Friday, September 13, 2013

They can all just kiss off into the ... jumbotron

Wow — 4 time winner!


You guys have been my writing partner for fourteen weeks now; I think that's very special. Thank you guys, <whispering> I love you! 

It also took fourteen weeks to completely stump me, that's right. 
I'm stumped. Kiss Cam. Wow. What can I say about kiss cam? 

Certainly it's an awkward experience, and this should resonate with me.
I enjoy kissing and feeling embarrassed by attention —why not achieve both at the same time? 

What a great suggestion, but how do I approach it? I've never been the subject of a kiss cam. Am I letting you guys down? 

You know, today may be Friday the 13th — but I had the strangest day yesterday. I'm not kidding. See for yourself. 



Friday, September 6, 2013

Hey lady, what are you cosplayning about?

This is Jeremy's second win! 


It was appropriate that for Dragon Con weekend Put It In My Mouth received D*C themed suggestions, and it was even more appropriate that only a couple of dorks participated. 

Participation is something that Dragon Con thrives on, in fact participation and fandom are the parents of this now twenty seven year old convention. 

Last year I wrote an exam paper about the fandom, cultural hegemony, and cultural capital of Dragon*Con. I was given a grade of 92 out of 100. 
The flaw of my paper was that I approached it as a fan. My paper merely served to celebrate everything I loved about D*C, highlighting very positive aspects of the convention. I even cited the genius of Henry Jenkins to reinforce my opinions — how could I go wrong?


Rose-colored typewriter ribbon
When you're in love with something it is difficult to be critical; as a student it is your job to be critical.  I did a bad job addressing the less celebrated virtues of Dragon Con and I am taking this opportunity to redress that. I apologize to everyone for the tone of this blog entry—but I can't discuss cosplay without disclosing my true and tortured discord on the subject. 

Origin Story
In third grade my school promoted a "Come as Your Favorite Storybook Character Day". 
Without question I would be dressing as Ramona Quimby. In fact, it couldn't be easier. I already had Ramona's hair cut and I felt confident I had a wardrobe I could work with too. After all, I deeply identified with her. I was going to nail the costume, it was going to be great. 

It was not great. It was humiliating, decimating, and discouraging. No one recognized that I was Ramona Quimby. Peers were picking on me, teachers were criticizing me and accusing me of not putting any effort or thought into my costume. So for the rest of the day I wore a name label "Ramona Quimby: Age 8", but that didn't help. Other girls were dressed like Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland. Their mothers made their costumes, they looked perfect, and the teachers made sure I understood the comparison. They didn't have to wear a name label. They didn't have to defend themselves or their choice; and they didn't spend most of the day crying. 
I learned that being true to yourself wasn't easy and it wasn't popular. 
Believing this informed nearly every choice I did or didn't make from then on. I hid the parts of me that were rejected and I embellished the parts of me didn't give a frak about rejection.
To this day, I am still learning to separate
from the character that developed from that.

Torridity Story
Not participating in cosplay due to Atlanta's unrelenting heat has always been my number one excuse and it seems to be effective some of the time. But let's be honest, cosplay is about commitment; and devotees will never let their fandom be weathered. 
One solution, wear less. And that brings me to this ...


Minority Story
One of many places myself and Ramona Quimby should feel safe is a convention that operates within participatory culture and reveres individuals that embrace the expressions of fandom.  
Only as an adult, what is at stake seems to be different.  
In third grade I didn't have to worry about being sexy. 
Who would I most want to visit Dragon Con as? 
Cheetara, She Ra, Lisa Garland, Number Six? These are a few characters that always come to mind but they are inherently sexy characters—and I often hesitate to intentionally dress sexy. Correction, I always worry people will think I want to be found sexy. Being found to be sexy is exhilarating. Directing people to notice how sexy you are gives me pause.
SDCC
This cosplay example is from San Diego Comic Con but Google is no fool, Google knows what we are a fan of.

On the other hand, dressing up like Olivia Dunham or President Laura Roslin, who dress modestly, would make me almost invisible in an environment that encourages gawking. And just like that, I am wearing a name label that says "President Roslin" and no one is impressed and my commitment is questioned. At least, this is my fear. 
The truth is cosplay isn't for the meek; and physically revealing costumes will remain an important measure of "quality cosplay".


