I am deeply disappointed to read that you were the only Senator to vote against extending unemployment benefits. I recently celebrated the one-year anniversary of being laid off from my job in the real estate industry. Though I was only out of work for three months, I count myself among the blessed and lucky few who were able to obtain a new job so quickly. Many South Carolinians are not so lucky. In my time in the unemployment office, I saw people from all walks of life who were out of work and desperate. Unemployment is still very high, and if you are really working for South Carolinians, you would support our unemployment benefits, especially when our state has one of the highest unemployment rates in the country.
I can assure you, the benefits are not so cushy as to keep anyone from seeking a job. It was a fraction of what I made when I was employed, and I would not have been able to survive had I not had a spouse who was still employed. My unemployment wouldn’t have even covered COBRA for my health insurance which I lost when I lost my job.
I’m deeply disappointed and can’t help but feel that you took this terrible stand to get attention. Please don’t seek attention at the expense of out-of-work people in our state. Please be an advocate for the people who need you, particularly the unemployed who have been hit so hard by this economic downturn, especially as the holidays approach.
Here’s hoping he actually reads it, but at least I feel better knowing I tried to tell my representative how I feel.
I’ve been trying to find a way to blog about a rather interesting aspect of my job–recruiting, hiring, and scheduling nude models for art classes– and today the perfect intro finally presented itself. David Pogue, a father, writes in the New York Times about his son’s work as a nude model for art classes, a job he holds in order to earn some spending money as a college student himself. Pogue writes that his son finds modeling an easy way to make some good money in only a few hours a week, as it is one of the best paying jobs on campus.
As a nude model recruiter, I can say I was happy to read that even at big colleges in Pennsylvania, the going rate is $15 per hour. Sometimes trying to recruit models in this Southern town is like pulling teeth, and I’ve worried we’re not paying enough. As someone in the department once remarked to me, there are plenty of other ways to make a lot more money being nude. The article quotes an art professor:
“There’s a difference between nude and nakedness,” says Charles Garoian, the director of the university’s visual arts program. Context is vital: a stripper is naked to arouse prurient urges, while a nude model is there to unleash an artist’s creativity.
Sounds a lot like what I once told a nervous young woman in my office to apply for a modeling job. She heard me on the phone talking to a friend about a Bible study and asked me what I thought about the “morality” of nude modeling. I can’t recall exactly what I told her, though I know I emphasized that she should not become a nude model unless she felt absolutely comfortable with that decision. I think I also told her about how my husband is a doctor, and would not have been able to become an M.D. without the people who volunteered as practice patients, getting nude in front of him so he could learn his craft. I told her that modeling is the same concept: allowing your body to be used so someone can learn their craft. I’m pretty sure I reassured her that our classes are very professional and respectful, that our professors would coach and guide her and help make sure she was comfortable. I think I told her that celebrating the body through art and exploiting it are two very different concepts. I should probably have told her that even some of the best religious art involves nudity. I hope I told her that the body as it is created, is not something to be ashamed of.
As Pogue’s son’s modeling brochure reads:
You have just been inducted into one of the longest-standing traditions in the history of art…You are one of the select few who have provided their bodies for the betterment of other people. Because of people like you, we have the Da Vincis, the Van Goghs, the Warhols.
Perhaps one of the coolest things about my work with the models is seeing their confidence. Many of my best models have bodies of the sort that society would have us see as unattractive, and yet they have the confidence to bare it all in front of rooms full of college students. I wish I could bottle up their confidence and sell it to others, especially in a world where so many women are scared to wear a bathing suit, much less appear nude in front of a group! And of course, artists love a variety of body types– just take a walk through a museum and observe the various nudes in various shapes and sizes. My boss, a painter in his own work, is always telling me that drawing conventionally attractive bodies is “easy,” but bringing out the beauty in older or curvier or just plain different bodies is the work of a real artist. Many of the models love to see their representations, and some even buy the paintings or drawings from the students. Imagine being able to hang a testament to your own self-love on the wall!
Of course, as the article mentions, recruiting enough models to fill all our classes is always a challenge. So if you know anyone in my area willing to contribute their bodies to art, let me know!
Image via Twin Roses Designs, click image if you want to buy a Grim Reaper robe for yourself.
My medical-resident husband is always saying that “Scrubs” is the most accurate medical show. Sometimes reality seems determined to prove his point.
