That Year

It's hard for me to believe that just a year ago, I was in Scotland right now (I include the above song because I heard it in a clothing store in Glasgow. Every time I hear this cover, I think of that city). And now, here I am, sitting on my parent's deck, having weird sensations of déjà vu, drinking a gin and tonic, worrying about things (as always), and watching postings come up on Tumblr about the BAFTAS (because, sadly, they are not live-streamed).

I just can't believe it was a year ago.

I've changed so much since then. I've gained and lost so much since then.

Yet some days it feels like it was just yesterday.

And now I miss it more than ever.

Which is why, shortly before the end of the school year, I decided that when I graduate I'm moving to the UK. Unless something un-forseen happens, I plan on finding a flat in London for next September, a city I haven't been to since I was sixteen and have missed ever since. I miss these places, in all honesty, more than I miss some of my friends. I feel like a stranger in my own hometown and, if song lyrics are to be regarded as philosophy, perhaps that means it's time to leave.

I guess I finally decided to post this today, thought I've been meaning to for weeks, because I've hit some sort of resolution. Some of my friends are no longer my friends. Bad things happen, whether you're here or there. It's your life and you should do what you want. And I want to go to London.

Although, goddammit, New York is trying rather hard to seduce me too. :)

The thing is, in one year I'll be leaving Minneapolis.  I love this amazing, brilliant city, but my heart is being called elsewhere. Somewhere I can easily take a cab, where there are so many opportunities to do things I never dreamed of, where I can have good reason to feel like a somebody and a nobody all at once. Minneapolis will always be my first real home, but I'm the sort of person that has more than one. And while I love New York, I feel my heart drawn across the pond for reasons I can't really describe. I just want to experience, long term, what it feels like to be a foreigner. I want to know what it's like to find oneself in a country you weren't born in. I want to make mistakes and sound funny and dream of improbable things. I want to have one of the largest cities in the world become everyday to me and yet never lose its magic.

I want to do something people didn't expect of me. Because I am more than one person's expectations. Maybe I'll be back in Minneapolis after a year or two, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll settle down in London, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll publish a book before I graduate and settle down in Chelsea and live in a posh little flat with a view of the Thames. Maybe I'll be broke and living in Kelvingrove Park in Glasgow. Who knows?

But let's find out, shall we? :D

British Accents

Yesterday in my television class we were talking about PBS and how their programming differs from other American channels. Amidst this talk, we discussed how PBS imports some British shows, like Monty Python's Flying Circus, miniseries, and "low-brow" comedy - and yet all of these shows are seen as very "high-brow." Why? Because people with British accents just sound smarter to us Americans.

I've been thinking about this ever since and it's true. Why this is comes as somewhat as a mystery to me. Maybe it's some sort of residual "we used to be a colony of you and then we went off and did our own thing and got stuck with this weird accent" sort of thing. Maybe, as human accents go, the accents of the UK (because Lord knows there is more than one British accent) just has an intellectual sound to it. Maybe the British are just smarter (they at least, I hope, know that Ash Wednesday falls on a WEDNESDAY unlike several girls in one of my psych classes. And my professor for my Comedy class :P). 

Regardless, members of the United Kingdom, you have an incredible power of the American public. Please don't use it against us.

Double Duty

So, I just started another blog, Martin Freeman is Not a Hedgehog. You should check it out, because it's about a fangirls and celebrities and stuff that I talk about here (but feel should be in a separate space so I can easily find these posts, as I think I'm going to do my senior project on fangirls. Isn't being a CSCL major brilliant?)

HOWEVER, I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS BLOG. NOT IN THE SLIGHTEST. This just means I get to blabber on about cultural stuff that doesn't necessarily relate to my obsession with British celebrities. I think you'll thank me later.

Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl, Part 2

As I was saying, something happened the other day. I became suddenly aware - and obsessed - with a new celebrity.

In case you haven't noticed by his sudden appearance/mention on this blog, it's Benedict Cumberbatch.

Yes, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, poor, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, who has girls declaring themselves to be his future wife because he, unlike so many celebrities fangirls pine over, IS UNMARRIED.

Not that it stops fangirls from obsessing over married celebrities but, you know, the potentiality of this situation not ending tears is slightly less from the fangirl perspective. Here's how it reads to them:

He's not married! He's so talented! He's so handsome - and those cheekbones! And that voice!* If I could meet him - it'd be perfect!

*They always mention his cheekbones. And his voice. Yes, I did bring up his voice before - he sounds like he could be related to Alan Rickman and it's fucking brilliant. But the repetition of the cheekbones thing... yes, he has a very nice facial structure. But talking about slicing tomatoes with his cheekbones... too far, girls. Way too far... 

I had some variation of this thought the other day (minus the cheekbone bit). Part of it ended up in my Sherlock post, as you might have noticed. Which was nothing abnormal - I talk about celebrities. A LOT (and dammit, he DOES have a fabulous name). But I found myself realizing I'd latched on to this fangirl idea of getting married to a celeb. And I freaked.

Okay, a brief history of me as a tween. I began my earliest fangirling when The Lord of the Rings movies came out (Aragorn all the way, baby). And I went pretty hardcore when Gerard Butler played Erik in The Phantom of the Opera. However, I was fourteen, and had absolutely no interest in dating anyone, no matter how wonderful and famous they were. Because I was fourteen and really yet unaware about life in general. Point is, I was not like other teenage girls who were buying shirts that said, "Mrs. Pitt" and "Mrs. Affleck" from Claire's and convinced that somehow, despite the thousands of girls who were wearing those shirts, they were all going to end up married to said celebrities. Even at the age of fourteen, I thought this was baloney.

So somehow, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one, I've regressed immensely, to a prior state I was never actually at (well, there was a sort of similar instance where for a few days I thought I might actually get an acceptance letter to Hogwarts, but that didn't last too long for me. I wasn't feeling too secure about my studious nature at the time).

Here's probably how it happened: I'm on Tumblr, ensconced amongst all these photos of celebrities, and suddenly I start seeing all these posts about peeps being fanatic about their favorite celebrities. It starts to look normal to me, and I find myself slipping in and doing the same thing. I found who Benedict Cumberbatch was in part BECAUSE OF Tumblr. But here's where it went different, where it didn't morph into a previous favorite actor obsession: the first thing that really caught my attention wasn't just a photo; it was a quote from some article where Cumberbatch - according to a Tumblr user quoting the article ("I saw it on the internet, it's definitely true.") - said that his biggest regret was not having kids by the age of 32.