Deformity Story
Worrying about being liked and being sexy is not the essence of cosplay. You can experience cosplay and be completely unaffected by the over sexualization of women, and I suggest you do try to have that experience.
But the reality of these pressures are pervasive and shouldn't be ignored. 

Before I proceed any further with this dialogue let me be clear about what I am NOT saying:

I am NOT saying sexuality is bad [I mean I'm posting from a blog called Put It In My Mouth, for goodness sake]
I am NOT saying sexy cosplay is bad
I am NOT saying it is wrong to find these costumes sexy
I am NOT saying I have never dressed in a manner in which I hoped may be perceived as sexy
I am NOT saying it is wrong to want to be perceived as sexy
I am NOT saying any of these things

What I AM saying is that the very narrow image that is being projected and perpetuated as sexy has a pejorative effect on both men and women. 

SDCC
I'm relying mostly on examples from San Diego's Comic Con, because this convention receives more public attention, but please understand the same sexual explicitness happens at Dragon Con. It is a crude coincidence that the founder of Dragon Con, Ed Kramer, is an accused sex offender.  Update: Ed Kramer plead guilty three months after this was published.



Actress Michele Boyd came forward publicly this year after being
sexually groped by a stranger, or as she eloquently describes him—a douchenozzle, at SDCC. 

I argue that the environment created at these conventions can facilitate the very wrong sense that this activity is okay. 

Sexual assault occurs more often than any of us can imagine and the scope of the victims suffering is truly unmeasurable. 

1 out of every 6 American women and 1 out of 33 American men are victims of an attempted or completed rape.

By the time I was 18 I had been the victim of an attempted rape. By whom? My best friend. By the time I was 25 I had been the victim of domestic violence. By whom? My best friend, my spouse. Just earlier this year I experienced the panic and anger described by Michele Boyd when I was at a rock show and was sexually groped by a stranger.  
I've recently noticed that my resting stance, the one I take while standing, waiting in line, or being on display is with my arms crossed in front of my lap. It is as if I am literally protecting my genitals, and I do not think this is a coincidence. 

My experiences aren't unique, and one more time — let me be clear that I am not implicating cosplay as an institution that is responsible for sexual assaults ... I am directing awareness to the idea that the images we see and share daily contribute to a sexually violent world that we have become tolerant of. I am saying that as of today,  these conventions have not broken this convention.

As always, someone else has said it better. Author, speaker, and filmmaker Jean Kilbourne:
"Turning a human being into a thing is almost always the first step toward justifying violence against that person.  We see this with racism, we see it with homophobia, we see it with terrorism; it is always the same process. The person is dehumanized and violence then becomes inevitable."


               Jean Kilbourne: Killing Me Softly 4: Advertising's Image of Women 


I take responsibility for my role in establishing these values as acceptable. I believe most of us perpetuate these ideas and knowingly or unconsciously help sustain them. 

Danai Gurira thoughtfully asks us to bring consciousness to the media and images we consume. 
"The media image is America's biggest export."

         
            Women Who Kick Ass Panel SDCC 2013

It terrified me to have this discussion with you. To bring up something as grossly complex as this and to admit to you that I know of no solution and to understand that many of you wouldn't agree there is even a problem ... to take that risk ... it's terrifying. 

To Jeremy, who was probably not expecting a response this dark [on a comedy blog]: 
All cosplay is great. The only regrettable costume, one that requires dependency of a staff to go to the bathroom. 
I suppose I could've honored your suggestion with a simple potty joke. 

Here is my closing statement: 
There is a subculture of cosplay devoted to sex appeal, this is not a bad or shameful thing. Sex should be celebrated. I advocate for sex, everyone should feel sexy—this is a good thing.
Our current and collective ideas of what sex appeal is and our reactions to it is what I take issue with. 
I don't know how we can work together to change that but I do know that the world never got better without confronting change. 
Having discussions like this (no matter what side you fall on) is a great start and having media literacy and a conscious mind is even better. 

Here are my sins of D*C week: 

Byron, I'm sorry I patted your ass (and that I am discussing it here). You did nothing to invite that behavior and it won't happen again (unless we are in improv).

Miley C., I am sorry I referred to your music video as kind of skanky. Skanky is the word I use to describe the way I feel when I get off of work. I do not think your music video is covered in sweat and pork fat. I do not know anything about you even though the media wants me to believe I do. All I know is that you are a woman and you probably encounter a lot of the same conflicts as I do. I will be more respectful of the way I inform all of my opinions about all women.











