In Jill's Words' New Year's Un-Resolutions

Apparently, the nature of New Year's resolutions has changed since the 19th century. What used to be an exercise in self improvement - helping others, working harder, etc. - has morphed into an egocentric pursuit mostly focused on poor body image, a transformation that I am sure Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig are more than happy to perpetuate.

In my (extensive five-minute) research on the topic, the top ten most popular resolutions still tend to include some altruistic goals - learn something new, spend more time with family and friends, enjoy life more - blah, blah, blah- how beautiful.

I find it funny that "spend more time with family . . . " and "enjoy life more" a.k.a. (according to some resolution resources) "reduce stress" are listed together. Can you really be expected to reduce stress in your life and spend more time with your family? (I'm joking, all of my family members who are collectively groaning. Please, no angry e-mails or texts. Put the phone down! Put it down!)

As I compiled my own list, I noticed that most of my resolutions contained a "not." I don't know what that could mean. Maybe I am an extremely negative person. Or maybe there are a lot of things in my life that need to stop.

Whatever the case may be, I have decided to call this my official "New Year's Un-Resolutions List."
Considering that 88% of New Year's resolutions fail, most of the items on my list are such that the success rate will not make or break me.

In 2013, I will:

1. Not lose weight.
Maybe a little reverse psychology will work this year.

2. Not discuss politics with people who claim to be "apolitical."
Anyone who claims to be apolitical should not espouse so many political opinions, especially opinions that contradict mine. (If you think this is a veiled reference to you, you are probably right.)

3. Not make any new friends.
I saw "make new friends" on a couple of popular resolutions lists. I thought it would be fun to not make any new friends this year. It's not like a need a bunch of new friends right now. I guess if I do make new friends, it won't be that big of a deal though. 

4. Try to convince my husband not to buy so many MP3s.
Ever since Dan discovered the Amazon daily deals, we have so much new music. If it is under $5.99, it is probably on our Cloud, even if it is "Pavarotti Sings Disco." There is no way I can listen to all of the music that has magically appeared on my iPod.

5. Not have children. 
Sorry, everyone. Of course, there might be a little more at stake if this one fails.

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Please Don't Get Me . . . Fifty Shades of Grey

I have devoted the last couple of weeks to my top ten list of gifts I really don't want this Christmas. (See "Please Don't Get Me . . . Part #1 and Part #2.")

As I said last week, my number one "Please Don't Get Me . . ." gift is Fifty Shades of Grey, and I so vehemently do not want this gift that I am devoting an entire blog post to it this week.

I wanted people to understand a couple of things before I start criticizing a series I have no desire to read. First of all, I hate it when people lambaste books they have never read. Think of this more as a boycott than a critique. Second of all, I am not a prude nor do I advocate censorship.

Here is my problem: The Fifty Shades franchise exposes a disturbing trend in the regression of women's rights. Apparently, reading about women being abused is now considered awesome and sexy.

I have never been a Harlequin reader because I can't handle reading something so poorly written. (I barely made it through The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo books.) I understand that romance novels often focus on old-fashioned submission of virginal young females, no matter how it is dressed up with career women protagonists, etc. Now here comes a tale of an older, emotionally stunted man who relives his own abusive past on a young twenty-something, simultaneously propelling the term BDSM into the mainstream lexicon.

Keep in mind, this book has become popular during this current culture of defining rape as "legitimate" or "a-gift-from-God," labeling women who want their birth control covered by insurance as sluts and prostitutes, and suggesting that women post their sexual exploits on the web.

Consider the following quotation from the article "'Mommy Porn' Novel Has Retro Message" on cnn.com:

Of course, pornography can be seductive, and "Fifty Shades" is hot. Less enjoyable is the undercurrent about women's lack of rights . . . But to what extent can women enjoy free play in a country where those going by the name of "Christian" mount legislation forcing them to bear children conceived in rape? When poor young women like Christian's "crack whore" mother are denied access to birth control? By enjoying a porn of their own, women can at least indulge the fantasy that their pleasure comes first even as politicians are devising new forms of punishment.

A while ago, Katie Couric interviewed the Fifty Shades series' author, E.L. James.

"When I read it," Couric said, "I felt like I was the most boring woman in the world."

I wouldn't worry about that, Katie. I would worry more about admitting to reading such low-brow, poorly written prose. I could barely get through the excerpts that I attempted to read (for research purposes only, of course).

The question was raised as to whether or not the books have improved people's marriages and relationships.

During the course of the interview, James said of her readers, "They say, 'Thank you very much, and my husband thanks you too.'

James also revealed that the books were written as a result of midlife crisis and that she was inspired to write them by the Twilight series. That explains the poor writing.

So has anything positive come (no pun intended) out of Fifty Shades? The term "Mommy porn" is pretty rad. Also, the irony in hotels replacing the Bible with Fifty Shades is priceless. (I'm not sacrilegious. I just appreciate irreverent humor.)

