Oh, kitten.
This phrase has been bandied around quite frequently in my house for the last two months. For some reason, she has gotten a mixed up sense of the hierarchy of the household. Whenever I was toying with the idea of getting a cat, the warm, cuddly vision of a lazy fluffy furrball lounging in my lap, sleeping all day popped to mind. Oh how untrue that has turned out. For some reason, the image of my mind's eye has chosen to derail and speed turbulently southward as opposed to coming to fruition, as I so wished. My house is now filled with the pitter-patter of little feet, which sound more like sassy, overfed thuds every day. Occasionally a little furry tornado whizzes through my bedroom, twirls around in playful abandon, then darts under the bed, only to pop out only now and then with all her suppressed rage and bite a towel or some other unsuspecting stationary object. She used to have a preference for my husbands feet, but after long, persistent, hard-headed experimentation with getting in a juicy bite on a big toe, followed by feeling herself rocket through the air and land across the room, she has decided that it's better to go for objects that don't object.
Well, speaking of husbands, mine is waiting to return to our little domestic hideaway, and the reproachful miaow that will be waiting for us on the other side of the front door.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
The Furry Takeover
Well, well, well! Guess who's back? If you said "Cris! Hooray! Cris is back" then yes, you are correct!
Well, it's been awhile since I've caught my faithful readers up on the important goings-on of my little world, so I have decided to tentatively peek my head out of my little shell and enlighten those who are curious as to what I've been up to.
The last eight months have been incredibly delightful, joyful, and hectic. There are now four new additions to my little family, which was once made up of, well let's see... myself. As of August 6, 2005, I now have a husband. I have also chosen to complicate my life even further by attaining not one, not two, but three pets- two dogs and a cat. I got to name them all, too! Mwa ha ha ha! The cat is named Gizmo, and she is an adorable little 6 month old brown tabby longhaired kitten. The first dog I got was Sadie- a 9-month-old German Shepherd mix with soulful brown eyes and a bigger grin than any dog has a right to have. Our last little pet is a 4 month old rat terrier named Buster. I hate to say it, but he's a little bit of a momma's boy.
Thus, the title. My life has been literally taken over by furry objects- animals and a husband. I think the last one might just be the furriest. I never knew settling down would be so much fun!
Well, it's been awhile since I've caught my faithful readers up on the important goings-on of my little world, so I have decided to tentatively peek my head out of my little shell and enlighten those who are curious as to what I've been up to.
The last eight months have been incredibly delightful, joyful, and hectic. There are now four new additions to my little family, which was once made up of, well let's see... myself. As of August 6, 2005, I now have a husband. I have also chosen to complicate my life even further by attaining not one, not two, but three pets- two dogs and a cat. I got to name them all, too! Mwa ha ha ha! The cat is named Gizmo, and she is an adorable little 6 month old brown tabby longhaired kitten. The first dog I got was Sadie- a 9-month-old German Shepherd mix with soulful brown eyes and a bigger grin than any dog has a right to have. Our last little pet is a 4 month old rat terrier named Buster. I hate to say it, but he's a little bit of a momma's boy.
Thus, the title. My life has been literally taken over by furry objects- animals and a husband. I think the last one might just be the furriest. I never knew settling down would be so much fun!
Monday, January 24, 2005
In Whose Image?
Well, I have been wanting to write something new on here for a while now, but for the longest time I couldn't think of anything to write about. I guess I was waiting for another stroke of comic genius, since I love hearing my sister laugh whenever she reads my new posts. But the waiting is finally over. I have decided to break down and write something new despite my lack of creativity in making this funny.
A lot has been happening in my life these past few weeks. Everything was rocking along quite merrily, and I have been having a blast enjoying my life and looking forward to the future. However, I never could have predicted what has happened in the last few weeks.
In the last year or so I have been training myself to look for the joy in life no matter what was happening. I feel that I am in complete control of how I choose to interpret situations, therefore, I can decide whether or not I am happy. I do not believe that happiness is an accident of good circumstances like I used to. I used to think, "Man, I can't wait for my life to get good so I can be happy for once!" I've learned that it doesn't work that way. I can not only learn to be content in all circumstances, but I can teach myself to have a good time as well!
So anyway, life is good. And, more importantly, there's another person in it now. I am finally dating someone, which is the thing I couldn't have predicted, and which has thrown my happy little world into somewhat of a tailspin. Although, as he would say, "it's all been worth it".
