Why Do I Care Project X?

In spite of my age, in spite of having a very satisfying job and life, and in spite of feeling successful and what one could call 'attractive' somewhere in the middle on a scale of the elephant man to Gisele Bündchen, I still find myself sometimes sad and downtrodden about my body image.  The recent movie, Project X, is a childish celebration of teenage debauchery apparently, and movie critics rate it as less sophisticated than the hangover series... I guess it got a few points above the Jackass series for featuring more aesthetically pleasing flesh art in the background.  Even though I can make an effort and get dolled up for an evening, I feel like in the day I return to being the average-bodied and far from glamorous though decent looking girl at work.  So I feel a vast disconnect with the movie, me personally.  Therefore looking up images from the movie, I think:

 Project X girls partying

 Me at a Small Fourth of July Party

But even though I feel like I don't measure up, Project X is not reality, and I didn't go see the movie... so why is it bothering me?  Because my boyfriend went to see it, and before he did so, when we saw the previews for it he clearly got excited, and afterwards he was extolling its 'virtues' (okay really he just said it was "pretty good").  And sure, it's just a movies thing, but it honestly haunts my psyche... I did not go to very many high school or college parties, and it becomes easy to let Hollywood tell you how those parties were.

I may have not gone because of my relatively later in life involvement with alcohol, and my early pretty much self-imposed curfew that I followed without much of a fight or many attempts to sneak out, but through the lens of movies like Project X, I didn't go to these parties because I didn't associate with the right people and wasn't invited to do so because I didn't have a drop dead gorgeous face, or the right hip to waist ratio... Looking up the movie reviews, Project X is "pure hedonism without consequences" - Melissa Anderson of The Village Voice - and even on some sad levels mixed in with misogyny-cultivating behaviors... so why would I be happy my boyfriend enjoyed this movie?

I suppose it's just a sad reflection of the fragility of some parts of my self confidence also.  I mean, it's not like he's leaving me on the curb to go chase this stupid dream.  He even told me that's all it is, just Hollywood.  But that isn't really any consolation.  When Hollywood panders to women it's for them to get married or be self-satisfied career women and when Hollywood panders to men it's with not one, but multiple hot "babes" all apparently size 0 or generously endowed and between the ages of 18 and 24.

Women?  We get to appreciate the value of the 'funny guy' and the endearment of the guy we banished to the friend zone who turns out to be 'the one.'  It's not like I could go indulge my sorrows in a movie of some geeky or goofy looking women I could relate to enjoying all sorts of muscular, athletic men vying for their attention. Men?  They can watch any action flick and see hot women in strappy tanks, v-necks, with mini-skirts, boob brushes, asses outlined, a full body camera pan, and a sultry voice tell our hero (whether he is attractive or not) how important he is to the plot, and then they turn an action packed corner and get it again from a barely distinguishable girl.  How could I not love mainstream media?  I need to take a film class.

And I don't know if I'm angry or if I'm just insecure... either way, those images from the movie aren't me and I'm not going to desperate lengths to mold myself to that image, but I think I am just terrified of judging myself by those standards.  If it's all in good fun, why does it matter so much?  First, in my reaction, why is it so strong?  Second, in the effort the producers:  I mean why spend so much money on women to portray those roles in movies?  And beyond movies, why does a book like "The Game:  Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists" have so many avid readers?  Why is it acceptable for these men to play on the insecurities of women, to ply back possibly hard-earned self-esteem to get what they want?  There might be such thing as a gold digger, but I can assure you she didn't make the rich snob feel like he couldn't get another hot young thing.  I'm sure he didn't feel insecure in his ability to attract another money-sniffing playboy bunny.  And when you hear about male exotic dancers, no one says they are out there doing it because of mommy issues, like they do about strippers and daddy issues.  I don't know what I'm accomplishing by writing this post, except trying to analyze and vent my very real if very uncalled for reaction.

I Put on my Red Dress

Hello world, it's been so long since I wrote on this blog.
Anyway, been feeling a lot rebellious.  It's another year and yet again I am spurred to fight with all my heart.  Feels like things have come full circle in many ways.  Plebe year it felt like running into a wall of bricks.  I still remember struggling on the BEAST Barracks rucks.  I was so out of breath.  I remember a female chaplain telling me (kindly) to calm down.  On our first ruck on the ski slope I felt tight-chested and then like I couldn't breathe.  I had to catch my breath.  Then and several times in between I've been plagued with self-doubt in between personal victories.  Am I suited to this profession?  Is my weakness at bearing heavy loads something that makes me unfit for this privilege of officership?  I sometimes forget how small I am in comparison with a lot of my peers here.

