Friday, April 23, 2010

"If lovin' you is wrong, I don't wanna be right"

ok, my beef today is with the blessed concept (grossly misutilized term, to be more accurate) of being "Real". Capital R for a Reason, here.

I'm watching yet another Reality show (problematic in its own right, I realize! but onwards...), with the morbid curiousity in me awakened anew. At least two people per half hour in any random Reality shoo define themselves as being Real. One yells it out antagonistically at another person, "Hey, I'm just being real! If you can't handle it, it aint my problem!" Another one spouts something about "I'm just keeping it real"..while backing away from committing to any true opinion for herself, instead preaching a cliche to stand in as a Postcard version of the truth unspoken.

What probes my irritated bowel is that using this term is like a free pass to be a royal bitch, or a mean person, or be brutally blunt and go around slinging shit in the airwaves, not worried about where it will land, as long as it's instrumental in hurting people's feelings somehow. It's hypocritical as hell too, a bit like saying, "I'm not one to pass judgement..BUT..." before lunging into a REALLY judgemental diatribe. Uh-huh.. riiiiight. So being Real is about being rude, insensitive, not relegating yourself to using communication skills (you know, Big Girl words) or investing in a little self-knowledge ("Gee. Am I being an unreasonable, insecure person?"), choosing instead to yell or intimidate others, parading around like a giant angry cock swinging at anything standing in its way. "Look out- you're gonna get swiped!"

In that case, let me remain here UN-real in my NeverNeverland of niceness and spare others my Realness. Real, you say? more like really crass, really selfish, really offensive, really petty, and really desperate for any semblance of power*. (*Interestingly, power-trippy types tend to throw this coy little term around like salt on hot, buttery corn).

I propose that what this Really reflects is a national pathology of misguided hostility (ie. road-rage, anyone?) and pedestrian, equestrian (?!), misconceptions about Strength and Power, which can manifest as mismanaged anger (ie. the kind little kids use when they spit at other little kids in the playground), and not healthy aggression (ie. the kind adults use to win the race, or to sue each other's asses, diplomatically). To use aggression correctly is to be able to identify the problem, its true source, how it affects you, and where to direct it to achieve resolution. This is very different than getting all tangled up in the helplessness and frustration of (unidentified) anger. To harness aggression is to make the best of this energy, to propel action and resolution through Righteous Rage, applying this force beyond the means of "survival" (ie. caveman days), and leveraging it towards creativity, passion, drive and other juicy, generally productive things! Being "Real" just don't cut it when it gives license to spout shit outward while remaining ignorant of one's insecurities, and pathologies, etc.

Welcome to the Un-Cola kids - thanks to the boob tube - the facade, the Un-real is being marketed, paraded, and sold to us like it was fresh lemonade on a hot day in July. "This is the new Cool!"

Don't buy it, and don't drink it. This kind of Real don't mean much relative to the origins of the word "real", you know the one with NO capital "R".

werd.

Monday, April 05, 2010

From the Dept. of "Give Me a F* Break"

"Nothing is wrong with you. This is only a dress rehearsal, life is only a test."

It is when everything down to laziness is pathologized. "He's not being an asshole, he has attention-deficit-cheap-bastard syndrome or ADCBS!" It's good to bring attention and awareness to real problems (ie. learning disabilities) but if every time a guy cheats on his wife someone turns around covering him with a shroud of dysfunction ("he is a Sexa-holic") I have to throw my hands up (well, more like throw up..a little bit...in my mouth. but I digress) and ask the gods, "What the fuck?" (rhetorical. still my favourite kind of question). Tiger Woods, or Edwards, or Jesse James (and whoever else is the flavour of the Cheater's Month) is now attending oh-shit-they-caught-my-ass-and-now-I-have-to-do-damage-control-by-prenteding-to-go-to REHAB! (or OSTCMAANIHTDDCBPTGTR). oi to the fucken vey. (as my proverbially extended eyelashes flutter like an exotic bird's for dramatic...em-pha-SIS.)

anyhoo. today I received an unrelated (and belated response) from an ex-date in which he asked if I liked his "new profile". He is possibly trying to 'chum' me up. Yes, well I liked your old one, enough to go out with you. Um, now after rudely rejecting me you are asking if I like the new one...FOR ATTRACTING OTHER PEOPLE, other than me. To that I have to say, "Are you dead inside?". Oh, but no. That is too harsh. Let me guess. It is not this person's fault. He is merely suffering from "I can't believe-the-world-doesn't-revolve-around-my-dick syndrome", or ICBTWDRAMDS.

Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do. The same goes for every time I sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself (instead of productively blogging! :) I am merely a victim of Pathetico-misinformio-misis-POF syndrome*. (*acquired from the POF dating site). Puleeze. Buy some fucken Accountability. I'll have my accountant draw up some charts for you.

ha well, I needed a larff. Might as well get a cheap one here.