In defense of girlyness

February 3, 2012 by Cassie

The other night, I was watching The New Girl, in which actress and singer Zooey Deschanel plays the lovable, cute, and (here’s a word she’s sick of) quirky “Jess” who has three dude roommates. The four late 20- and early 30-somethings are all single and attempting to mingle, and meanwhile are living in a converted loft with stalls in the bathroom. If you’ve never seen it, you can probably guess what happens: hilarity ensues.

But in this week’s episode, Jess ends up defending herself to one of the guys’ love interests– a sarcastic but sexy lawyer dressed in black who, for some weird reason, is not charmed by Jess’ cupcakes and and pretty dresses. What’s not to love? Jess’ girly girlyness, apparently.

Let’s talk about the real Zooey for a second, since she’s similar to her character in a lot of ways. Zooey elicits strong reactions from people to begin with. You either love her, hate her, or don’t know who she is. If you love her, it’s either because you want to date her or be her best friend. Personally, I would like to be her best friend so we could rock polkadots and have a picnic in the park. If you hate her, you probably had a disturbed childhood. But for some reason, not everyone likes the pretty girl with big, blue eyes and the voice of a bird. Haters gon’ hate, I reckon.

But this episode did get me thinking about my own girly tendencies. Since she’s the protagonist, I was of course rooting for Jess. Especially when she yelled, “My checks have farm animals on them, bitch!” On the other hand, the lawyer girl wasn’t a total villain, either. In fact, I could relate to her dry and somewhat snarky sense of humor, and any female can empathize with the insecurities she admitted to that arise in a new relationship. (This was the root of their head butting, after all.)

I decided that I fall somewhere in between the two girls personality-wise. I don’t wear a business suit, but I don’t have a ribbon hat, either. I love make-up, but I’m just meh about glitter. I’m not bash-your-head-against-the-wall sweet, but I certainly ain’t no straight-up bitch, neither. I don’t know why I keep talking like this.

But I defend Jess and/or Zooey’s right to be ultra-feminine, and if that includes a matching personality, then so be it. It’s a definite trend in our culture these days for girls to be sassy and sarcastic, and I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with that. (Have you read my Twitter feed?) What is a little troubling, though, is how much I see it on TV shows for kids. My sisters are 10 and 12– pre-teens in the making– and so many of the shows they watch on Nickelodeon and Disney Channel are cast with nothing but shrimpy, smartass kids. Their “humor” consists of nonstop deadpan digs at one another, and I can’t help but think what kind of monster of a new generation we’re raising when overpaid child actors show nothing but a lack of compassion. Not to get all political. But I’m throwing it out there.

That might seem off-topic, but I see a correlation. When my family moved into a new house over two years ago, my youngest sister– just eight at the time– got to pick what color she wanted to paint her room. She went with the pinkest of pinks, and the whole room was little girl heaven. She loved it, but soon got some flack from “friends” who said pink was too girly. I know– if only that were the worst of our problems. It’s a common heartache among little girls, sure, and the walls have remained pink since, despite some negative attention. But as my mom pointed out, my sister’s dire need to wear dresses every single day was immediately eradicated and replaced with jeans. Some of that inherent girlyness was squelched.

So it’s refreshing to see a character like Jess who is dorky, funny and, yes, girly in the spotlight rather than as a two-dimensional background character. Simply put, she’s relatable. Good acting, maybe. So good, in fact, that (girly moment coming up!) I got bangs yesterday and am just realizing that I now have something else in common with Zooey. Maybe we’re meant to be best friends, after all.

Filed Under: Feminism Tagged With: I like pretty things, Zooey Dechanel gets me

West Coasting

January 25, 2012 by Cassie

 

A couple of weeks ago, John and I ventured across the country to the great state of California for a week-long vacation. The timing was perfect in a lot of ways– the holidays were (sadly? finally?) over, and it had been almost two years since our last extended getaway to the same wonderful coast. The timing was also crappy, however, as I had a lingering, phlegmy cough thanks to a round of strep throat that had me below 50% since Christmas day. But I was determined not to let it get me down.

