F*** A Nerd: A Solution to the "Sexodus" Crisis

Ladies, there is a crisis in the land: Cowed and oppressed by the forces of radical feminism, heterosexual men everywhere are checking out of the dating scene and checking into video games and online porn. You might have heard about this crisis, this "Sexodus." It is a terrible, terrible scourge of biblical proportions (the 11th plague) afflicting women everywhere.

But luckily I have come up with a solution:

F*** a nerd.

Find the most pathetic specimen of masculinity possible. The more he loathes himself, the better. The longer he hasn't showered, the more he needs the redemption that only your body can provide. He lives in his mom's basement and watches online porn for 12 hours a day? Perfect.

Throw away those unrealistic and cruel expectations for men manufactured by feminism and romantic comedies. You say you want a man who will treat you with respect, and yet you read "50 Shades of Grey." Twice. Clearly, you don't know what you want.

Plus, you think you're so hot. Well, let me tell you, your expectations are way, way too high. Are you Jennifer Lawrence, Taylor Swift, or Beyonce? No? Then you are fugly at best. However, your female privilege has convinced you that you are all that, two Coach purses, and 54 pairs of shoes. You think you can get a "hot guy" with a job to commit to you. Good luck with that. 

Remember: You can always be replaced with porn and video games. Porn doesn't file false harassment charges. Porn doesn't nag at you to empty the dishwasher or get a job. Porn doesn't say "No" when it means "Yes." Porn doesn't only have sex with assholes. Porn doesn't smile at you one day and put you in the "friend zone" the next. Porn doesn't fight back. Chew on that.

Ladies, if you have sex with a nerd, he might just start to overcome the years of rejection and oppression he has experienced at the hands of our female-dominated society. Sure, he knows he really deserves a supermodel and the six figure job you got just because you are female, but the consolation prize of your subpar body will have to do for now.

Really, it's for the good of humanity, the continuation of the species, and a peaceful resolution to the war on men that's being raged in America.

If we are to end this crisis, drastic measures must be taken. So here's my advice:

Stop trying to get ahead at work. Turn down that promotion. You don't need that promotion. A man needs that promotion.

Stop being good at school [a female-created institution designed to make men feel incompetent and insecure].

Stop volunteering to lead at church. You don't need that leadership position. A man needs that leadership position. If a man stops coming to church, it's your fault for taking the leadership role that was rightfully his.

Stop having expectations for the men you sleep with. It's enough that he condescended to sleep with you in the first place, when he could have been playing Minecraft.

Stop complaining about sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexism. Men are tired of hearing about it. You are only perpetuating the feminist myth that all men are rapists and pigs. Men will assume that asking you on a date will get them charged with assault.

Stop sending mixed messages. Either you want a real man who forcibly takes what he wants or you want a passive nice guy who treats you as an equal but never makes a move. You can't have both.

Women: the choice is simple. If you don't "lean back" and spread your legs, unemployed men drowning in self-pity who have given up on any semblance of personal hygiene are going to refuse to have sex with you.

Do you want to die single and alone? I didn't think so. Get out there, and start f***** as many undesirable and unattractive men as you possibly can. If you're lucky, one of them might even agree to marry you.

But don't count on it.


Inspirations:
Lysistrata by Eurpides
Matt Walsh
Article about the "Sexodus"

Is calling someone a "racist" part of white privilege?

Apparently some Americans found this Superbowl commercial offensive because "America the Beautiful" was sung in different languages.

I saw many people on facebook (mostly white) calling these people out and using the word "racist" quite indiscriminately.

There were (bloodless) calls for social media blood to be spilled.

This got me thinking: is using the word "racist" with equanimity and aplomb part of white privilege?

I'm not white (wouldn't you know). And I think long and hard before I even talk about race let alone use such a loaded term as "racist."

Why?

One look at me, and you would know that I have skin in the game (not white).

I'm not white.

Not white.

Got it? I'm not white. And therefore for me to even talk about race means that I am not objective. I am wholly subjective, biased, non-neutral, and prejudiced.

Because of my not-whiteness, I have no credibility.

