Look at This Stuff

I wrote this piece for my school's literary magazine this spring. It made it in; and it has gotten pretty good reception from my family, so I thought I'd post it here.
In some senses it is a response to Don DeLillo's Underworld, which I recently finished reading.
Criticism is always encouraged.

I am the culmination of media outlets and marketing ploys.

A yellow ball bounces across the words, keeping me on track so I can sing-along. “Look at this stuff; isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl—the girl who has everything?”

A whining reminder that I will be the only kid in school that doesn’t have an Easy Bake Oven. I need one, or I won’t be able to make friend. I need one. Mommy, I need one.

A desperate cry to fight against the mainstream conglomeration of pop music and MTV force-fed musical selections. I choose from this stream of marketing a white rapper who knows what I hate. Who hates me and reminds me of this while he screams curse words at me through a pair of old headphones. I memorize all of the words. He understands me. We’ve all got skeletons in our closet and we’re cleaning them out.

A magazine that shows me pictures of stick figure teens, giving one out of 184 pages to a black, an Asian and a plus sized model. A reminder that the eye shadow shade is blue for the spring. A reminder that I am not like the other girls: that something could be wrong with me.

A wardrobe making me a walking advertisement for the clothing I’m wearing. An eagle, a moose, an alligator, a monkey. I am defined by these stupid logos and words that have only the empty meaning of a brand name. Airmail. Last Name & Last Name. United States Bird.

A room that is mine. A mosaic of posters and moments I deem significant. A picture of Andy Roddick. A poster of Pirates of the Caribbean. A sunset. Did I take the picture? Does it matter? Moments stuck in time to be remembered, relived, redefined, reassessed. I live a life in repeat. I look upon the past at every moment because it stares me in the face. It will not shut up. It will never silence. The pictures always stare at me, and I am supposed to cherish them.

An obsessive refreshing. Check the Facebook. Did anyone like my pictures? Has anyone commented? Worth found through characters on a page in a server somewhere in Phoenix, or San Francisco or small town Wisconsin. A two thousand dollar metal box that reminds me that I have friends, or that I don’t have friends. A box that “opens the world” to me. A box that slowly but surely steals my soul if I let it.

A judgement passed based on physical appearance, belongings and income. Hairstyle assessed. Clothing assessed. Shoes assessed. Possessions assessed. Five seconds have passed. A judgement has been made.

Stuff. We are just stuff made of more stuff, a composite of shit we buy and sell, and deem valuable based on a slip of paper that no longer represents the gold it is supposed to. We are the hollow men. We are the stuffed men. And we are stuffed with shit that doesn’t matter unless we make it matter. Or do we make it matter because it does matter? Could it be that I am just a stuffed woman—a composite made of marketing and television and Internet and clothing? Am I anything more than the offspring of capitalism—an offspring of the glorious United States of Stuff? Do I matter beyond what I buy? Or am I just a number stuck in a statistic of bought, recycled, burned, wasted, thrown out shit?

Look at this stuff. Am I anything more?

Fail

Someone failed at BEDA. Hardcore. Someone just kind of let it go to the dogs as soon as she said goodbye to Youtube. Someone pretended as though she cared about the internet during finals. Someone is obnoxiously typing this whole thing in third person.

I'm not going to apologize for screwing up the end of BEDA, because seriously, who wants to read a post of a long, lame ass apology?

Instead I want to give you a few gems of love.





and...



Just like these videos, my last couple of weeks have been all over the map.

Have a good Tuesday, everybody! Maybe I'll be back here soon enough...

Miles

A Youtube Goodbye

I love our subscribers.
LOVE.
LOVE.
LOVE.

We topped off the season today, and I cannot believe the response from people. Seriously. Every single one of them (you) is so wonderfully kind, and thoughtful that I want to give you all hugs. We'll only be gone for around a month, but everyone is acting like this is the total end. Showing us how much they really care, how much they love the show, and how much they appreciate what we're doing. I honestly cannot believe the kindness. I am utterly overwhelmed.
Thank you so much. As much as I try not to find my worth on the internet, you are all absolutely lovely. Sometimes I forget how wonderful people can truly be.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all.



Miles

Sounds of Music

No, this isn't going to be another playlist blog. But I was thinking about all the random sounds in the world that I love that don't get enough credit in my opinion.

Also, this is to combat the fact that THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE SILENT IN THIS LIBRARY ANYMORE. Yes, I'm that person. I'm the one giving you dirty looks for answering your PHONE IN THE LIBRARY. COME ON, DUDE!

*Breathes* *Smiles a little too widely*

So, from here on out, Mondays are going to be sensory days. I'm going to give you my favorite things in each sense. Today we've got sound!