Friday, August 30, 2013

Chewblacca: Puppies & Panties

Week Twelve Winner:
Holly, what a bad ass. She won by a landslide. 
And it is no surprise.
What an innocuous YET insidious subject ...
Good job Holly, that's what people like.
Here is your win (and because you are a bad ass—I made you a video too).


I have been a lover of panties almost as long as I have been a lover of dogs.
My affection for dogs was immediate ... my affliction with panties began around the age of fifteen when I got my first job (@Dunkin Donuts). 
As a wage earner, I could now afford luxury items. It didn't take long to find out that spending that cash on under things sent me over the moon.

Garter belts, thigh highs, brassieres, negligees, corsets ... I couldn't stop. 
But my main obsession—panties!

Panties pleased me. So be it.

I am a certified Victoria's Secret Angel. <----I made this up, but what it means is that I have spent a small fortune on V.S. panties—and I'm far from retired.

Unfortunately having a wealth of panties doesn't inherent a wealth of good sense and sometimes you do foolish things like leave your pantie$ on the floor. Oh, and I forgot to mention you have a puppy.

You may not have good sense, but your puppy definitely thinks you have good scents.

The proof is in the now crotchless style panties you never anticipated owning. Boys, puppies like your manties too. 
The bad news is—there is little that can be done about this habit. 
The good news is—they grow out of it.

I won't go on about the psychology behind it, because I am not qualified to do so ... but I heard you guys like videos. 




Friday, August 23, 2013

Framing the conversation: coolness is an optical illusion

week 11 winner


I always felt extremely fortunate to have perfect vision.  
You see*, there aren't many things I am good at. 
I don't wish to devalue myself. These are just the facts.

· I don't draw well
· I don't sing well
· I don't dance well
· I'm a woman so, of course, I can't drive well
· I'm not a very effective feminist ☝
· I don't take compliments well
· etcetera 

But I can burp at will and I can see perfectly, 20/20. 
Well, that is, I could see perfectly. 


This happened—March 19 2013

My vision declined rapidly and with seemingly little provocation. 

I remember it like it was six months ago, because it was six months ago. 

Spring semester, 2013. 

I was convinced that the projectors in my class rooms were out of focus. 
That's right. I convinced myself that multiple projectors were out of focus.
I would form my hands around my face in a vain attempt to refract my own light. I would even do this while watching TV. 
My boyfriend told me I needed glasses.
I said, "No way, that's silly. I have perfect vision". 
He would smile.
It started to really stress me out that I couldn't see. I did a myriad of web searches to sleuth out what disease I possibly had that was causing my blindness**. 
To no avail.
One day at school I had a full blown panic attack. 
I fell apart. I couldn't breath. I couldn't see. I could barely walk. 
I was scared.
I made an appointment with an optometrist.  

Once diagnosed with an astigmatism I had to wait several long weeks for my very expensive glasses. 
Once I received the glasses I had to find out all on my own what happens when you:
· open the dryer
· have a cup of hot tea
· are caught in the rain
· work in a restaurant 
· live in a humid climate
· go to hug people!
I mean, someone should've told me (srsly guys)!***

That is a lovely story Val, but aren't you supposed to write about wearing glasses without a prescription?

Yes. And here is my confession.

"These are cute. I wish I could wear glasses". 
These were the words I said [out loud] while I ogled my mother's glasses this past Winter break when she visited me.

I don't believe I invoked optical damage with this utterance …
but I do understand the visually gifted's eyewear envy. 
The glasses were cute in the same way someone else's child is … for a minute. 

Not knowing that desperate dependency to the glasses, I could adore them from a safe distance. 
In the same way that not having to take that child home [and keep him/her alive] defines a much different relationship.

I did my usual amount of research for this piece and I noticed a
unanimous outcry from the visually impaired who feel as though their handicap is being exploited for vanity. 
The comparison of using a walking cane when you do not need assistance walking was made often and there is much logic to this criticism. 
The idea that glasses are being elevated to chic, sexy, and stylish is of very little consolation. Most would trade this desired aesthetic for better vision any day. 
Counter arguments were made in the name of fashion owning that nothing is of limits when it comes to accessorizing; you don't have to be a ballerina to wear ballet flats, you don't have to be on a boat to wear a skipper's hat, and other bad examples. 