Whomp. Just like that I was suddenly, emotionally attached to a man I've never met. This is not unusual - this has happened a bajillion times. What WAS different was how I reacted to it, that I didn't just care that he was attractive and intelligent and talented; no, I also cared about his emotional well-being on a level I can honestly say I've never reached before for a person I've never met, never seen in person, never in lived in the same country as. That was warning sign number 1.

Warning sign number 2 was spending more time on Tumblr than on anything else - even my fictional writing. Not because I talk to people on there (I really don't; I don't get how that works with just an ask box and a bunch of photos). No, it was because I wanted to see all of these new photos of my new favorite actor and share in the experience of people knowing who he is. And slowly, I realized I was getting jealous of the other people out there who I once sympathized with; where once I felt we bonded, I suddenly felt jealous of; as if they were trying to prove themselves a better fan than me. Big old warning sign number 3.

And then yesterday, I was on Tumblr and I saw this gif set I'd seen before: Cumberbatch dancing to "Thriller" at a party. Only there were a bunch of comments talking about how it had been stolen from a Facebook profile and that it was not meant to be shown to the public. Tumblr people were asking for it to be deleted and not reblogged and to address whoever had originally posted it it. But it was too late. I was incredibly creeped out.

I began wondering... How may of these other photos out there are NOT supposed to be released to the Internet? And not just for Cumberbatch - for Michael Fassbender, David Tennant, etc. etc. etc. What do these guys actually think of their fans? I mean, I want to be a famous writer - how would I feel if people posted this sort of stuff about me? (Freaked. Totally freaked. I'd appreciate it at first but then once I started seeing stuff about me everywhere, I'd totally flip out.) So why would we treat actors any different than we'd treat ourselves?

Because we idolize them. Honestly, if I met one of the actors I've mentioned, I have no idea how I'd react. I can't truly imagine it. Well, I mean I do imagine it but it's not authentic. In my mind, I'm all cool and collected. In reality, I'd probably be having a fit and pass out or just be too nervous to even say anything.

So there's this conundrum here - the want to treat actors like you would anyone else (because, after all, that's probably what they want and if you want hang out with an actor, you don't want to be the crazy one who's built a shrine out of printer paper and teacups in your room), but also the need to respect them, to express your admiration (which then gets totally carried away here). And you get stuck in fangirling.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Well, fangirling is easier than some other options. Let me explain:

1) As I've mentioned before, it's less riskier than actually getting involved in relationships. Here, the only person who can break your heart is reality - and even that can be eluded for an extended period of time.You keep telling yourself that anything is possible and that you could totally wind up marrying someone famous someday. And you keep those voices in your head telling you you're just being silly silent a while longer.

2) It's easier to let it go than fight it, especially if you're in school. I mean, I sat through 30 plus minutes today in a lecture, discussing the flaws in an experiment. 70% of the things students said were confounds WEREN'T and we spent forever discussing why so. Unfortunately for me, I get this stuff within the first five minutes. And for some inexplicable reason, even as a junior, college is boring for me. So I spend the rest of class bored out of my mind and daydreaming, wishing for an escape. It's no wonder that I want to be swept off my feet by some dashing actor.

3) In relation to the first point, there's this predominate feeling that a lot of these fangirls don't have boyfriends and can't get boyfriends, for whatever reasons. Boys ignore them, they get "friend zoned," they just have bad luck... you get the idea. You know my story. So, it's like this decision that since they can't get a normal guy, they might as well reach for the stars and dream of something impossible.

This all sounds rather sad and disturbing and disheartening, I know. I'm sure all fangirls aren't this way, but the more time I spend on Tumblr, the more I see girls like this. It makes me realize that this part of myself - this repression of obsessing with actors, inability to get a normal boyfriend, dreaming of perfection - isn't as abnormal as I'd thought. But now this powerful, potent release is no longer comforting. It's terrifying. I'm no longer alone, but I still feel the urge to run away from myself. I hate myself for acting this way. But I just feel more insecure, more trapped by my own life - trapped by school, trapped by circumstances, trapped by things I have to do but don't want to - and I'm back to wanting to escape as I was before.

And as much as daydreaming can be fun and wonderful, it can also be dangerous. You've got a good picture of why. My friend [X] once said that most of her life is lived in her head, which I found profoundly sad. Not having actual actions, just dreaming out what you want to do rather than actually being able to do it. While the importance of imagination is great, its power can go too far.

Perhaps my want for action is what made this situation different. I had the sudden urge to meet Mister Cumberbatch. Okay, obviously fan girls want to meet all of their favorite celebrities. I want to meet John Barrowman, but more out of a "wow, we'd be great friends; I feel like I already know him" vein. This current case is markedly different. This is more like, "Hey, I know nothing about him, but I feel like I understand him better than anyone else." Which is totally weird. And probably what 80% of other fan girls feel. So tough shit for me.

However, also in combination with this is the whole issue with photos and videos being released that aren't supposed to be, in which I feel the desire to prove that not all fans are not so incredibly creepy. Which is impossible to do while feeling like a creep. So of course I found myself trying to not be creepy, to try to be a fan without being totally mental about it - an elegant, mature adult who just happens to fancy an actor. While all the time, in the back of my mind, I'm trying to figure out how I could get to London and "stumble across" Cumberbatch during the Olympics or something as equally absurd (because, you know, out of 7 million people there plus however many millions will attend the Olympics, I'm going to be able to find ANYONE). It's a like a constant battle, trying to not feel like a tween about this (it's interesting that all the imagery about fangirling comes from young girls. But that's a topic for another time). And now all this self-reflection, and reflecting upon reflection, is a bit much. I've just got a whole lot of words on a page and no clear idea of where to go from here. All I know is that I want to be recognized for who I am, not a mindless, faceless fanatic. So I'm limiting my time on Tumblr, reminding myself that actors or people to (unlike what Max Bialystok might say in The Producers), and that I am young and naive and very good at being both things and that I might as well accept that I'm going to do stupid stuff. But the least I can do is limit the embarrassment I cause for myself and for others. Because these actors I adore so much deserve better than... whatever this attempt at explanation and apologizing this is. Sorry, great thespians, and, while I won't pretend that you're reading this, I extend an apologia for this league of fangirls. And an extra expression of regret to the fine Mr. Cumberbatch as the unknowing example in this RIDICULOUSLY LONG post (many apologies, dear sir... you've been dragged into the realm of cultural theorizing.). And since this really is an on-going tale and I've no idea how to close this, I'm just going to stop... right... here.

Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl

I am in denial that this semester is happening. Really. I just remembered today that I have an essay due in my Comedy class (which sounds like a lot more fun than it actually is) next Thursday. And I have a test on Monday in Research Methods. And I have to find research articles for my Research Methods paper. And I have to accept myself that I'm back in school and that, yes, once again, I have found myself swamped with work and sick and living half of my life in mental fantasies that will never, ever happen - this week's includes John Barrowman singing Cole Porter and Benedict Cumberbatch reading great English literature to me while I curl up all warm and cozy on the couch, sneezing (elegantly and lady-like, as if such sort of sneezing was possible) and drinking Earl Grey tea. Like I said, totally impossible. The best I can do is hole up in Espresso Royale between classes and drink Spanish Lattes and read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Charlotte Bronte and try not to panic over having absolutely no control over this semester. And life in general.

I mean, where the hell is this year going? It just started and already we're in the first full week of February! I'm sitting here, with a watch around my neck, and time's all just ticking by me. It's kind of unnerving.

Oh, and I think I got Mo, [Львица]'s cat, sick. I know that diseases aren't supposed to transfer from human to cat, but Mo slept on my bed last night and it was fantastic and comforting, but now she's sneezing. I just feel like everything I'm trying to do to make things easier for myself backfires.

Like writing this blog. I should totally be doing some homework, or essay writing, or research planning, or internship hunting. But I just can't make myself care about those things right now. I need to stop working for a few minutes, to breathe and relax and tell myself I'm not going to break down (and all in the back of my head, I'm thinking about all the stuff we're talking about in my classes, about how the Industrial Revolution has made us all machine-like and it's freaking me out). I go on Tumblr to chill out and see fun pix of my favorite shows and movies, but instead I just get visually attacked by totally beautiful European men - okay, okay British and a couple Irish men, you win, [Львица] - (Barrowman, Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Colin Firth, Martin Freeman, James McAvoy, the list continues and seems to grow everyday...) and I feel stalker-ish and, well, for lack of a better word, weird.

Let me set this up for you: I have this absurd desire to be famous. Wow, okay, who doesn't, right? Actually, I never used to care about that sort of thing (well, maybe I did, but I'd convinced myself otherwise). Then something happened - A) I realized that 75% of the people I knew in high school didn't know who I was,* B) I wasn't going to be able to me a music teacher and change lives in a small, sweet way like Mr. Holland, and C) If I couldn't do what I originally planned, then dammit I might was well go big and become the next big American writer. Or some shit like that. And people were finally going to appreciate me and care and it didn't matter that most of my teachers couldn't remember my name and I never got asked to Homecoming or Prom and that one little asshole in my AP Psych class insinuated that I'd never get married. No, none of that would matter when I could roll up to our high school reunion as a fucking millionaire and a best-selling author. And that the fact that they never thought I was cool was an utterly moot point. This is not original. I know. But it's how I've felt since graduation, and it's how I still feel now.

* I'll never forget the time [Broadway Baby] was trying to convince me that people liked me and he asked this guy named Sam who was walking by, "Hey, Sam, do you like [La Maga]?" To which he replied, "Who's [La Maga]?" I'm pretty sure this was a common reaction for most people. Even in my graduating class (which had around 400 people, mind you. My school had 2000 students, so maybe I should stop whining and be glad anyone knew me at all).

So I have an obsession with fame. How American. In turn, I have an obsession with famous people (which I have discussed multitudes of times and will continue to discuss, because I'm a CSCL major and that's what we do. And I just have a lot of feelings). I also have an unfortunate trend of thinking that actors who happen to play my favorite characters or characters I grow to love, who are very handsome/charming/dashing, and say something that I happen to agree with are suddenly the EXACT MAN I AM LOOKING FOR IN MY LIFE. I am not alone in this happening - I see it all across Tumblr. Which is a great sort of, "Hey, look, I'm not alone!" tool - which is nice for the first few weeks. But then you - okay, I - started to get creeped out. Because it's just SO MUCH FANGIRLING.

I can understand a little bit. Okay, John Barrowman is one gorgeous man - I have stated that far too much on this blog. In fact, I had a page in which to try to focus some of the fangirling so as not to make a bunch of nonsense posts. But then I looked at it today and thought it was creepy. So sadly, it is no more. You're welcome, John Barrowman. Not that you read this. Unless you do...

See? See what I did there? FANGIRLS THINK THIS ALL THE TIME. They think that their favorite celebrity is secretly reading their blogs. They think that for some reason, Mr. Famous Talented Handsome Celebrity will swoop down from his very busy, hectic life into their very dull, mundane ones and sweep them off their feet to some exquisite life full of roses and awards shows and awesomeness. I am not making fun of fangirls out of spite. Because I find myself wishing for these same things.

And you know another thing that's stupid? Oscar Season and Valentine's Day - two things that should NOT be this close together. For the sake of the fangirls, it's very, very dangerous. I was wondering if anyone's ever tried to crash the Oscars in order to see their favorite actor (probably yes. I feel like it'd be pretty easy - get a nice dress, tell them you're a Baldwin, you're in). Also, Valentine's Day produces a deep melancholia for most people who are of the single state. Which only doubles the power of the fangirl obsession.

I could very easily let myself continue down this path of constantly blogging photos of celebrities I have crushes on and flipping out over them and being totally obsessive, like a little kid watching a puppy in a shop window (wow, nice self-depreciating imagery there, right? Demeaning actors into puppy-like images. I can't decide if that's truthful or too harsh a way of describing this phenomenon). But the other day, something happened. Maybe it's because I'm tired of feeling stuck between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Maybe it's because my mind is being enlightened because of my On Television class. Maybe it's because my fangirling went to a whole new level.

Regardless, this the longest blog I've written this year. But it's a bit too long. So I'm going to continue this in part two. Readers beware.

Byronic Heroes, Fandoms, and Benedict Cumberbatch.

Benedict Cumberbatch.

I love this name. I could say it all day.

I first saw this actor in a film called Creation, which features Paul Bettany as scientist Charles Darwin. I had no idea what Cumberbatch looked like, who he was or really anything about anything and so I don't remember what part he played; I just saw his name in the credits and I was like, "Sweet ass name! I wish I could use that in a book. But probs can't; 'cause he's famous."

Seriously, I am so cute and dumb sometimes in my cluelessness. Actually just dumb.

And then I got a Tumblr and then I realized Benedict Cumberbatch is in fact very, very famous and plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC show Sherlock. And then I realized that I cannot believe that a TV show, portraying Sherlock Holmes in the modern age, has been on for two seasons and I was just now realizing it existed (in my defense, it's a BBC show. And I don't have cable. Or live in the UK). So I of course had to watch it. Which I did, very luckily finding the first episode, "A Study in Pink" on PBS (for free! You go, PBS).

OH. MY. GOD. I know people on Tumblr obsess of this show like there's no tomorrow. And now I see why. IT IS INCREDIBLE. Seriously, I feel like someone reached into my head, dug around for how I envisioned Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, put them in the 21st century and made it all PERFECT.

