Vol #2, Col #16: Counting…Speech?

In the spirit of the season, last week on that special day on which we traditionally consume copious amounts of turkey (well, tofurky for us vegans), I wanted to publicly display my gratitude…in other words, “give thanks.” As my friends and family are scattered both near and far, it seemed to me that the most obvious way to reach such a dispersed group would be by taking advantage of one of the ever-populating social networking sites, like Facebook.

So there I was composing an epic speech acknowledging that I was appreciative of everything from my man to my cats to the food in my fridge, and just as I went to post it as my status, a nasty little pop-up window appeared informing me that apparently I’m too thankful as I had overshot the character count by some hundred words. Left with no choice, I revised and edited, rephrased and rewrote. By the time I was finally able to post my acclamation, I worried it had both lost its essence and further that people would begin to believe that I was ill-acquainted with the laws of syntax and how they apply to the English language (ie: I had to remove all apostrophes and other proper grammatical markers, as well as use the digital form for all numeric references even if they were below the number ten just to make it fit).

Luckily, my loved ones understood – they’ve always known me to be a verbose creature – but this whole ordeal got me ruminating and I came to the following conclusion (as posted on my wall directly below my FB status, and yes I’m quoting myself): “I suppose it’s a rather sad reflection on modern society if most people CAN compile their complex thoughts into such restrictive word limits OR that further most people WON’T devote time to reading something that exceeds said word limits.”

Now the ironic part about my conception of this conviction is that throughout my highschool academic career (something to which my mom can contest), anytime I could get my hands on Cliffs Notes instead of actually delving into real literature, I would jump on the opportunity; the only exceptions being for works of my lovers from beyond the grave Billy S. and the man who told tales of all-telling hearts (I know, further ironic – these are two authors that most highschoolers can’t stand or understand for that matter.). All of this changed however when I hit college…

Perhaps it was a lack of maturity or just a god awful selection of texts (ie: “Death of a Salesman” anyone?!) or a combination of the two, but I truly didn’t begin to appreciate the written word as a “page turner” (thought I’ve always enjoyed writing) until I embarked on my six year post-secondary stint. But my love for books didn’t originate as a consequence of crime fiction, romances, or poetry (though those are all wicked genres). No, it was the textbook, specifically those of the Social Science variety, and later the autobiography that made me re-think my firmly established hatred of literary scholarship.

So why am I telling you this? Well, for starters, it seems to me that it is a rare person indeed who spends their evenings inside simply cuddled up with good books anymore. Oh, we can devote countless hours of watching reality tv shows or worst viral videos, but to appreciate literature or transcribed life stories, well clearly that’s not as worthy of a time investment (note the sarcasm).

Secondly, even when we read, because we have become so ingrained with a “live fast” mentality AND because so much of the information that we now access is electronic in nature, we tend to skim over a lot necessary detail which results in frequent miscommunications (ie: I’m sure all of you have been in a texting war with someone due to misinterpretation of what was being expressed).

While it’s just speculation at the moment, I recently heard that physical book publishing is increasingly going out of style because of the upsurge of handheld device ownership and internet usage in the classroom. In its place, it’s been suggested that the books of the future will be purely electronic in nature, complete with hypertext systems that allow for easy navigation from section to section.

I don’t know about you, but staring at a computer screen for hours on end personally makes me dizzy. Further, I think it’s a fair statement to suggest that intangible works of art (whether mp3s separated from their albums and their artwork or jpeg renderings of da Vinci’s finest) aren’t as valued. Does this mean that the future of Romeo & Juliet is looking even more grim? I certainly hope not!

The truth of the matter is this: you read more and you read more deeply when you have to caress a book’s physicality, just like you appreciate a marvel of nature more in person than in history books. For your own sake as well as the sake of the amazing array of fine literature and philosophical thought we’ve developed throughout the ages, learn to appreciate the art of reading, and no 140 character word-limit tweets don’t count.

Vol #2, Col: #15: From “We’re All in this Together” to “Every Man, Women AND Child for Themselves”!

I’m 26 years old and I’m a member in a union. No, I’m not a mechanic or a tradesperson, nor is my membership mandatory because of the company with which I’m employed. On the contrary, a great deal of persons (particularly those within my demographic) working within my profession, avoid my union like the plague. But I’m not here to try and sell you on the member benefits of the American Federation of Musicians of the United States and Canada (AFM, for short) – you can easily peruse said details for yourself by taking a hop, skip and/or jump over to their official website. Rather, I’m here to question why it is exactly that voluntary unionism is on the decline, and what this means for us good old “worker bees” versus “The Queen”.