What I have learned is that I feel incredibly self conscious in my glasses.****
When people see me in my glasses I feel like they know that I have failed at something. 
Then I assume they know everything I have failed at. 
The glasses are meant to make me stronger, so I can see better. But when I wear them, I feel vulnerable. 
I know I am projecting these fears and I know it is nonsense to feel this way. 

My issue is that I haven't embraced my new identity, "needs glasses". 
I would still rather squint than admit I need help seeing, and this has been a running theme for me. 
The truth is, the ability to see confidently could, in fact, make me look confident. 

If people want to wear vanity frames, please, go ahead. 
Because even with a visual handicap — I can clearly see*^5 how little the fashion choices of other's matters. 
Srsly guys. *^6 



         Burberry Grace

      I take you out of your case
         I put you on my face
        And know I can see all over the place








*first and only pun
**I even peed on a stick
***I used internet shorthand! I'm all grown up now. Ew, I feel gross. I nd a shwr, brb. 
****Even though my boyfriend adores me in them
*****I lied, another pun
******srsly is seriously not a word, but I can clearly see how little the online/sms language choices of others matters. 

I srsly should not take credit for that poem, it's pretty lame.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Now Everyone Can Put It In My Mouth!

It has been ten weeks, you guys. You and I have been blogging together for ten beautiful weeks. 
Maybe I am getting ahead of myself but I think we are ready to share ourselves with more people.
More people, more ideas, more votes, more magic!

I am inviting you to like my Facebook page and to invite others to join.
All voting will occur on this page and now you will have the opportunity to get more votes for your suggestions. 

Did I mention how beautiful you and your suggestions are? 

Business as usual
  • I post a request for topic ideas on the new Facebook page every Friday morning.
  • You provide suggestions for the blog topic, if you are so inclined.
  • Between Friday morning and Monday night you are also encouraged to vote for your favorite suggestions, this can include your own suggestion.
  • The suggestion with the most votes Monday night will be the topic I write about.
  • I will post the winner’s blog before the end of the day Friday.

This week's blog winner is: Matthew! 





















You will see this winning blog posted to the site this Friday.
I totally had to wear prescription glasses to write this. 




Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Children Of The Corona Borealis

Congratulations Jeremy! 




What a mind blowing, vaginal numbing suggestion. 
Gross, I wish I hadn't said that. Too bad, I did.

When I think of space babies, and I sometimes do, I usually think along these lines: 


Jeremy's suggestion forced me to do some critical thinking about the topic, i.e. "googling". 

After a long afternoon of laying in bed watching the butt end of S1 Orange Is The New Black* I learned this; 
Jeremy will be devastated when I report to him that giving birth in space may not be a viable option. 

Childbirth is something I know very little about.  I saw a video of the aforementioned event early on in grade school and swore to never let that happen to me.  Instead I would adopt a baby boy, work shifts at McDonalds and dance ballet.  Laugh all you want, those were my goals when I was 6 (I have since met none of them).  I did make good on the "never let that happen to me" vow but only by way of an endocrine disease.   
 plie segue?

What I am saying is—childbirth in space? 
Unlikely. 
Even if two very patient people found a way to 
find 'the G' in zero G 
and their "John Travolta" successfully made it to someone's "Kirstie Allie". . .
I maintain that no women would be trusting enough to let someone perform an episiotomy while hurtling through space at an alarming rate. 

There are scientific implications that babies born in space may develop as fatheaded, off balance, weak, fragile, disproportionate (as we understand it to be), atrophied babies. 
That sounds like a lot of time in the NICU and the coffee is terrible there, boo to that.  

Enough nonsense.  It is still my self-prescribed job to satisfy Jeremy's curiosity. 

Launching: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, you're supposed to click the video now. . .             





*Spoiler: Tan is the new Black

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

❮html❯ ❮body❯ ❮p❯do you like me? ❮ul❯ ❮li❯yes❮/li❯ ❮li❯no❮/li❯ ❮li❯maybe❮/li❯ ❮/ul❯ ❮/p❯ ❮/body❯ ❮/html❯



Congratulations on Kat's second win! This makes 2 weeks in a row Put It In My Mouth has experienced 2x wins. And what incredible suggestions this week. I can't wait for the next Stiff Competition Edition. 


It is my position that the desire to communicate with others, particularly friends, was never stronger for many of us than it was in grade school.  Perhaps that is because I believe those exchanges with our friends played such an integral role in defining who we were.  And perhaps that is because I believe that defining who we were as teenagers was one of the most vital and daunting of tasks for an adolescent. 
Some of us had jobs, hobbies, or passions at an early age that helped distinguish our character—but most of us just had friends.
And those friends meant everything.  