He’s working in an intensive care unit this rotation, and was on call Friday night. There was one patient whom everyone was sure wasn’t going to make it much longer. On Saturday moring, as my sleep-deprived hubby made rounds, he came out of one patient’s room to see a dark hooded, robed figure standing outside the room of that unlikely-to-make-it patient. Thinking for a brief moment that he saw Death Himself, my husband thought, “He’s come!”
But it turns out it was just a pharmacist, dressed like a vampire for Halloween.
I know I’ve already written a post defending real trick-or-treat-ing with candy. I fully support trick-or-treat-ing and especially candy. I like to carve pumpkins. I enjoy eating toasted pumpkin seeds. I even like to see kids in costumes and have enjoyed wearing costumes as an adult. But I’ve realized, in looking back on my memories of Halloween, that I don’t really “do” scary. And scary is a big part of Halloween.
I think my first bad, “scary” memory is getting trapped in a haunted house ride as a second grader. The ride was at a little rinkydink amusement park next to the Little Rock Zoo, famous for it’s Boo at the Zoo events, and I was in the haunted house with my friend. Apparently a rider before us had lost his hat in the course of the ride. Our little car rolled over the hat, and we became stuck. What had been up until that point only sort of scary got scarier and scarier as we sat next to a glowing skeleton in the dark, screaming “HELP!” and trying to be heard by the ride operator over the creepy soundtrack. The operator soon realized we were stuck and got the lights on and us out pretty quickly, but the trauma lasted in bad dreams for a while after. Continue reading “the horror”
Last night we watched “Fireproof” because Jon Netflixed it after countless friends and family members told us we just had to see it. Now, I spent a summer working in Family Christian Bookstore, and to say it made me cynical about “Christian” “art” would be an understatement, so I went into the movie fully expecting to mock and hate it. Jon knew this and was fully expecting my running commentary.
The basic plot of the film is that a married couple is on the brink of divorce, mostly because the husband is a borderline emotionally abusive, anger-freak, porn-loving, workaholic, layabout who disrespects his wife at every turn. Meanwhile the wife is dealing with her aging parents and a mother who just had a stroke, so she is emotionally stressed and in need of support and encouragement, which she keeps finding in the form of a nice doctor at work instead of in her husband. One of the biggest points of contention is that the husband has saved up around $20k and wants to spend it on a boat, refusing to use that money to help his stroke-victim mother-in-law get a new wheelchair and bed. (Warning, some spoilers ahead, but if you don’t know how this one is going to turn out before you see it, then you don’t know jack about “Christian” fiction.) Continue reading “Reviewing “Fireproof””
The scene: my bus, around 8 am this morning. I am wedged between two other women in the front-area seats that face each other. To my right, the resident “church lady” is chatting about her revival, which was “awesome” in case you were wondering, and to my left, my neighbor is listening to head phones. I’m just watching everyone, wondering if I should have brought a scarf, wishing I were still in bed. We stop at two or three more stops. Two men get on the bus, shaking hands with the bus driver and saying “Good Morning” to each of us in the front aisle-facing seats individually as they pass. Clearly these two painters should have been politicians. Their paint-covered pants and shoes betray their real profession. The bus moves on. We stop again. A young woman gets on. The bus is now full. We stop again. A mom who often has her daughter with her but doesn’t this morning gets on, finds no place to sit, and takes a standing space.
The bus driver glances in the rear view mirror and sees her standing. “What, can’t none of you guys give her a seat?” He hollers this, apparently to the men of the bus. Some people shuffle around, suddenly remembering their manners. A seat materializes where two men had been taking up 3 seats between them. The mother sits down. Her face says she doesn’t want anyone making a fuss. I wonder if I’d rather be standing or wedged in between two guys who really take up 3 seats between the two of them. The bus driver, apparently satisfied that everyone is now acting like a gentleman, closes the doors and merges back into traffic.
Image via Flickr user chanchan222, licensed under Creative Commons.
WordPress has a fun little feature whereby they showcase seemingly random posts on the main page, encouraging you to click and check out new blogs. I knew I was going to be irritated the minute I saw this one: “Halloween Candy Alternatives.”
I thought, well THAT’S a post from someone hoping their house gets egged.