But, aside from all that, there is a particular issue which has intrigued my train of thought recently, and which led to this particular article on my blog.
When I was little, I used to dream of being a world explorer/ detective, and loved the idea that another person's life depended on my power to save them. At other times, I would pretend that I was a superhero or some kind of mutant that had special powers, so I could use them for good and affect the outcome of the world, so to speak. All of this led to the question- why do humans seek power? What is it in our wiring that makes us crave the ability to control our environment and oftentimes the environments of others?
It all goes back to the question of who made us. The plain and simple truth is that we were all made according to a divine blueprint, according to the original, who is a supremely powerful being. We are drawn to horoscopes and future-telling mechanisms because we were made according to one who knows everything. We have the instinct to care what happens to each other because we were made after someone who cares very much about what will ultimately happen to every single breath of human life.
So, I said all that to say: Humans are very powerful creatures. We all innately possess a portion of the power of our maker, since he is basically defined by it. However, the crux of the matter is how we choose to use the power that we possess. We are capable of great amounts of good, great amounts of evil, or a great amount of wasted space; and this is all determined by the choices we make.
First, there are the people who abuse, misdirect, and misuse their power. These are the ones who commit heinous crimes and cause misery to others. These are the murderers and terrorists.
Second, there are those who are the ultimate in ineffectiveness. They are aware of their power through their concern for world issues and for their family, yet they have built up enough resistance through mental obstacles and hurdles that they are incapable of taking action. All they do is talk, worry, and wring their hands, and it just so turns out that talk is cheap. They waste their energy and ability, and ultimately become resentful and angry because they realize their abuse of the talents they were given. That's the trap of negative thinking- positive results require positive action.
Finally, there are the ones who learn to be stewards of their potential, by fulfilling it and making use of it, and teaching others to do the same. These are the mentors, the role models, the super heroes, the best friends and the happiest people. It's funny how people with the best self-esteem are the ones who have done the most with their lives, and yet only consider it a humble fulfillment of duty.
I want to strive to not only be a thinker, observer, learner, and teacher, but also a doer- a role model, mentor, and a superhero. An effective person with goals to reach for, and happiness and love to live for and inspire in others. And, if I can say at the end of my life that I have done that, then it will only be a humble fulfillment of my duty.
A lot has been happening in my life these past few weeks. Everything was rocking along quite merrily, and I have been having a blast enjoying my life and looking forward to the future. However, I never could have predicted what has happened in the last few weeks.
In the last year or so I have been training myself to look for the joy in life no matter what was happening. I feel that I am in complete control of how I choose to interpret situations, therefore, I can decide whether or not I am happy. I do not believe that happiness is an accident of good circumstances like I used to. I used to think, "Man, I can't wait for my life to get good so I can be happy for once!" I've learned that it doesn't work that way. I can not only learn to be content in all circumstances, but I can teach myself to have a good time as well!
So anyway, life is good. And, more importantly, there's another person in it now. I am finally dating someone, which is the thing I couldn't have predicted, and which has thrown my happy little world into somewhat of a tailspin. Although, as he would say, "it's all been worth it".
But, aside from all that, there is a particular issue which has intrigued my train of thought recently, and which led to this particular article on my blog.
When I was little, I used to dream of being a world explorer/ detective, and loved the idea that another person's life depended on my power to save them. At other times, I would pretend that I was a superhero or some kind of mutant that had special powers, so I could use them for good and affect the outcome of the world, so to speak. All of this led to the question- why do humans seek power? What is it in our wiring that makes us crave the ability to control our environment and oftentimes the environments of others?
It all goes back to the question of who made us. The plain and simple truth is that we were all made according to a divine blueprint, according to the original, who is a supremely powerful being. We are drawn to horoscopes and future-telling mechanisms because we were made according to one who knows everything. We have the instinct to care what happens to each other because we were made after someone who cares very much about what will ultimately happen to every single breath of human life.
So, I said all that to say: Humans are very powerful creatures. We all innately possess a portion of the power of our maker, since he is basically defined by it. However, the crux of the matter is how we choose to use the power that we possess. We are capable of great amounts of good, great amounts of evil, or a great amount of wasted space; and this is all determined by the choices we make.