So when we got to the airport on a Wednesday morning, I was in high spirits. We had just enough time to grab some breakfast before our 11:30 a.m. flight without waiting too much longer to board. But then we remembered, Oh yeah! This is Southwest Airlines! It sucks. What we thought had been perfect timing ended up leaving us with “C” boarding passes, and John and I had to sit in two separate middle seats for the entire five-hour flight. So I ordered a $5 plastic cup of wine– because, screw it– and I talked pleasantly with the aged roadie-type next to me, who was nice enough. Until I realized I was stuck next to a man who, encouraged by my politeness, would continue to talk throughout the entire trip. High spirits, indeed. Even my nasty cough wasn’t enough of a deterrent for him, and I learned why he didn’t have kids, what I should do with my life, and that he’s actually a millionaire. (Flying coach on Southwest. Sure.)

Aside from this annoyance, there was no other turbulence on the flight, and John and I were soon on the road headed for sunny San Diego. And, oh, was it lovely.

During our first couple of days there, we enjoyed the highest temperatures in the country. We wore bathing suits. On the beach. In January. Why doesn’t everyone live in California?

We spent three days in San Diego checking out the Gaslamp District, watching a crazy man mount a street light, and eating a fair amount of burritos. We also checked out the famous San Diego Zoo, where we made friends with pandas and gorillas. After we said goodbye to our wonderful hotel room to make our way north, we stopped to see hang gliders take off from a rather impressive cliff.


This was also where I experienced the tragedy of losing an entire roll of film. I’m still a novice with my 35-year-old manual camera, and the film apparently never caught on quite right. It didn’t rewind properly, and I exposed the whole thing. I had a moment of silence, and I might’ve cried about it.

We made our way up to Encinitas, a small town along the coast, where we drank a pitcher of beer, discussed vegitarianism (“I like cow too much”), and eventually ended up browsing the quiet neighborhood streets of cliffside homes at midnight. Several of these houses– ranging from modest to snazzy in style and size– were up for sale. And I learned that the difference between oceanfront and almost oceanfront is about $700,000. So there you go. We ducked under the window of one home as its owner did dishes to catch a glimpse of the night ocean, and I temporarily lost John as I made a phone call to a real estate office “inquiring” about “a house… I don’t know what street I’m on, but it’s in Encinitas. Thank you.” When my phone rang bright and early the next day at 9 a.m., I cursed my formerly drunken self for getting Gary Martin, Oceanfront Specialist’s hopes up of making a $2.6 million sale. Sorry, Gary.

John and I spent the second half of our week in Los Angeles where we met up with some of John’s friends from high school and college. We spent time in Redondo, Venice, and Santa Monica where my thoughts ranged anywhere from I could totally see myself living here to Wow, these people are freaks.

Thanks to all these photos, my John the Wanderer shrine is almost complete.

One of the many highlights of the trip was making the pilgrimage up to the Griffith Park Overlook, where we could see all of foggy L.A. I also spotted this guy:

 

I freaking grew up watching Star Trek AND Reading Rainbow! Not that I told him that. I didn’t want to make the TV star whose name I couldn’t even remember feel old, so I just stared at him instead. The trip was a success overall, and John didn’t kill me despite a serious lack of sleep due to my incessant coughing.

After we got back to the frigid East Coast, John read that a decapitated head was found right near the Hollywood sign (behind us) within days of us being there. Meaning it was probably there while this photo was being taken. I still treasure this photo.

Our trip made me think hard about where I want to end up in a couple of years. Having never lived outside of Maryland, I feel long overdue for an adventure– one that lasts longer than a week. I love traveling and excitement too much to stay put forever. And while I won’t be going anywhere any time soon, I’ve had the seed planted for awhile now of considering a move somewhere down the road. But I have to remind myself sometimes to be in the moment and not get too caught up in California dreamin’, because time spent focusing too much on whatever “the next step” is is time wasted. But it does help to envision a different kind of reality for myself and actually take steps to make it happen by saving money, researching out-of-state graduate programs, and not acquiring too much physical crap that I can’t take with me wherever I go. It’s fun to think about. It’s nerve-wracking, too, when I consider how huge of a step it would be to, you know, pick up everything and move cross-country. But bold moves are necessary in life. And the more prepared I am for whatever bold move I eventually decide on, the easier it will be. Hopefully.

For now, I’ll reminisce about my vacation, feel lucky for being able to take one without going broke, and think about a getaway for springtime. Nashville is on my list for possible living, too.

