Motivated by a lack of nothing better to do and encouraged by my darling mother (who is probably sick of me complaining about my lethargy and listlessness), I have decided to write a blog. About what, you ask? Good question. I like where your head’s at. I have absolutely no idea but I’m generally pretty self-obsessed and reality television programming has taught me that that’s all I need to be interesting to other people, so here we are.
I am assuming that if you are reading this blog, you probably already know me, so introductions are relatively pointless. But if not and you somehow stumbled upon this blog by googling “sweet awesomeness,” “the chick from the new Transformers movie,” well then: hello there. I am Wendy. I am 26 years old and I moved from Ithaca New York to Los Angeles California about three years ago to pursue my life-long passion for high stress/low paying jobs. I am currently livin’ that dream as an adjunct composition professor at Loyola Marymount University where I also recently received my MA in English. But school’s out for the summer; thus, the reason for writing this blog. Also, because Moses says that we cannot get a puppy. Moses, of course, is my lovely boyfriend of nearly seven years who is a PhD student at UCLA. He’s kind of a big deal. His advisor is one of the inventors of the PET scan. Do you even know anyone who invented the PET scan? I didn’t think so. Naturally, with our combined lucrative salaries as graduate students, we live the sort of glamorous lifestyle you typically associate with Los Angeles: subsidized housing, a 2001 Honda civic with worn bearings and perpetually covered in bird shit (courtesy of the charming swallows that live in our garage), and basic cable. You should be jealous.
Most of my friends who write blogs, which aren’t many (and by that I mean that I don’t have many friends, not that I have only a few blog-writing friends), typically have some grander narrative: wedding planning, cooking, babies, celebrities, bomb-making (kidding). And these are the topics one typically associates with blogs. And shouldn’t blogs serve some greater purpose? Shouldn’t they be for the greater good? Shouldn’t they provide helpful advice on parenting or boast useful instructions on how to best cut ginger or dispense some sort of wisdom like what to do when you come across Gary Busey (as it turns out, like a T. rex, he can only detect motion)? Well, apparently not and mine certainly won’t so if you’re looking for how to lose those extra 10 lbs. for bathing suit season, look elsewhere. I only have sarcasm and adorably misguided opinions to offer. So stay tuned kiddos, this should be a highly illuminating (if not entirely life-altering) blog.
I think I will end this post with a little hint of what’s to come. So here are three things that I am currently obsessed with that probably nobody else would and/or does care about:
1. Ghost Adventures: it’s a show on the travel channel that is also on Netflix Watch Instantly (which is, by the way, the equivalent of crack-cocaine for a T.V. addict like myself). Joel McHale (Community/The Soup), referred to it once as “Frat boys yelling at air,” which, I think, is a pretty accurate description. As the name implies, the show follows three guys investigating paranormal activity. They are “locked-down” in haunted locations and document what they find…which, unsurprisingly, is a whole lot of nothing. They mostly just taunt in the darkness (ex. “I heard that you were a serial puppy kicker, well, why don’t you come and kick ME!?), shush each other when they think they hear noises (ironically the shushing often mutes what would have been there “evidence”) and showcase their bro-ness. And it’s all beautifully captured in the soft green glow of night vision. In short, it’s about one of the funniest shows on television—it just doesn’t know that it’s a comedy.
2. Sweet and deliciously vapid Bravo T.V. programming (most of my fixations, as I am sure you’ve cleverly deduced, are media-related): Bravo T.V. was designed for people just like me: too clever for shows like “The Bachelorette” yet too shallow for anything of real substance. I love Bravo T.V. and now that I am done with graduate school (for the time being) and out of a job for the summer, I watch it endlessly. I pretend that my motives for liking it are ethnographically and/or psychologically based. And that’s partially true. I find human behavior fascinating and although most reality shows aren’t real, it’s still interesting to see how and why people act the way they do. And even if it is staged, which almost all reality shows are, why would these people agree to go on them? Why would they open themselves and their families up to these imposed narratives? Are they just attention whores or is there something more here? What do these shows really reveal about our culture? But mostly, I watch them because they’re fluff—fluff that distracts me from how stressful or awful I may feel like my life is at any given point in time. Because really, as poor as I may be or as stressed as I may get, I will never be that trashy and/or plastic and/or despicable and/or idiotic. And that’s a good thing. Thanks Bravo T.V. for subtly validating my lifestyle, without actually validating my lifestyle. That’s how I like it.
3. Absurd Nicholas Cage action movies: I don’t know what it is about Nick Cage. Those poorly disguised hair plugs? That luscious monotone voice? The fact that his face carries no expression whatsoever? Or the fact that each character he plays is an expert in everything ever? Because, really, nothing at all about this man is appealing, yet I find my heart flutter with excitement whenever I come across National Treasure on the USA network. Make no mistake, Nicholas Cage movies are not what one would consider “good” by any stretch of the imagination but they are high-octane, adrenaline fueled, unadulterated nonsense that make Arnold Schwarzenegger movies look about as sensitive and Oscar worthy as Schindler’s List. Mostly, I associate Nicholas Cage movies with summer which is probably why I find them so endlessly fun and entertaining (because apparently I have lowered expectations for what constitutes as “fun” and “entertaining” in the summer months). Regardless, I feel like Nick Cage is similar to one of those crappy Starbucks Frappuccino’s that I always find myself craving around this time of year: satisfying yet in no way good for me and associated with a company that I in no way approve of.
And with that clever little analogy, I think I will conclude this first post, which, in true Wendy fashion, is longer and wordier than originally intended. So was that sentence. But honestly reader, you need to accept me for who I am if this whole blog thing is going to work. And I promise that, in return, I will not to let you down by forgetting about this and/or neglecting it and/or making each post about Nick Cage. Just kidding, I can’t promise that…