First, there are the people who abuse, misdirect, and misuse their power. These are the ones who commit heinous crimes and cause misery to others. These are the murderers and terrorists.
Second, there are those who are the ultimate in ineffectiveness. They are aware of their power through their concern for world issues and for their family, yet they have built up enough resistance through mental obstacles and hurdles that they are incapable of taking action. All they do is talk, worry, and wring their hands, and it just so turns out that talk is cheap. They waste their energy and ability, and ultimately become resentful and angry because they realize their abuse of the talents they were given. That's the trap of negative thinking- positive results require positive action.
Finally, there are the ones who learn to be stewards of their potential, by fulfilling it and making use of it, and teaching others to do the same. These are the mentors, the role models, the super heroes, the best friends and the happiest people. It's funny how people with the best self-esteem are the ones who have done the most with their lives, and yet only consider it a humble fulfillment of duty.
I want to strive to not only be a thinker, observer, learner, and teacher, but also a doer- a role model, mentor, and a superhero. An effective person with goals to reach for, and happiness and love to live for and inspire in others. And, if I can say at the end of my life that I have done that, then it will only be a humble fulfillment of my duty.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
The Whirling Dervish
Well, I guess it's time for a new update on my blog. Thank you for your prayers on my behalf- I'm sure they helped since the dance instructor for my Jazz class only let out one uncontrollable guffaw during our first lesson yesterday. I know it was me he was looking at. You see, despite the fact that it was the first time the class met, we commenced dancing. In our first class, we not only learned to walk forward, backward, and in a circle (I liked those parts- they were easy), but we also began more complicated steps such stepping and sliding, stepping and spinning, and (my favorite, and evidently my teacher's favorite to watch) walking while vigorously shaking the hips. After his demonstration of the last move, I'm sure the look of panic creeping onto my face was quite comical, and well-founded after attempting the hip-shaking and finding out that I just don't move like that.
As I told my sister after class was over, I have been iridescently white my entire life, and nothing has changed or will change anytime soon. My attempts to walk with some 'tude were reminiscent of the rusty tinman. My step and slide looked like a brotha with a gimp leg. Snapping was a definite no because it distracted me too much from the task of keeping up with which leg was my right leg and which leg was my left. White men's jumping skills are often called into question, but there's no question about the fact that this white girl really can't dance.
My ballet class, however, is going along quite swimmingly. We move slowly, and that is very very good. I love going to ballet, because I get to feel like a princess- all the movements are amazingly regal. I have never been a tomboy, so feelings of royalty are second nature for me. When I was little, I was the kid who always wanted to wear a dress and would "borrow" my brother's action figures so they could have the opportunity to come to my tea party, which I knew that they were dying to do after being locked up in that glass cabinet for so long. The pain that was inflicted when he found out where his figures went to is still unmatched. It was worth it though....
Another thought that has been niggling at the back of my mind recently stems from a technique instruction in my photography book. When discussing the proper way to focus a camera lens, it says, "Focus on the object of interest...." What an appealing thought. Life would be so much simpler if we all consciously set goals and priorities, then kept our life centered on the prize until it was achieved. All too often we are distracted from our greatest potential by frivolities and superficial hang-ups. I have decided that from now on my life will be focused on my goals, and the choices I make will be propelled by my priorities and principles.
So there.
As I told my sister after class was over, I have been iridescently white my entire life, and nothing has changed or will change anytime soon. My attempts to walk with some 'tude were reminiscent of the rusty tinman. My step and slide looked like a brotha with a gimp leg. Snapping was a definite no because it distracted me too much from the task of keeping up with which leg was my right leg and which leg was my left. White men's jumping skills are often called into question, but there's no question about the fact that this white girl really can't dance.
My ballet class, however, is going along quite swimmingly. We move slowly, and that is very very good. I love going to ballet, because I get to feel like a princess- all the movements are amazingly regal. I have never been a tomboy, so feelings of royalty are second nature for me. When I was little, I was the kid who always wanted to wear a dress and would "borrow" my brother's action figures so they could have the opportunity to come to my tea party, which I knew that they were dying to do after being locked up in that glass cabinet for so long. The pain that was inflicted when he found out where his figures went to is still unmatched. It was worth it though....
