A Quick Look at Look at Me by Jennifer Egan

 Jennifer Egan's Look At Me is so rich with meaning and social commentary that I don’t know where to begin in expressing how I feel about it. I can say that it left me feeling miserable after reading it. I literally finished the final line, shut the book, and crawled into bed for an impromptu nap. It was as if the weight and magnitude of the book’s message pressed me down and I had no choice but to try and sleep away the uneasy feeling that had settled over me.

This book was written before the advent of MySpace, Facebook, and YouTube but it eerily predicts all of these social networking mediums. The fictional “PersonalSpace ™” website that Charlotte joins turns people into “shopping malls” and commodifies every aspect of identity including hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Look At Me could be read as a cautionary tale in that sense. Did I feel depressed after reading it because the image obsessed culture that the novel warns against has already come to pass? No, it isn’t that. I think it’s more that this type of society has sprung up around us and well - nobody fucking cares.

I think on some level we know that our image and profit obsessed culture is terrible but yet we all want our slice of this shitty pie. We are dying to sell out. We post photos, videos, blog posts, 40 character bites of commentary, in the hope that someone will Look At Us, Notice Us, and if we’re lucky, Sponsor Us - or maybe that’s just me? Charlotte and her little sister fantasized as girls that their life was a movie that people were watching. Now little girls actually aspire to have their lives turned into a reality show (and if they become teen moms they just might get their wish).

The characters of Z and Moose and their respective journeys seem to confirm what I have feared for a long time: resistance is futile and leads to personal ruin rather than structural change. If you swallow the red pill and step outside the Matrix you are likely to find yourself terrified and alone.  Simply recognizing what Z terms “the conspiracy” can be devastating. It’s easier, perhaps imperative, that you just chill out and eat a fucking burger or take your wife to Hawaii.

Choose wisely ...

Maybe I’ve wandered too far into the realm of cultural criticism. Let’s focus on some more practical matters such as Egan’s preternatural ability to construct powerful metaphors and illustrate the inner anxieties of a character.  Her use of figurative language does not preclude the use of miraculous single word descriptors either. If her diction is anything to go by, Egan has an expansive vocabulary and knows what to do with it. She has a relationship with the English language that I can’t help but envy. If you’re an aspiring writer get your hands on one of Egan’s books immediately.  

Also, much of the novel takes place in my hometown of Rockford, IL. The primary protagonist of the novel was born and raised in Rockford and despised everything about it. Reading her scornful descriptions of Rockford was uncanny and at times made me uncomfortable, for I too grew up fantasizing about “getting out” of Rockford as if it were some sort of prison. In some ways reading this book made me ashamed of my shame and made me feel unusually protective of my hometown. 

All in all I can’t say that I enjoyed reading Look At Me. It was engaging and objectively I realize that it is a brilliant work of fiction; but it was almost too real. It presents a bleak future that feels as imminent as it does irredeemable. For some of you, reading it may amount to taking Morpheus’ red pill and for that reason I recommend it cautiously.        

The Great Gatsby: Personal Impressions

Like most people who attended high school in the United States I read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby out of curricular obligation as a teenager. I remember finding it to be more palatable than other “classic” texts such as Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea. I also enjoyed discovering that the narrator, Nick, was a gay man carrying a torch for Gatsby and proving this point to my teacher through textual analysis.

Beyond finding the book tolerable and outing the narrator to my class, the book did not leave a lasting impression on me. So when I sat down to re-read it a few nights ago in anticipation of Baz Luhrmann’s screen adaptation, I wasn’t expecting much. When I finished the book I sat staring at the cover incredulously realizing that I wanted to read it again -- immediately. I’ve been an avid reader ever since I learned basic phonics as a child. Often when I reach the end of a good book I am sad to see it end and wistfully wish that there was more (this may explain my love of fan-fiction since it continues the story after the author has quit on it). I have never felt the desire to re-read a book and I never had until last night. Fitzgerald’s seminal work left me eager to re-digest its content and I did in fact begin it again immediately.