I know, I know. I'm being a total fan girl after seeing only one episode. I'd apologize but I'm not sorry. However, I would like to explain that this all has a perfectly understandable source. His name is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And created the first fandom.

You see, back when Doyle (WHO WAS SCOTTISH!!!)'s stories first came out in the late 1800s via serial magazine, people got pretty attached. I mean, I think it's perfectly understandable: Holmes is logical, able to solve any case, eccentric, and totally BAMF. Also, he's not so perfect - he's got a bit of a drug habit, is arrogant, not so tact, and admits himself that if things were different, he'd probably be a serial killer. Clearly, the public then agrees with me - Byronic heroes are FUCKING AWESOME.

But the Doyle got tired of writing about Sherlock Holmes. So, trying to write himself out of this quandary, he decided to pen a story in which Holmes is killed by his nemesis, Moriarty. If your favorite character has ever died in any TV show/movie/novel, you can imagine how people reacted.

They, of course, flipped a bitch.

So Doyle had no choice but to resurrect the brilliant Holmes and cleverly find a way he could have survived. And there you have it - the first fandom.

You can probably see why I like Holmes, what with my penchant for Byronic heroes. He's tied with Edward Rochester on my list of hottest fictional characters ever (but I didn't just admit that). Add that to murder mysteries meets science and logic pre-CSI and it is pretty much the most fantastic thing ever. I have read every one of these stories/books twice (except for "A Study in Scarlet," which I just reread a week or so ago, so that makes that one three times read). I've been a total Sherlock Holmes geek since I was 15 or so, and I love how popular Holmes has become (again) in the last few years. I mean, there's a Holmes museum here at the U! (why in Minnesota, I've no idea, but I really have got to check it out some time). Plus there's the Robert Downy Jr/Jude Law Sherlock films, which are pretty good, and a Masterpiece Theater movie with Rupert Everett I saw ages ago which was good too. But I think Sherlock hits the mark best: yes, it's modern, but something about the dynamics between Holmes and Watson, the way the mysteries unfold, the vibe of the tale - it just works. And the way it reflects the original stories is very, very clever.

Also, I feel I am being slowly sucked into the legions of fan girls swooning over Benedict Cumberbatch, obsessing over his eyes, his cheekbones, and declaring that they will marry him (because, somehow, unlike most celebrities fan girls pine after, he is not married). I'm sorry you have crazy fan girls, sir, but you're gorgeous, you're talented, and your voice... Your voice... Here is how Urban Dictionary describes it:

he...has a gorgeous voice 'like a jaguar hiding in a cello'

This is not a lie. Seriously. He's got the same sort of vocal timbre that Alan Rickman has. Which is pretty much amazing.

So there you go: between Doctor Who, Torchwood, and Sherlock, I think I should have enough Byrnoic heroes to obsess over for quite some time. And another British actor to add to my list of favorites - seriously, like 85% of that list contains British or Irish actors. That should tell you something, Hollywood :P (Am I still passively-aggressively upset that Michael Fassbender didn't get nominated for an Oscar and this year is Gary Oldman's first EVER nomination? Oh yeah). But I digress.

Moral of the story: Watch Sherlock. And help me come up with ways in which to say Benedict Cumberbatch in everyday conversation. Because I really freaking love his name.

Dynamic Duos

Okay, I had a minor freak-out Wednesday night about having a loose, festering flap of skin on my gums last night post-wisdom teeth removal but it appears that's all for naught. It was gone by Thursday morning and my jaw is beginning to feel much better - even if eating food is still rather difficult.

Being rather limited to my activities has allowed me to return to back to some good old reading - namely Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series. I've read The Mauritius Command and am working my way through Desolation Island. I'm a little disappointed at the lack of Diana Villiers but maybe that's for the best - she'd probably just make Maturin really upset (more upset at her than he already is now) and make me totally pissed off. So a little break from Villiers drama probably isn't such bad thing for the series.

One things I'm really glad to have back is the epic bromance that is Aubrey and Maturin's relationship (bromance is totally the wrong term for it, but there's only so many times in my day that I get to use it, so forgive me). Seriously, these guys have a fantastic friendship. The way they interact with each other is really amusing and, well, real. They're a really powerful duo, even if they don't always get along, and I think that's one reason I find the books so fascinating.

And being the Doctor Who geek I've become, I can't help comparing Captain Jack Aubrey and Doctor Stephen Maturin to Captain Jack Harkness and the Doctor from Doctor Who. Admittedly, I haven't seen A LOT of Doctor Who with Jack Harkness yet (only season one) but the interaction I've seen so far between the Doctor and Captain Jack is pretty fantastic. Also, picturing a cross-over between the two series is awesome - I think both Captain Jacks would have some pretty fun conversations (especially with Aubrey's tenancies of being a ladies' man, and Harkness being flirtatious with anyone and everyone). And both Doctors would have some pretty great discussions, I think.

Doctor, meet the Doctor. Captain Jack, meet Captain Jack. Let the weirdness of this moment commence.

(Side note - do you know how hard it was to find an picture of Jack in the Doctor together without them snogging? Rather more difficult than I'd presumed :P)

A Christmas Carol (and money murmurings)

Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.

That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.

http://freethoughtblogs.com

This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...

Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).

But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.

Girls who like Boys who like Boys who don't like Bachmann

Here I am, trying so hard to NOT write another "I hate Michele Bachmann so much" post but have epically failed. I mean, things started off better. I was actually going to write about something I disagreed with in The Advocate. But then Rick Perry pissed off the world,  and I was going to start off there. But then [Львица] stumbled across this. And of course, it was back to Bachmann.

Here's the section I found appalling:

Bachmann warned The Lion King was Gay Propaganda: At the November 2004 EdWatch National Education Conference, Bachmann said the “normalization” of homosexuality would lead to “desensitization”: “Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is take a picture of ‘The Lion King’ for instance, and a teacher might say, ‘Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?’ The message is: I’m better at what I do, because I’m gay.”

Basically, I'm going to let Stewie Griffin say what I feel about that. Because words alone aren't going to cut it.

 

I actually forgot that the quote ended that way until I made the pic. Thank you, Stewie, for creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. Bachmann's attempts to keep America from normalizing homosexuality will just make people gay. Yes, that is exactly the point I wanted to make :P

Where I was actually going with this is I kind of loathe Michele Bachmann. It's not that I wish her ill. It's not that I actually want to harm her or any such thing. It's just... the things that she says makes me physically ill and I very much wish she wasn't saying them. Lemme put this in perspective for you.

