Saturday, December 03, 2005
Stuck at a particularly boring fair yesterday, I decided to find out what I should wish for, for Christmas. Given that I have no personality or will of my own, I thought it very useful that the Guardian provided an article to help me along. The only thing I had to do was to find my own category and read on.
Unfortunately there was no such category as charlotte, 30s, married, no children, employed full-time, cultural age: 19.
But I gathered that Mrs. Wilson, mum, 30s was the nearest I would get (I particularly liked the way it was implied that Mrs. Wilson's main reason for existing was 'mum', and that being a 'mum' was the reason why Mrs. Wilson would to listen to Stock, Aitken & Waterman. I'm rather pleased that I am not yet a 'mum' and thus would have to a) listen to and b) enjoy Pete Waterman's back-catalogue of shite - even if it were in an ironic way).
I am also being told that I can choose Ian Brown's ramblings - Ian Brown: the man kept alive by great musicians, interesting songs and loudly-coloured track suits. Can he sing? Neither for shit nor supper.
And then of course there's the Son Cubano NYC album with which I am not familiar, so it may very well be splendid, but please:
After a quick blast of this, she'll be ready to take advantage of a generous wad of "salsa lesson vouchers" while Dad holds the fort at home.
I feel patronised and insulted in so many ways.
In the eyes of the Guardian I must seem as an intriguing juxtaposition of the entire family, which can mean two things: that I am in severe need of psychotherapy or that this is the most pointless article ever written. Who is this meant to apply to? Are people supposed to read this and think: 'Oh, well I am a mother in my 30s so I better rush out and buy Jerry Springer the Opera'? Or, as I suspect would be the defense: it's just a bit of fun?
Pointless and stupid. Perpetuating the notion of stereotypical roles and values in life (ie do you have to be a mum just because you are a woman in your 30s?).
Interestingly written by men only.
Blah.
Unfortunately there was no such category as charlotte, 30s, married, no children, employed full-time, cultural age: 19.
But I gathered that Mrs. Wilson, mum, 30s was the nearest I would get (I particularly liked the way it was implied that Mrs. Wilson's main reason for existing was 'mum', and that being a 'mum' was the reason why Mrs. Wilson would to listen to Stock, Aitken & Waterman. I'm rather pleased that I am not yet a 'mum' and thus would have to a) listen to and b) enjoy Pete Waterman's back-catalogue of shite - even if it were in an ironic way).
I am also being told that I can choose Ian Brown's ramblings - Ian Brown: the man kept alive by great musicians, interesting songs and loudly-coloured track suits. Can he sing? Neither for shit nor supper.
And then of course there's the Son Cubano NYC album with which I am not familiar, so it may very well be splendid, but please:
After a quick blast of this, she'll be ready to take advantage of a generous wad of "salsa lesson vouchers" while Dad holds the fort at home.
I feel patronised and insulted in so many ways.
In the eyes of the Guardian I must seem as an intriguing juxtaposition of the entire family, which can mean two things: that I am in severe need of psychotherapy or that this is the most pointless article ever written. Who is this meant to apply to? Are people supposed to read this and think: 'Oh, well I am a mother in my 30s so I better rush out and buy Jerry Springer the Opera'? Or, as I suspect would be the defense: it's just a bit of fun?
Pointless and stupid. Perpetuating the notion of stereotypical roles and values in life (ie do you have to be a mum just because you are a woman in your 30s?).
Interestingly written by men only.
Blah.
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