***UPDATE 1/27***

Upon further Googling, I have discovered this photo from LeVar Burton HIMSELF the day I saw him up at Griffith Park! So for those of you who doubted whether it was actually him, see for yourself. I feel so validated. Levar, if you’re reading this, sorry for staring. I should’ve said hi. You’re just like everybody else. It’s just that I used to wear a headband across my eyes when I was a kid pretending I was just like Geordi on Star Trek, so I was a little Star Struck.

@LeVarBurton: Shooting video assets today for the #ReadingRainbow App… moby.to/jd2ky9

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: California dreaming, film photography, I wouldn't mind being poor in California, Levar Burton you were awesome in Star Trek

Wanted: friends with boobs

November 16, 2011 by cassie

In kindergarten, I considered my friends to be anyone who didn’t hit me or yank my hair on the playground. In middle school, my friends were the ones who liked me despite my braces, pimples, and the occasional pair of spandex shorts. By the time I got to college, my standards for friendship had evolved and matured– anyone I could comfortably fart on was a good fit.

I’ve had many close friends over the course of my life, and I’m lucky to call a select few lifers, but lately I’ve been feeling a void in the social department. In other words: I’m becoming a shut-in.

Amazingly, it’s been almost a year since I graduated from college. You might be thinking this is the cause for my isolation, and there’s certainly no denying that school is naturally a more social environment. But unlike a lot of my peers who have also left the campus life behind, I’m glad to be done with that lifestyle. Maybe if I had gone to a more sports-oriented school, lived on campus for all four years, or–yeah, right– joined a sorority, I would feel differently. But none of those things were the case, and I’m far more happy to no longer have neighbors who puke on the walls of my old apartment building or to sit next to other students who go to class wearing what they slept in.

The only things I miss from those days are the few friends I made who have since scattered, leaving me wondering how people make friends in the real world.

I’ve got a friend from high school in Pittsburgh, a friend from college on Long Island, and a small handful of friends here in Maryland, all no less than 40 minutes away. My wonderful boyfriend, John, is my best friend, but even he is 27.5 minutes away from my garage palace on the hill, and his hair has been short for a long time now, so I can’t French braid it like I did that one time. It was totally cute, but I think he only let me do it ’cause of the wine.

Point is, some amount of girly time is necessary. But my friends and I have to turn into event planners to make it happen. A week’s notice minimum, a decision on time and place, and a lot of driving (usually on my part) is required. Last minute get-togethers aren’t my reality. So, okay, I should make friends with coworkers. I like everybody in my office, and there are a lot of 20- and 30-somethings there. But it seems like everybody’s married and babied. Which doesn’t rule anyone out, but we’re obviously in different stages of life. More effort might need to go into building friendships there.

But I recently joined a gym! There’s a great idea. My personal trainer, Brittany, sure was nice. What, am I going to chat her up enough until I feel comfortable asking if she wants to join me for drinks? AM I TRYING TO DATE HER? Nothing screams “awkward” like, “Hey, will you hold my medicine ball?” I’m starting to empathize with guys trying to get a phone number.

Maybe I just need to open up more, but it’s not like I haven’t tried. My brief stint working at the sports bar/restaurant a few months ago was my attempt at not only making extra money, but possibly making a few friends, as well. I even ignored the fact that people who frequent such an establishment were not people I had much in common with. I made the money for a little while, but no matter how friendly or helpful I was to the other servers, I never felt like I fit in. My social experiment was failing– it was a brand new restaurant, so the whole staff was new, too. We all started together, yet I wasn’t keeping up. As they always do, cliques started to form, and I wasn’t falling into place. When I quit, no one missed me. You may play your tiny violins now.

This has only started to bug me recently, but now that it’s on my mind, it’s something I think about frequently. My mom has noticed it, too, and I suspect that if I don’t start filling in my social calendar, she’s going to start booking girly dates for me. The thought of that is slightly horrifying and not altogether impossible. I’m like the female version of Paul Rudd in I Love You, Man. Slappin’. Da bass. Mon.

