"Secret Life of the American Teenager" on ABC Family. When I saw the first commercial for this show, I thought it would die after one year. It's probably Juno-inspired, about a 15-year-old who gets pregnant yada yada drama drama. I figured the only selling point of this movie was having Molly Ringwald of Pretty and Pink fame (and a bunch of other 80's movies that I love) play the mother.
It's lasted two years already and kids in my newspaper class talk about it all the time. Apparently people like it. I said I wouldn't pass judgments on it until I actually watched a full episode. Well, I have, and dear God, I hope this isn't supposed to represent the lives of all American teenagers. We are not all sluts and man-whores who have perfect hair all the time and whose lives are weighted with unnecessary drama.
Right now they're talking about how this 15-year-old (not the baby's father) she barely knew asked her to marry him and she said yes, but he's upset that she doesn't want him to come for the sonogram. This show has more melodrama than "Dawson's Creek." I'm not into it.
Now an ABC Family show I actually like.
"10 Things I Hate about You," based off of the movie from the 90's, is very cute. First time I heard they were making that movie, originally meant as a modern interpretation of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew, into a TV show, I thought, how is that going to work? The story is of two sisters in high school, the younger one just wants to be popular and the older one has no patience for stupid people in high school hell.
Most of the movie's plot was lost in translation to TV, but the general idea makes this show likeable in a different way. Lindsay Shaw from "Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide" plays Kat, and she does a great job with this part. She would make the show funny if the rest of it sucked. The younger sister is played by Meaghan Martin from Disney's Camp Rock. They kept the original father from the movie, Larry Miller.
Anyway, I really like this show for it's lightly mocking and slightly cynical portrayal of high school life. I can actually relate to this depiction of the "life of the American teenager." I wonder who indentifies with "Secret Life." Hopefully there aren't that many, but you know that's just me being naive...or, you know, just overusing the rose colored glasses.
Love,
Juliana
Saturday, August 1, 2009
My job? Swing dancing with 70 year olds, and I LOVE it.
I'm volunteering at a senior center this summer, and I never thought getting into it that it would end up being the most meaningful thing I've ever done.
I've only ever had one paying job, last summer at an art studio. I didn't like it much, but I figured it was money, work experience, and something to do. My last volunteer job was at the library, and I mostly shelved books and prepared crafts for the preschool story time. I really liked that because I love libraries and like looking at books and organizing them. During the summer, I was a "reading buddy" and read with elementary school kids, which I liked even more. That was all nothing compared to what I'm doing now.
Today a guy asked me to dance with him. This was was the first time I've danced in front of a room full of people. He was 70 years old, and it was a Sinatra song. He calls me "Miss America" and sings that line of the song when I walk into a room, just like my grandfather does. I made him smile, I made him laugh, and that was only one person and one day.
Most of the people there have dementia, most in their early stages. On the first day, the nurse there gave me a run-down of all the participants and what they used to do when they were young. Some were teachers, soldiers, tennis players, doctors, lawyers. I look around and see all these people who can't remember what year it is, can't walk, some can't talk. I've shed tears just by looking around the room, but then I make eye contact with someone, smile and wave, and the smile they give me back makes me so happy. It's bittersweet, but making these people smile is such a rewarding thing for me.
I get to speak Spanish to the hispanic ladies. I tease the guy who gets real competitive when he plays dominoes. I convince the guy who sits by the door waiting to go home to come out and join the group. I dance around all silly and get everyone motivated when the music comes on. I know how everyone takes their coffee. I know not to be offended when certain people yell at me. When I imagine how scary it must be to be to suddenly forget where you are and what you're doing there, I feel like they should be yelling at me more.
This one guy, he's awesome. Just the way he talks. He said the other day "People are like good liquor. They get better with age." Well he always sits with this one lady who can't do much on ther own anymore and always holds her hand. He always looks at her meaningfully, and the other day, I noticed her looking back at him the same way. She kissed him on the hand. I got all teary. It was so sweet, but it came with that sadness of real, truth that imparts a little more wisdom than I had before. To counter it, it fills me with an overwhelming happiness and sense of purpose that I've never experienced before.