I’d like to understand why the book left such an impression on me as an adult when it barely made a blip on my radar as a high school student. I think the book’s themes are accessible to teenagers on an intellectual level but far too profound to reach them on an emotional level. Most of them have not lived long enough, or simply lived enough to understand nostalgia, love, regret and self-delusion. Although as a young child I experienced a great deal of soul-deepening trauma, all of that was at the hands of fate and not the product of my own doing. Regret only comes with personal culpability.  

As an adult in my late 20s I am just now becoming familiar with nostalgia. Because there is a younger crop of teenagers nipping at my heels who do not remember the 1990s (or the century during which The Great Gatsby was written--yikes) I find myself musing about the good old days like someone well beyond my years. I work in higher education and finding myself surrounded by this demographic as they enter such a formative period in their lives keeps me aware of all that I’ve already done.

Fitzgerald’s genius, sumptuous, and vivid descriptions of Gatsby’s parties took me back to my undergraduate years when partying was not something you did on a special occasion; it was something you did regularly and awesomely. Wanton drifting from celebration to celebration is the purview of the traditional college student and the independently wealthy. I’m certainly not rich, so when I graduated from the University of Illinois in 2008 I said goodbye to that particular brand of recreation. Sometimes I miss it - the music, the drinks, the sexual energy and possibilities - while fully  understanding that the person I am now would be disgusted in the midst of such revelry. I don’t miss the parties so much as I miss the time when I would have enjoyed them.

Then there is the theme of relationships. I was admittedly a late bloomer when it came to romantic love. I didn’t enter into a monogamous romantic relationship until I was 25 years old. Traversing the rocky mores of love has been and continues to be one of the most challenging and fulfilling undertakings of my life. I found myself stricken with empathy for Tom and Daisy’s relationship. Don’t misunderstand me. I find the individual characters of Tom and Daisy to be as reprehensible as anyone. I empathize with their relationship. Tom says:

Why, -- there’re things between Daisy and me that you’ll never know, things that neither of us can ever forget.

Fitzgerald says those words seemed to “bite” into Gatsby and as I read them they certainly bit into me. There are moments, big and small, between lovers that people on the outside can not ever know. From silly pillow talk to divulging your darkest secret and trusting that person to keep it. You may ask your friend, “What do you see in him?” You may ask your friend, “Why won’t you leave her?” Your friend will try to answer you and may even come up with a response that makes sense to you but in reality, you may really never know the why of a relationship. It is not one thing but a series of shared experiences that makes up the core of a relationship. It is a unique secret that can never be shared. Reading books, watching movies, and lending an ear to friends having relationship troubles could not have prepared me for the reality of participating in one. I think I’m awestruck at Fitzgerald’s ability to illustrate in so few words one of the most profound aspects of being in a long-term committed relationship. Gatsby underestimated the strength of Daisy and Tom’s relationship, a mistake that is perhaps small in comparison to his myriad of other bad decisions, but a poignant one nonetheless.

Re-reading The Great Gatsby 11 years after the first time has been a moving experience. It has skyrocketed to the top of my ’fav’ list and now I am more eager than ever to see what the incomparable Baz Luhrmann has done with it. I look forward to re-reading this dynamic text over and over again. The quality of the writing and the power of the story have inspired me to try and improve my own writing. Before I close I would like to add that although this book is profound it is also just a really fun read. If you somehow avoided this text while in high school I recommend that you give it a shot. Whether you like it or not, it’s sure to leave a lasting impression.       

Police Brutality

The other day 23 year old Mark Anthony Barmore ran into a daycare center while fleeing from police. According to police, Barmore went for one of their weapons and they consequently fired on him. He was shot 8 times. He died.

Witnesses, including the daycare owner, say Barmore emerged from a boiler room with his hands up and head down and that there was no altercation over a weapon.

The city is in a big stir over it. The African-American community senses racism. I've heard that Reverend Jesse Jackson has been contacted. Other members of the community, don't see it as racism, but as just another example of police abusing their power.

I am not psychic. I can not ever know if race was a motivating factor in the shooting.

I can say this, race aside. If this suspect came at the police with his hands up and his head down, he was MURDERED.