Before I read this article, I came across one about John Barrowman (thanks to bloggingbarrowman on Tumblr). Now, as the entire universe probably knows by this point, I love this man to the point of being utterly irrational and insane (I'm sorry; he named a his Jack Russell terrier "Captain Jack." If that's not the cutest thing ever, then I don't know what is). Anyway, this article quotes many clever, wonderful things from Barrowman. But this is perhaps one of my favorite:

John is clearly in an impossible situation when it comes to his sexuality. He would like it to not be an issue. He says, 'I'm an actor. Not a gay actor. Is Brad Pitt ever described as a "straight actor"?'

Word. Point is, being gay is not the first thing a lot of actors want to be described as - for reasons we discussed in social psych. Say things like "male nurse" or "black lawyer" or "woman doctor" imply that they are outside the social norms and perpetuate stereotypes. So, using their sexuality as a reason they're better at what they do is... well, flat-out wrong. Or, as [novel killer] said about the subject on Facebook: "Does this mean that Bachmann does view gay people as more talented and thus that is why she seems to not like them? Because that seems to be the only way she could come up with that correlation." Agreed.

Of course, there's a problem with having these concerns so near and dear to my heart. While mentioning this about Bachmann to my dad this morning, the conversation went basically something like this:

Dad: "She's not going to win the nomination anyway, so don't worry about it."
Me: "Yeah, but she's not the only one saying stuff like this."
Dad: "Sure, but I'm more worried about getting four more years of what we have now. That'll really destroy our country."

When you're in an economic crisis, it's difficult to make something like human rights a priority - I sort of touched on this in my politics post. But like I said, I feel like I shouldn't have to choose. Candidates should care about both. But I digress...

And though I have been hating on Bachmann (a lot), something else Barrowman said in that article got me thinking about a TV show that has been troubling me of late:

He was famously rejected for the role of Will in Will & Grace, on the grounds that he was 'too straight'. He rolls his eyes. 'Because I like sports and I like cars, I'm not easy to slot into that "camp" box. To me, it is just pigeonholing. Too easy.'

He believes that the Will & Grace model is a perfect example of what is wrong with the way the big American networks portray 'gayness'.

'If that programme was true to life, Will would have a boyfriend. But they want to perpetrate the myth that he is waiting to be "cured".'

John Barrowman was rejected for the role of Will?! Wow... just wow. I kind of have a special place in my heart for "Will and Grace" because it was the first sitcom I ever seriously watched. And it was the first show I ever saw homosexuals on. But I gotta agree with Barrowman here. I remember one episode - the last episode I watched of it, actually - where Grace wanted to have a baby and for some reason she wanted to have Will's baby and instead of doing artificial insemination, they were going to sleep together. And I was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" It seemed totally wrong to me. Let me have NPH explain why:

via the-slow-show.tumblr

There you go - how simple was that? Will is a gay man. Will would probably never sleep with Grace unless under threat of death - he's her friend, not her friend with benefits, boyfriend, OR A STRAIT MAN AT ALL. Within that moment, the entire show went from being kind of stereotypical but supportive of gay culture to being totally... awkward. I've never felt quite right about that show ever since. 

This is the whole reason why I don't like the term "fag hag" (and thus wrote that post about it) - because it in some ways insinuates that women who are friends with gay men just want to change him into a strait man and sleep with him (not necessarily in that order). That's not to say "fag hag" is always used that way. But that association is one of the major issues I have with it.

So, it seems the pic I used on my post for "fag hag" might be more fitting than I thought. There's some weird, complex stuff at work here - wanting to portray Will in a stereotypically gay way, but getting him to end up with Grace in the end. And making women who are friends with gay men just wanting to actually sleep with him instead of being friends. It's this weird, discordant... mess.

And to add to that mess, I feel like addressing people who keep saying stuff like "I'd totally sleep with [insert name of hot gay celebrity here] if he wasn't gay!" Partly, I feel like it could be too easy to slide back into the "wanting to turn him straight" mess (or have people declare that's what you mean). I also feel like it's not true. Honestly, I'm totally obsessed with John Barrowman because of who he is; I feel like if he were straight, he'd be an entirely different person. So girls out there who have a major crush on a gay man: it's okay. You want to sleep with a gay man. It'll never happen, but neither will sleeping with Brad Pitt. That's the way it goes.

So... this took me a lot longer to write than I thought it would. Mainly because of the Will and Grace tangent. And I still haven't gotten to that article from The Advocate. Dammit. Well, to be continued then...

Another British TV show for the win

So due to my sudden interest in La Cage Aux Folles (and my attempts to find Youtube videos of John Barrowman in a revival of it) I came across these videos. At first I thought it was John Barrowman talking about loose women. And then I realized I'm an idiot and "Loose Women" is the name of a TV show in Britain. Take a look:

 

I guess this show is comparable to the US's The View. Except that I don't think The View has ever been this fun... not that they couldn't be, with a few tweaks. Maybe they should change their name to something subtly controversial - that might be a good start. Loose Women certainly has a nice ring to it. :)

Cineworld

Today during Italian when, for the second day in a row the sub for our professor did not show up, I found myself daydreaming about Scotland once again. (May I note that it's especially weird in college when subs don't show up? Technically students are allowed to leave after 15 minutes if no instructor arrives but if you do this, often you will get yelled at later. Yesterday, we did take advantage of this, but today, we found the film we were supposed to watch on Netflix and watched about 30 minutes of it. We should get extra credit for that, I think :D Especially as the film was quite odd). Anyway, I was sitting there, watching the odd film, thinking about this movie theater we went to on the last day in Scotland (I mentioned it in the post on Captain America, thus it's recently been in my thoughts).

It's called Cineworld City Center and it is apparently the world's tallest cinema (12 stories, baby!). I wish I could find pictures of the inside of this theater because fellow Yanks like myself will be utterly blown away. IT'S INCREDIBLE.

Maybe I've just never been to a really fancy movie theater. I mean, I'm looking up photos online and I keep getting images of Gerard Butler and Ewan McGregor at film premieres. Clearly, this place is kind of a big deal. Now I'm wondering how the likes of me got in there :P

Let me try to explain how incredible this theater is. For one thing, their ticket area takes up a good chunk of the first floor... er, ground floor for you Europeans. None of this pathetic tiny box office area like we have in some American theaters, where you're standing on each other's hair if there's a long line. No, Brits seem to understand that there needs to be ROOM for queuing. Then, there's the fact that they have a STUDENT DISCOUNT. FOR MOVIES. I can't even get a student discount for some museums and theatrical productions in the States, let alone movie theaters! Then there's the floors - there are a million escalators taking you up to each floor, which was a bit baffling for us because there's only two theaters or so per floor (sorry, sorry, American theaters put everything on one level so then our theaters stretch out like a shopping mall. Kudos for you guys for making it classier and more compact, even if the long elevator ride is somewhat dizzying). But once you reach the floor you need, you begin to understand why there's only two theaters per floor. Because the concession areas are BRILLIANT.