To be white is to be untouched by history, free from the shackles of the past, free to disclaim responsibility for the actions of not-my-ancestors, free from the burden of guilt and shame that racism represents--

"I am not responsible. Not my past. Not my history. Not my family. Not my burden."

[I feel like this is the crux of white privilege. White privilege says, "I don't care because I don't have to care. I see you over there carrying this burden, but I don't want to know about it. I'm not interested. I'd rather ignore it. That's your problem that you feel that way. I'm sorry, but it's your choice, not mine. Your burden has nothing to do with me."]

My ethnic ambiguity testifies to my lack of clear-headed thinking about racism. And people don't always respond particularly well when I talk about race or when I use the word "racist."

I've experienced some of this righteous indignation before. I've used the word "racist" relatively casually and been not-so-subtly challenged and rebuked.

I've found that using the word "racist" can shut down entire conversations, entire relationships. Except, looking back, I wasn't the one who used the word.

It was more like, "You think I'm a racist? How dare you."

To be honest, blatant racism doesn't really interest me that much. To quote M. Scott Peck quoting Simone Weil, "Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring."

The word "racist" is the exact opposite: inflammatory, loaded, weighted, the worst thing you could possibly call someone (which, if you notice, is not the same as "the worst thing you could possibly be").

So in a world where calling someone a racist is such a terrible thing (worse than actually being racist), I want to ask:

Is there room to talk about the everyday banality of racism. The ordinary kind. The kind that doesn't make the news?

I ask, if you didn't feel righteous indignation, what would you feel?

What would it mean for "racist" to be merely a descriptor, not the word you hurl at your worst enemies?

What if "racist" wasn't used to shut down conversations, but to start them anew?

Why is Church Cliquey? Part 2

At the beginning of the year I wrote a post called Why is Church Cliquey?

This is a topic close to my heart. Maybe it's because I've felt like an outsider my whole life, but to me the message of belonging offered by Jesus is too good to be true, too difficult to pass up, and too compelling to ignore. I believe in a God who says,

"You belong to me."

And throughout my life, I've had powerful experiences of love, belonging and acceptance. I've also felt alone, ignored, rejected and depressed.

I've been coming to terms with never feeling fully accepted anywhere or anytime. That being a foreigner runs deep, deep.

So when people responded to "Why is Church Cliquey?" with "No, duh. Church is cliquey because people are cliquey. Deal with it"--

I could feel the anger rising.

For me (and others) there's the strong sense that this is not the way things should be. And this blog post is me saying that this is not the way things should be:

If I'm rejected everywhere else, I should be accepted at church.

If I'm bullied at school, I should be safe in my youth group.

If I feel alienated, lonely, excluded or isolated, I should find radical acceptance in the embrace of my brother, my sister.

If I feel singled out because of my race, gender, culture, nationality, family background or sexual orientation, I should feel like a whole person in the presence of God and his people.

I'm inspired by the insights of one of my friends, whose response I've excerpted below (with permission):

"The problem with church is that one of the major tenets of Christianity is that you are supposed to belong to the group. We're the Body of Christ, therefore we are bound together in some way. It is your 'family.'

"If co-workers reject me, so what, they're the 'world.' If non-Christians reject me, good, it means I am different. If Christians reject me, if I find that I don't belong to that group...where do I go?? I've set my back to the world, picked up my cross to follow Jesus, and am trying to join the others who've done that.

"So when I am in that church lobby with the hundred or so people I know and no one speaks to me or catches my eye or returns my desperate waves as I say goodbye to the air, I care about that rejection in a way that I don't care about when I'm getting coffee in the lunch room and two co-workers are ignoring me, or when the guys at Starbucks aren't saying hello. My faith is on the line. Part of the faith is that I belong. If I don't belong I'm not a real Christian.

"Another tenet of fitting in is wanting to look good. I think that is a big part of the Church--they want to attract people to it, so they showcase the edgy, relevant side of things. They don't want to be 'your mother's church' or even 'your mid-western church.' So the cool kids get center stage--they are the ones in the band, on the stage.