For those of you who also read my music advice and insight column, “So You Wanna be in a Rock Band?”, in my discussion of legal provisions I feel professional players should become acquainted with, you’ll note that I briefly mentioned how and why unionism first developed back in the mid-1800s.

In a nutshell, as factory work and industrialism began to grow exponentially, instances of worker exploitation and maltreatment (not to mention a lack thereof of any safety or health protocols) become widespread. The solution (for a long time anyhow) was for the proletariat to bind together in their shared “class consciousness” and collectively fight the powers that be (ie: the bourgeois) in order to negotiate better labour conditions. Unsurprisingly, considering that those with the most political bargaining power tend to be high income earners/contributors (a fact still relevant), union formation has been deemed illegal in many territories throughout history. 

We’ve obviously come a long way since industrialism prevailed, as evidenced by the fact that more and more traditional factories are ceasing operations annually. For the few that have managed to stay afloat, the employment of robotic labour forces is becoming an increasingly popular trend. Further, in recent times, abuses of power committed by unions (as opposed to employers) have created cause for concern: our own city’s bus drivers demanding higher wages during a time of economic depression speaks for itself. Understandably then, I can appreciate why unionism has cultivated a bad reputation as of late and why persons, particularly those my age, have become skeptical toward it, along with virtually any other longstanding “traditional” business practise.

But this drive away from uniting in a “fight against the man” toward taking any and all actions (whether honourable or not) in order to ensure that one comes out ahead also has to do with a social mentality shift. The obsession with being incessantly tuned into one’s iPod that appeals to one’s individualistic selective tastes (and therefore tunes OUT everyone and everything else around oneself), just barely begins to scratch the success.   

Think about it, in addition to caring about the livelihood of one’s fellow employees, being a member of the union also stood as a symbol for taking pride in one’s profession and a desire to be part of a movement that could make a difference in the wider social domain. Much like the way of the Dodo, the idea of collectivism, whether we’re talking about joining forces in a fight for the implementation of legislation that encourages environmentalism or simply having the backs of those within one’s immediate vicinity, seems to have, by and large, gone extinct.

I’ll give you that issues of inflation, high taxation rates, and a lack of permanent/stable jobs available on the marketplace are too key contributors. Ironically however, these social dilemmas – the things that have driven us toward this newfound excessive self-focused mentality – are the very SAME things that union supporters and other social collectives sought to prevent.

Vol #2, Col #14: How about a Little Substance Between all that “Fluff”?

I recently found myself quite bored at my day job. Almost always there’s something for me to do to chip away at the old 9-5 (either work-related or personal). But this past Sunday, with no new client inquiries and prime touring season yet to take hold, I found myself in a situation that proves rare in my life: I had TOO MUCH free time! Anticipating that we wouldn’t get hit with a sudden influx of activity (I had worked the day prior and it was much the same), I planned in advance. From a stack that’s been building up since last April (no word of a lie), I gathered some 10 magazines in hope they would provide me with some amusement as a means to pass the time.

Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I’ve even conceived of having a moment to sit back, relax, and delve into something non-academic or career-oriented; given this, I prepared myself for a very different reading experience, prior to cracking open the spines. While I’ve never held delusions that women’s fashion magazines primarily contain in-depth thoughtful analyses of the modern world, at one point in between the hair colour, acne, and jewelry ads, there was room for cheeky editorials, touching personal stories or at least somewhat interesting featurettes…apparently NOT anymore.

Ad after ad after ad followed by thinly veiled “fluff” pieces for companies no doubt contributing to the magazines’ payroll, and yet MORE ads is what I encountered. Christ, I couldn’t even read the sections regarding health advice, without having products pushed in my direction that would no doubt “cure” the very ailments that were being discussed. Coincidental? I think not!

The sections, however, I found most “interesting” (and I use that term loosely) were those of the “readers’ letters” in which women (and I suppose perhaps the occasional man) sent in their praises for their favourite mags and all they have to offer. Seeing as I’ve previously established that beyond being pimps for consumerism and materialism the magazines collectively lacked altogether in the substance department, I came to the conclusion that these so-called “readers” must too either be on the magazines’ payroll, or at the very least work for the companies who got sweet deals on their advertising rates.

A recent attempt at watching a little on the boobtube proved equally disappointing. My viewing experience, one that was sub-par at best (and I’m talking about when the program was actually ON) ended rather abruptly when I just couldn’t deal with being inundated with commercial, after commercial any longer. If there’s anyone out there my age or younger who STILL listens to the radio by CHOICE (ie: NOT because it plays in the background at your workplace), you’ll find much the same: the sheer volume of campaigns for publicity completely overpower any sense of enjoyment and entertainment the media once offered. Ironically, ads that I once upon a time looked forward to taking in (ie: the “coming attractions” and “coming soon to DVD” trailers that previously held homes on movies you rent from the store) have been for all intents and purposes eliminated!