I also see this as another case of someone slipping through the cracks of the "system". This young man had a troubled youth, raised in foster care. He also suffered from bi-polar disordor and schizophrenia according to the Rockford Register Star. My mother works in corrections and she often speaks of the mentally ill that get caught in the jail's revolving door. Because they can't afford the help they need and perhaps lack the social/family network necessary to protect them, they just end up getting tossed around the justice system.

This young man had had brushes with the law before and that doesn't surprise me. His criminal past does not justify his MURDER. Of course, this is an ongoing investigation, and nothing has come back conclusive. Perhaps the violent action will be deemed appropriate after research into the matter is completed. I've learned to be skeptical of the police and the media. I'm curious to see the official report nonetheless.

There's also the matter of the children who were present for the shooting. It would appear as if the police had no concern for their safety whatsoever. I just want to know, as a citizen of Rockford, what the hell they were thinking. My taxes pay their bills and I want an answer.

copyright © August 26, 2009 by Sha'Donna A. Woods, All Rights Reserved

Jackson and Accountability

Over the past few weeks I’ve researched and reflected on Michael Jackson's life extensively. If it’s out there to know, I know it. If there’s an interview, a music video, or a concert, I’ve seen it (thank God for Youtube). I think finally, I’ve figured Michael out--well, at least in so far as Michael wanted to be figured out (I know that he avoided interviews due to both an innate shyness and a deliberate desire to be mysterious).

It's apparent that Michael struggled with a prescription drug habit; he was admitted to rehab in 1993. I idolized Michael but I obviously don’t condone all of his choices. Drug abuse is a serious and stupid thing to get involved in. But I understand why someone under that much pressure and subject to that amount of fame might develop a dependency. Yes, it was still wrong on his part. He’s left his three children without a father and his parents will have to bury one of their youngest children. I wish he’d made different choices; I wish he’d managed his stress in a way that did not involve prescription drugs.

When I think about Michael’s apparent dependency on the anesthetic drug Diprivan, I get pissed. There is no logical reason for a doctor to ever administer that drug outside of a hospital setting. Apparently Michael started using it to sleep during his 1995 HIStory tour. An anesthesiologist traveled with him--how insane is that? As soon as I heard they found Diprivan in Michael’s house I knew Dr. Murray, the physician with Michael when he passed, was going to jail. It is just so ridiculous that a medical professional would allow a patient to abuse Diprivan. Michael asked his nutritionist, Cheryl Lynn Lee, to procure the drug for him earlier this year and she refused. Dr. Murray should have done the same thing. I guess the six figures he was making every month overpowered his sense of ethics.

What pisses me off almost as much as the idea of a doctor agreeing to give Michael an anesthetic drug to combat insomnia, is people’s apparent indifference over Murray’s actions. Again and again I hear things of this nature, primarily from people of color: you’re just looking for someone to blame; Michael killed himself; Michael has to take responsibility for his own actions; Michael was doing drugs long before he met Dr. Murray; when you’re ‘put under’ there’s always a risk of cardiac arrest, Michael must have known that.

Sigh. First of all, Michael has taken responsibility for his actions--he’s DEAD. You can’t put a corpse on trial and there’s no point because he’s already endured the ultimate repercussion for his actions. Second of all, regardless of what Michael should be held accountable for, it has nothing to do with Dr. Murray needing to take responsibility for his actions. If Michael did in fact die from complications stemming from Diprivan, and if Dr. Murray was the one to administer it to him, then Dr. Murray has to go down for at least involuntary manslaughter. DUH. Hopefully this whole scenario will shed light on this trend of doctors enabling celebrities. Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Anna Nicole Smith and Heath Ledger are all celebrities that have fallen prey to prescription drug overdoses. Being famous has a lot of perks, but one downside is having your doctor see you as a giant dollar sign as opposed to a human patient.

I had someone mention to me that the media might be harping on this Murray situation because of the doctor’s race, which is African-American. Hm. It’s hard to say. Frankly, Michael Jackson was the biggest pop star of all time. Of course the media is all over his rather sudden and suspicious death, just the way they were all over his rather strange and suspicious life. It’s not necessarily fair to say the media is practicing racial bias considering how famous Michael Jackson was.