"But most people drawn to Jesus aren't all that together: we're the nerdy ones, the socially awkward ones, the ones that don't fit in with the world and have a hard time adjusting. We're the uncool, and we don't fit in at work, with our families, with the world at large. If we can't fit in at church, we're sunk."

That's the thing about Christianity--it's meant to be radically inclusive.

In Christ there is no Other--neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, popular nor nerdy, cool nor uncool, eastside nor westside, Bruins nor Trojans.

So what can we do if church feels cliquey?

In a city like LA, the most visible Other is the homeless man or woman. [Homeless people often make token appearances in screenplays, short stories, short films, etc. as either wise-beyond-their-social-status, comic relief, or tragic heroes. See also, the Magical Vagrant.] I believe churches (mine included) go out their way to love and care for the most vulnerable population in their midst, which is awesome.

But I think it's possible to look deeper.

First, we can admit that we as Christians seem to value exactly what the world values: good looks, fashion sense, youth, a "promising career," talent, fame, money, good production values, etc.

We can acknowledge that inequality exists in the world. We can acknowledge that racism exists (yes, still). We can acknowledge that sexism exists. We can acknowledge that homophobia exists. We can acknowledge that, yes, sometimes people are discriminated against because of systemic injustice and not because of anything they did wrong.

We can acknowledge that some people struggle with belonging more than others. We can acknowledge that race, gender, nationality, sexual orientation, etc. can influence the extent to which a person is accepted (or feels accepted).

We can stop pretending that when a person walks into a church the way that they look has nothing to do with how they are treated.

Sometimes (speaking as an outsider here), I just want acknowledgment of the reality that though we may all be equal in the eyes of God, we are not all equal in the eyes of that hiring manager, that apartment supervisor, that closed group of friends.

Second, we can ask questions:

Should I be uncomfortable if the church I go to is full of people who look exactly like me?

What do I do when I look around my small group and realize we're all educated 20-somethings with very similar entertainment career aspirations and theological viewpoints?

Who is the "Other" in my life? Who do I avoid?

Third, we can listen.

People feel like they don't belong for a variety of reasons. These reasons can be internal, external, personality-related, rooted in past experiences, etc.

Listen to those on the outside or those who feel like they're on the outside. Don't dismiss their thoughts or feelings about being excluded. Don't tell them that how they feel is wrong. That's not listening.

Don't say, "Maybe you should try harder to make friends." Don't chalk it up to, "Well, that's just the way it is." Don't give advice like, "You shouldn't care so much about what other people think. At least God accepts you." That's not listening.

Just listen. Maybe they have valid concerns about how the church is too white, too hipster, too middle-class. Maybe they have something to say about decades of oppression they feel the church has perpetuated or participated in.

Don't get defensive. That's not listening.

To recap:

Acknowledge.
Ask Questions.
Listen.

Remember what it felt like to be rejected and excluded back in fourth grade. We've all been there. We are all the Other. Who hasn't felt lonely, disconnected, alienated or alone? It's a universal human experience.

I think sometimes it makes us uncomfortable to hear people say that they feel like they don't belong. It's just not done. It's as if we're trying desperately to ward off those traumatic memories from middle school, as if "not belonging" were a contagious disease best quarantined as quickly as possible with denial and Jesus bandaids.

But what if it's okay.

If God is not intimidated by the depth of our need to belong, maybe we can acknowledge, ask, and listen. And offer just a small taste of the belonging and acceptance that is already ours.

Because we belong to God.


Next: Why is church cliquey? Part 3

Millenials, Entitlement, and Happiness

So, this article came out and people are linking to it and responding to it and I thought I would throw some of my thoughts out there into the mix as an early (late?) millennial who has thoughts, dammit, and wants those thoughts to be heard [I do have a blog, after all. I am Generation Y. Hear me make tentative suggestions via an impersonal platform]. 

Thirst for Adventure

I am a millennial. Sometimes, I confuse adventure with happiness. Whether it's studying abroad, backpacking through Asia, snowboarding the alps, going to Burning Man, eating an endangered species of fire ant, being homeless for a month, or hitchhiking through the Sahara desert, I want to do it all--right now. (Maybe I can raise the funds for my backpacking trip through Kickstarter? Hmm.)