1) The sound an apple makes when you throw it into the air and catch it in your bare hand. Try it. It's somehow amazingly satisfying.
2) The sounds of a typing (mostly on a Mac).
3) The new Owen Pallett album. Can't help myself. Just bought it this morning.
4) The low rumble of thunder and the resounding crack of lightening splitting the air.
5) The announcement on the Underground for the next stop.
6) The sound of a zipper.
7) Rain.
8) The roar of the ocean.
9) The tap of chalk on a chalkboard.
10) The squeak of dry erase markers.

Have your own favorite random sounds? Leave them in comments! See you tomorrow for confession!

Miles

Weekly Internet Vomit #8 - The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

Ever seen a bad movie? No, I mean like a really, terrible movie. The kind that is so freaking terrible that you can't seem to stand up and turn it off. One that just is so horrible that you find yourself actually beginning to like the bad acting and unrealistic fight scenes? Well, ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't seen one yet, you're about to see several.

First up, we've got an indie film called "The Room." This movie has everything: horrible acting, horrible writing, horrible choreography, cinematography, lighting, green screen shots, and of course: the horrible inability to accept that it is a terrible film.


(via @coollike)

I enjoy the shallowness of the main character, the slurring of the words of the "protagonist," and the terrible fight scene. Oh, and the cliche plot.
Go explore some of the scenes on the side if you're bored. They're sure to make you laugh.

"You are tearing me apart, Lisa!" "I'm fed up with this world!"

Ah. Bad movies.

Next up we've got a "lighthearted, dramatic comedy" called "Of Theatre and Bikinis." Ok, so most of the time I don't like railing on the little guys (this video only has about 500 views) but you've gotta admit... you have no idea what is going on with this movie.



Why is she running around in a bikini? Why is she beating up a man in a ski mask? Why is she barking like a dog at the end? How is this good?

Next up we've got a movie that is in the same vein as Troll 2. A bad horror movie with odd plot line, terrible one-liners and even worse acting.



Kiss Me, I'm Irish.

I have no follow up to that.

And finally, we've got "The Young, The Gay and the Restless." Which, I'm warning you IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. *Seriously, it is an awkward trailer.*



My favorite part about this trailer is that it has to tell you it's sexual. No, because I couldn't figure that out from the first 10 seconds. Oh, and thank you for the warning that this is hetero-friendly. I was getting worried you didn't have ENOUGH plot lines to handle.

Oy, vey.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you've got any vomitous suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Miles

I Haven't Blogged...

...in two whole days.

Because seriously, a) how could I follow Tuesday's post with something about cats (or other useless ramblings)? And b) I vlogged yesterday.



But really, I don't know what to say much now. I need a theme to this blog. I think I'm going to give every day of the week a theme. We already have internet vomit on Fridays... but... Tuesday for confessions? Mondays for...? Well who knows, but I'll work on something.

So yeah, you'll get an internet vomit shortly (before midnight, hopefully), and then I'll try to make myself make sense here. Themes and schedules are good. Just ask ABC television. (bad, not funny joke.... not even really a joke at all -- see, when I don't blog, I just get sloppy... and stupid).

I'm off! Chaucer and the Arthurian Quest awaits!!

*rides off into the sun with the sound of clapping coconuts and an imaginary horse*

Miles

Coming Out

I have a couple confessions. And I'm not quite sure why I haven't made them common knowledge, because they're not the type of things one should keep secret. They explain a lot of me, and I shouldn't hide me to get more view counts or friends. If you want to know Miles Behn (henceforth known as Emily), you're in luck. It's time for some Radical Honesty.

My real name is Emily.
I'm an Open Theist.
I'm a Christian; I am a follower of Christ.
I support gay rights.
I do not think homosexuality is a sin.
I don't smoke.
I rarely drink.
Mega churches scare me.
I plan to wait to have sex until I'm married.
I've never actually cheated on a test.
Sometimes I don't do the reading, and bullshit my answers.
Yes, I swear sometimes.
I'm a vegetarian, but not because I love animals.
I don't believe in a literal translation of the Bible.
I don't think Christianity should be easy.
I don't believe in the seven day creation story.
I think the Bible should sometimes be reinterpreted by cultural context.
I've hidden a lot of these beliefs because of the negative connotations with most of the words.
I'm an egalitarian.
I'm shaped by what people think of me.
I'm nothing like I was in high school, and sometimes I wonder if that is necessarily a good thing.
I've let my relationship with God fall to the wayside. We haven't spoken in a while.
I have a superiority complex.
I don't believe in pushing my agenda on others.
I believe in inter-religious dialogue.
I don't think your field of study in college defines your career path.
I'm not going to college so I can get a job.
I'm a skeptic.
One of the reason I write is to prove something to my mother.
I can be a conspiracy theorist.
I don't have much faith in the human race as a whole.
I will lie to protect others/myself.
I believe women can be pastors.
I believe I am equal to you no matter your race, gender, education, income or system of beliefs.


Tear me apart if you so desire; disagree with me if you must. This is who I am. It may change, it may not. All I know is what is true in this moment, right now. And I'm in love with who I am.

Emily