Sunday, April 23, 2006


The logo:

The update: At least one review will be up on the 31st.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Burning up his fuse out here alone

We all know that pop culture is cool culture. No surprise there. Because of this, combined with the increasingly short span of the average star's career, a good amount of their effort can go to remaining relevant. But at some point, it becomes a little excessive. I mean, this isn't "Rapper's Delight," it's not all F-L-Y. Eventually, it wears a little thin.

Case 1: Lloyd Banks, "I'm So Fly"

Really. The title should be enough. At this point, we know what the song's about, but maybe a closer look will surprise us.

I'm so fly, I got money
So that's good enough reason to buy the things I buy
I'm so high, I'm on point
And I could tell that your jealous just by the look in your eye
And when I ride by
I don't care, G-Unit's going straight to the top this year
Nigga I'm so fly, I got money
So that's good enough reason to buy the things I buy

I guess not. He's rich and has lots of things, we're jealous, he doesn't care. If that weren't enough, have you seen the video? He's rich and has a lot of things (a futuristic house!), and I guess we're jealous. Or he thinks we are. I don't know anymore. The bulk of the video, in between cutaway shots of his house, is Banks in front of his house just rapping, throwing money around. Just throwing it away, all over the street. And with all this, he doesn't even blink. Maybe they're all ones, I'm not sure. But the sheer nonchalance of it, the way he's practically just saying, "I'm not even going to pick these up. I pay my taxes, the city will come sweep them. Or maybe they'll run down the drain, it looks like rain," it's just too much. Nobody needs to try that hard.

Case 2: Destiny's Child - "Soldier"

No, it's not about the war, Green Day did that one. This is a song for all us hopefuls, the dudes who really, really need some of that ice cream. Double chocolate? Swirl? We don't mind. Unfortunately, most of us won't make the cut. Check the chorus:

If his status ain't hood
I ain't checkin' for him
Betta be street if he lookin' at me
I need a soldier
That ain't scared to stand up for me
Known to carry big things
If you know what I mean
If his status ain't hood
I ain't checkin' for him
Betta be street if he looking at me
I need a soldier
That ain't scared to stand up for me
Gotta know to get dough
And he betta be street

Street? Really? Beyoncé, your dad had a six figure salary before he managed your career. Kelly? You lived with them. You've been hanging out with Jigga too long if this is what's rubbing off on you. You're popular, beautiful, and the music's already made you wealthy; you don't need to pretend to be anything to sell records. Maybe it's not like that, though. I can almost hear the resignment in Beyoncé's voice. "Street?" she says to the producer. "Really? Fine, I'll do it. But not that part." She even throws Michelle a bone with a verse of her own. "Here, honey. You need this more than I do." I guess some people need to pretend now and again, even if it's just that people care about them.

Cool should be casual, almost effortless. You don't need the attention or the gift bags, but fuck yeah, you'll take them. It would be rude not to. Maybe you'll just toss it in the corner, or something. I don't know, and that's what makes it cool: the mystery, the sense that it doesn't make a difference what I think. Think James Dean or Prince, guys that just ooze whatever it is. You just know that when Prince goes home at night to his purple house (have you seen the pictures? It rocks!), he's still Prince, and that's the difference.

Friday, April 07, 2006

A faint tingling

Back in January I, in a rare time of care for my future, applied for the university's Psychology Internship program, wherein I would work for 12-16 months in the field, gaining what I can only imagine is valuable experience and a juicy centre to call my very own. I got conditionally accepted, which basically meant that I was in the program, assuming I was actually employable. And after a couple good interviews yielded poor results, that was starting to look less and less likely, and as I am wont to do, I started getting anxious and nervous. After all, if I can't even be a probation officer, how can I do something more clinical? Should I just give up right now and get a BEd? I don't even own a rumpled sportscoat.

Thank God that's not going to happen for another year at least. Today I got a call from Kimberly in Alberta Hospital's human resources department saying what basically amounts to a successful conning of three distinguished professionals into thinking I'm actually the best person for this job. That in itself is impressive. I mean, I work at a grocery store, and I somehow translated that into valuable skills. With psychology. With sex offenders. Wow. Moreover, maybe I'll no longer feel out of place with some of my friends; the one in grad school with grants, the one finishing up nursing programs, the one who's the campus Chief Returning Officer or even just the ones living on their own. It actually feels like I'm doing something, that I'm stepping forward.

And you know, that feels pretty good.