Uncreated Conscience

Yesterday we discussed the casting of Jennifer Lawrence in a role that could have gone to a person of color. Today I would like to direct your attention to something far worse:

Actors Hollywood is courting to play the lead roles in a live-action adaptation of Akira.

For those of you who don’t know, Akira was a cult film based on a manga about a post-apocalyptic, dystopian future society. They are making a live-action version of it. With apparently only white people. Named Tetsuo and Kaneda.

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Last night, in a fit of insomnia, I rewatched most of Nostalgia Chick‘s videos, which probably isn’t the most helpful in getting the brain to shut off, because I spent more time thinking about the questions she brings up than trying to get back to sleep.

If you aren’t familiar with Nostalgia Chick, I suggest you all remedy this immediately, especially if you were born between the years of 1980 and 1990. She is the Distaff Counterpart to the Nostalgia Critic, who examines the media of our formative years (e.g. Transformers, Animaniacs, etc.) without the rosy-colored nostalgia glasses.

Of course, I’m fonder of the Nostalgia Chick (who doesn’t update often enough, grrr!) because she tends to analyse and ask questions from a feminist perspective. In the video I posted, the Nostalgia Chick looks at several cartoons from the late 80s and early 90s and ends with a very, very important question: why is it that we believe that everyone can relate to a male protagonist, but only females can relate to female protagonists?

To that end, why is it that when a girl is awesome, she’s labeled a “strong female character” and not a “strong character” period? Or worse, why is it that the notion of a “strong female character” necessarily requires that she be “kickass” or “strong in a typical masculine fashion”?

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Pretending to be Edie Sedgwick.

So I have a confession to make.

For most of my life, I refused to identify myself as Asian-American.

I know, right? In hindsight it seems silly, because, well, look at me. Or rather, look at who I wished I looked like. I’ve always wanted to be a gamine pixie sprite, with big eyes and short hair. Essentially, I wanted to be Edie Sedgwick. Or Audrey Hepburn. Or Natalie Portman. (I also wanted to be green-eyed and blonde, but that’s another story.)

I was never one to deny my ethnicity–in fact, I’m quite proud of it–but for a very long time, I struggled with how to describe myself. Because the word “Asian” comes with a lot of baggage and the term “Asian-American” even more so.

Why? Oh so many reasons. I’ve written before on the need for a cultural conscious shift because the way “people like me” (a loaded phrase in itself) are represented in fiction and media contributed a lot to my existential angst.

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As it’s Banned Books Week, I’ve been doing a bit of musing about the subject in the past few days. I just finished John Green‘s most excellent PAPER TOWNS (review to follow soon), which I believe was challenged somewhere in this country, although for what conceivable reason I have no idea.

Verboten.

I grew up in a household which banned books. My parents are well-intentioned, lovely people who tried to instill in me a love of reading from an early age. Mum and Dad are not readers themselves, but nevertheless did their best by me. Our nightly routine included Mum bedding me down and Dad reading out loud to me until it was time to switch on the nightlights.

Unfortunately, because my parents are not readers, they didn’t necessarily care to review the books they perfunctorily forbade me to read. For instance, THE BABYSITTERS’ CLUB was proscribed in our house. Why? I have no idea. My mother insisted the books were “trashy”. (She’s never read one in her life.) I had to sneak home a few from the school library. I don’t know what she meant by “trashy”, but I suspect it has something to do with literary quality vs. book quantity. I mean, it doesn’t get more wholesome than THE BABYSITTERS’ CLUB!

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I am going to RANT and VENT and CAPITALISE random WORDS as well as say FUCK every other word because I absolutely HATE driving.

I HATE LA with a passion. I hate the fact that we have to fucking DRIVE fucking EVERYWHERE. I bloody HATE sitting in a damn CAR for HOURS on end. The amount of fucking TIME you waste sitting in your fucking CAR everyday is fucking RIDICULOUS. I wasted TWENTY-EIGHT fucking minutes dropping my brother off at the PRESTIGIOUS Valley Hunt Club this morning, an activity that would have only taken about FIVE FUCKING MINUTES if I lived on Manhattan. And then on the drive back, I sat in SILENCE for TWELVE minutes, bored out of my mind because I couldn’t READ, WRITE, DRAW, or do ANYTHING ELSE that would have kept me fucking OCCUPIED. Instead, I have to PAY ATTENTION to the fucking road.

Having a car is a COMPLETE waste as well. It’s a damn fucking GAS-GUZZLER, a money pit to which your PRECIOUS RESOURCES go, money that I could use for COLLEGE. It also fucking POLLUTES the damn air so that I’ll probably die of LUNG CANCER by the time I’m THIRTY. If we fucking had a DECENT public transportation SYSTEM, we’d eliminate this FUCKING PROBLEM. If we stopped fucking DEVELOPING OUTWARDS, we’d also solve this issue because we could actually WALK to fucking stores instead of getting in our fucking cars and DRIVING to the nearest supermarket. Driving FOUR MINUTES to the nearest supermarket. NOBODY fucking WALKS or BIKES in LA. I HATE it. That’s the reason we’re so fucking HEALTH-CONSCIOUS because sitting on our FAT ARSES in a fucking CAR everyday, we don’t get any fucking EXERCISE. Not to mention, we use these DAMN, FUCKING, POLLUTING, GAS-GUZZLING PIECES OF CRAP to drive to the nearest fucking McDonalds to stuff our faces with fatty, greasy hamburgers, killing thousands of COWS to feed an already OBESE nation. But enough about cows, or I will quickly dengerate into a rant about eating meat and why vegetarianism is better for you.