I will give marketers that in today’s oversaturated and over-stimulated world, reaching let alone maintaining the interest of a given target population is proving increasingly difficult (hence, why we are now seeing annoying efforts to have our social networking sites fully infiltrated with promotions for this thing and the next). With that said however, I’d like to point out there are certain products and services that, at this point, really do NOT need to be promoted, even if they’ve undergone “makeovers” or have had “improvements” made to their model. Perhaps advertisers are aware of this fact and simply don’t want to lose their jobs? Let’s take something as common sense as the razor blade:

Frankly, I personally don’t really care if I’m buying “no name” or store brand so long as I’m getting the specifications I desire fulfilled. Price too, weighs heavily into the equation. Do I really need to see yet another Mach Three or Daisy Razor commercial demonstrating their ever expanding razor heads? Not really. I know what works for me. I know what doesn’t. I can’t be the only one.

This trend toward “OVER-advertising” is certainly not helping any, given our current economic state. People are down and out because of money problems, work stresses, and/or familial discord. Consumerism is championed as the cure. Rather than address the TRUE issues that underlie their malaise, people are being taught they can have it all if they continue to spiral into debt by gratifying their needs in an immediate and superficial manner through impulse buying. Need I point out, in the immortal albeit paraphrased words of The Beatles, “you can’t buy me [or anyone else] love.”    

Vol #2, Col #13: Now That’s Entertainment!

James Dean: Icon. Legend. Tragic. Those were the three main adjectives that came to my mind to describe the “Rebel Without a Cause”, before I had the opportunity to watch his self-titled biopic starring James Franco. After being privy to the film however, it seems my list needs to be amended to also include the term “lucky”.

While there’s no question Dean ensued a great deal of torment in his personal life, in part accountable to his poor relationship with his father, the loss of his mom at a tender nine years of age, not to mention the disallowance to marry the love of his life because of belief differences, if it weren’t for THREE distinct breaks he was handed, I can assure you that at least TWO of the aforementioned terms would have NEVER come to be associated with his namesake…nor would the posthumous Academy Award nominations.

As told by the film, after being disowned and ejected by his pops for dropping out of business school, break numero uno came when Dean set up an informal meeting with broadway-acclaimed actor James Whitmore. Despite having no money to pay for tuition nor formal training beyond appearing in minor roles for his highschool’s drama club, Whitmore, then the headmaster of a prestigious acting academy, took Dean under his wing concluding that those who aspire to be “great” rarely come from fortunate social situations.  

Break two: wishing to pursue in the footsteps of his idol, Marlon Brando, Dean submitted himself for roster consideration to the acting agency famed for representing the former. While the agency’s frontrunner felt that Dean’s unconventional character (ie: he refused to audition for anything other than lead roles) and free-spiritedness (ie: he smoke, drank, and made a habit of street racing) could make him a potential risk to their reputation, the individual granted with “second-in-command” status willingly (AND successfully) took on Dean as a side project, in her spare time, for which she did NOT receive any compensation from the company.      

Finally, and most importantly…When offered the opportunity to audition for a key role in the play, “The Immoralist”, which would prove to be instrumental in both launching him onto the big screen and landing him an exclusive contract with premier movie studio, Warner Brothers, Dean initially showed up unprepared and with broken glasses (due to a drunken haze the night prior) which prevented him from being able to read the script.

Taking an inexplicable liking to Dean, the lead casting director offered him up $10 to have his specs replaced, and instructed him to return later that afternoon for a “do over”. Dean, instead, used the money to eat and memorized the script by running lines with the food vendor. Hours later, Dean waltzed back into the theatre and nailed the part. When asked why his glasses remained cracked, Dean begrudgingly admitted to using the money for grub. As for the casting director’s reaction to the “slap in the face” his generosity had just received? He was nothing more than amused!

Now, I’m reciting this tale to you all in hopes of demonstrating something very important about the entertainment industry: just how much it has changed in the past 60 or so years…and I’m NOT just talking technology (though it plays a major part).

Anyone who has attempted to single-handedly work themselves from the bottom up in this biz is all too acquainted with the reality that you can only get so far, without having an “in.” While this is old news, the expression “no unsolicited materials” is something entirely new, and said expression already is or will become the nemesis of any true contemporary aspiring talent.