I guess I just miss the days when making friends was an effortless task. You like horses? I like horses, too. BAM– best friends. You like Christina Aguilera? I’m still into Britney Spears, but agree to disagree, right? BAM– peas in a pod. Now, it’s, You have a job? Me, too! I’m too busy to forge a new relationship, but nice to meet you. Fizzle– LinkedIn contacts. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, but in the meantime, I’ll be on Craigslist, inadvertently stumbling on creepy stuff.

 

weird shit I do with friends

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: will you be my friend? circle yes or no, women seeking women (platonic)

Characters and Caricatures

October 11, 2011 by cassie
As a fledgling writer, I try to see characters and stories everywhere I go. I also try to say words like “fledgling” without sounding like a jerk every chance I get. So whether I’m writing about an indie band I just discovered or a Baltimore artist who’s waiting to be discovered, it’s my job to find what makes their stories unique and worth telling. But sometimes I do it just for fun, people-watching style.
Take Saturday night for example. I go with John and his brother to see Trey Anastasio Band at Rams Head Live in Baltimore. TAB’s namesake is also the frontman for Phish, and his following is made up of a pretty interesting collection of people to say the least. Hardcore fans separate themselves from the rest of the crowd by loudly proclaiming how they just drove up from Asheville where they saw last night’s show, and then they proudly apologize for smelling like they haven’t showered since. The guy standing behind you feels the need to sing all the lyrics to the newest song because, you know, he figures he’s helping you out. Concert-goers roll their eyes at the overbearing security guards, and one couple busts out their swing dancing moves during a jazzed-up version of a ’90s Phish song as if they were ready to start a flash mob. With persistent wanderlust, the crowd seems like an odd bunch of misfits, but the goofy smiles on their faces each time Trey hits a defining note in a solo indicate that they’re more than happy to remain that way.
Just a few feet outside the venue is a totally different scene. When the band takes a set break, we step outside to cool off. If you’ve never been to Power Plant in Baltimore, I can describe it to you in four words: Disney World for Drunks. Which actually sounds cool now that I think about it, but the guys and I couldn’t get back inside fast enough. But during the moment or two we spend outside, I happen to notice a tearful fight break out between a guy and a girl. She yells at him as he walks away, cell phone to his ear. A loud group of colleagues just a few feet away are having a good time, clearly oblivious to the drama unfolding next to them. To my left, a trio of mismatched forty-somethings dance to the pounding club music in an awkward spot not intended for dancing as the doorman standing next to them watches with disapproval. One woman looks a bit lost wearing day clothes and carrying a shopping bag as if she’s spent the entire day in the mall and lost track of time. Female bartenders start trickling in for their shifts– they avoid eye contact and walk with a purpose wearing short black shorts, coffees in hand.
 
It’s interesting how scenes unfold in front of you and so easily turn into something worth writing about. And it’s not just the sold-out concerts with uncontainable energy or drunken outdoor parties with 20 bars to choose from that get my attention. More often it’s the woman sitting alone in a restaurant looking disappointed as she drums her fingers on the table, or the mother riding bikes with her family while simultaneously chatting on her cell phone. But my favorite story of the year? When I visited my grandpa a couple weeks ago in West Virginia, we were sitting at a red light on the way to a musical. We were chatting when he looked straight ahead, let his jaw drop a little, and said rather plainly, “That’s a raccoon.” I turned to look and sure enough, inside the car in front of us was a live raccoon sitting on the head rest of the driver’s seat. You. Can’t. Make. That. Up. Well, you can, but it’s so much better because it’s true. What kind of person drives with a raccoon on his head that ISN’T a hat, and more importantly, where was he going with said raccoon? After a good laugh and a few jokes (“only in West Virginia”), my grandpa asked, “Are you going to blog about that?” He knows me well.
 
I don’t always have the easiest time with writing. Sometimes I torture myself by becoming distracted and working dangerously close to my deadline. Other times, technology fails me. This happens more than I’m comfortable with. But while I’m far from being the perfect storyteller, there’s nothing like sending off something that’s been revised a million times and letting it speak for itself, however imperfect it may be.
 