I look forward to going there, and I love staying late to see the looks on their faces when their family comes to get them after the day is over. I have so much to think about at the end of the day. I'm learning more from this than I would from any extra credit college class I could have taken.
"When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're smiling and everyone around you is crying."
Love,
Juliana
I've only ever had one paying job, last summer at an art studio. I didn't like it much, but I figured it was money, work experience, and something to do. My last volunteer job was at the library, and I mostly shelved books and prepared crafts for the preschool story time. I really liked that because I love libraries and like looking at books and organizing them. During the summer, I was a "reading buddy" and read with elementary school kids, which I liked even more. That was all nothing compared to what I'm doing now.
Today a guy asked me to dance with him. This was was the first time I've danced in front of a room full of people. He was 70 years old, and it was a Sinatra song. He calls me "Miss America" and sings that line of the song when I walk into a room, just like my grandfather does. I made him smile, I made him laugh, and that was only one person and one day.
Most of the people there have dementia, most in their early stages. On the first day, the nurse there gave me a run-down of all the participants and what they used to do when they were young. Some were teachers, soldiers, tennis players, doctors, lawyers. I look around and see all these people who can't remember what year it is, can't walk, some can't talk. I've shed tears just by looking around the room, but then I make eye contact with someone, smile and wave, and the smile they give me back makes me so happy. It's bittersweet, but making these people smile is such a rewarding thing for me.
I get to speak Spanish to the hispanic ladies. I tease the guy who gets real competitive when he plays dominoes. I convince the guy who sits by the door waiting to go home to come out and join the group. I dance around all silly and get everyone motivated when the music comes on. I know how everyone takes their coffee. I know not to be offended when certain people yell at me. When I imagine how scary it must be to be to suddenly forget where you are and what you're doing there, I feel like they should be yelling at me more.
This one guy, he's awesome. Just the way he talks. He said the other day "People are like good liquor. They get better with age." Well he always sits with this one lady who can't do much on ther own anymore and always holds her hand. He always looks at her meaningfully, and the other day, I noticed her looking back at him the same way. She kissed him on the hand. I got all teary. It was so sweet, but it came with that sadness of real, truth that imparts a little more wisdom than I had before. To counter it, it fills me with an overwhelming happiness and sense of purpose that I've never experienced before.
I look forward to going there, and I love staying late to see the looks on their faces when their family comes to get them after the day is over. I have so much to think about at the end of the day. I'm learning more from this than I would from any extra credit college class I could have taken.
"When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're smiling and everyone around you is crying."
Love,
Juliana
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Don't Trust Me
I was just introduced to "Don't Trust Me" by 3Oh!3. I felt like a loser for being the only one in the room who didn't know all the lyrics to it...but, wow. It's hard to make me feel awkward anymore, but this song did a good job of it. I realized halfway through that I actually had heard it before. My friends were like, "You've seriously never heard this song?" I hate when that happens.
It's because of friends from newspaper that I know and like songs by 3Oh!3 and Cobra Starship.
Love,
Juilana
It's because of friends from newspaper that I know and like songs by 3Oh!3 and Cobra Starship.
Love,
Juilana
No cemetary view this time...
I just got back from newspaper camp again, although I probably shouldn't call it that since it's actually yearbook camp that makes slight ammendments for my school's newspaper staff. Our dorm building, called "Oceanview," didn't look out on a cemetary this time.
That picture was last year. This time it was a Jag dealership and a parking lot. I liked that better.
I'm so tired. We had to get up at seven every day and didn't go to bed until after one. On Tuesday night, we were up until midnight working on our paper. I broke down. Fortunately, no one pays attention to what I do, but always feel bad about crying in front of people because it's awkward for them.