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Please Don't Get Me . . . (Part #2)

With the holidays quickly approaching, I decided to devote my next two blog posts to the worst possible Christmas gifts I could receive this year. Last week, I introduced you to numbers 10 through 6. Here are the last five gifts on my "Please Don't Get Me . . ." list.

5. Espresso Machine
It's not that I'm opposed to owning an espresso machine. It's just that I would end up way too caffeinated. And when I drink coffee-type beverages everyday, I get stomachaches. I might love the buzz (and, believe me, I love the buzz), but I don't love the buzz at the expense of the lining of my stomach. I'll stick to my Fair Trade lattes every once and a while.

4. iPad
You mean an "i-maxi-Pad?" (Cue juvenile laughter now.) Same as the iPhone in Part #1. I just don't want one.

3. Any Young Adult Fiction
It is an odd phenomenon. Lately adults having been recommending YA fiction, not for my students', but for my own reading enjoyment. Yes, I read all of the Harry Potter and Narnia books, but I'm not really interested in this new explosion of Young Adult novels. Maybe I'll catch the movies at a later date. I'm not promising anything though.

2. One Direction Album
I paid my dues. I grew up in the era of New Kids on the Block.

And my number one least desirable gift? (Drum roll, please . . .)

1. Fifty Shades of Grey (or any other incarnation)
In fact, I so do not want this gift that I will be devoting an entire blog post to it next week. Stay tuned if you really want to know!

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In Light of a Terrible Tragedy . . .

In Jill's Words is taking a break from humor. Out of respect for the victims of the terrible and senseless tragedy in Connecticut, this weekend's blog post will be postponed until the middle of the week. As an elementary school teacher, I grieve for the families and the community of Newtown. Please take a moment to let your children know how much you love them. And to all of my students, current and past, be safe. I care about you very much.

Please Don't Get Me . . . (Part #1)

With the holidays quickly approaching, I decided to devote my next two blog posts to the worst possible Christmas gifts I could receive this year - not that I expect presents from my faithful readers. But just in case, here is the first half of my top ten list of "Please Don't Get Me . . ." gifts.

10. Fruitcake
I had to include this old standby. Every few years, I teach my elementary kids a song called "The Everlasting Fruitcake," about a re-gifted fruitcake that gets run over by a lawn mower, sent to Norway, and tossed into a mulcher. And it just keeps coming back.

9. Furby
This is one freaky toy from the 1990s I would like to forget. It reminds me a little too much of a Gremlin. And now it is predicted to be one of the most popular toys this Christmas. Terrific.

8. Walmart Gift Card
Not a Walmart fan . . . for political reasons. That is all I'm going to say.

7. Twilight Movie Tickets
I think I am one generation removed from the people who understand this series. My husband and I went to the first movie, thinking the trailers looked decent. We were very disappointed. And what's with the return of these subservient, too-dependent-on-men, female characters in pop culture?

6. iPhone
I just don't want one. A smartphone of some kind wouldn't be so bad . . . as long as there is no lowercase "i" in front of it.

Coming next week: The top five gifts on my "Please Don't Get Me . . ." list . . .

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When Did '90s Rockers Go Gray?

Apparently, '90s nostalgia is a thing now. I am still in denial that the '90s are even over. Dan and I bought tickets to see the Toadies a few weeks ago. Then the newspaper ran a concert blurb with the headline "'90s alert!" that opened with "Start finding a babysitter, Mom and Dad," and ended with "Take hearing protection, Gen-Xers." I had to face it. My generation had lived long enough to qualify as the nostalgic generation.

This so-called '90s nostalgia is probably no different from the '60s and '70s nostalgia that was a part of my childhood and early teens. The nostalgic generation is the generation that can afford to buy tickets to concerts. It is a simple case of supply and demand. Dan and I have been known to spend exorbitant amounts of money on VIP tickets so that we don't have to stand on the floor. Neither one of us would have been able to afford that in the '90s.

I wasn't super excited about the concert. I liked the Toadies. But I basically knew nothing about the other band, Helmet. And according to my husband's description, I was pretty sure Helmet was not my type of band.

However, I enjoyed the concert a lot more than I expected, especially the Toadies. (I was right about Helmet. I will not be popping in any of their CD's on my way to work. But, as a musician, I could appreciate the guitarist's virtuosity.) The members of both bands looked like graying and balding versions of the music major nerds with whom I spent all of my time in college.

After the Toadies finished their set and Helmet began playing, the hip thirty-something crowd that Dan and I most resembled, gradually cleared out. All of a sudden, we found ourselves alone in our VIP chairs, staring down at a group of large men with goatees and long, fuzzy hair slam dancing in front of the stage.

When the bouncers carted off a couple of wild men who looked a bit like Charles Manson, I got a little nervous about the post-concert parking lot. So I made Dan leave before Helmet came out for an encore, a fact that he brings up at least twice a day. (Dan loves to get to concerts an hour early and stay until the bitter end.)

Plus, I fell asleep during Helmet, the band that is known for making ears bleed. I found Helmet to be somewhat relaxing, like listening to a drone. Hey, it's not the '90s anymore. I can't stay up past eleven.

 

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