December 8, 2009
This morning, my pipes froze. And since these things come in threes, my car got a flat, AND wouldn’t shift into first gear.
I was giving my boss-lady a ride to work, so when these complications arose, the two of us had to walk about a half mile to the local high school to borrow her car back from her daughter. My car is still on the side of the road, about ten blocks from my house. And I’m wearing a pink-and-green scarf on my head, AT WORK, with my only clean clothes – which happen to be brown cords and a black cardigan.
Tonight, after work, I have to find a way to get my car home, change the tire, and get myself to a dress rehearsal, an hour away, where I have to sing one of the alto solos in Handel’s Messiah. Which I do not fucking want to do, thank you very much.
But hey: I’m here, I’m alive, and it’s warm in the office. So that’s nice.
(ps. Every time it’s cold I can’t help but singing this commercial. Thanks, Top Chef, for introducing me to Erica. Economical!)
December 7, 2009
I got so excited when I read this. And watched the clip. And you probably should check that out if you’re gonna read the rest of this blog and have it make any sense. Okay. I’ll wait.
Cool. So! Right? Yes! Hee! And then I felt like I was reading my own thoughts when I read Ms. Snarker’s.
“Oh, kittens. You know it’s strange, given how much more lesbian and bisexual content there is out in the media these days then just a few years ago, but it still gives me a little (OK, big) thrill when out of the blue we’re included.”
I agree entirely, Ms. Dorothy, and I think it’s the same reason Glee is so successful in the first place, maybe. We watch television for the escapism, surely – why else would I love Deadliest Catch so? – but we also watch it for the true-to-life moments. At least, I do. And that’s why I love Glee.
Y’all, I know Rachel Berry. I was the know-it-all overbearing choir president, the girl who got a big hunk of the solos in the high school show choir. My good friend Kate and I actually terrorized a girl so badly with our strict adherence to the rules that she transferred schools. And good riddance: she was bringing down the overall morale of the group with her bitch-ass attitude. (I remain unrepentant, by the by. And I know I’m still sort of this way, but hopefully slightly more reigned in. Tell me if my horrible personality is making you want to shove a sock down my throat, okay?)
I know Will Schuester. I’ve been directing for years now (holy crap, it actually has been years) and I know just how it feels to try and motivate your singers to step up, to work harder, to give a shit. How and why you need to advocate for your program, and how difficult it can be to leave your personal life at the door. God, I hope I’m better at leaving my issues outside than he is.
I even know Sue Sylvester. And by that I mean I THINK HORRIBLE MEAN THOUGHTS ALL THE TIME. My inner Sue is just under the surface, track suit zipped, collar popped and megaphone at the ready, hoping someone will provoke me enough I’ll let her leap out and triumphantly flame our mutual opponents into smoldering residue. With enthusiasm!
God, I love how much she loves antagonizing him! Hee.
Anyhow, that’s all beside the point. The point is: hurrah for being on television. Hurrah for being able to recognize myself in these weird-ass characters. Hurrah for nostalgia, for formative experiences. For singing and dancing and drama, and for Jane Lynch. (A really, really big hurrah for Jane Lynch.) Hurrah for Glee!
And: hurrah for visibility. The more gays/lesbians you know, the less likely you are to vote against equal rights. Girls can have sex too! With each other! For fun! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Fox viewers. And maybe some people think that Brit’s just too dumb to comprehend what she said, but you know? Not me. I think she was too dumb not to keep it to herself. And if you watch the link again – here, let me help –
– well. no matter how you slice it, it sounds like Brit-Brit and Santana are… close. And that might be the joke, or a bombshell. I don’t care. The plot will roll on forth, and maybe it’ll come up again, and maybe it won’t. (Probably it won’t.) But these characters, they hardly react! A moment for the awkwardness of the revelation, and a widening of a few eyes, yes. But nobody says, “What the fuck?” Instead, it’s such a fun little throwaway moment. It’s not treated as a huge deal. It’s a side note. It’s not something that defines anyone, or separates, or changes relationships (though maybe we can revisit some context). Santana’s mean and Brittany’s dumb and they have sex, great! Maybe they are gay, maybe they’re bi, maybe Brittany’s gay and Santana’s a slutbasket, maybe they’re both straight with a healthy lady-style curiosity. Kinsey. Check it. (5.1 or so, right now, by the way. If you were wondering.)
But we’re all just people, and we can live our lives. All of these characters are the same way. Their connective thread is the Glee Club. There’s stuff that happens offscreen. Ken Tanaka and Emma have gone on dates, and Sue Sylvester has given interviews, and Will has put a metric ton of crap in his hair. And Brittany and Santana have had sex. I mean, that’s way more interesting than Ken and Emma’s dates, but still.
I just happen to like the fact that it felt like both a fun, amusing moment with more than a hint of potential truth. I believe it, and I think it’s viable, and I like how the writers treated that possibility. “Hey, y’all: let us remind you about the prominence of lesbianism in society. Via hot cheerleaders. Yep, plenty of awesome and unexpected people are lesbians. Got it? Cool! Moving on.”
Get it on, Brittana. You can do whatever you like. And hurrah for that!