Another thought that has been niggling at the back of my mind recently stems from a technique instruction in my photography book. When discussing the proper way to focus a camera lens, it says, "Focus on the object of interest...." What an appealing thought. Life would be so much simpler if we all consciously set goals and priorities, then kept our life centered on the prize until it was achieved. All too often we are distracted from our greatest potential by frivolities and superficial hang-ups. I have decided that from now on my life will be focused on my goals, and the choices I make will be propelled by my priorities and principles.
So there.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Through the eyes of a Child
How many of us have ever been in a situation where within seconds you have been completely disarmed by the honesty of the child you are with? Recently, I was employed as a Children's ministry intern at a church, and there were many times when this happened to me. But I can recall one story told by a parent that stands out above the rest.
At my church there was a young boy, Jack, who was about 3 years old. Imagine the most charming, adorable, blue- eyed baby boy possible, and you now have the image of Jack. I have never met any other child as sweet and trusting as Jack is. Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. But he does hold the gift of making your heart melt.
A couple of weeks ago, it came time for the yearly shots. Yes, we all know them. The time of the year when normal children manage to stir up every ounce of strength and adrenaline that they possess and manage to fend off and outsquirm up to half a dozen nurses in fear of the horrid prick of the needle. The things we go through in the name of health.... And if squirming, fighting, pinching, kicking, biting, and licking doesn't work, then they use their ultimate tool given to them by God at way too young of an age- the scream that would even bring a banshee to tears.
Well, for Jack, there was none of the above described hoo-rah. Instead, his experience was quite the opposite. On the way to the clinic, he was a chipper, excited little fellow, chatting with his mom about whatever crossed his happy little mind- cars, birds, trees, Spider Man, quantum theory, etc. Once they got there and made it into the doctor's office, Jack made himself at home on the examination table, making easy conversation with the nurse in the manner of a true politician, with full confidence and bright-eyed trust. The nurse, of course, chatted along with Jack as she prepared the ominous syringe for his chubby little leg. After about five minutes, she was ready to give him the shot, and Jack was still happily jawing away about new toys or what have you. The nurse made a passing comment about how calm her unsuspecting little victim was, then proceeded to stick him with the needle after a mumbled warning about him feeling a slight prick.
Jack's face went from a look of happy, complete trust, to a look of shocked betrayal. This expression was quickly followed by narrowed eyes of suspicion and angry silence toward the nurse, who had finished the injection and was unsuccessfully trying to re-establish their friendship. Jack was finally persuaded by his mother to take a bright red sucker for being so "brave", but on their way out, as the nurse waved good-bye, he gave her one last vindictive look and said to his mother with an accusing tone and pointing finger, "Mommy, that's the lady who SHOT me!"
If we could only recapture the trust inherent in childhood, the world would be our oyster. Imagine the last time you were completely honest with someone. Remember the power that gave you? Honesty is honestly disarming.
At my church there was a young boy, Jack, who was about 3 years old. Imagine the most charming, adorable, blue- eyed baby boy possible, and you now have the image of Jack. I have never met any other child as sweet and trusting as Jack is. Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. But he does hold the gift of making your heart melt.
A couple of weeks ago, it came time for the yearly shots. Yes, we all know them. The time of the year when normal children manage to stir up every ounce of strength and adrenaline that they possess and manage to fend off and outsquirm up to half a dozen nurses in fear of the horrid prick of the needle. The things we go through in the name of health.... And if squirming, fighting, pinching, kicking, biting, and licking doesn't work, then they use their ultimate tool given to them by God at way too young of an age- the scream that would even bring a banshee to tears.
Well, for Jack, there was none of the above described hoo-rah. Instead, his experience was quite the opposite. On the way to the clinic, he was a chipper, excited little fellow, chatting with his mom about whatever crossed his happy little mind- cars, birds, trees, Spider Man, quantum theory, etc. Once they got there and made it into the doctor's office, Jack made himself at home on the examination table, making easy conversation with the nurse in the manner of a true politician, with full confidence and bright-eyed trust. The nurse, of course, chatted along with Jack as she prepared the ominous syringe for his chubby little leg. After about five minutes, she was ready to give him the shot, and Jack was still happily jawing away about new toys or what have you. The nurse made a passing comment about how calm her unsuspecting little victim was, then proceeded to stick him with the needle after a mumbled warning about him feeling a slight prick.
