Monday, January 17, 2005
I throw my toys around
I don't much feel like writing.
I have this all-pervasive feeling of the calm before the storm. I can't explain it. It's just a feeling of impending doom. It happens sometimes and usually I ignore it, because it's not like I have "ESPN" or anything.
I'm starting to think subversive thoughts about this whole tsunami relief effort. I can't help but think that us Westerners are at least in part paying to keep our vacation hotspots pretty, if not genuinely prosperous. Isn't that really what food aid is about, when you get right down to it?
Giving rice to poor nations who produce their own rice (and Sri Lanka was expecting a bumper crop this year) doesn't boost their economies, all it does is feed the people who would normally be harvesting produce so that they can spend their time and money rebuilding beach bungalos and deluxe resorts for Westerners to stay in.
Would we be devoting this much aid to a country like Nigeria or Kenya if they suffered a natural disaster -- like the droughts which routinely plague sub-Saharan Africa and take many more lives than tsunamis -- or would we simply leave them to their fate? We have, of course, been leaving them to their fate all along, which leads me to believe that we are helping South East Asia with such fervour above all because we LIKE the region. We think it's pretty. We want to continue to visit it, to spend our Christmas vacations there, to go snorkeling off coral reefs and we want to do it all relatively cheaply. We want the infrastructure in place so that we don't have to stay in modest motels or eat rice three times a day or travel by bicycle. We want to sit on their beaches and sip drinks with paper umbrellas in them and tan ourselves in total peace -- and we want the Thais and the Sri Lankans and the Indonesians to continue to live just comfortably enough to continue serving us.
These are my subversive thoughts. And before you crucify me for revealing them just remember how long it took people to question the wisdom of blowing up caves in Afghanistan to avenge that incident with the planes and the towers.
And this is not to say that we shouldn't help people in need, quite the contrary. I gave my $50 to the Red Cross like everyone else. I just think we should consider our own ulterior motives.
In news closer to home (and much more trifling)...
I went to my school's basketball games on Friday, since we were playing the teams from the lame-ass Christian school in the BC Interior, and as such it's highly satisfying to watch our teams beat theirs. Their "university" makes students and teachers sign a contract before they're allowed to work/study there saying they won't engage in any "immoral" behaviour (read: premarital sex, drugs, drinking, homosexuality, fun of any kind). It's all very conservative and right-wing and generally idiotic. They fired a teacher a few years back because he was gay, never mind that that's massively illegal in Canada. In short, they piss me off a lot.
They got their asses royally kicked in all four games, so I was intensely satisfied with that. They didn't disappoint in that regard. I was, however, deeply disappointed to find that the turnout for the women's game was about a quarter of that of the men's game. The men's game had a beer garden and lots of yelling (maybe this is more a result of beer + college guys than anything else) and people were so much more excited about the whole thing. The women played a great game -- they were strong on defense, had more than a few real ace players, and beat those sissy Spartans (perfect name for a Christian team) by more than 15 points. Ok, so they weren't as fast and they weren't as tall as the guys. And they weren't as cocky, which I actually think is an asset. And if no one supports women's sports how can we really justify them not playing at the same level as the men?
An even playing field is something I wish I had growing up. It would have been great if I could have played hardball with my brother and his friends instead of being shuffled into softball, which I hadn't really grown up playing and was only forced to play once they realised I was a girl and therefore couldn't play baseball with the boys. I suppose when I was about twelve or so, but really earlier than that, it was understood that I wouldn't be able to play hardball anymore. This was about the same time I started to go from skinny and little-boy-like to way more like a girl than I ever wanted to be. And right away I wanted it to all go away. I had no interest in everything that came with being a girl -- at twelve, sports were still my best outlet, and I had little to replace them with. The idea of having to wear a bra for the rest of my life was really repulsive at that point, and I think I still viewed it as a kind of temporary inconvenience. Boys were really too immature to respond to me, I was too young to go out on my own, I still hated shopping, and reading was only making me feel more anti-social and physically awkward.
The fact that the no-more-hardball approach was going on at the same time as all this struck me as being somehow fundamentally unfair, and it still does. There was always such a huge crowd at my brother's Little League games -- they did a 50/50 draw every game and the jackpot was always around $300 -- not a bad turnout to watch a bunch of kids hit a ball and run around. They had their own All-Star team and people actually cared when they played a great game or won the championship. Softball was always so bloody low-key in contrast. The rep teams were really good and people bought them decent equipment and they played away games. I admired those girls a lot. But that was a tiny fraction of the perks the boys' rep teams got, and the girls' house softball teams were for the most part severely underfunded and coached by disinterested amateurs who cared very little for the game or for any of the girls' potential. This is probably why I stopped playing when I was about fifteen. It's hard to keep at it when no one cares. You feel like you're fighting a losing battle, and that combined with the insecurity of being a teenage girl was enough to do me in.
