Super What?

I am not a sporty person, it’s true.  It’s a sad fact, considering that right now I’m in the prime of my life and my body should be in the best shape it will ever be.  (I’m so sorry, future self.)  Thus, I hardly ever watch sports on the TV, including the Super Bowl.  Blink at me in disbelief and shock if you’d like (much more preferable to stoning or tomato-throwing), it won’t change my general indifference to the world of televised sports. Besides the fact that personally the only sports I like are generally solo endeavors, I think part of the reason I don’t like watching sports, especially huge events like the Super Bowl, is that it’s become about everything but the sports.  Call me old-fashioned, but I can do without the expensive commercials and halftime show (that usually features a nip slip or a missed middle finger) and cheerleaders in skimpy outfits, thanks.  If I want to watch good sports, give me the Olympics.  What can be more thrilling than watching the best athletes in the world compete with the pressure of an entire nation on their shoulders? Not much else, my friends.

I actually correctly predicted the winner of the Super Bowl (well, I had a 50% chance of getting it right- so what?).  My basis of choosing the victor was not based on stats and history and whatever else people use to predict things like this, but on the theory that New York is part of New England, so New York winning is kinda like New England winning. Though I’m pretty sure the Patriots don’t think of it like that.  Also because New England always sounds too vague of a locale for me to really root for.

My mother just invested in a nice camera so maybe, just maybe, I will be able to abscond with it for a few shots and post some decent pictures on here.  At the very least, if I post about food, I’ll actually make it look appetizing.  Mmmm, food.

Feeling Bookish

Let’s talk about books, shall we?  Haven’t discussed any in a while, and I finished one and a half while in China and I’ve started 2 more since coming home.  It’s not that I can’t finish one book before starting another,  but I get easily distracted with a new book that sounds interesting, so if I have time to read, then I’ve got at least 3-4 books that I read in rotation (aka whichever one is closest to where I decided to sit).

I finished The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo in China; a poor shepherd goes in search of a treasure and ends up discovering what Coehlo calls his “Personal Legend.”  It is a path and a goal that everyone has (though it varies of course from person to person), but unfortunately, not everyone is willing to see it and go in search of it due to a variety of reasons, including laziness, fear, and uncertainty.  I picked the book up mostly because my mom had brought it along on the plane, and though I’m not one to usually read books that have an obvious moral or life lesson, this book made me wonder: What if I missed some important omen in my life that prevented me from realizing what my Personal Legend was?  Or is an omen sitting right in front of me, and I’m just too blind/stubborn to see it?  Frankly, if I could somehow find the patience and willpower to finish the novel I’ve been working on, I would definitely try and get it published.  As it is, it’s nowhere near competition so I guess that Personal Legend will just have to wait a little while longer.

Other books that I’ve scattered throughout the house: got through half of my grandmother’s book (see my previous post for a synopsis), discovered through World War Z (an oral history of our world that just survived a zombie apocalypse) that reading about zombies being blown up is much more pleasant than seeing it on the TV, and finally started A Game of Thrones.  I am impatiently waiting for Season 2 to air.  Still haven’t finished Edith Hamilton’s Mythology, but since I know most of those tales by heart, that’s just something I’ll pick up again when I finish all the other books I started.

In TV news (which is rare for me, since I haven’t gotten attached to an American TV show in a while), I’m still watching Pan Am with the father (I swear Christina Ricci is hypnotizing us with her enormous eyeballs), sorta-watching Walking Dead with the father and the brother (aka I peek through my fingers when I see scenes like last episode’s water well zombie getting ripped in half; that was truly grody), wishing New Girl is an hour-long show, and indulging in my guilty pleasure Once Upon A Time because I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Snow White.

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I watched a couple episodes of the new TV series Pan Am with my dad last night (We oddly became hooked on it for reasons unbeknownst to me; maybe he’s just reliving the 60s and I’m just jealous at how roomy planes were back then?  Or maybe Christina Ricci’s bug eyes have hypnotized us).  Anyways, what struck me is that Pan Am  somehow brought two very different trains of thought I had that day.

For one, obviously the show features a lot of travel.  And guess what I’m going to be doing on Sunday?  Flying isn’t quite as glamorous as it was in the days of Pan Am, and the wonders of first class have yet to be enjoyed by me, but that’s never stopped me from getting out there.  I’ve never actually been to Asia in a season other than summer, so I’m a little excited to be walking around in something less than the 100+ degree weather.  Though I’d much rather be too hot than too cold.

And two, the ridiculous standards of beauty (I would never be light enough to pass that scale test) the stewardesses were held to made me think of the often ridiculous standards that women are held to today, something that I feel is especially prevalent where I live.  Of course there’s always a societal pressure to be thin and beautiful, but here in the land of stars, it’s even more in your face.

I’m not sure if this mindset carried over into the construction of the building where I intern at, but in the room where I sit there are floor length, full wall mirrors on opposite sides of the room so if I turn my head to one side, I see myself.  I don’t know if it was designed to aesthetically “open” up the space or just to make people hyper-aware of themselves, but either way, I  am now constantly fixing my posture or fidgeting with my hair.  But I guess for really vain people this would be the best place ever.

Even in the elevator, it’s all mirrors.  Every single wall.  I can see every angle of my body, which isn’t necessarily a good thing.  I don’t want to look at myself, but I can’t help it.  Unless I close my eyes, I will be seeing some portion of myself.  All the mirrors actually remind me of a music video set sometimes.  Sort of like the video for Florence + The Machine’s “Cosmic Love.”  I have to fight the tendency to bust out a move because a) someone might join me in the elevator and b) I am acutely aware of the security camera capturing every movement I make.  My former roommates might raise an eyebrow since being in a public space has never prevented me from breaking into a spontaneous dance move and generally embarrassing those with me, but since I’m at work, I try to keep my dancing impulses down.