Monday, August 26, 2013

Oh, Miley...

I was trying really hard not to write about Miley Cyrus's performance on the VMA's last night, but I can't seem to get any work done because of my thoughts around it. It doesn't need any more attention then it has already gotten, but I want to get this out of my head.

No, I didn't watch the VMA's because "Breaking Bad" is just too good and more up my alley.  I knew the "shocking" things from the VMA's would show up in my FB feed, on Twitter and in Entertainment news.  And, from years past, we know these things are staged, which make them anti-shocking.

Instead, I clicked on the article links, watched it on YouTube, and yawned.

First of all, there is no comparison to Madonna.  Madonna was mature and self possessed by the time she was doing her "antics" onstage.   I never got the sense she was "trying," serving anyone else, copying what she saw on YouTube, or battling a sweetheart-manufactured-by-Disney image.  She held her own when onstage with another superstar, while Miley just became a prop for Robin Thicke.

Miley Cyrus is 20 years old.  Let's face it; she is a big kid.  Today, kids mature at the pace of a glacier.  Recently, I was at a bar with my husband and a friend.  It was a college bar.  The college girls seemed to think it was funny to twerk in their short shorts in front of the guys and with each other.  Apparently they think they are being rebellious, ironically sexy, or "down with the homegirls" in a tongue-in-cheek way.  At least I hope it is tongue-in-cheek.  The more they did it, the less interesting it was to watch and we eventually stopped looking.

Watching white girls with skinny asses twerk is the equivalent of watching little boys at a Barmitzvah in Long Island pretend to be rappers from the streets.  It's just silly.  Stop it.

Miley was just doing the same thing these college girls were doing, but on a bigger stage.  I'm sure she will look back and be embarrassed because she is making her mistakes on a global level.  The other girls are just making asses of themselves in a local hangout.  Hopefully, no one is Instagraming or videotaping and putting their shit up on YouTube.  But even if they are, there isn't any fame or responsibilities thrust upon them to be "role models" for our young girls.

Having been a stripper in the 90's, I didn't find these moves particularly shocking or rebellious.  I'm just surprised these girls are doing it in public FOR FREE.  Yes, I would bend over with my ass out, but it was in the privacy of a strip club and I was getting paid to do it.  In my civilian time, I would never do something in public so lascivious or subservient.  That is work.  It requires dollars at the ready.  I remember  thinking that it was such a stupid, easy way to get money.  I even laughed at myself WHILE I was doing it.  I couldn't imagine it being a cool thing to do at a club where I wanted to meet people or have fun with my friends.  It would feel like I was giving away my power, my dignity.  I would feel like a skank; whereas in a strip club, I felt like a good employee on the assembly line.  Good, honest, work.  But that's me.  Obviously, things have changed.

Not to mention, I am one of those skinny assed white girls.  It would not be a juicy experience for anyone and I am well aware of that.

In short, give the girl a break.  She's a kid trying really hard to be radical and edgy just like every child star before her.  I would be more shocked if she wasn't twerking at the VMA's.

Like the night at the college bar, this behaviour becomes less interesting the more I see it, so I just stop watching and hope a young artist does something real that grabs my attention.

My un-asked for advice to a young artist: Be rebellious by doing something authentic.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Mending the Nets

"There is a time to fish and a time to mend the nets."  I got that quote from Kahil Gibran and I always remember it when I am feeling slow, sick, or unproductive.

I am the type of person that always wants to fish - keep producing, creating, and doing.  There is a part of me that believes if I am not doing, creating or learning that I don't deserve to breathe air on the planet.  Harsh?  Yes, but I can't help that thought.  It's a part of me and I have to deal with it when it comes up.

Once again, I have a cold.  For every few months of good health and getting into fighting shape, I seem to get sick, have a depressive episode or get an all encompassing job that won't let me train or rest properly.  It's incredibly frustrating because I never seem to get into good enough shape, or write enough, or do enough promotion for my film.  I am stuck in this heavy fog that won't let me do much of anything.  Perhaps it is God's way of making me slow down.  Or it's just my dharma.

As the years pass, I think I am getting better at accepting these unwanted rest periods, but they are still difficult even when I put them in perspective.  After all, there are people who have REAL problems.

At least I work for myself and can take a nap in the middle of the day or work late into the night if I need to.  Eventually, I always do get better and can get into extremely good shape for a month or two -  before the cold, sickness, or depression hit again.

Last weekend, I was fortunate to work the corner of pro fighter, Gloria Salas.  She is super talented, has tons of drive, heart and athleticism.  For this fight, she told me that because her car was broken down, she couldn't get to the boxing gym.  She trained at an MMA gym near her house and sparred guys who did MMA.  She improved her cardio, but lacked real technical boxing training.

For what she had, she did amazingly well.  She lost in a close decision against a very talented, well trained Maggie Suarez.  She did the best with what she had.

Now, she has to go back to Palm Springs and as I advised her, get her car situation fixed.  That's the start of mending her nets before she can fish again.  Then, she will need to find a boxing gym, a good coach and figure out a way to schedule all this in with her work, her children and her boyfriend.  One stitch at a time.

Each day is a measure of patience.  Each moment is a leap of faith.