I remember [not clearly] countless days in which my sole motivation for going to school was to see and talk to friends.  You did not need to have a lot of friends, just the ones worth talking to, listening to, and sharing everything with.  I was lucky enough to have those friends.  

If you completed your grade school career before the mass diffusion of PDA's, pagers, mobile phones, laptops, and tablets then you remember how limited that vital communication with your peers could be. 
Beyond the brief respite between classes, the sometimes desolate lunch period, or the oscillating car or bus ride—face time with friends was also limited [this is long before FaceTime®—that was shit only the Jetsons were doing].


So you pass notes! Tons and tons of fµ©$ing notes! 

Sometimes whole notebooks full of notes. You develop up an uncanny ability to fold paper into tiny shapes that no human has ever thought of [without seeing one single origami video on YouTube®, because wtf is a YouTube?]. 
The notes would get intercepted by teachers or worse. . . the boy/girl you liked. . . even though there were specific instructions written on the front in seven different shades of pastel pen,
"For Robin's Eyes ONLY"!!!!!!!!!
What, are they stupid? 

If you are like me—you consequently find yourself with boxes of these "mementos of teenage angst", as Kat fairly describes them.  If you are like my little [awesome] sister then you consequently find yourself deciding it is time to get rid of these mementos, but not before skimming them all for reminders of how completely stupid teenagers are [as she fairly describes it]. 

As a result of this behavior it would be fair to say that myself and others romanticize this note-passing period in our timeline of communication, that we are nostalgic for this tactile form of expression. 
. . .the idea that the thoughts that are in our head can literally be put into the hands of another person. . .  
Well of course thats romantic, and us romantics still participate in this behavior. . . but come on. . . we finally get to be the Jetsons!* 

I admit that adopting this sentiment about living in the digital age while holding on to my analog past happened forcibly and just a couple of years ago.  I was making a film for class and my shot list designated that Madison was to despondently flip through a photo album. This made no sense to someone (a younger peer) and it was only then that I realized. . . nobody [young] keeps photo albums and they especially don't understand the (albeit emo) habit of digging them out and obsessively pouring over them. 
So I rewrote the scene to have Madison clicking through her facebook photos and even as a romantic it was hard to capture her despondence without tangible evidence like a photo album. 

See for yourself. [shameless effort to make you watch my shameful student film]

The teenage angst that Kat wrote of in her winning suggestion, well I am sure it still exists.  But [as a romantic**] I wish to believe it has lessened.  Teenage angst is often related to the frustration of not clearly recognizing your personal identity.  Many of us suffer this for a long time and we are always susceptible to encountering such a feeling again.  
In the digital age teenagers today can construct their identity in a collage of pictures, emoticons, and snarky status updates. They can express who they are by listing the bands, movies, books, and television programs they like.  They can be cool by association by disclosing who they are with and where they are at. They can endow themselves with just about anything they want. 
Teenagers can fully contrive an identity and more significantly
they can edit it when necessary.

Am I saying that social media is the answer to teenage angst? 
No.
Certainly not [although there is nothing angsty about 5 dozen selfies].
But as powerful [and potentially harmful] that these digital tools are, perhaps they can wield some good. Suppose wrestling with your identity crisis by way of an accessible CMS could give these youths some amount of ease, if only temporary. 
Teenagers today can hoard their angsty emotions in an online archive for anyone to see, or to pour over later if they so decide. 
But if we are lucky most of them will opt into the "never have to relive this moment again" electronic communication facilitated by snapchat.
Because I'll be real, unless today's teenagers can pull off some classy John Hughes shit, I don't want to stumble upon their angsty mementos while searching for online porn. ***




In case you were wondering, my teenage angst looked a lot like this:
talk hard


Well, perhaps I just imagined it that way. 

I believe it probably looked a lot more like this: 

exactly like this



Thank you to my beautiful friend Alissa for taking the time out of her busy back to school schedule to confirm Kat's suspicion that teenagers no longer pass notes.
RIP 
Notes
then-now

* We only passed notes because we didn't have electronic devices.  
** Let's be honest. I'm very much a cynic too. 
*** I don't really feel that way. That's a little dramatic. Probably just some residual teen angst.