The new editor-in-chief who I've known for a year now still can't remember that I was on the paper last year. He keeps thinking I'm new and clueless, asking me if I know how to write headlines. He talks down to me, and I don't like it. I know that's just the way he is, but still. He doesn't listen to me when I give suggestions. He looks at me and looks away. All the new sophomores on the staff were supporting one of my ideas, and he wouldn't even give us a yes or no. He only took suggestions from the juniors he liked. Only people important enough to warrant his attention.
Another thing, he can't remember anyone's names. I understand not being able to remember 16 names the first time, but he never learned them. Every time he called a name, it was wrong. If you're going to tell me what to do, at least look like you're trying to learn my name.
I probably shouldn't talk though because I have a great memory for names. My friend and I were in charge of typing up the staff list, and I knew everyone's first and last names, even the new kids, and I only had to fix the spelling of two of them. (This one kid has a 15-letter last name and I only forgot one silent H. I think that's pretty good.) She was shocked I knew everyone after two days. I don't do it on purpose, I just like to connect faces with names, so it's kind of innate. Our editor-in-chief should at least get first names right. Seriously.
Aside from my quiet nature and lack of leadership skills, I could never be in charge because I can't talk down to people. I wouldn't be able to tell my friends what to do. I would always feel like it's not my place to boss people around because they're my equals. I would have to run it like a democracy. I would consult the staff on all decisions, but I never want to be editor-in-chief anyway.
I got an award at the closing ceremony for "Hardest Worker" from our camp newspaper instructor. I must do something right.
Love,
Juliana
That picture was last year. This time it was a Jag dealership and a parking lot. I liked that better.
I'm so tired. We had to get up at seven every day and didn't go to bed until after one. On Tuesday night, we were up until midnight working on our paper. I broke down. Fortunately, no one pays attention to what I do, but always feel bad about crying in front of people because it's awkward for them.
The new editor-in-chief who I've known for a year now still can't remember that I was on the paper last year. He keeps thinking I'm new and clueless, asking me if I know how to write headlines. He talks down to me, and I don't like it. I know that's just the way he is, but still. He doesn't listen to me when I give suggestions. He looks at me and looks away. All the new sophomores on the staff were supporting one of my ideas, and he wouldn't even give us a yes or no. He only took suggestions from the juniors he liked. Only people important enough to warrant his attention.
Another thing, he can't remember anyone's names. I understand not being able to remember 16 names the first time, but he never learned them. Every time he called a name, it was wrong. If you're going to tell me what to do, at least look like you're trying to learn my name.
I probably shouldn't talk though because I have a great memory for names. My friend and I were in charge of typing up the staff list, and I knew everyone's first and last names, even the new kids, and I only had to fix the spelling of two of them. (This one kid has a 15-letter last name and I only forgot one silent H. I think that's pretty good.) She was shocked I knew everyone after two days. I don't do it on purpose, I just like to connect faces with names, so it's kind of innate. Our editor-in-chief should at least get first names right. Seriously.
Aside from my quiet nature and lack of leadership skills, I could never be in charge because I can't talk down to people. I wouldn't be able to tell my friends what to do. I would always feel like it's not my place to boss people around because they're my equals. I would have to run it like a democracy. I would consult the staff on all decisions, but I never want to be editor-in-chief anyway.
I got an award at the closing ceremony for "Hardest Worker" from our camp newspaper instructor. I must do something right.
Love,
Juliana
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Dear annoying people of the world...
Dear e-mail-duplicate senders,
Thank you for sending me that dirty joke/picture of a dog in bunny ears/political tirade/Jesus chain letter. I appreciated your thinking about me and throwing it my way. I enjoyed the six seconds I spent skimming before hitting the delete button. However, I couldn't help but notice that the latest Jesus-with-puppies picture looked familiar. You sent it to me two months ago...and another time four months before that. I am well-acquainted with the puppy Jesus e-mail, which alerts me that my decision to forward or delete this e-mail determines my eternal resting place. Are you passing this on because you believe that the Jesus puppy e-mail will send you on a direct flight to hell, or did you just forget? Please stop being so cavalier in your e-mail forwarding that you forget which e-mails you've forwarded in the past. Usually, they're not good enough to be passed around a second time.