And you know what, it sickens me to think it, but I can't help but wonder this: if Dr. Murray was white, would the black community be so willing to forgive him and place the blame solidly on Michael’s shoulders? I suspect that if Dr. Murray were white, black people would be itching for him to burn or at the very least more focused on his guilt as opposed to the idea that Michael “killed himself". Comments? I’m eager to debate.

copyright © July 30, 2009 by Sha'Donna A. Woods, All Rights Reserved

FOX News: WTF!

So today President Obama held a town hall meeting about his plan for healthcare. The meeting took place in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I watched a little bit of the coverage on MSNBC then grew bored and began flipping through channels in search of something frivolous to watch. I mean, it's not that health care isn't an important issue; as an uninsured individual, I understand the urgency of the situation on a personal level. It's just that I know Obama's stand on healthcare and I had no interest in hearing him rehash his main points and goals. So while surfing through the channels I happened to stop on FOX News. I usually only watch FOX News when I want to laugh or feel angry about something; but it occured to me that I should really learn how the "opposition" thought about universal health care and try to understand where they were coming from.

When Obama wrapped up his speech a FOX reporter named Major was on the scene. He said something along these lines, I don't have the exact quote:



Obama and his allies insist that if you already have private health care that you're happy with, you will be able to keep it. They want to bring 47 million people into the mix. What the democrats have failed to answer is whether or not there are enough nurses, offices, and doctors to handle an influx of 47 million people. I'm sure you already realize how difficult it is to get an appointment when you call your doctor right now so you can only imagine ...



I stopped listening. I could not believe that this reporter, this Major, had the nerve to say something so stupid. He pretty much implied that giving 47 million uninsured people access to healthcare would make things too inconvenient for people who can afford private insurance. Excuse me? Can we seriously not come up with a solution to a staffing shortage? This is America, god damn it!

My friend and intellecutal colleague, Domonique Devereueawax, pointed out that universal healthcare would give people a medical office to turn to and therefore free up the long ass emergency room lines for people who are actually having an emergency, such as a stroke or heart attack.

Whatever, I'm not writing this post to list all the reasons why universal healthcare is necessary (and it's not just necessary--it's the morally correct option). I just experienced such a WTF moment when that guy tried to pass off selfishness and impatience (what if I have to wait longer at the doctor's office, wah, wah) as a legitimate argument against a "public option" for healthcare. I had to share it with you guys. Comments?


copyright © June 11, 2009 by Sha'Donna A. Woods, All Rights Reserved

McDonald's, Pepsi, You Think You're Funny, Huh?

I love commercials. Well, I love good commercials. I mean the secret’s pretty much out of the bag when it comes to the advertising industry. Everyone knows that what the commercial promises is not what you actually get when you buy the product. The public has finally realized that those 30 second clips are planned out in every way from the casting of the actor, to the lighting, down to the precise way the performer is instructed to handle the product. It’s all done in the name of fantasy; to create a fantasy around the product so that in fact, when you purchase the product you are not buying the product. You are buying (or buying into) the fantasy created around that product.

Hence the smoking ads that have been pulled from television and most magazines. They always feature people at a beach party having a good time playing volleyball. All involved are somehow blessed with perfect teeth and skin. In reality most people addicted to nicotine can’t get enough wind to play volleyball and most have stained teeth before approaching thirty. But the ad is a fantasy. Everyone doesn’t live near the beach; everyone’s not coordinated enough to play volleyball; everyone doesn’t have a beautiful smile. But anybody with a couple bucks and an I.D. can buy a pack of KOOLs. That’s the catch.

I’m not trying to beat up on the tobacco industry. Everyone does it. Look at feminine hygiene product commercials. It’s usually a spot featuring smiling, thin women doing cartwheels or twirling around in white dresses. Any woman (or probably any man who has ever lived with a woman) realizes that there is nothing twirl-worthy about that time of the month. Most people realize it’s painful, uncomfortable and an overall nuisance made even more horrible for it’s predictability. But you pick up that box of Playtex, even if it’s just for a brief moment, for a second you are claiming that menstrual happiness that the ad girls have for yourself. As consumers we love that moment of capitulation when we give into the fantasy, even if on some level we know it’s not real.