We ended our Saturday evening in the city with tired feet and ringing ears sometime after midnight. The concert was excellent, and I could’ve easily fallen asleep in the car. I’m glad I didn’t– on the way home, we saw three elevated Chevy Impalas with speakers on the exterior and rims on the oversized tires, painted with Smurfs (“For the Kids”), Bubblicious (“Yum-Yum”), and Angry Birds respectively. I could ONLY imagine what they were up to in the middle of the night. Only in Baltimore, right? I’m keeping that weird little tidbit in the back of my mind for future reference. And if I ever write a novel, the guy driving around with a raccoon in his car just might have to make an appearance.

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Baltimore, i'm not as interesting as the people i write about and that's okay, people watching, things you can't make up

As easy as 1, Two, C

August 29, 2011 by Cassie

I’ve been approached a couple of times in the past few weeks for advice on how to start a blog. I must say it’s flattering to be asked for my expertise when there are few things at which I am an expert. Although if you ever need to know if the comma goes inside or outside the quotation marks, I’m your girl. (But if you don’t know the difference between “meet” and “meat,” don’t talk to me.)

Though by no means do I have a huge following, I have learned a thing or two about blogging since I started casually a couple of years ago, bought my own domain a year ago, and even branched out to other blogging ventures with a music blog very recently. So I figured I’d share a few tips.

First and foremost: blog more than I do. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been over a month since I’ve blogged. If you’re planning on starting your own blog, don’t do that. You know why? Perfect example: no one is reading this right now. Nah, just kidding. See, I’m allowed to blog so infrequently because I’m kind of a big deal. I also quote movies that came out seven years ago. Still, my posts are understandably infrequent because I’m out doing big deal things like having a grown-up job and taking out the trash which make each post that much more greatly anticipated. Still, if you’re just starting out, you shouldn’t do that. Try to keep it to a blog post a week on average if time is an issue, but more is good, too. That said…

Don’t blog too much. Some bloggers don’t know how much is too much and share every detail of their daily lives right down to the soggy Special K from that morning’s breakfast. While it is your blog and you should write about what you want, you should consider whether you also want anyone to read it. If so, I recommend keeping some things to yourself and not blogging every time you go to the bathroom.

You also need to write gewd. Seriously, if you don’t know the difference between “meet” and “meat,” I don’t even KNOW you. “Threw” and “through.” “Wait” and “weight.” “There” and “their” AND “they’re.” Capital letters at the beginning of each sentence and the personal pronoun “I.” “Lol” not allowed. And know that they made the enter/return button on the keyboard for a reason: paragraphs. No one wants to read anything that looks like this:

there have been some good things though. I went to an Oriole’s game with Rachel and others last night (the O’s won..omigah!) and we all had a really good time. I bought a cup of ice cream for $5, but it was the best damn ice cream I’ve had in a while, so it was worth it. I also got some things accomplished today in my room. I hung up several posters, and did a couple other little things. Rach, McKenzie, Sasha and this girl from New Orleans went rafting up at Harper’s Ferry today, and I couldn’t go. 🙁 But at least I got some stuff done, I guess. I also went to Taco Bell so that was nice. damn, I love them Chalupas. I also made the play, which is pretty exciting. I have a veerrry (very) small part, but it’ll be a part, and that’s good enough for me. Tomorrow night, there will be a live broadcast of BON JOVI in NYC at the United Artists theaters. I am so going. Be there, 9pm tomorrow night, if you want to see sexy men playing onstage…LIVE, no less. Then on Tuesday, their new cd HAVE A NICE DAY comes out.  I am so freaking EXCITED. these two things are really the only thing I have to look forward to for this week, so I’m thankful for that. They’re also supposed to be on Oprah Wednesday afternoon, but I won’t be able to watch, due to various things going on that day. anyone wanna tape it for me? 🙂

You are welcome for that lovely excerpt from the ramblings of a bored, boring, and shallow as a puddle 15-year-old me. Yeah. Painful, isn’t it? Almost as painful as it is creepy for a 15-year-old to call a bunch of 40-somethings sexy. Anyway…

To get a following, you must follow. If you’re seeking fame and fortune with your blog– HA! Wrong medium, buddy. (And as a sidenote to that, no, those ugly ass Google ads aren’t worth making your blog look like crap and the couple of pennies per week for it.) But you can build a following. Don’t expect it to happen simply because you’re putting words on the Internet. You have to connect with other bloggers not only by publicly following their blogs, but actually having a conversation with them. If you do this and follow the people that the people you follow follow (WTF) and leave comments on THEIR blogs, you’re more likely to generate interest. And get a Twitter thingy. Put it on the Facebook. It can be surprising when people you rarely speak to suddenly pop up saying they read your blog. Of course, if you’re going down the anonymous blogging route (a la the dating blogger), you’ll have to network wisely, you weirdo.