Dear encroaching shoppers,
I hear the shuffle of your Crocs and the faint squeak of your shopping cart behind me as I'm trying to figure out what the heck mom meant by "the cooking oil with the red cap." You stealthily slide in next to me, reach across my face and grab some Crisco. I move to the left, out of your way. At this moment, you decide the Crisco wasn't what you were looking for and take a few steps to the left yourself. I then back up and pretend to be enamored with the salad dressing on the other side of the aisle when suddenly, you're done with the oil and it's Hidden Valley time! You pivot your cart on it's back left wheel and park it on the back of my shoe. I take this opportunity to run back to the oil side when you move your cart and perfectly position it in the middle of the aisle, and I, being the clumsy person I am, almost trip and fall head first into your carton of organic eggs. See where I'm going with this? Personal space still applies in a crowded store. The trick is to be as unobtrusive as possible. Ninjas, baby. Learn from them.
Dear extreme Michael Jackson mourners,
It's horrible that the life of this amazing performer was cut short. I feel for his family and friends who will miss him so much. However, fans, you did not know him personally. He was 50 years old and didn't appear to be the epitome of health. 50 was considered "old" 100 years ago. To be honest, I wasn't shocked until I saw how much media attention it commanded. You won't miss Michael Jackson; you didn't know him. You will miss his music, which will still remain a legacy forever. It makes sense to send some love to his friends and family (I almost cried when his daughter took the microphone at the funeral), but even today, the day after his funeral, talk shows and newspapers still address this as if Obama was assassinated. He had an awesome voice, and God knows how many people (including myself) have tried to learn the moonwalk and the Thriller dance...but you didn't lose your best friend in Michael. His funeral is over, let the man rest in peace now.
Dear iB2kewl4U,
U can unerstand mee wen i tawk liek dis? OMG u gotz da L337 $|<1LL$. U tawk 2 ur freinz liek dis all da tiem. Unfortunately, I don't care about your whatever skills. I don't want to spend extra time decoding your chatspeak sentences. Type out the word, you lazy teenagers. My sister got a letter in the mail from her friend from camp and she had to have me read and decode the handwritten chat acronyms. I lost some respect for that girl. She wasted my energy. Grow up, type as if you've mastered English, and stop thinking it's cool to change the spelling of common words with no purpose behind it. It stopped being cool after 5th grade. Cut it out, you're being a dork and insulting your own intelligence, as well as that of the person you're talking to.
That last sentence sounded weirdly formal, but I took a practice SAT the other day and I guess I'm in the mode.
Love,
Juliana
Thank you for sending me that dirty joke/picture of a dog in bunny ears/political tirade/Jesus chain letter. I appreciated your thinking about me and throwing it my way. I enjoyed the six seconds I spent skimming before hitting the delete button. However, I couldn't help but notice that the latest Jesus-with-puppies picture looked familiar. You sent it to me two months ago...and another time four months before that. I am well-acquainted with the puppy Jesus e-mail, which alerts me that my decision to forward or delete this e-mail determines my eternal resting place. Are you passing this on because you believe that the Jesus puppy e-mail will send you on a direct flight to hell, or did you just forget? Please stop being so cavalier in your e-mail forwarding that you forget which e-mails you've forwarded in the past. Usually, they're not good enough to be passed around a second time.
Dear encroaching shoppers,
I hear the shuffle of your Crocs and the faint squeak of your shopping cart behind me as I'm trying to figure out what the heck mom meant by "the cooking oil with the red cap." You stealthily slide in next to me, reach across my face and grab some Crisco. I move to the left, out of your way. At this moment, you decide the Crisco wasn't what you were looking for and take a few steps to the left yourself. I then back up and pretend to be enamored with the salad dressing on the other side of the aisle when suddenly, you're done with the oil and it's Hidden Valley time! You pivot your cart on it's back left wheel and park it on the back of my shoe. I take this opportunity to run back to the oil side when you move your cart and perfectly position it in the middle of the aisle, and I, being the clumsy person I am, almost trip and fall head first into your carton of organic eggs. See where I'm going with this? Personal space still applies in a crowded store. The trick is to be as unobtrusive as possible. Ninjas, baby. Learn from them.