Jack's face went from a look of happy, complete trust, to a look of shocked betrayal. This expression was quickly followed by narrowed eyes of suspicion and angry silence toward the nurse, who had finished the injection and was unsuccessfully trying to re-establish their friendship. Jack was finally persuaded by his mother to take a bright red sucker for being so "brave", but on their way out, as the nurse waved good-bye, he gave her one last vindictive look and said to his mother with an accusing tone and pointing finger, "Mommy, that's the lady who SHOT me!"
If we could only recapture the trust inherent in childhood, the world would be our oyster. Imagine the last time you were completely honest with someone. Remember the power that gave you? Honesty is honestly disarming.
Dirty Dancin'
Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but for me, this summer has turned out to be very enlightening. I learned a lot of things. I made some interesting discoveries, and some interesting friends as well. I also found out some things about myself-
I can't dance.
I know it sounds strange for a 21 year old to say that they had only just discovered that they can't dance, but it's the honest-to-goodness truth. But there's a good reason for not having learned this about myself sooner: I've never really tried before. On occasion I've been pulled or pushed against my will onto a dance floor, but I felt like I winged it pretty well. Maybe no one noticed how awkward I was. I know the guys that were there didn't. They were far too busy covering up their own awkwardness. I would know.
But for the first time this summer, I tried to dance for real. And found out that I can't. Amidst the hysterical laughter of all the people surrounding me, I realized that in my sad attempt to get jiggy with it, I only succeeded in pulling off the image, grace, and ambience of a muppet. That's right- a muppet. With arms disjointedly flailing around, I resembled Elmo's happy dance.
I'll be taking a dance class this fall. They may move me from Jazz to Comedic Dance against my will.
Pray for me.
I can't dance.
I know it sounds strange for a 21 year old to say that they had only just discovered that they can't dance, but it's the honest-to-goodness truth. But there's a good reason for not having learned this about myself sooner: I've never really tried before. On occasion I've been pulled or pushed against my will onto a dance floor, but I felt like I winged it pretty well. Maybe no one noticed how awkward I was. I know the guys that were there didn't. They were far too busy covering up their own awkwardness. I would know.
But for the first time this summer, I tried to dance for real. And found out that I can't. Amidst the hysterical laughter of all the people surrounding me, I realized that in my sad attempt to get jiggy with it, I only succeeded in pulling off the image, grace, and ambience of a muppet. That's right- a muppet. With arms disjointedly flailing around, I resembled Elmo's happy dance.
I'll be taking a dance class this fall. They may move me from Jazz to Comedic Dance against my will.
Pray for me.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Boredom Strikes Again
Well, folks, boredom reigns once more, and in response to it's presence my mind has declared war upon conventional thought. I was just considering the whole system of higher education and wondering why it is promoted as such a good thing.
Women used to rebel at the idea of being seen as nothing but a piece of meat. We thought that whole perception changed when we were admitted into Universities and given equal opportunities in the work force. I've got news for you: Nothing has changed. The only thing different is that there are new categories in the meat section of Society's supermarket. I am still a piece of meat to be admired by those of the male persuasion, and you know what? I don't have a problem with it. I enjoy getting attention. At times, I want even more attention that I am getting at the moment. I'm sure all of you are shocked speechless.
Now to the point: Women are no longer merely pieces of meat, due to the new categorization. We now have Gourmet Meat selections, thanks to the University system. There are the prime cuts, the thinly sliced, and for those who still prefer the uneducated woman, we still have a bologna selection available. We only think that the system has changed, but the truth is, we are all still meat.
And another thought that occurred to me this morning was the end result of our modern education. You would think that in our efforts to learn to improve ourselves, women would learn how to take care of their appearance along the way. In this case, the opposite is true. We send our young, fresh-faced daughters off to college hoping they will learn something and come back a better version of what they started out as. What the college spits out are crispy tan girls with fried, stringy hair, dressed in clothes too small. They have undone all the effort their mothers put into keeping them greased with sunblock as they grew up and have lost the ability to buy clothes that fit. Is this what America really wants?
So, in conclusion to all of my rambling, I say that women are still meat because ultimately, we want the acceptance and security of male companionship, and seek it through sexual attention: thus, the tight clothing. Here's a newsflash- the tight clothing may get attention, but it is not pretty, and the attention it gets is not the kind of attention that ultimatley gains the end result that women want. Portraying free sexuality does not encourage faithful, committed, loving relationships. Only sex. And if all we are interested in is sex, than we are reduced down to animal status, otherwise known as meat.