Tonight was Branch Night.  A branch in the army is defined as:  "a particular area of expertise" according to Wikipedia.  And we all know that Wikipedia is the absolute in common knowledge.  At any rate, my branch, in which I'm expected to be technically and tactically proficient is:  Transportation.  The me from a year ago would probably be aghast.  The me of today is more patient, though just as proud.

And speaking of things I never thought would be true.  Does anyone else wish there were more warnings on the privacy sacrifices made by using popular technology?  I mean, a lot of these friendly apps from Android linking with Facebook and seemingly innocent shares of information are a bit scary.  Here's a real quote from the Guardian Project of Android.

"The ability for a group of people to passively track each others locations in a secure manner has quickly risen to the top of the must-have list. Consider a team member traveling to another country or remote region with the support team being able to easily, but securely, ping their device at any time to determine their current location."

The website actually offers some great solutions to privacy intrusion, but this goes back to the real issue of how much protection of your information do you actually need to go to lengths to?  Where is there "reasonable expectation of privacy" in the techonologically-enabled world?  Thought the below video was pretty funny and the dystopia we all seek to avoid.  I don't believe in anything like Terminator or Matrix... but something along the lines of 1984 seems all too possible.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/10/25/moveon-ad-dystopic-republicorp-2010_n_773689.html

NYAC 2009

I wrestled. I lost. Yet I walked away with a smile on my face and pride in my heart. I may have to scrape for every single bit of wrestling time I get, but I will scrape. I will find some way of continuing this pursuance of wrestling. I do love the hard work. I do love the sore muscles. I do love the stinging bruises and the cut lips. I am madly in love with wrestling.

I couldn't see myself as being a particularly great starving wrestler so I went to West Point, but I find myself somewhat fettered here. I have some thoughts that will remain reserved on the subject, but other than that I felt more free today than I have in years since I came to the academy. Last year at NYAC International Open I felt scared and I left crushed and defeated. This year I actually... had some fun. I lost, probably worse than last year as far as results go. But I had improvement. Oh I felt the improvement, it was like a high. I just kept on feeling it in disbelief.

It was possible to overcome my situation and make progress in wrestling? And all I had done was form one link in a support group. One person made a year's worth of difference in me (and maybe I exaggerate a little but I'm trying to make a point). I need to expand this support chain. It's the only possible solution. I have someone who will support me through thick and thin, now I need a practice partner or something like it. Maybe I just need someone to kick my ass in freestyle once a week.

So much to plan. So many possibilities! I am amazed yet humbled by this. I feel like chiding myself, "See... that wasn't so bad was it? A little bit of hard work and effort actually pays off more than grumbling and cursing the system." But I'm happy to have realized it at all, so I will continue to bask in the joy.

Already November is Flying

Truly, there is no other way to describe the way the days are slipping through my fingers: November is flying.

And before I launch into the mundane yet good news, I want to pause and reflect on a couple dreams I had. I had a very happy then saddening dream that a beloved family member asked me who they were and I described them with joy thinking it to be a game. Then I realized this family member did not know me, or recognize me, had in fact forgotten me and I cried. I sobbed. Wonder what that means is on my mind... anyway.

Despite a huge improvement on my part to work during the day, I find myself working through another night here at West Point. The reason? The seventh problem set in my CE300 class. Tomorrow night promises no better since I will be working on my LW310 paper and the afternoon will be interrupted by a Portuguese Oral Presentation. The morning will be interrupted by my taking one of my subordinates to the Thayer bookstore to pick out a journal they will use for reflection since they continue to mess up and I'm afraid the problem is slightly more complicated than simply requiring punishment for correction. Looking into it now. While I care enough to do so, I am also still very busy in particular this week.

On top of all my requirements, I am also hosting a participant of SCUSA. She goes to college in Oregon, her major is International something and Foreign Languages. She's quite nice, and hardly any trouble, and she gets me out of WAMI. (Wed. A.M. Inspection). So she can stay :)

Ah, but no worries. This Friday I will be leaving on Chalk 4 on Mil-Air with my boyfriend headed for USAFA to watch the Army v. Air Force Football Game* (*and other Army competitions because I love Army, noooot because I'm being mandated to go of course - wink).

Had a great talk with my friend H., we acknowledged his quasi-girlfriend doesn't like me and that she probably feels threatened by me and that H. already told her that his friendship with me isn't going to change. So that is going much better now.