Dear extreme Michael Jackson mourners,
It's horrible that the life of this amazing performer was cut short. I feel for his family and friends who will miss him so much. However, fans, you did not know him personally. He was 50 years old and didn't appear to be the epitome of health. 50 was considered "old" 100 years ago. To be honest, I wasn't shocked until I saw how much media attention it commanded. You won't miss Michael Jackson; you didn't know him. You will miss his music, which will still remain a legacy forever. It makes sense to send some love to his friends and family (I almost cried when his daughter took the microphone at the funeral), but even today, the day after his funeral, talk shows and newspapers still address this as if Obama was assassinated. He had an awesome voice, and God knows how many people (including myself) have tried to learn the moonwalk and the Thriller dance...but you didn't lose your best friend in Michael. His funeral is over, let the man rest in peace now.
Dear iB2kewl4U,
U can unerstand mee wen i tawk liek dis? OMG u gotz da L337 $|<1LL$. U tawk 2 ur freinz liek dis all da tiem. Unfortunately, I don't care about your whatever skills. I don't want to spend extra time decoding your chatspeak sentences. Type out the word, you lazy teenagers. My sister got a letter in the mail from her friend from camp and she had to have me read and decode the handwritten chat acronyms. I lost some respect for that girl. She wasted my energy. Grow up, type as if you've mastered English, and stop thinking it's cool to change the spelling of common words with no purpose behind it. It stopped being cool after 5th grade. Cut it out, you're being a dork and insulting your own intelligence, as well as that of the person you're talking to.
That last sentence sounded weirdly formal, but I took a practice SAT the other day and I guess I'm in the mode.
Love,
Juliana
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Ugh, just give it a rest.
Okay, I have some people I want to yell at, but since they're not around, this is the next best thing. There's a curfew imposed on teens in a city in my county where they can't go certain places downtown after 10 p.m. on weeknights and 11 on weekends. A bunch of kids in this youth group are fighting it, saying it's "unconstitutionally-vague" and "illegally-enforced."
Just the fact that they hyphenated those in their little statement shows how badly these kids need to stay home and read a book or two, perhaps spend a little more time studying for school and a little less time on the streets at 11 at night.
Really, people? The state barely has enough money to educate kids. They're firing teachers and dropping art programs, and you want to waste their money on something as trivial as this? REALLY?
They say teens have rights and they're taking them away blah blah blah. Bottom line is there is no reason a kid has to be walking the streets downtown after 11. Maybe it does violate whatever constitutional right minors have to loiter, but who freakin cares? The country is diving head first into a depression and THIS is what's important?
Teenagers are idiots. It kills me that I am one. If I hate teenagers now, I wonder what I'll be like when I'm an adult, if it will get worse or I'll accept them once I don't have to deal with them every day. I will probably hate them more. You know, teenagers hate that no one listens to them and that they get no respect in society, but these are the very kids who perpetuate the stereotype that teenagers are the acne on the face of society. For the most part, they are. Believe me, I spend at least seven hours a day with them in high school hell, 180 days a year.
Anyway, I'm going to turn this into a vicious cycle thing because I love to do that. The state doesn't have enough money to educate stupid teenagers who don't know not to hyphenate adverb-adjective phrases. They get next to nothing to do for homework, have no sense of responsibility, any semblance of a work ethic, or a motivation to do anything worthwhile during their twilight-zone teen years (Now that is how you use a hyphen) except hang around downtown after 10 on a school night. These kids get their only kicks from their late-night escapades, and after numerous problems, the government took their lives' fulfilment away from them. Some kids in a group that advocates the rights of youth decided to do something productive and SUE for this curfew law. In suing, they're taking money away from the state, which doesn't have enough money for basic things like education that these kids probably need badly.
Yeah, it's a bit of a stretch, but it's cathartic ranting.
