over the cliff

Featuring Principal Firebush

…do not collect $200.

I received my first ever rejection from a literary magazine. As far as “We hate you and your writing sucks” slips go, it was pretty polite. It wasn’t a torn off corner of a sheet of paper with the word ‘No!’ written on it as if I were some puppy trying to grab food off the table. They didn’t send back my manuscript with cat vomit or coffee stains on it. They didn’t say “Save the literary world. Die now.” Just a simple “Thank you for sending us your work, but we cannot use it at the present time.”

They were also relatively fast. 32 days. Pretty damn snappy for a lit magazine. I sent batches of poems off to Ploughshares and CrazyHorse at the end of March which I probably won’t see again until September. By then I’ll probably hate everything I’ve written and crawl back to my parents to see if Medical School is still an option.

In other pseudo-writing related news… I read book 3 of Goodkinds Sword of Truth infinitology. I still hate the names he gives groups of people, and his dialogue reminds me of that play in Kindergarten we did about Egyptians making bread, but it was readable. So I ordered book 4 and told Oliver that if I don’t like, it’s his fault. He doesn’t seem to think this is very fair.

…to stop making me hate being a girl.

If you’ve ever seen the show “Super Sweet 16″, you’ll know where I’m going with this. If you haven’t, let’s review.

“Super Sweet 16″ is a reality TV show where cameras follow various Jessica Simpson clones in Christina Aguilera outfits with Paris Hilton attitudes while they bitchslap their parents into throwing them a party all for the bargain price of a 4 bedroom home. On the river. In the historic district.

Occasionally you’ll see the mothers try to reign in their daughters. “No dear, you can’t make NSync reunite for your party. No, you can’t go dressed like a hooker. Yes those $5,000 tennis bracelets are too expensive for a party favor.”

Undaunted, the girls flip their hair, roll their eyes, and go running to Daddy. Because, as one girl says, “I’m the Princess. I get whatever I want. He tries to say no to me, but he can’t. Or I do it anyway.” On a recent episode, one girl received 2 cars from her father. Because, as he said, “She needs something to drive on the weekends…” Frankly I’m impressed he didn’t buy her 5 more. Because anyone who drives to school in the same car she drove yesterday is obviously a freak.

Anyway, I suppose there’s a shortage of ridiculously spoiled (and wealthy) girls who crave their 15 minutes of ridicule on the station that killed the radio star, the music video, and the self respect of an entire generation… because MTV has a new show.

Tiara Girls. A reality show devoted to beauty pageant contestants and the seedy lives they lead. Two girls destroy a friendship over the “Queen of Hope” title (which neither of them win). An ambitious mother tells her daughter she needs liposuction. A Louisiana girl doesn’t watch the news and declares that Kennedy is the current Vice President.

Geez Mom, why didn’t you love me enough to sign me up?

This show has one redeeming factor: its theme song. Sure it’s bubblegum-pop with imitation “punk” lyrics a la Avril Lavigne… but get this… the song is about how much the speaker hates the Homecoming Queen/perfect skin/cheerleader type. So either the folks over at MTV didn’t realize that by having this theme song they are in effect ridiculing the girls on the show, or I have new found respect for their cynicism.