My Thoughts on Miley: LET ME SHOW YOU THEM

Yes, I realize this topic has been positively driven into the ground, but since I finally finished the assignment I was working on tonight and am still very much awake from the coffee, I thought I'd throw in some of the thoughts that have been rattling around in my head regarding Miley's performance at the VMAs.

1. I mentioned this in a Facebook status, but I would like to go into greater detail here: the straight-up quality of Miley's performance was not so great.  I am not interested in having a debate about the aesthetics or morality of pop music and the dance styles that often accompany it because nobody moves or wins in that debate - I will mention, however, that Gaga, Timberlake and everyone else up there employ suggestive lyrics and moves as well and ain't nobody weeping over their blogs about those folks.  Miley is capable of great performances and this one could have been just as good.  Now, it's possible that she obstinately refused to do anything but her mix of Gene Simmons and Ke$ha-style choreography up there, but it's also possible that at every step of the way, her management, assistant, stylist, choreographer or any number of people who have access to her and know what looks good and what doesn't straight up didn't do their job because everybody loves a train wreck.  Shoot, so much about that performance could have been improved if they had made her use a corded mic at a stand.  She could still have wiggled around some, she could have dressed however she wanted, but she wouldn't have looked so insane.  It's entirely possible that everyone around her was saying, "Yeah, everyone will be talking about your performance!" with entirely different reasons in mind than the ones she had.

2. Much armchair psychology has taken place about whether Miley is desperate for attention, crying for help, a lost widdle helpless baby boo hoo.  I'm not saying that these people are wrong - time may prove them to be correct.  However, nobody really knows what's inside Miley's head or heart besides Miley herself; I'll refer you to Ke$ha, who rap-yodels* the same song over and over to different beats and yet made a 1500 on her SAT.  The product doesn't necessarily equal the person.  I'm pretty sure we have all done things, perhaps some of us publicly, that if shown to strangers out of context would make all of us look like we were "crying for help" and yet we turned out to just be having a short-term lark or moment of poor judgment, subsequently collected ourselves, and moved on.

3. There has also been much discussion about the influence of Miley on young women, particularly those who "grew up with her", so to speak.  This makes me the most teeth-grindingly angry because, however well-intended, all of the opinions to this end that I've read and heard seem to assume that teenagers are masters of mimicry who thoughtlessly emulate every action performed by those they admire.  Young girls will see Miley partying and carousing with boys and think that those things are totally ok!

I don't have my own kids, so obviously it is easier for me to be cavalier about these things.  But I do remember what it was like to be a teenager, and furthermore I remember the actions of many of my friends as teenagers.  Even prior to teenagerhood, we enjoyed media which glorified sex, violence, drug and alcohol abuse and other such mainstays of the terrible, horrible, no-good very bad culture or however that book title goes.  We would even watch music videos and performances which the adults in our vicinity raised their eyebrows over and thought it was cool.  But we did possess brains, and we did, even at that tender age, have the ability to differentiate between adults whose job it was to entertain and, to an extent, shock, and kids whose job it was to learn about the world before being thrown into it.  We could grasp the machine of controversy and buzz, of gossip and publicity and, thanks to parents, educators and other role models who taught us to look critically and intelligently at the products of culture rather than to run from them, the nature of actions and consequences.  I don't make such a statement in order to be judgmental; every family has its own unique needs and preferences and I respect that.  The wider point of this sub-point is that by and large, kids are sharper than we often make them out to be.

I don't have a nice neat conclusion.  These were just the thoughts I had.

The Continuing Adventures of Dr. Esby

Dr. Esby...prounounced "ess bee"...as in SB...as in Straight Baller...as in this video:

Walked around the block to get next door in terms of selecting an alter ego nickname, but it works all the same.

So I am sitting on campus in the middle of Doctor School, Week 2.  I discovered last year that if I wait to make my commute much later than, say, a couple of hours prior to class start time, the Gods of Inconvenience will rain down fender-benders, traffic, detours, blockages, or last-minute venue changes and cause me to be late, so I err on the side of caution and show up to campus hours ahead of time and spend the time reading up on my coursework, finishing assignments, and of course, blogging/Facebooking.

I am less worried about my classes than I was last week, although I still need a textbook for one (thanks, USPS, for the timely notification about how a package is waiting for me at your office OH WAIT JUST KIDDING).  One is going to be a challenge because, as I discovered after last week's session, it's a pretty intense course aimed at SpEd teachers.  Still relevant to me because, like most music educators, I get all manner of students, but there's definitely some terminology and practices I'll have to Google as I slog through this course.

Over in greener pastures (see what I did there?), things are looking up.  As with last year, I'm approaching this year with the goal of continuing ascension, but unlike last year, I now have more to draw upon in terms of experience and training.  And of course, it's pretty awesome to have some of the same people for the third year in a row - every school year feels more and more like coming home.

Well, it's been a nice break for my brain, but now it's time to continue feeding the Dr. Esby side of my personality.  I might need to bring her back for a YouTube vid in the future...we'll see...

Doctor School, Day One

I suppose it's technically Day 4, since the semester's official start day was Monday.  Whatever.

So the process of being readmitted so that I could pursue another degree from a school that I just got a degree from so they should seriously already know who I am how is this process not more streamlined @#^$%&#^<>:][~@#$ was tedious and a little nervous-making because there was a question as to whether I would make it in time to register.  I did make it in time to register, but too late to get one of the online courses I wanted, so I had to quickly choose an on-campus course that met at a time I could swing.  Now I'm sitting in the snack lounge of the building in which said class meets and looking over the syllabus with something less than confidence.  Neither the course nor the syllabus lists prerequisites, and I see terms I recognize from past coursework, but the length of the first day power point (which the professor was kind enough to send us ahead of time) is intimidating.  The syllabus makes frequent requests that we seek to learn, rather than to minimize work...apparently this professor has had issues with slackers in the past.  I suppose it's a good thing I didn't opt into an Honor Chorus accompanying gig this year, because I might not have had enough time to practice for it.  I'll be spending that time reading and writing.  OMG THE WRITING.  Both of my classes require pretty copious amounts of both reading and writing, which I realize is a ridiculous thing to complain about because that's what doctoral students do.

BUT STILL.

Really, all this bluster is just fear of the unknown.  Even at 27, I am still the kid who occasionally believes that intellect is the only worthwhile thing she has to offer the world and if she doesn't have the best grades in the class/school/state/world, she is nothing.  Yes, I am aware that academia is not a zero-sum game, that not being the "best" doesn't make me worthless, that grades are not the sole measure of intellect, that "Cs get degrees" and whatnot...  I keep telling myself, "Wait until you've sat through a session and met the teacher before you freak out."  And even if I do end up in over my head, it would probably be a good experience for me as a person, if potentially injurious to my GPA.

Given the choice, though, I would much rather leave class feeling like the material and goals are attainable rather than feeling like it's time for long-term character building.  Stay tuned to see which one happens...