After a year in which men dominated the casts of the most critically acclaimed and high profile films, I was especially struck, as I settled down with a bowl of ice cream and a beer to enjoy the ball gowns, long thank you speeches, and John Stewart, by how this trend was echoed (perpetuated? sustained?) by the format of the Oscars. I suppose the fact that There Will Be Blood and No Country For Old Men were the two most celebrated films this year could be chalked up to coincidence. Perhaps they just happened to be the two best films. Period and end of story. But (and this is not meant to challenge Daniel Day-Lewis' much deserved win) it did not escape my notice that the final three awards given Sunday night were, in this order: Best Actor, Best Director and Best Picture. Marion Cotillard had been awarded Best actress at least 30 minutes prior to the highly anticipated moment when Helen Mirren read Day-Lewis' name off the inside of the envelope. Seems as though the headliners, the reason for watching the awards in the first place, the grand finale, are the men's awards. Though women are supposedly considered for two out of the three categories, only three women in the 80 year history of the Oscars have ever won for Best Picture and no woman has ever stood up and thanked the academy for her Best Director statuette.
Sarah Churchwell addresses this topic in her piece for The Guardian today. While I agree that women are not taken as seriously in Hollywood and that separate is not equal, Churchwell also points out that when women compete with men they are often ignored (ahem, Sophia Coppola is the only woman I can name off the top of my head who was even nominated for Best Director). So what the hell do we do?
Luckily, I think I still have some Ben and Jerry's in the freezer. And a bottle in the fridge.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Lost in Transition
Today I visited my college's career counseling website. I clicked on a link called "Your Job Search Starts with You" and it led me to an article with the heading: "where do I start?" Now we are talking, I thought to myself. All this time I've been floundering and trying to figure out where, in fact, I should start, when all I had to do was go to my school's career counseling website. They probably have a list of questions I can ask myself or maybe a quiz that will help me define my skills. Perhaps they even have a section called "What Young Women Living in Brooklyn With Their Cat And Interests in Dance, Trapeze, Women's Studies, Pop Culture and Media Should Do With The Rest of Their Lives." I mean, that's a semi-reasonable thing to hope, no?
Instead, after being informed that the job search can be stressful and anxiety-inducing, the article states that "The problem is that until you can answer the question [what do you want to do?], your job search isn't going to get off the ground." I read on to learn that if I don't know what I want to do my "job search will lack focus, and [I] could fall into another trap: [I] could be trying to fit [myself] into a job, rather than trying to find a job that fits [me]." But did this page offer any advice as to how I should go about narrowing down my interests? Did it have any suggestions for just how I might unlock my secret ambitions? Am I any closer to knowing what color my parachute might be after reading that my whole job search is totally fucked until I do? Not so much.
This is making me dread my scheduled Wednesday morning phone meeting with a counselor from this office. I imagine that the conversation will start out with all the usual pleasantries: "Hi. How are you? How can I help you begin this exciting time of transition?" But as soon as she learns that my job search lacks focus, that I am full of anxiety and stress only amplified by the fact that I don't know what I want to do, she will probably barely be able to choke out the words to tell me to stop wasting her time before slamming the phone down in disgust.
Instead, after being informed that the job search can be stressful and anxiety-inducing, the article states that "The problem is that until you can answer the question [what do you want to do?], your job search isn't going to get off the ground." I read on to learn that if I don't know what I want to do my "job search will lack focus, and [I] could fall into another trap: [I] could be trying to fit [myself] into a job, rather than trying to find a job that fits [me]." But did this page offer any advice as to how I should go about narrowing down my interests? Did it have any suggestions for just how I might unlock my secret ambitions? Am I any closer to knowing what color my parachute might be after reading that my whole job search is totally fucked until I do? Not so much.
This is making me dread my scheduled Wednesday morning phone meeting with a counselor from this office. I imagine that the conversation will start out with all the usual pleasantries: "Hi. How are you? How can I help you begin this exciting time of transition?" But as soon as she learns that my job search lacks focus, that I am full of anxiety and stress only amplified by the fact that I don't know what I want to do, she will probably barely be able to choke out the words to tell me to stop wasting her time before slamming the phone down in disgust.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
So Much to Plunder That I Think I'll Sleep Instead
I was worried that I wasn't doing anything with my life. So I quit my job. Now, instead of getting paid to waste away the day surreptitiously and compulsively checking all my favorite websites, I waste away the day blatantly and compulsively checking all my favorite websites. I also watch movies. Lots of movies. Did you know that 10 Things I Hate About You is available in its entirety on youtube? So is Cruel Intentions. Revenge of the Nerds, strangely enough, though, is not.
A total lack of direction is nothing new to me. It's the whole addressing that problem head on that is new to me. As the end of sophomore year in college approached, I knew I would have to declare a major in order to register for the next year of classes. Faced with the challenge of actually having to make some sort of decision about my future (or at least the next two years of my future) I did what any spoiled, young walking-stereotype of our underachieving generation would do and applied to transfer to a college that didn't make such outrageous demands of its students. Two years later I graduated without a major from a school that allows students to "concentrate" in an area or areas of study. Or not. Whatever the student wants to do, or in my case, wants not to do.
I moved to Brooklyn and got a job at a small photography agency for a year and a half. And then one morning I woke up and realized that if I didn't start trying to figure out what I want to spend my working life doing I might have to find some corporate lawyer to marry for money and status. And while I love the idea of lots of money (and illicit affairs with pool boys on the side) I just don't have the energy or high tolerance for alcohol to maintain the kind of physical perfection and emotional numbness that such a marriage would require. These days it's hard enough to muster up the motivation to shave my legs, let alone brush my teeth. Are there any wealthy guys out there interested in a marriage of convenience to a couch potato with bad breath? I didn't think so. In that case, I'm left with no other option but to search for direction and maybe even a career path that I will love.
But first, a nap.
A total lack of direction is nothing new to me. It's the whole addressing that problem head on that is new to me. As the end of sophomore year in college approached, I knew I would have to declare a major in order to register for the next year of classes. Faced with the challenge of actually having to make some sort of decision about my future (or at least the next two years of my future) I did what any spoiled, young walking-stereotype of our underachieving generation would do and applied to transfer to a college that didn't make such outrageous demands of its students. Two years later I graduated without a major from a school that allows students to "concentrate" in an area or areas of study. Or not. Whatever the student wants to do, or in my case, wants not to do.
I moved to Brooklyn and got a job at a small photography agency for a year and a half. And then one morning I woke up and realized that if I didn't start trying to figure out what I want to spend my working life doing I might have to find some corporate lawyer to marry for money and status. And while I love the idea of lots of money (and illicit affairs with pool boys on the side) I just don't have the energy or high tolerance for alcohol to maintain the kind of physical perfection and emotional numbness that such a marriage would require. These days it's hard enough to muster up the motivation to shave my legs, let alone brush my teeth. Are there any wealthy guys out there interested in a marriage of convenience to a couch potato with bad breath? I didn't think so. In that case, I'm left with no other option but to search for direction and maybe even a career path that I will love.
But first, a nap.
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