It was the same way with all the sports I ever did, and there were a lot of them: hardball, softball, tennis, gymnastics, dance, kickboxing, figure skating, running, sailing, cycling, the list goes on and on. I blame this mostly on myself, but sometimes I wonder if it's all my fault or if I actually had good reason to believe that nobody cared very much for a girl doing sports when she could be doing "girlier" things. Gymnastics was in some ways the worst because it encouraged girls to be girly but somehow physically tough at the same time. At that age, I just couldn't do that. If I was going to be tough I was going to have to do it with a lot of grass stains and bruises and more than a little respect from boys -- not by dressing up in a little leotard and pirouetting on a balance beam.
I'm old enough now to be a better support system for myself, but it doesn't surprise me when I hear about girls dropping out of sports because no one cares whether they're involved or not.
Anyway, end of rant.
On Saturday I went to the stunting club some of the cheerleaders and other crazy individuals go to twice a week. I actually had tons of fun, and got people to help me learn how to do a few things. It's in the gym where I used to take gymnastics when I was much younger (like age 8-11), and I literally had not set foot in the place in ten years. Not much has changed I suppose, except it all looks smaller and my beam skills could use a lot of work. Oh yeah, and my bars, vault, floor, tramp, uh...everything. I'm probably utterly insane to be attempting any of this stuff at the ancient gymnastics age of 21, but my new rule of thumb is to work around rules that prevent me from doing stuff I really want to do. I may not be anywhere near as flexible as I was when I was 11, but there's no reason why it shouldn't come with time. It's not like I'm 60 and am going to hear my bones crack doing a cartwheel.
Cheerleading stuff I have tried (and held):
-hands (girl stands on top of my hands at shoulder level. Then she gets "popped" down and hopefully I catch her before she hits the floor).
-extension (start at hands and straighten arms above head. Like a shoulder press only with a girl).
-chair (my hand goes under girl's butt, which would be more fun if I was a straight guy, my other hand holds her calf/ankle and I balance her up above my head).
-shoulder stand (girl climbs up my legs and stands on my shoulders. Then, somehow, she climbs down again).
I am very bad at chairs. Everything hurts my wrists, and shoulder stands hurt my neck, back, and shoulders. But it's a nice pain, a kind of WOW pain. I'm really surprised that I can lift a girl above my head. They may all be only "five-foot-flat-of-intimidation" and maybe about 100-115 pounds max, but lifting girls is not like lifting anything else. They're living, breathing, and so far very sweet and forgiving creatures who understandably do not want to be dropped on their heads by a newbie.
I'm also getting the gymnastics coach to teach me how to do a back handspring. Who knows how long that'll take, but it's fun.
Went to see Million Dollar Baby tonight. It was kind of Hollywood-conventional, but it also surprised me in parts. There was a lot of blood, which I for some reason didn't expect. I guess I don't watch a lot of boxing movies. It's probably headed for some Oscars, along with the Aviator, which kind of disappoints me since there were much better movies out this year. The really good movies never get the Academy Awards, which is probably a good thing in some ways.
"Brad and Jen" are on the cover of every gossip magazine imaginable. We get that they're photogenic and have money. And talent, though everyone usually forgets about that. No one saw The Good Girl and unfortunately Brad is too cute for most people to consider that he's not a bad actor at all.
Isn't it strange how being pretty actually makes people think less of you? Consider that the next time you want to spend two hours on your hair.
Dag's probably coming out to see me in February. I'm excited but there are still logistics to work out.
Went to Ikea today and got some stuff for my room:
-three lamps, one for my desk and two for the wall -- one is a blue star and the other a yellow moon. They were in the kids' department, which of course is my favourite part of the store. I find it calming, which is disturbing if you've seen Fight Club, and maybe even if you haven't.
-felt markers and plastic neon cups (also for kids, of course)
-bulletin board for my wall.
Okay, but if any of you are still reading you don't care about my occasional consumerist habits. I started this saying I didn't want to write. I'm in denial I suppose.
Thus, I will take my leave.
Gnite.
-N
