celebrate its eve in as much festivity as Christmas Eve? The turning of the leaves, the flip flop of the weather (last week was in the low 50s and today it's suppose to be in the high 60s). Maybe its the warm smell of apple cider or hot tea while sitting in your heated, almost sauna-like city apartment.
Needless to say, I'm staying in today. Not since the Cowboys Cheerleaders costume of 2004 have I gotten into the spirit of Halloween. But I guess I stayed in that night too (the party was at our house). What memories. And how odd to think that just two years later everyone would be in such different places. I have such fond memories of college, and these are the people that made it what it was:
Cari, the beauty pagaent queen: I remember helping her measure her old high school dress before we found a royal purple prom dress at - was it a Marshalls or a Goodwill? - for what, $15?. A crown, ribbon sash, and mask of makeup later, we bowed to the queen.
Jet, the sexy cat: yes, but this was not your typical sexy cat. Cari made a homemade crop top tee and skirt of shiny black pleather. She bought the ears, and we gave her a cute ribbon to tie around her neck like a collar. So cute.
Bena, the devil: the only day of the year she was given permission to walk around with her bra fully exposed (mesh does not a shirt make). The Bena devil meant business, in her suit, and of course miss makeup extraordinaire looked hot (even while looking evil).
Calvin, the indian from the Village People: it's official - Cari and I do not know how to make mens pants. Poor Calvin. Good thing he wore boxers that day. At least the rest of the costume fit. Looked almost professional. heh heh.
Kevin, the sailor: In addition in failing at mens pants, I also cannot make mens shirts (Cari can). Velcro closure, anyone? Ha ha. Inspired by a sailers hat I found at the costume store, I decided to make his costume. Sorry, Kevin, it was so crappy, but at least you looked hot.
Amy. the Renaissance Faire girl: I'm sure there's a more accurate description of her costume, but I'm not sure what type of person from the Renaissance period she was. Amy actually participates in Renaissance Faires and made her own costume (so impressive). Complete with stabbing the inside of Preston's car window on her way home (note to all: don't let friends walk home when drunk even when they live across the street).
Christopher, the golf pro: Cheater cheater - he loves to golf, and I'm sure this is actually what he wears when he does. But it definitely brought some entertainment - he even taught Jetal a thing or two on the strip of grass next to our end unit.
Other costumes of the night: I think Patrick cheated, Armen still has our feather boa and showgirl hat, Joe got to wear eyeliner, Greg was a Crazy 8 (no fair - suit and mask?), Robert was the creepy guy in the corner, and what was Preston?
Fast forward to 2005, when I lived down the street from Greenwich Village's famed Halloween Parade and it was loud outside until all hours of the night (even on a Monday). Watched a little on my way back from work (they were in my way), but nothing special.
Today's plan? Get some errands done, perhaps do some work. Maybe I'll eat an extra bowl of ice cream for good measure.
Needless to say, I'm staying in today. Not since the Cowboys Cheerleaders costume of 2004 have I gotten into the spirit of Halloween. But I guess I stayed in that night too (the party was at our house). What memories. And how odd to think that just two years later everyone would be in such different places. I have such fond memories of college, and these are the people that made it what it was:
Cari, the beauty pagaent queen: I remember helping her measure her old high school dress before we found a royal purple prom dress at - was it a Marshalls or a Goodwill? - for what, $15?. A crown, ribbon sash, and mask of makeup later, we bowed to the queen.
Jet, the sexy cat: yes, but this was not your typical sexy cat. Cari made a homemade crop top tee and skirt of shiny black pleather. She bought the ears, and we gave her a cute ribbon to tie around her neck like a collar. So cute.
Bena, the devil: the only day of the year she was given permission to walk around with her bra fully exposed (mesh does not a shirt make). The Bena devil meant business, in her suit, and of course miss makeup extraordinaire looked hot (even while looking evil).
Calvin, the indian from the Village People: it's official - Cari and I do not know how to make mens pants. Poor Calvin. Good thing he wore boxers that day. At least the rest of the costume fit. Looked almost professional. heh heh.
Kevin, the sailor: In addition in failing at mens pants, I also cannot make mens shirts (Cari can). Velcro closure, anyone? Ha ha. Inspired by a sailers hat I found at the costume store, I decided to make his costume. Sorry, Kevin, it was so crappy, but at least you looked hot.
Amy. the Renaissance Faire girl: I'm sure there's a more accurate description of her costume, but I'm not sure what type of person from the Renaissance period she was. Amy actually participates in Renaissance Faires and made her own costume (so impressive). Complete with stabbing the inside of Preston's car window on her way home (note to all: don't let friends walk home when drunk even when they live across the street).
Christopher, the golf pro: Cheater cheater - he loves to golf, and I'm sure this is actually what he wears when he does. But it definitely brought some entertainment - he even taught Jetal a thing or two on the strip of grass next to our end unit.
Other costumes of the night: I think Patrick cheated, Armen still has our feather boa and showgirl hat, Joe got to wear eyeliner, Greg was a Crazy 8 (no fair - suit and mask?), Robert was the creepy guy in the corner, and what was Preston?
Fast forward to 2005, when I lived down the street from Greenwich Village's famed Halloween Parade and it was loud outside until all hours of the night (even on a Monday). Watched a little on my way back from work (they were in my way), but nothing special.