Women used to rebel at the idea of being seen as nothing but a piece of meat. We thought that whole perception changed when we were admitted into Universities and given equal opportunities in the work force. I've got news for you: Nothing has changed. The only thing different is that there are new categories in the meat section of Society's supermarket. I am still a piece of meat to be admired by those of the male persuasion, and you know what? I don't have a problem with it. I enjoy getting attention. At times, I want even more attention that I am getting at the moment. I'm sure all of you are shocked speechless.
Now to the point: Women are no longer merely pieces of meat, due to the new categorization. We now have Gourmet Meat selections, thanks to the University system. There are the prime cuts, the thinly sliced, and for those who still prefer the uneducated woman, we still have a bologna selection available. We only think that the system has changed, but the truth is, we are all still meat.
And another thought that occurred to me this morning was the end result of our modern education. You would think that in our efforts to learn to improve ourselves, women would learn how to take care of their appearance along the way. In this case, the opposite is true. We send our young, fresh-faced daughters off to college hoping they will learn something and come back a better version of what they started out as. What the college spits out are crispy tan girls with fried, stringy hair, dressed in clothes too small. They have undone all the effort their mothers put into keeping them greased with sunblock as they grew up and have lost the ability to buy clothes that fit. Is this what America really wants?
So, in conclusion to all of my rambling, I say that women are still meat because ultimately, we want the acceptance and security of male companionship, and seek it through sexual attention: thus, the tight clothing. Here's a newsflash- the tight clothing may get attention, but it is not pretty, and the attention it gets is not the kind of attention that ultimatley gains the end result that women want. Portraying free sexuality does not encourage faithful, committed, loving relationships. Only sex. And if all we are interested in is sex, than we are reduced down to animal status, otherwise known as meat.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Texas vs. the World?
Ok, there is something new that I don't quite understand, yet feel free to comment on. Why do people give Texans a hard time about their state pride? Recently on my college campus, the Student Association came up with the bright idea for a fund raiser where they challenge the Texans to outgive everyone from everywhere else. I don't mind the challenge. I'm from Texas, and I think that we can beat their butts into the ground. The thing I mind is the general attitude toward people from Texas.
Is it our fault that we happen to be from the best state in the US? I say this with all respect toward the other states. But for real, if you aren't proud of your state, then why are you living there? It's ok to move. You don't have to be unhappy. Just because Texans like where they live does not give the oh-so-smart people from Ar-kansas the right to criticize.
On the other hand, if you other people from Texas are so proud of your state, then it's sort of ironic that you came to Arkansas for your higher education experience, and even more ironic that you display Texas pride while in residence. If Texas is awesome, then why aren't you there right now?
Bottom line: We should all be proud of our states, regardless of the fact that Texas is the best, because when all's said and done, we still chose a state for higher education where minitrucks are used as "people-movers", and a highway is also known as a buffet.
Is it our fault that we happen to be from the best state in the US? I say this with all respect toward the other states. But for real, if you aren't proud of your state, then why are you living there? It's ok to move. You don't have to be unhappy. Just because Texans like where they live does not give the oh-so-smart people from Ar-kansas the right to criticize.
On the other hand, if you other people from Texas are so proud of your state, then it's sort of ironic that you came to Arkansas for your higher education experience, and even more ironic that you display Texas pride while in residence. If Texas is awesome, then why aren't you there right now?
Bottom line: We should all be proud of our states, regardless of the fact that Texas is the best, because when all's said and done, we still chose a state for higher education where minitrucks are used as "people-movers", and a highway is also known as a buffet.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
More on Disney movies
This past weekend I went out to see the new disney movie, Home on the Range. I went to see it with my adorable neices, one of my older sisters, and one of my best friends. Throughout the movie, I was surprised that it wasn't the children who were laughing the loudest at the sad attempt at comedy within the show. When will Disney tire of trying to entertain us with cartoon animals doing karate? That particular venue of laughs is well worn, to the point of being worn out. Unless you are five. Or smoking something. Or unless you are my 23 year old sister. Seriously.
That's all for now on Disney. I'm sure I'll have more to rant about later. Since I am merely stating personal opinion, I trust no one will be immature enough to be offended by my thoughts. But then again, how many people are truly trustworthy? The sad fact in making things fool-proof is that people often underestimate the ingenuity of fools.