It's like... a giant popcorn/soda area along with an candy shop. On each floor. Along with other eatables like pretzels and such. Seriously, if I hadn't been running out of cash and had no idea how much cab fare to the airport was going to cost the next morning, I probably would have splurged on British sweets. I was totally blown away by what the theater was like. Seriously, going to the movies in America is usually not this cool. Maybe because we do it all the time.

I think this is a different theater, but you get the idea of the basic layout and design.

Even watching the movie itself was different. The previews at the beginning were different from American previews (seriously, the ad for Bridesmaids was nothing like the one shown in America). The disclaimers about pirating movies and not letting kids in for adult films were shown more and much more... I don't know, government-y, official sounding. More forceful. And it was different just to hear everything said with a British accent (seemingly minor, but really... for an American, who hears American voices all day long - except when watching British TV - it's kind of weird. Although it does get to the point that when you hear American voices THAT sounds weird).

So, if you're in Glasgow and you have nothing better to do, spend 10 quid or so and enjoy a memorable cinematic experience. And if you don't mind, bring me back some of that candy, please :)

Breakfast of Champions

I decided that, after the email we received from an angry tenant first thing this morning that I should indulge in the closets thing I can get to a British breakfast (as I am totally lacking eggs, sausage and beans in my eatables) - Crunchy Nut cereal and Tesco Earl Grey tea.

As this box proudly announces, Crunch Nut is a brand new Kellogg's cereal - in the States. I had it five years ago in London and have been trying to figure out how to get my hands on it ever since. IT IS DELICIOUS. I'm not a very big cereal fan; in fact I generally try to avoid cereal for breakfast at all costs because it's usually like eating sweetened Styrofoam. But this stuff... this stuff is the shit.

And this tea... I have tried all different kinds of Earl Grey, all different brands. And this is my favorite. It's got the typical bergamot flavor but also a nice smoky overtone. No idea why, but it's delightful. It also reminds me of St. Andrews, Scotland, because I bought it at a Tesco there. It's going to totally suck once the box I have runs out... so for now, I must make the best of it and save it for special occasions. Or mornings with unhappy tenants.

A Yankee on "British" History

Because I'm trying to avoid politics in the United States right now (mainly because I spend too much time thinking about it everywhere but here) I've been reading the BBC news webpage a lot, especially in regards to Scotland.  This article especially caught my eye: 'Britishness' no threat to Scots.

This was a topic we talked about quite a bit on my trip this summer; some of the only history the course covered. I had the good fortune of sitting next to one of the professors we had guest lecture, Nicholas Phillipson of the University of Edinburgh, when our class took him out for drinks after the lecture. He gave us a nice summary of the current political situation in Scotland, which we'd only touched on briefly when discussing the union of Scotland and England in the 18th century. There's been a lot of tension in the past and it's beginning to resurface, now that Scotland has their own parliament again; a tension between people who want to remain part of Great Britain and those who want Scotland to become its own country. Those who want Scotland to separate have formed their own party, the Scottish Nationalist Party (SNP) and things are beginning to heat up, it seems. Especially from what I could glean from Professor Phillipson, this is a BIG issue.

It's interesting when I talk about Scotland here in the States how many people don't realize it ISN'T its own country. There's been success in putting a block between "Britshisness" and Scottish culture so that people - like many Americans - don't quite realize that Scotland isn't its own distinct nation. My professor in my Cultural Studies class went on a tangent the other day while talking about Raymond Williams and how, because Williams was Welsh, he was alienated from British society. My professor then went on to say that people from Wales and Scotland don't think of themselves as English and not even as British; in fact they will take offense if you call them British; they are Scottish or Welsh. His tangent articulated a point I've heard emphasized before, a point that makes politics in the UK incredibly complex and hard to articulate to foreigners. I mean, I'm only going off of what I've read, heard and seen - I am my no means very well versed in this political situation. Mainly because I'm not Scottish...

This Professor Mitchell in the BBC article makes an interesting point, saying that the Scottish identity is strong enough to not be under any threat from "Britishness" now. I mean, he could be right... but I feel like there still some pretty strong feelings towards Britain and that there will be no simple acceptance of being British for some. And this isn't even taking into account the issues of Northern Ireland or Wales (that's right, Wales is in this boat too. They might seem like the quite, peaceful ones who never really rebelled in the past. But even on the BBC they articles published in Welsh - their personal culture is WAY important to them, so it definitely matters). It's a weird situation - a post-colonial, post-imperialistic aftermath where it isn't clear what should happen. Professor Mitchell is right in saying that their is a link between Scotland and the UK but saying they have a "common past" may not sit so well with some. They do share a past but the way the two sides see it is incredibly different. I hope they can find some common ground, but I also don't think that necessarily means Scotland remaining part of the big GB. But then again, I'm a Yank - revolting against the British is in my history.

Which brings me to another interesting BBC article... Is the US Declaration of Independence Illegal?

This article discusses how American and British lawyers are discussing the legality of the Declaration. Meaning was or was it not illegal?

Um... really? We're arguing this? I didn't realize there was any doubt.

Yeah, pretty sure this is NOT how the war went down...

OF COURSE IT WAS ILLEGAL. We were rebels. The only reason America is America and not part of Great Britain is because some how we won the war, not because the document that Jefferson wrote up, stemming off of John Locke, was viewed as totally legit. Does any American really think that the Declaration was viewed as anything other than crap by the king of England? I mean, yeah, it's important to Americans BECAUSE WE'RE AMERICANS and it was our way of putting, in writing, that we were done with England. (It's like changing your relationship status on Facebook, for all of you who feel like that this metaphor relates better than anything else I can come up with. And to totally make the Revolution sound like a break-up. Wow, reminded me NOT to become a history teacher.) (Also, what's with calling the American Revolution the "War of Independence?" Apparently that's what us Yanks are supposed to be calling it these days. But it was a revolution! We revolted! There was death and war and stuff! It wasn't pretty! We should remember that... and honestly, American Revolution sounds more badass.) Of course the Declaration wasn't the final straw for England. They didn't freak out and say, "Oh my God! They wrote a paper! They must really mean business!" No, it was the toll from the war that led to an American victory...and some assistance from the French. Who later had their own rebellion. But that's another story.

Point is, we were doing something totally batshit crazy by saying we no longer belonged to Britain. Somehow, it worked, and we take great pride in it. Which every once in a while makes things a bit awkward with our friends across the pond. Maybe that's why I'm so interested in Scotland wanting to separate from England/Britain/UK... whatever I should be referring to them as at this point. Because things are getting so complicated with these identities. I mean, how do the English even see themselves now? Do they see themselves as one with Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland? Or do they see themselves as distinct too? I don't know... something to look into, once again...