Agreed, because of reality T.V., because of Youtube, because of the emphasis on celebrity culture, because of the ever-expanding plethora of social networking sites AND even more largely because of enabling technology, everyone from my neighbour’s grandma to “the crazy cat lady” has somehow convinced themselves they are worthy of their “15 minutes of fame.” While I believe that ALL persons of the world do have something to offer, whether big or small, I do NOT believe that everyone is equipped with the same abilities. In a nutshell, leave “the arts” to those who have proven themselves “artists”.

Given this “over-saturation”, I understand the necessity and desire on the part of industry representatives to choose to exclusively work with fellow companies and individuals who’ve proven themselves in the past. However, as they say, “without risk, there’s no reward”. Don’t kid yourself, economics, anymore, play a major role in this “decision-making process”.

What I’m trying to get at is this: the difference between was happened with Dean (someone unquestionably worthy of his acclaim) and the reality of our current industry can be summated by a simple comparison between his talent/originality and that which is brought to the table by the popstar currently “in vogue” who’s been allotted iconic status who is, in reality, nothing more than a mere amalgamation of the most controversial aspects of Alice Cooper & Madonna…minus the talent. In another nutshell, marketability (and who you’re either sleeping or doing lines with) has come to supersede all else.

Find me contemporary society’s on-screen equivalents of the brooding, yet suave Humphrey Bogart and the sexy without letting it all hang-out Lauren Bacall. Show me a current songwriter who deserves to be recognized among the likes of Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin or Otis Redding. Show me a television program that is able to compel its audiences without having to rely on massive CGI explosions, petty drama, digital enhancements, explicit scenes of “viewer discretion” and the like. Oh wait, you CAN’T…and if you can, I bet my bottom dollar the talents responsible for delivering said real, genuine, and admirable ability likely struggle to get representation.

Vol #2, Col #12: In Defence of P.M.S., a Treatise of the Menstruating Female Mind Intended for the Male Reader

Admittedly, I’m a right bitch one week out of every calendar month. But you know what? I and my fellow females are damn well justified in acting this way.

You try experiencing nausea, cramps, migraines, bloating, sugar cravings, surges in your bodily temperature, and of course, skin breakouts (not to mention the obvious: hormonal changes), and be in a good mood about it!

Worse, even if I have no intentions of ever bearing children, I have the “privilege” of going through this on a monthly basis for a minimum of 40 years...not to mention what comes next (ie: menopause). No word of a lie, there have been times where I’ve been in so much physical pain because of “mother nature”, I’ve been rushed to the emergency room only to have a male physician not understand what I was going through and send me home abruptly without even attempting to entertain my concerns.  

Yes, it’s a fact that women’s pain threshold is much higher than that of men’s (we do have to be able to withstand childbirth you know?), but given that our “monthly friend” makes us weak and fatigued because of the sizable loss of iron from our systems, coupled with the ultra-sensitivity and insecurity that results from our blemished water-retaining appearances, it only makes sense from a psychological perspective that we get depressed, moody and easily stressed out.

If you want a comparable circumstance to which you (ie: my male readers) can even begin to relate, think about what would happen if after a long sweaty trek you got lost in the wilderness with no water or food that would satiate your intense thirst and hunger. You’d start to act a little out of character too! Throw cramps, and everything else unsightly I previously mentioned into the equation, and the pleas of temporary insanity would undoubtedly start being expressed full-force. 

Ah but that’s just it. Men, for the most part, don’t even begin to try and understand what it is women are going through during their periods (YES I SAID IT! OOH WHAT A DIRTY DIRTY WORD!), and therefore are rendered incapable of empathizing. Well fellas, let me let you in on something: if any of you ever intend on getting married in the future, at some juncture you’re going to have to throw away the immature childhood notion that women get “icky”, “gross”, and “bitchy” every 28 or so days, and that you don’t want to hear anything about it, let alone go to the store to pick up feminine supplies or Advil. Fertility (as demonstrated by menarche) is after all vital to carrying on your family’s name, and I have yet to meet a man who craves a “marriage without children”.

The point: in the words of blonde bombshell Marilyn Monroe, “if you can't handle [us] at [our] worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve [us] at [our] best”…see even Marilyn had bad days.

I will give you, however, that most of you are ill-educated when it comes to the subject at hand (the elementary and secondary schools’ educational systems are pathetic, at best, when it comes to explaining this process). So, in order to get a handle on things, this doctor’s recommending a serious heart-to-heart with your sister, best girlfriend, or mother sometime soon. If this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, well then, leave us the fuck alone for a week’s time and no one will get hurt.  

Sometimes, I really think we’d all be better off if villages still practised the tradition of sending away all of their menstruating women to community huts where they can happily bitch, cry for no reason, and suffer together in peace. Girls weekend anyone?