Well lately there seems to be a new trend in the ad industry. It’s kind of a play on identity politics rather than a simple construction of fantasy. I noticed it a while back with the McDonald’s specialty coffee ads. They blatantly mock the stereotype of espresso drinkers--into indie-films, speak French for no reason, etc. McDonald’s commercials claimed that with their cappuccinos you could maintain your down-to-earth American persona while still enjoying a snooty coffee drink. I found these commercials to be hilarious not to mention fascinating. The idea that by choosing a mocha from Mickey Dees instead of Starbucks you could avoid betraying your middle class American roots is just rife with cultural and political meaning. Just the kind of stuff an anthropology geek like myself loves to ponder. Although I did find the commercials vaguely offensive to the mocha drinking, indie-flick watching intellectual that lives closeted behind my ’average Jane’ façade.

Now I see Pepsi has jumped on this band wagon. Their newest radio spots feature their new diet drink Pepsi MAX. It’s targeted toward men. The point is that as a man you can drink Pepsi MAX without being ashamed of drinking a diet soda, which apparently has come to be associated with femininity. According to the commercial it can be as embarrassing as buying feminine hygiene products for your girlfriend. But with Pepsi MAX you can buy and consume a diet soda and still feel like a MAN so that you can do other manly things with the saved calories like “eat bacon”. Hahahaha … what?

Seriously, these ads were cute at first but now I find the trend disturbing. By making fun of preconceived notions about class and gender these commercials seem to be reaffirming the validity of these stereotypes rather than challenging or debunking them. I’m already anxious for the next trend in advertising so that I can stop hearing these commercials. Their creators probably think they’re being very clever and perhaps a tad subversive by ironically playing on stereotypes. Uh, no, but nice try guys.

copyright © February 19, 2009 by Sha'Donna A. Woods, All Rights Reserved

In a Capitalistic Society is It Possible to be Genuinely Nice to Someone?

Yesterday I learned that it is important that as bank employees we always ooze sugary goodnaturedness toward our customers. I had to attend a workshop on customer loyalty. Apparently, we should always be smiling even when we answer the phone. Instead of only offering products to them we should ask them how things are going and find out more about them. We should strive to make their visit to our bank the best part of their day. That is what will make the difference; that is what will keep the customer with our bank when there are a plethora of other banks offering the same products and services.

Well I’ve heard this kind of brain washing before. I’ve been to several job orientations since I was abruptly and rather traumatically expunged from college life (with a B.A. and an aching heart). So I smirked internally and sipped at the bland complimentary coffee while to my shock and horror the people sitting in my area and my “teammates” by default listened attenttively, enthralled with the presentation. They smiled and nodded eagerly, volunteering anecdotes and examples of how smiling has improved their work day as well as their customer’s.

Look, I understand that having a good disposition improves quality of life. I understand that if you smile even when you’re unhappy it can actually make you feel better. Just because I’m cynical and a natural scowler doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the value of a good smile. Despite this appreciation I am not going to pretend that smiling at a customer is about “making someone’s day”. At the core, good customer service is about making money. When I answer the phone with a smile or greet someone with a friendly handshake, if I’m on the job, I don’t give a flying rat’s bottom about that person besides the sale they represent. I know this. I accept this. Without customers I’d be out of a job, plain and simple.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth to smile in someone’s face even when I either don’t like them or simply don’t care. I do it because I have to, I do it because if you don't work you don't eat, you don't have fun, you don't live. Many international people who visit the United States mock us for how “nice” everyone is. Little do they know that it’s all a veneer; everybody’s nice because everybody wants your money. That is all. It’s annoying and perhaps mildly disturbing. I feel that it's kind of gross that all of our smiles and "how are you?"s are propelled by the rush and ebb of cash transactions. My disposition is clearly not suited for customer service. Unfortunately sales and customer service jobs are the easiest to clinch. Pretty much all you need are teeth.

copyright © January 21, 2009 by Sha'Donna A. Woods, All Rights Reserved