Daydreamer

I'm feeling a bit inspired by another post I came across today: Footwear as Political Salve and [Львица]'s post on Zachary Quinto. So I feel like talking about daydreaming myself. Especially since today's daydreaming consisted of meeting a hot celebrity (which is generally how my ludicrous daydreams seem to go).

I seriously spent like half of today thinking about meeting this guy:

*smolder* I'm John Barrowman.*smolder*

Yep. Thank you, Torchwood, for making me a John Barrowman fan girl. I am now way too emotionally attached to a TV show few people in this country has heard of, photo-stalking celebrities once more, and have fallen again for a taken gay man. I'm sure Barrowman would be just thrilled to know he has a crazy, single straight white girl blogging about him (hey, crazy single straight white girl wouldn't be a bad title for a book...)

Anyway... God, I can't think with this picture on screen. It's terribly distracting. I don't even remember why I wrote this post anymore. Oh yeah, I remember why...

This is from barrowmanilove, a Tumblr page discovered by [Львица]. This conversation,  posted under one of the millions of pictures on the blog, is between barrowmanilove and another Tumblr fan/follower:

barrowmanilove: Sigh… I wanna passionately make out with John Barrowman…….*pout*

phantomjoy: You and me both darlin’ ..you and me both. *sighs*

barrowmanilove: He has been known to kiss a couple ladies to see them blush. ;) 

phantomjoy: yeah, and i wish i were one of those ladies!!

Thanks, barrowmanilove, for putting that idea in my head for the rest of the day. I don't obsess over celebrities to the extend of barrowmanilove... but that doesn't mean I don't obsess at all. I'm blogging about it, goddammit. Clearly it's occupying my thoughts a lot more than other things today. (And a brief note and a tangent; I'm incredibly easily embarrassed. You want to see a lady blush, John Barrowman? All you'd have to do is stand there and I'd be turning redder than a sunburned ginger {my apologies to [Львица] and all other gingers. I couldn't think of any other similes. My brain isn't working so well today if you haven't noticed}.)

Glasses... kilt... puppy in a sweater! Now I think he's just doing this on purpose..

Because I have an overly critical sense of introspection, I of course feel like some sort of pervert for having celebrity crushes. But we've already done this song and dance (see Starstruck). So I won't harp on it again. However, I will awkwardly describe an issue I seem to have. It's called the need to continually be daydreaming about a guy.

See, I've been pretty good about not obsessing over celebrities a ton for a while there. I went through a Paul Bettany obsession after I got back from Scotland, but that was it. It helped me get through the worst of whatever happened between [No-Mr-Darcy] and me. But I swore to myself, no more of the endless needing/clinging to the feeling of crushes, wanting to be in love, etc. I was going to be totally single in my mind and be totally fine with it.

Fail. Total fail.

Not just because I started watching Torchwood. I would have crushed on someone eventually - another actor, a classmate, who knows. But Barrowman is a much better alternative. And he's incredibly good-looking. And I just totally suck at not thinking about being single. I mean, it's like trying not to think of a pink elephant - because then you totally do.

I think this stupid funk I've been in has been greatly due to the fact that I haven't allowed myself stupid daydreams like this. I'm trying to pretend that I'm 100% happy being single when I'm not. And even though it's stupid to compensate with something false, I did feel 200 times better today than I have in quite a while. Less like I'm becoming numb. More like a good old Romantic me and less like a cynical nihilist.

Of course, I'm still not satisfied with that answer. I mean, I still feel like a creep. Lemme put it this way - would you like being in a serious relationship and having people say they want to make out with you all the time? Weird, right?

But considering what I just saw on Facebook like five seconds ago, I'm suddenly really really glad that today was the day I caved in to the hotness that is John Barrowman, as much as it might give me some sort of cognitive dissonance or morality issues. Because I just found out [No-Mr-Darcy] has a girlfriend. Actually I think he got back together with his ex. How about them apples. You know how I feel about that? Relieved. She deserved a second chance. And I could tell just from Facebook that she really f-ing likes him. More than I did. Good for you, girl. I'm glad this saga is done with.

Of course, I'm trapped in another celebrity crush. But what the fuck. Maybe I deserve a little stupid girly fan-girl rampaging. I am my own woman - I know that. So why not kick back and be a bit daft for now? And randomly use British slang...

Promise Me Bold

Laura Marling's "Rest in the Bed" - my new musical obsession. I just can't stop listening to it.

Edward Cullen, this is all your fault...

That is a statement I can't argue with. Touché, U.K. Touché.

Buzzword

I realize that I've been using the term "cultural studies" a shit-ton here (it is one of my majors, after all) but have never properly described it. THAT HAS TOTALLY BEEN ON PURPOSE. I've been scared to even take an attempt at defining it. And here's why.

Cultural Studies is a field of study that evolved sometime after the Industrial Revolution. Some place its birth at the University of Birmingham in the U.K. (remember when I said my interests come full circle? This is the sort of shit I mean. It's the bloody Brits again! :D) Others place it more with Marx. Others go all the way back to Georg Fredrick Hegel. Get to know Hegel's name very well - you may never have heard of him, but he basically created the way we think about history.

Point is, it had a lot to do with the French Revolution, the change in commerce following industrialization and the development of metropolitan life. It's pretty Marxist, so my conservative upbringing is often under my own scrutiny in this class (not to say I am or am not Marxist... my actually political opinions are WAY too complicated to bring up right now). It's also undefinable - really every theorist kind of has his or her own personal take on what makes up culture and what doesn't. Simmel sees culture as turning something that was natural into something labeled by humans, and thus not natural, a sort of process, if you will. There's a lot of stuff about process. Raymond Williams, on the other hand, gives an even vaguer idea of culture, again about process, but this from a historical perspective, as how the idea of culture has changed over time to become what it means now.

This is not a simple thing to study.

The Doctor, God, and Life

So check this out on: How Doctor Who Became My Religion. Not only does it talk about how awesome the TV show is, it also features Craig Ferguson (I love how all of my interests seem interconnected. Like within a few degrees of each other. I wonder where Kevin Bacon fits in...)

Okay, okay, so I don't watch Doctor Who, I watch Torchwood. BUT they are connected. Thus I am kind of almost a Doctor Who fan. I have seen the episode about the weeping angels... but then again so has everyone else.

If anything, I want to watch the show to figure out where Torchwood came from (which I kind of know, it involves Queen Victoria and werewolves... and stuff). But I also feel like it's a show that's popular in the U.S. but not THAT popular. And Craig Ferguson loves it so obviously it's pretty cool.