Today's plan? Get some errands done, perhaps do some work. Maybe I'll eat an extra bowl of ice cream for good measure.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Writers on Parade
So this morning, while Robin Roberts of Good Morning America was interviewing Nicholas Sparks, it hit me. Writers are not actors. They don't really fare so well in front of the camera, especially the ones that have not crossed over into movie versions. In the past month or so, I've seen Roberts interview Danielle Steele, Stephen King, and this morning's guest, author of The Notebook, one of my favorite movies.
Per my previous post on the Steele interview (click on her name above), a writers voice in words can be much different than a writer's vocal intonations. No one would ever call Danielle Steele's writing understated or wallflower-like, but that's certainly how she comes across in person.
Nicholas Sparks, however, was eloquent and amicable, perhaps even more so than Roberts herself (but I'm biased). Several of his books have been made into successful movies, as have Stephen King's (although I don't know that anyone could call King's look heartwarming and friendly).
It's interesting to see that the PR machine for books places the writer into a different world (TV appearances) when the PR machine for performers lets them pretty much do what they do naturally. Obviously any PR requires face time, but rarely do performers have to write their own takes on their films or albums - they just get interviewed and a writer does it for them. Writers on the other hand, can't just write about their books to get the media excited - we're a visual culture.
There are, of course, plenty of writers who are absolutely charming in person (anyone who knows me knows - j/k), but it just goes to show writing a best seller is more than just letting your fingers do the talking.
Per my previous post on the Steele interview (click on her name above), a writers voice in words can be much different than a writer's vocal intonations. No one would ever call Danielle Steele's writing understated or wallflower-like, but that's certainly how she comes across in person.
Nicholas Sparks, however, was eloquent and amicable, perhaps even more so than Roberts herself (but I'm biased). Several of his books have been made into successful movies, as have Stephen King's (although I don't know that anyone could call King's look heartwarming and friendly).
It's interesting to see that the PR machine for books places the writer into a different world (TV appearances) when the PR machine for performers lets them pretty much do what they do naturally. Obviously any PR requires face time, but rarely do performers have to write their own takes on their films or albums - they just get interviewed and a writer does it for them. Writers on the other hand, can't just write about their books to get the media excited - we're a visual culture.
There are, of course, plenty of writers who are absolutely charming in person (anyone who knows me knows - j/k), but it just goes to show writing a best seller is more than just letting your fingers do the talking.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Live from New York...
Unlike many older SNL fans, I cannot remember many cast turnovers. I hail from the generation of Jimmy Fallon, Cheri Oteri and the tail end of Will Ferrell. I have to watch DVDs to catch the classic renditions of Chevy Chase. With the exception of the aforementioned Fallon, this season is the first one that I've seen with a different cast (well, if you count that last year's featured players are now full-blown cast members).
With the ever-revolving door of comedy show casts, the show always changes slightly with each new addition. Each show changes with each new host. Which brings me to...what makes an SNL host? In previous years there have been movie stars, few from the music world, and pretty much, household names. This season, however, as I urged fellow television owners to watch this season's premiere featuring one of my favorites, Dane Cook, the most common reaction was "Who's Dane Cook?"
Not what you'd expect, especially for a season premiere. Last night, Hugh Laurie from the TV show House hosted, and same reaction. Luckily for me I watch a lot of TV, because Laurie hasn't exactly garnered a lot of exposure outside of his television show (although it is a hit and is amazing).
Compare this to last season's hosts, in order of appearance: Steve Carell, John Heder, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Lance Armstrong, Jason Lee, Eva Longoria, Dane Cook, Alec Baldwin, Jack Black, Scarlett Johansson, Peter Sarsgaard, Steve Martin, Natalie Portman, Matt Dillon, Antonio Banderas, Lindsay Lohan, Tom Hanks, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Kevin Spacey. More bling than one of Paris Hilton's cell phones.
Now a little shadowed by spoofy spin-offs 30 Rock and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, one of whom has taken pretty much every cast member that didn't return for this season, has SNL lost its appeal? It's definitely not a tried-and-true conversation opener anymore (at least not in New York), but it's still funny (except for the tasteless Borat sketch last night...I'm still cringing).
So take a chance on the relatively unknown hosts. They may surprise you. At least it'll give you something to talk to me about.
With the ever-revolving door of comedy show casts, the show always changes slightly with each new addition. Each show changes with each new host. Which brings me to...what makes an SNL host? In previous years there have been movie stars, few from the music world, and pretty much, household names. This season, however, as I urged fellow television owners to watch this season's premiere featuring one of my favorites, Dane Cook, the most common reaction was "Who's Dane Cook?"
Not what you'd expect, especially for a season premiere. Last night, Hugh Laurie from the TV show House hosted, and same reaction. Luckily for me I watch a lot of TV, because Laurie hasn't exactly garnered a lot of exposure outside of his television show (although it is a hit and is amazing).
Compare this to last season's hosts, in order of appearance: Steve Carell, John Heder, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Lance Armstrong, Jason Lee, Eva Longoria, Dane Cook, Alec Baldwin, Jack Black, Scarlett Johansson, Peter Sarsgaard, Steve Martin, Natalie Portman, Matt Dillon, Antonio Banderas, Lindsay Lohan, Tom Hanks, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Kevin Spacey. More bling than one of Paris Hilton's cell phones.
Now a little shadowed by spoofy spin-offs 30 Rock and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, one of whom has taken pretty much every cast member that didn't return for this season, has SNL lost its appeal? It's definitely not a tried-and-true conversation opener anymore (at least not in New York), but it's still funny (except for the tasteless Borat sketch last night...I'm still cringing).
So take a chance on the relatively unknown hosts. They may surprise you. At least it'll give you something to talk to me about.