There's this restlessness inside me that refuses to be quenched unless I'm saving orphans in Papua New Guinea while simultaneously inventing a new system of water filtration and launching the latest and greatest app for the iphone. 

I just feel like I'm in stasis, you know. 

I've got it! I'm going to move to LA and pursue a career in filmmaking.

Unnecessary Suffering

Okay. I have a college degree and a background best described as "middle class." I have a few resources (see also "Mommy & Daddy" below).

But, since I'm following my dreams and chasing adventure, I'm living well below the poverty line, subsisting on food stamps (but still eating organic!), sharing an apartment with at least 5 other dudes, and missing one or two student loan payments. 

I work in food service, which I hate, but hey, at least the hours are flexible so I can intern at the record label two days a week. Half the people there don't even refer to me by name (I'm "that weird intern"), but at least I'm pursuing what I love. 

I don't have a car and that sucks, but I think riding the bus is giving me some really good ideas for this screenplay I'm writing about a young person who moves to the big city and meets this homeless man who gives him tons of great advice about how life is about more than just material possessions.

Underemployed and Loving It

Heck, I have so much free time between jobs, I'm writing at least two pilots right now, which I hope to pitch at the monthly networking event I go to (free drinks!). 

I'm thinking about taking an acting class so I can become a better director. I know it's pricey, but if I up my hours at the Cheesecake Factory I should be able to afford it. 

You know who I saw at a party the other day? Ryan Gosling's younger brother, Joe. I wonder if he would be interested in my script about flesh eating slugs who turn out to be harmless, peace-loving aliens with a mission to turn the whole universe vegan.

Mommy & Daddy

I'm not proud about it, but every so often my parents put money in my bank account when I'm not looking. 

I just know that they believe in me and they believe in my dreams as much as I believe in me and my dreams. 

Thanks, Mom & Dad. 

Don't Quit Your Day Job

I work in a book warehouse packing books. Boxes upon boxes of used books arrive at the warehouse every day and are sorted into two piles: keep and throw away. 

One co-worker refers to them as "boxes of broken dreams":

Becoming a Successful, Working, 'Yes, This is What I Do to Pay My Bills' Actor.

Move Out of Your Parent's Basement: A Spiritual Guide

You Too Can Get That Impossibly Beautiful Woman Who is Way Out of Your League to Have Sex With You

Sell Your Screenplay in Five Easy Steps

Every self-help book starts sounding like it's directly judging my life choices: 

If You Have a College Degree And Are As Smart as Your Kindergarten Teacher Said You Were, Why are You Working for Minimum Wage In A Warehouse With No AC During the Summer?

And

What Are You Doing With Your Life? What Would Your College Alumni Magazine Think of You Now?

And 

You Are a Failure

Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Do not have health insurance. Do not have a good answer when people ask, "What do you do?"

Keep or throw away. Keep or throw away.

Follow Your Dreams

I am a millennial 20 years later. No one writes articles about me anymore. Now, there is a new generation to pick on (I hope they give them a stupid name too. Like "perennials.")

My life has exceeded my expectations, but not in the ways I thought it would. 

I'm still pursuing my dreams--but those dreams have changed or morphed into something new. I know how lucky I am to have these dreams and to have the freedom to pursue them. 

I am happy.

"She works hard for (no) money": Copy/Meal/Credit, Unpaid Internships, and the Vagaries of Finding Work in Hollywood

[or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Craigslist]

We all know there is no such thing as a free . Working for free is by its nature an unsustainable prospect (unless you are independently wealthy or win the lottery). However, sometimes an English-major-from-a-small-midwestern-liberal-arts-college has gotta do what an-English-major-from-a-small-midwestern-liberal-arts-college has gotta do to break into the entertainment industry. Namely, work for free.

Let us call this "The Tale of Three Internships" (because "The Tale of Three Volunteer Work Experiences" doesn't sound as catchy):

Internship #1 - In which I enjoy free lunches and 3D footage of hot air balloons, but am lured away by more exciting opportunities.