Also realized that my roommate has gotten a lot better about her behavior in many ways, and that she will make her own mistakes and learn from them. I'm truly glad she is finally enjoying herself with a boyfriend who makes her happy, however I will not stop being her 'responsible' friend.

Finally, with all these realizations, I have this weekend in Colorado, next week a Wednesday drop in classes, that weekend a home football game, and the weekend after that hopefully a wrestling tournament. The weekend following is... of course: Thanksgiving! This year spent in El Paso.

So November is sliding by so fast I feel the wind whipping my hair. I have also been enjoying my life, this weekend went to IHOP and CrackerBarrel for brunch on Saturday and Sunday. My firstie friend, former sandhurst SL, got Infantry and I realized I won't be back from my semester abroad in time for his graduation which certainly necessitates some quality hang-out time.

I genuinely feel blessed. There is so much good in my life right now, I feel like my life is charmed with room for tweaks of improvement. Good night.

Desert Night-Inspired

I have accomplished a lot of what I said I was going to accomplish this year. I've gotten my drivers license, and a passport, and I'm finally starting to embark on travelling the world. I'm looking forward to Cape Verde, Africa very much and shopping around for a backpack for the trip.

Preferably I am going to buy a camping backpack just because it will have more space and be sturdier, but I feel slightly embarrassed buying one. Like someone is going to make fun of me for either having one or someone who is familiar with them is going to make fun of me if I buy the wrong type. I am deciding between external and internal frame. I am uncertain about ordering one online, but that looks like it's my only option. I sort of want to consult with someone who knows what they are doing because these are expensive backpacks. I am concerned I won't get one in time. I might just buy one after Buckner even though I only have a couple days before my trip. I will have to take a gamble if that's the case.

Moving on, I need to chronicle my driving experiences because I am fresh on the wheel and it would be a crime not to. So I only went to three of the four driving lessons my parents signed me up for and it might be because the conversation on day 1 went something like this:

I exit the house in a blue shirt with the words California Athletics on it.
Mr. Instructor: (after brief introductions and in a sharp suspicious tone) Do you go to school in California?
Me: (annoyed at the tone) No.
Mr. Instructor: (Slight pause while he waits for an explanation then impatiently asks) Well then why do you have a California shirt on?
Me: (same annoyed tune) Because I lost a wrestling match to a girl from California.
This stumps Mr. Instructor who can find no further question, but still has no idea why I am wearing this shirt.

So maybe we started on the wrong foot. We certainly ended on it too because over the course of three lessons he proceeded to make me slow down to less than 10 mph for every turn and grabbed my wheel nearly each and every time. He also continually pulled up on the emergency brake which was between us whenever he thought I wasn't slowing down enough. I was trying not to slam on the brakes. At one point he reached for it and I skidded to a stop. He started to nag me for not going easy on the brakes and I commented that I noticed him reaching for the emergency brake and thought maybe he wanted me to brake faster. He took the hint, but that was also our last lesson together. At the end of it, we agreed he wasn't showing up the next day and after I determined our business was done I left the car. No goodbye, no thank you, and no hand shake. And my mother picked this guy because he was supposedly extremely patient or something.

I passed my driving test on Friday even though I was very nervous. This weekend I've been driving a lot. I drove out to Hueco Tanks with my friend "Pete". I drove to the mall. I drove to my cousins' house. I drove to my friend's house. I drove to Hanks to meet with my old high school JROTC instructor. Then Tuesday Night, 40% off of wings at Applebee's night, I hit my first stationary object. Hypothetically... I was backing out of a tight parking space. I didn't touch the accelerator, but as I swung out I bumped the car next to me. I cursed and braked and panicked. I pulled back in and put it in park. I got out of the car and looked at the other car. It was dim but you couldn't see where I'd bumped the dark blue car. I could sort of see it, but I had to look. Amazingly, the alarm hadn't gone off (I'm assuming there wasn't one). And even though there had been a girl outside, she was on the cell phone and was deep in conversation I saw her throw her hands up and she had the phone on the same side as the car. I took a deep breath, looked around... and panicked some more. Still cursing. I pulled out (more carefully), and got out of there. I met up with my friends at Sonic, but my confidence was shaken by this situation which may be more or less what I described, but I can neither confirm nor deny the actual facts.