My final bit of insight is more of a statement than it is a suggestion, and that is that no one cares. Yup. And I say that in the nicest way possible along with humility because, hey, I blog– and I want people to read it. And yes, people sometimes read it. And like it, I think! But no one’s sending me fan mail asking, “WHYYYY haven’t you blogged in over a month? I want to know more about your daily LIIIIIIIFE.” And if anyone’s actually thinking that, they should keep on keepin’ it to themselves. You gotta blog for yourself, write about what you want, and never ever put automatically playing music on your blog because PEOPLE HATE THAT. Because while your taste in music is undoubtedly superior to others’, that Adele song has been played. To. Death.

While I could go on, I don’t want to further discourage anyone from following their life’s passion of blogging. So be sure to tune in next week when I give you helpful-but-not-really advice on how to post a bangin’ Missed Connections ad on Craigslist.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: blogging, I was joking about the Missed Connections post unless you encourage me to do one

Of the employed sort

May 4, 2011 by Cassie

The last time I posted, I was writing from the beaches of North Carolina, where I spent a week in total relaxation mode, playing frisbee with my sisters on the beach and drinking wine with my mom at night. The week ended up being pretty productive, too– in addition to running every single day of the week (something I’ve never done), I was also offered a job. Like, a job job. Not bad considering all I had planned on accomplishing that week was getting a little bit of sun.

While my tan is already fading fast, the reality of having a “real” job is starting to sink in. Since I graduated, time has seemed to pass pretty slowly. In between ambitious rounds of sending out countless resumes, my enthusiasm for job hunting would often deflate and I’d retreat into laziness and daydreaming. But when you’re living at home with tons of free time and a sense of pressure to DO something with your life, those moments are often filled with restlessness and anxiety. It really started to seem bleak on the job front, and I kept trying to adjust my immediate goals accordingly.

Really, though, it’s only been 3 1/2 months since I walked across the stage at graduation. When I remember that, I think, Wow. That actually didn’t take very long. And I’m proud. And damnit, I think I should be!

The job itself is truly ideal. There were plenty of jobs I applied to that secretly had me thinking to myself that if I didn’t get them, I’d be okay with it because they weren’t for me. If I had been offered a job I wasn’t excited about, I would’ve felt pretty torn about taking it. Why settle for something that’s merely “meh”? But then, what college grad these days can afford to turn down a job? Luckily, I didn’t have that problem with this one. I knew almost immediately during my first interview that this advertising and publishing agency would be a great fit for me. Aside from the convenience (it’s 10 minutes from my house) and the salary (it’s salaried!), my gut also told me that this was the place to be. The people I spoke with were friendly and easy to talk to, and from what I could tell, the environment was casual, yet growing– not too overwhelming, but, thank God, not underwhelming, either. The fact that it’s a position in a field directly related to my major with room to grow? No-brainer.

There’s always going to be compromise, though. That European trip I’ve been wanting to take for months is now indefinitely on the backburner. Sure I’m bummed I didn’t just jump on it sooner and do it the second I graduated, but the fact is I didn’t, and I made job hunting a priority instead. At least now I’ll be able to save money easier, and by the time I’m allowed to use my vacation days, I can at least do a week or so in Spain. Maybe France the year after?

I’m pretty nervous about starting this upcoming Monday, but I’m mostly excited. It’s going to mean big changes both personally and career-wise. But I’m thinking of it like I would school. College is a four-year commitment (or 3 1/2 years, in my case… 5 years in others’), and while I’m not sure how long I’ll be with this company, I know it will at least be a couple. And I think that’s pretty cool. I’m excited to finally get some real world experience and prove myself worthy. I’m glad I had that week of vacation just a little while ago before I started this up, considering I don’t know when the next one will be. Something else I’m glad about? Getting this job before the upcoming graduates did. I didn’t finish school quickly for nothin’.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: change, generation Y, holy crap, no longer unemployed
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