Seriously though, the OP writes, “Providing some alternatives to reducing the sugar glut can be very helpful and even welcome – especially considering the ongoing health problems we’re generating in this country through our passion for sugar,” and then proceeds to list several food (granola bars, nuts) and non-food (wax lips) things to give out to trick-or-treat-ers.
Ah yes, nothing sucks the fun out of Halloween like some OMGOBESITY fearmonering– it’s scarier than zombies! Instead of being ware the undead, BEWARE THE UNTHIN!
People in this country aren’t obese because of Halloween. Kids aren’t obese from one night of candy. Being the Scrooge of your neighborhood isn’t going to solve the problem of childhood obesity. In fact, I’m pretty sure most health experts would say it’s fine and dandy to indulge oneself in treats once in a while, everything in moderation and whatnot. If you’re the PARENT of trick-or-treat-ers, you can even ration the candy out over several days, like my parents always did, after they checked each piece for razor blades, of course.
If you’re really concerned about the health of children, start advocating for a healthier school lunch program which includes breakfast. Get involved in community gardens in areas without access to fresh produce. Make sure your local farmers’ market accepts food stamps and WIC. Make sure kids in your local schools get P.E. every single day. But don’t piss all over Halloween. Unless you want to be known as the weirdo who handed out pretzels instead of Reese’s cups by all the kids in your neighborhood.
I’ve been slacking on the blog the past couple of days, and I apologize. Had to turn in a paper on Wednesday, and then proceeded to have one of the worst Thursdays I’ve ever had at work (though I guess I should be thankful that I rarely have bad days, and that my boss was awesome throughout). I’ll try to be a better blogger next week.
In the meantime, I thought I’d share a passage from Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko, which I read for class on Wednesday. I’m writing my final paper about one of her plays, The Rover. Oronooko isn’t a very happy tale, since it’s basically about an African prince who falls in love with a beautiful girl, but loses the girl when his grandfather the king decides to make her his sex slave. He tries to save the beautiful girl, but this only angers the grandfather, who sells her into slavery. Later the prince is tricked into slavery, where he is reunited with his love, but their story ends violently and tragically. Still, this passage from the beginning of Oroonoko and Imoinda’s courtship would make a great wedding vow (minus the whole possession part):
He made her vows she should be the only woman he would possess while he lived; that no age or wrinkles should incline him to change, for her soul would always be fine, and always young; and he should have an eternal idea in his mind of the charms she now bore, and should look into his heart for that idea, when he could find it no longer in her face.
I just read a really excellent piece on marriage by Melissa Harris-Lacewell over at The Nation. The entire blog entry is wonderful and if you’re interested in marriage, marriage equality, civil rights, and/or feminism, you should read the whole thing. What particularly stood out for me was this section:
Typically advocates of marriage equality try to reassure the voting public the same-sex marriage will not change the institution itself. “Don’t worry,” we say, “allowing gay men and lesbians to marry will not threaten the established norms; it will simply assimilate new groups into old practices.”
This is a pragmatic, political strategy, but I hope it is not true. I hope same-sex marriage changes marriage itself. I hope it changes marriage the way that no-fault divorce changed it. I hope it changes marriage the way that allowing women to own their own property and seek their own credit changed marriage. I hope it changes marriage the way laws against spousal abuse and child neglect changed marriage. I hope marriage equality results more equal marriages. I also hope it offers more opportunities for building meaningful adult lives outside of marriage.I know from personal experience that a bad marriage is enough to rid you of the fear of death. But this experience allows me suspect that a good marriage must be among the most powerful, life-affirming, emotionally fulfilling experiences available to human beings. I support marriage equality not only because it is unfair, in a legal sense, to deny people the privileges of marriage based on their identity; but also because it also seems immoral to forbid some human beings from opting into this emotional experience.
We must do more than simply integrate new groups into an old system. Let’s use this moment to re-imagine marriage and marriage-free options for building families, rearing children, crafting communities, and distributing public goods.
Here I must first confess that I have been one of those people who has said that gay marriage doesn’t change my straight one. That it doesn’t matter to me what my neighbors are doing in their homes, with their families. That two people in love committing to each other has no bearing on my love or my commitment.
I’m putting this entire post behind a jump, because I hate having things spoiled. However, I wanted to write about seeing Where the Wild Things Are last night, so click on through if you’ve seen it or if you don’t mind being spoiled. Continue reading “wild things and kings”