So I feel like I got in a big mistake on top of my little mistakes and my personal accomplishment (because I still get nervous driving in front of my parents, family, and/or friends). I have done a lot this time at home. I was also doubly motivated to start cleaning the guest bathroom. I went through nearly everything that is mine and I have thrown out most of it (old make-up and half-finished bath gels and hair gel). I am nearly done. I have organized under the sink. I just need to sweep and mop and clean the mirrors. My dad just replaced the faucet, so the mess from his getting under the sink inspired me on top of a suggestion from my sister. I am going to go buy a new hamper, because I have the leeway to get any kind I want and because the old one is broken and annoying. I like the guest bathroom, because it is neat. I also want to try to clean the skylight, which is literally littered with random debris from who knows how many years. I have a lot to do tomorrow if I am going to get this done before I leave.

Today I also saw several people I hadn't seen in forever. I have to thank AF Academy J. for setting it up. It was good to see everyone, but there was a lot left unspoken and it was clear from the awkward conversation we all felt guilty for letting our friendships fall by the wayside. It wasn't all of us exactly. Two were work-out buddies. One has become a social hermit except for a few people back home. Two connected over mutual schools. At least a few of them are doing a road trip this weekend to see another mutual friend in Austin. It was interesting to say the least. I am realizing that you can't sum up everyone instantly. I am analyzing my situation through a more cool lens though. I am still the same impatient, snarky, quick to call a judgment (possibly judgmental) person I ever was... but I am coming to grips and not feeling so desolate or depressed about it. I am observing from a more objective standpoint. Sure I'm still an emotional open book and easy to read and I still giggle a lot when I get nervous, but I am learning to shut my trap a little more often which is something I find difficult.

Then this night I met one of my cousins for wings at Applebee's and another friend from wp who brought two of his own friends. It was good to spend an evening just conversing and even if I played it down to be more available for my wp friend and his friends I enjoyed the conversation going on next to me and every now and then butted in (in a friendly manner) to hear an interesting conversation. It was also nice to zone out with Mark though, because it was difficult to stay focused when the stories became riddled with inside jokes or involved people I didn't know.

Overall a very busy day because of the school visit. A few teacher's recognized my AF Academy friend and I but we were such nerds in high school nobody said anything about us being there. And I'm not saying nerd like it's a bad thing. They redid the theater nicely, and they are still working on Hanks. There are a lot less portable classrooms now. I never really like visiting the building, but I enjoy catching up with former teachers. I was devastated to discover there still wasn't wireless internet on campus. I just came to expect it from college.

From all this time there is one thing I feel more of: confidence

Role Call!

I am currently writing an 8 page Internation Relations Paper right now. I'm sorry if the last post came across as too whiny. There is a lot to cover and I intend to do so but in good time. Classes are a little rough due to time crunches. There are also grades dependent on our physical activity and our "military" aptitude.

It's a little puzzling that we subject ourselves to such a harsh system of judgment. Apparently I have roughly a B- in Military Development grade, but the funny thing is that I'll bet that will have little to no bearing on whether I'll be a good leader in the future. I constantly hear cadets berating themselves for not rising to the occasion. There are few particularly gifted cadets that sort of have a better attitude, but they are far and few in between and hell we're all a little bit warped for putting ourselves through this. Somewhere in our mutinous muttering and hidden in our bitching and moaning is an affection for West Point. There is also this self-image of exalted humility or of suffering for the greater good of humanity. West Pointers in general - myself included - are primarily type A personalities, we've been told we're natural-born leaders, we're self-critical and never satisfied. Is it necesarily a bad thing? I don't think so. I think we really love this place and think we'll never live up to the image we've developed of the perfect officer, or the unknown image we have yet to solidify but have started to conjure up.

There are many other great organizations with pressure to live up to high standards exists. Any Ivy League school, or pro-football, or even being the perfect housewife. All of these roles emphasize certain sets of skills and values. West Point is no different. The secret to West Point is that it really is impossible to perfectly balance it all. You might be a pentathlete and wine and dine at the Dean's home. Fit and smart and hard-working you won't be the fittest though, or the smartest, or the hardest-working and even if you are the hardest-working you may not have the highest military grade. Maybe you had a lazy squad leader or a platoon leader who just didn't take a liking to you. Maybe you weren't doing perfect 100% of the time. And you know what? For all the cadets hyperventilating at this thought out there tonight possibly at this very hour... that's okay. Take a deep breath and calm down. Yeah, you too Psuedo-Mr. Incredible. Faux-Miss Everything-in-its-place-all-the-time. Maybe you're bitter and in the bottom half, or jaded and somewhere in the middle. Maybe your skeptical and in denial at either the extreme top or bottom. The point is... West Point may as well be a giant social experiment. Don't worry though... be happy.