That's all for now on Disney. I'm sure I'll have more to rant about later. Since I am merely stating personal opinion, I trust no one will be immature enough to be offended by my thoughts. But then again, how many people are truly trustworthy? The sad fact in making things fool-proof is that people often underestimate the ingenuity of fools.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
The Disney Subculture
I don't really like Disney movies. To this day, I still cannot watch Bambi or the new addition to their collection, Brother Bear, without weeping pitifully. My roommate looks at me strangely when this happens. I know what she's thinking. I don't even have to ask. "It's only a cartoon. What's the matter with you?!?"
Actually, the sad truth is that I tend to enjoy the creations that Disney manages to come up with. The reason that I dislike them is because of the standards of interaction they promote and uphold for children nowadays. Call to mind any Disney movie you can think of. Now really think about it. Does it contain any standards or suggestions that tend toward Humanism? Yes it does. Now think about any of the Disney princesses. Which of them had a respectful, healthy, loving relationship with their parents, or, more importantly, with their fathers? You won't find one. I think the one who probably comes closest is Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but even then, are the viewers encouraged to hold the father in high regard? No. He is merely a silly old man with many foibles that the viewers are encouraged to laugh at and dismiss as a silly old man with zero ability. Where are the father figures in the Disney films?
Bambi's father is a respectable character. Wait, no. He's absent, first physically, then emotionally. What child wants to only be allowed to meet their father if their mother dies first? Bambi's father may be a prince of the forest, but viewer's are not expected to see him in a great light after seeing his cold, hard attitude toward a cute little baby deer.
What about The Little Mermaid? And Princess Jasmine? Pocahontas? Obviously their fathers are close-minded, hard-hearted, ignorant, unreasonable idiots who have daughters who, though only in their early 20s obviously know more about life and the world than their crotchety old overbearing fathers. That's right kids, tie up the 'rents and take over the household right now. You have the right since your perceptions of the world are the only true ones, and your fathers only want to bully you around and impose their will upon you for their own pleasure. Give me a break. Some of these themes are just ridiculous, and yet we fill the minds of our little girls with them, then wonder why they are so disrespectful and rebellious. Why has it become cool to complain about how lame your parents are, or how they don't "listen" to you? Because we tell them it is.
Why should your parents listen to you? What do you know? You're 9 years old! Your feelings are important, but you do not know how to manage the family finances or time schedule.
More later.
Actually, the sad truth is that I tend to enjoy the creations that Disney manages to come up with. The reason that I dislike them is because of the standards of interaction they promote and uphold for children nowadays. Call to mind any Disney movie you can think of. Now really think about it. Does it contain any standards or suggestions that tend toward Humanism? Yes it does. Now think about any of the Disney princesses. Which of them had a respectful, healthy, loving relationship with their parents, or, more importantly, with their fathers? You won't find one. I think the one who probably comes closest is Belle from Beauty and the Beast, but even then, are the viewers encouraged to hold the father in high regard? No. He is merely a silly old man with many foibles that the viewers are encouraged to laugh at and dismiss as a silly old man with zero ability. Where are the father figures in the Disney films?
Bambi's father is a respectable character. Wait, no. He's absent, first physically, then emotionally. What child wants to only be allowed to meet their father if their mother dies first? Bambi's father may be a prince of the forest, but viewer's are not expected to see him in a great light after seeing his cold, hard attitude toward a cute little baby deer.
What about The Little Mermaid? And Princess Jasmine? Pocahontas? Obviously their fathers are close-minded, hard-hearted, ignorant, unreasonable idiots who have daughters who, though only in their early 20s obviously know more about life and the world than their crotchety old overbearing fathers. That's right kids, tie up the 'rents and take over the household right now. You have the right since your perceptions of the world are the only true ones, and your fathers only want to bully you around and impose their will upon you for their own pleasure. Give me a break. Some of these themes are just ridiculous, and yet we fill the minds of our little girls with them, then wonder why they are so disrespectful and rebellious. Why has it become cool to complain about how lame your parents are, or how they don't "listen" to you? Because we tell them it is.
Why should your parents listen to you? What do you know? You're 9 years old! Your feelings are important, but you do not know how to manage the family finances or time schedule.
More later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