Of course, some of my friends will say I started watching because they said it was cool or because Craig Ferguson said it was cool (which they' be some percentage right. It gave me initiative). But really what interests me is the bit about Doctor Who is the bit Cracked.com mentions that the show portrays - that we are not alone against evil. And the bit from Ferguson's sketch - about intellect and romance overcoming brute force and cynicism. WELL SIGN ME UP. I need way more of that in my life. Spending all weekend dealing with the remains of stress from school, working at the apartment and general everyday issues only to have [X] call me up with the need to complain about something petty and then suddenly have to go when I want to talk about myself is TOO MUCH. I need HOPE. I need romance and intelligence and faith and goodness to be rewarded at the end of the day. And I can get that in fiction, in sci-fi, in these two British TV shows. And if that makes me a nerd - well, I've always been a nerd. Or as Ryan, a guy in my Italian class said, "Nerds are just passionate. Everyone's a nerd." Damn right. Truer words have never been said. 

Craig Ferguson, I love you

I once again spent my night in a place I wouldn't exactly consider my scene - a casino. But not for gambling, no, not for that. Instead, I saw a comedy show featuring Craig Ferguson, a FANTASTIC Scottish comedian who hosts "The Late Late Show" on CBS and was on 'The Drew Carey Show." It was basically a dream come true, as I have been dying to see him since about... oh, junior year of high school? I have long believed that he is the funniest man in the universe. And this show reaffirmed this belief.

The show opened with a guy named Randy Kagan, who was super funny. Not as funny as Craig, but still fantastic in his own right. Then Craig Ferguson... ah, Craig Ferguson. If you can survive a rough Glaswegian childhood and alcoholism and still be this goddamn happy and funny, then you, my friend, are AMAZING. I just don't know how he does it. He starts off with a topic, then goes off on this tangent and, by the end of the show, he's back to where he started. It's incredible. And you're laughing so hard the entire time your sides ache. This guy can tell you a story about drinking 12 pints of Guinness and then taking acid and, while being completely honest about the situation, still make it humorous without sugar coating anything. I've heard comedy called tragedy plus someone that's not you, but I think maybe there's something a little bit deeper than that to really good humor. Something more sincere and emotional.

But whatever, I'm getting way too Oprah here. The point is, I had a not-so-great week. I kept feeling clumsy and exhausted and insecure and finally, FINALLY I feel good again. Somewhere between the jokes about Hitler having a nice ass because of goose-stepping and the bits about how Ren Fests aren't authentic because people have all of their teeth, all the little petty things that bothered me throughout the week evaporated. I'm laughing too hard at Canadian jokes and Craig Ferguson playfully making fun of himself that suddenly, nothing else matters. Douchey landlord? Bah. Awkward social life? Whatever. Being mostly unemployed and having no idea what to do with my life? Not important. Craig Ferguson making me laugh so hard I'm crying? NOTHING ELSE  MATTERS.

That's right, bitch - I know I'm funny

Humor for the win. I highly recommend watching this guy. Like, right now. Get off this blog watch him on Youtube, and laugh your ass off. And if you don't laugh... well, I can't help you there. But tell you what - I'll give you two videos for the price of one: one of my old favs and a random one I just came across. Not the same as seeing him live. But it'll do, it'll do.

CSI: Victorian London

I saw this story in my local paper: Is Scotland Yard guarding Jack the Ripper Secrets? Which I followed up with a story from the LA Times: The Cold, Cold Case of Jack the Ripper.

Ah, yes. The classic, creepy, uncertain story of Jack the Ripper is back in the headlines. I was hoping from some follow-up on BBC to, you know, explain why Scotland Yard might not want to release information. Something more than: "laying everything bare would violate its confidentiality pledge to informants, even those long dead, and undermine recruitment in the present-day fight against terrorism and organized crime. Naming names might even put the snitches' descendants at risk of revenge by the heirs of those who were informed on." Unless the murderer was Al-Qaeda or a mob, I'm not really understanding the terrorism part - some more explanation would be nice, guys. But the issue with the informants, putting their decendents at risk.... Hmm...

You know what this screams? Conspiracy theory time.

I won't lie - as a psychology major, mystery lover and quasi-CSI fan, the Jack the Ripper case has always been interesting to me, as grisly as it is. But most of the theories sounds sort of, well, weak. It was a mad butcher, it was a doctor, it was some German sailor? (that's the claim mentioned in the L.A. Times). But if we're talking that the heirs of the murderer have the ability to threaten the informants, that:

A) This makes it sound like Scotland Yard already knows who the murderer is

B) This makes the murderer sound like he (or she, I should stop assuming serial killers are always men, though the statistics are in that favor) was pretty high-off in society (by mentioning heirs, it almost sounds like we're talking about traceable family here. And the wealthy have better historical records than the poor). Not to mention revenge tends to takes time and the urge to keep ones name honorable.

C) It seems like Scotland Yard WANTS to release this information, but feels threatened in some way (especially if they think the heirs are capable of revenge). But maybe I'm reading too much into this.
 

I'm not clear-thinker on this case; I love hearing the wild theories that people come up with. My personal favorite happens to come from a movie (and a comic book, apparently) From Hell. The movie itself is kind of bizarrely done, but theory, I think, is fascinating. It basically theorizes that Prince Albert, Queen Victoria's grandson, had an illegitimate child with a Catholic shop girl. Because England is Protestant, having a child who would now be the heir to the throne and is also common born, illegitimate AND Catholic would be about as scandalous as you could get in the Victorian era. Fearing blackmail from the girl's friends and family, the Freemasons (I know, right? When in doubt, it's the Masons) get involved to cover-up the events. And one crazy member kills off all the girls (who happen to be prostitutes) who are friends of the shopgirl.

That's kind of a rough summary and probably not quite right (it's been a while since I've seen it) but the Prince Albert idea is interesting. Note: I AM NOT SAYING THE BRITISH ROYAL FAMILY IS INVOLVED WITH THE JACK THE RIPPER KILLINGS.  I am simply saying that it does seem rather curious and that it WOULD explain the threat of revenge, reasons for Scotland Yard to stay mum, threats to informants, etc. However, I have ZERO EVIDENCE.  I'm not a detective, I'm not a cop, I'm not even a historian with access to records to even give support to this idea. I'm just a blogger making wild speculations. And what wild speculations they are...

Better idea: let's start a TV series that sends CSI back in time. Better yet, they should do a Doctor Who/ Torchwood episode about Jack the Ripper. That's right up their alley, I wonder what they're take would be...

Alright, enough crazy conspiracy theories for the day. Time to start the weekend off right - with a paint party.