October 2010: When I first moved to LA in from Kansas City, Missouri as a basically broke recent grad, I did the only logical thing possible--I applied to anything and everything on Craigslist that sounded even remotely interesting (or that paid). 

Subsequently, I was offered an unpaid editing internship at a 3D production company. Cool, 3D. Those were my thoughts. I was also pretty psyched to intern in the editing department. The perks included free lunches on the days you worked and a low-key, friendly work environment. Plus, 3D! 

I organized clips into bins, added logging notes, researched music, and did stringouts for the editors. 

This was a pretty cool internship. But then...

Internship #2 - In which I work as an assistant on an ultra-low-budget film shooting all over Hollywood with name stars and a director of note.

I met this guy at a Thanksgiving party for LA orphans and he connected me to a producer looking for interns. It would be one week of prep and two weeks of shooting on an ultra-low-budget film. Sign me up, I said!

I was excited to be back on set. The people were, of course, amazing, and I discovered once again the strange co-relation between how hard you're working and how much fun you're having. On one of our craziest days, I ended up valeting multiple vehicles and parking them along a narrow, windy drive lined on either side with a low stone wall. Me! Parking cars! It was simultaneously terrible (more like terrifying) and really good fun.

We wrapped after 12 days of shooting and then it was Christmas! I went through post-wrap depression until I got a call...

Internship #3 - In which I am a natural at driving in Tijuana, Mexico [read: I drove like someone who is completely INSANE] and I eat a lot of tacos while being terrified to cross the border but crossing it anyway, multiple times, both ways.

Early in January I got a call from a producer who had received my resume. All I knew was that they were shooting in Mexico and looking for volunteer crew members. I quickly signed on as the assistant production coordinator/driver/craft services/catch-all title.

Where to begin: Volunteer cast and crew. Inspiring subject matter. Mexico. The best popsicles I have ever eaten in my entire life. I had a blast.

It was also extremely challenging. I would drive around and get lost constantly (Did I mention I have a terrible sense of direction? That I don't speak Spanish? That I didn't have a map? Or a GPS?) I would just keep driving until I found the main highway. I could find my way from there.

My main job was to pick up actors from LA across the border in the good 'ol US of A and bring them back into Tijuana. On my first time attempting to re-enter my native land, I took the wrong lane. The immigration officer was so kind. He let me off with a warning. And the threat of a $5,000 fine should it happen again.

The people were great though, and that's generally all that matters.

Thus concludes my tale of three internships. None of them led to a steady, paying job, but I don't regret doing them.

Tune in next time for the advice portion of this program: "Working For Free Without Losing Your Self-respect."

Beautiful Ghosts

"I can feel the skin on my forehead tingling, my blood rushing through a new course, my bones aching with a familiar pain. And I think, My mother was right. I am becoming Chinese."
-Amy Tan

I have never read The Joy Luck Club. For that matter, I have never read Maxine Kingston's The Warrior Woman. I am a traitor to my race. 

I went to a literary conference last weekend, and a high school student gave a presentation on the latter. In the discussion that followed, I realized the duality of my name.

My name in Chinese (first name), is composed of two characters:

The first is the character for "beautiful." The second is the character for "ghost" or "spirit."

Together, they might be translated "beautiful ghost" or "beautiful spirit."

So I realized something--America, in Chinese, is called "beautiful country" (same character for beautiful).

So, if you wanted to, you could say that my name contains both identities--my American identity, represented in "mei" (for America), and my Chinese identity (alter-ego), represented in "ling," which means "ghost" (ghost of the past?).

Of course, I'm grasping here. But I was struck by something someone (quoting Derrida about Marxism, apparently) said.

He said, "If you excise the ghost, you erase your identity."

And I thought, huh. Maybe there's more to being Chinese (half-Chinese) than looking like Mulan.

Maybe, in other words, I shouldn't excise the ghost or ignore its haunting. Sometimes I feel like its stalking me. And no matter how much I try to ignore it--it's still there--in a tightness in my throat, a tingling of the skin, an ache I can't place--a pain I can barely name, let alone feel.

When I cry, my eyes swell up and become smaller.

I am becoming Chinese. 

[Written April 10, 2008]