To wrap it up, teenagers are stupid. This lawsuit is stupid. All of you kids who feel that staying out that late is important, go home and read a book. It's not the most important thing worth fighting for right now.
Love,
Juliana
Just the fact that they hyphenated those in their little statement shows how badly these kids need to stay home and read a book or two, perhaps spend a little more time studying for school and a little less time on the streets at 11 at night.
Really, people? The state barely has enough money to educate kids. They're firing teachers and dropping art programs, and you want to waste their money on something as trivial as this? REALLY?
They say teens have rights and they're taking them away blah blah blah. Bottom line is there is no reason a kid has to be walking the streets downtown after 11. Maybe it does violate whatever constitutional right minors have to loiter, but who freakin cares? The country is diving head first into a depression and THIS is what's important?
Teenagers are idiots. It kills me that I am one. If I hate teenagers now, I wonder what I'll be like when I'm an adult, if it will get worse or I'll accept them once I don't have to deal with them every day. I will probably hate them more. You know, teenagers hate that no one listens to them and that they get no respect in society, but these are the very kids who perpetuate the stereotype that teenagers are the acne on the face of society. For the most part, they are. Believe me, I spend at least seven hours a day with them in high school hell, 180 days a year.
Anyway, I'm going to turn this into a vicious cycle thing because I love to do that. The state doesn't have enough money to educate stupid teenagers who don't know not to hyphenate adverb-adjective phrases. They get next to nothing to do for homework, have no sense of responsibility, any semblance of a work ethic, or a motivation to do anything worthwhile during their twilight-zone teen years (Now that is how you use a hyphen) except hang around downtown after 10 on a school night. These kids get their only kicks from their late-night escapades, and after numerous problems, the government took their lives' fulfilment away from them. Some kids in a group that advocates the rights of youth decided to do something productive and SUE for this curfew law. In suing, they're taking money away from the state, which doesn't have enough money for basic things like education that these kids probably need badly.
Yeah, it's a bit of a stretch, but it's cathartic ranting.
To wrap it up, teenagers are stupid. This lawsuit is stupid. All of you kids who feel that staying out that late is important, go home and read a book. It's not the most important thing worth fighting for right now.
Love,
Juliana
Friday, June 26, 2009
When Harry Met Sally
So I watched When Harry Met Sally since I hear a lot about it, but I didn't think there was anything overly special about it. It was cute, but a lot like all the other "boy meets girl" movies. It was kind of slow, too, which doesn't usually bother me, but doesn't make a movie better than ordinary either. One interesting point they made was that men and women can never just be friends because sex is always a possibility and having that out there messes it up, even if they don't think so.
This scene was funny. I was waiting for the predictable line at the end, and I was cracking up when it came.
Does anyone else think Meg Ryan looks a little like Alicia Silverstone here?
I also found out that the girl with leukemia in My Sister's Keeper is played by Sofia Vassilieva. She was Eloise at the Plaza! Eloise at the Plaza is such a cute movie. The first time I found out the girl from Eloise was actually a couple weeks older than me, I couldn't believe it. She was 10 in that movie. She didn't look 10. I want to see My Sister's Keeper, even though it looks sad. I love Abigail Breslin. My friends said it was a good book.
Completely unrelated, the Chevron station by my house delivers pizza. Go figure.
Love,
Juliana
This scene was funny. I was waiting for the predictable line at the end, and I was cracking up when it came.
Does anyone else think Meg Ryan looks a little like Alicia Silverstone here?
I also found out that the girl with leukemia in My Sister's Keeper is played by Sofia Vassilieva. She was Eloise at the Plaza! Eloise at the Plaza is such a cute movie. The first time I found out the girl from Eloise was actually a couple weeks older than me, I couldn't believe it. She was 10 in that movie. She didn't look 10. I want to see My Sister's Keeper, even though it looks sad. I love Abigail Breslin. My friends said it was a good book.
Completely unrelated, the Chevron station by my house delivers pizza. Go figure.
Love,
Juliana
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