Number of copies of common application: 6
Number of envelopes addressed to various colleges: 19
Number of times asked if SOMEONE could break a $100 bill: 4
Number of magazines bought as a provision for breaking said $100 bill: 1

Holy orgasm!
-K. Shaughnessy

7:30 p.m. Stupid, stupid, stupid Veteran’s day. Gaah. I’m not begrudging old men their pensions or anything, it’s just that NOTHING IS OPEN ON A NATIONAL HOLIDAY.

Damn fuckwits.

I’m just out of sorts today. David and Mark left (their company I shall miss, but their stay here I will not). I rolled out of bed this morning around 6:30 a.m. because I needed to get to Kinko’s and FedEx my essay to St. Hilda’s and photocopy some crap for Art History.

I quickly dress in my uniform and brush my teeth in Mum’s bathroom, but I need to get into mine to grab my hair things, etc.

But guess who was in there taking a BLOODY SHOWER.

You guessed it.

David.

Damn boy takes twenty-five minutes in the morning! And he doesn’t even have any fucking hair to wash!

So I stood there pounding at my bathroom door for a good twenty-five minutes until he finally throws the door open. A cloud of steam billows out (I’m surprised he didn’t shrink in there!). There was so much humidity in the air that my hair waved instantly (I’m not kidding).

Of course, when faced with the wrath of a VERY PISSED OFF Catholic schoolgirl, one would normally run away screaming in the opposite direction.

However, David, being the guy that he is, takes one look at the skirt and knee-highs and his mouth drops.

“Don’t,” I snap, holding up a hand. “say ANYTHING.”

I waved goodbye to them all as a I left.

Thankfully, I won’t have to see them again until next year.

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4:50 p.m. I’d say it’s just my luck. Oxford just sent me something through snail mail. One of their colleges is considering me for application, but of all the colleges, it just HAS to be Saint Hilda’s, the all-WOMEN’S college. Argh! Well, I’m taking whatever’s coming my way. After all, Saint Hilda’s is simply a residence dorm and I don’t necessary take CLASSES at Oxford, per se. I have a private tutor, which is really quite nice. But…ARGH!

5:14 p.m. Of course. OF COURSE! St. Hilda’s is the ONLY college at Oxford University that still remains all-women! *huffs in frustration* There were four women’s colleges but the rest all went co-ed a VERY long time ago. ARGH!

5:18 p.m. *mystified* St. Hilda’s has a three-course meal for dinner! Whoa…

5:20 p.m. Damn, their dorm rooms look like hotel suites…

5:21 p.m. You know…despite being all-women’s…it’s sounding quite nice…

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Number of times cried due to college-induced stress: 3
Number of times abused poor Steinway due to college-induced stress: 4
Number of times violently harmed an inanimate object due to college-induced stress: 29
Number of times “erotic” was said in AP English: 2
New Moranism: “unnullable”

Guys on motorcycles are hot…well, except you, Mr. Reeves.
-K. Nocita

Oh my god.

*blinks*

From: “David Bradford”
To: thegreatmissjj@yahoo.com
Subject: Oxford University Interview
Re: Candidate 732 Oxford Application

Dear Sarah Jae Jones,

I am writing to invite you to attend an interview for admission as an undergraduate to a college of Oxford University.

This interview will take place at Oxford University North American Office, 198 Madison Avenue, 13th Floor, New York 10006.

You must arrive for this interview well in advance of the starting time, which is at 9.25 (24hr clock) on 14th November.

You will need some form of ID for security clearance. You will also need to bring one recent passport-size photo with your name written on the back – this is in addition to your ID.

For mathematical and science candidates, please bring a calculator, ruler and writing instruments along.

You will receive a thirty minute interview from Dr. Barbara Kennedy.

On arrival, you will be asked to read a short passage in English, on a topic of relevance to your field of interest. You will have 30 minutes for this. This passage will act as the starting point for the interview. You will be asked questions about it, which will not assume you have any previous specific information or knowledge about the topic.

You must confirm to me whether you are able to attend this interview, by replying to this e-mail but changing the subject line (not the body of the e-mail) to read:

“Candidate 732 – Yes” if you will attend the interview at the time allocated

“Candidate 732 – Problem” if there is a problem with the time and location of the interview which you wish to bring to my attention, or if you wish to decline the chance to be interviewed.

There is no need to write anything else in your reply unless there is a problem. Please note that interview times and locations can be changed only in exceptional circumstances, and that there is very little scope for altering the timetable at this stage.

I hope that this is acceptable, and the tutors pass on their good wishes and look forward to meeting you soon!

Regards,

David Bradford

Holy fuck.

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