Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Je ne longboard pas.
Well, I'll admit, it's been a frustrating morning.
i had to get up early as I do every wednesday to do the radio show on CKUT. This morning I read a chapter from George Elliott Clarke's novel George and Rue, a beautiful but sort of upsetting chapter about domestic abuse. We also have decided to start bringing in news articles we find problematic and complaining about them. My chosen piece was about how Saudi women are rebelling against the black abaya (cloak)--an article of clothing "widely considered a mark of oppression." By whom? What kind of oppression? Are western clothes somehow more free because we are allowed to sexually objectify ourselves? The article went on to connect restrictive clothing laws with Sept. 11. Not good. There were other things I wanted to talk about--like how you can apparently complain to the Quebec government now when you see any alcohol ad depicting sexual objectification or the assumption that alcohol will make you cool. Hilarious!
The show itself was fine, but because I'm alone in the house for the week, I mananged to drink half a bottle of wine while watching Save the Last Dance late last night. Again, not good.
I thought I was going to be late, so I brought my longboard with me to the station, my rollerblades being out of commission. I hate that damn longboard! Cheyne made me buy it because he wanted me to look like more of a skater chick. Why, I will never understand. I think he wanted me to fit into some stereotypical image he had in his mind of what his girlfriend should look like. Really, I take it as a compliment that I don't fit into any one "image." One thing you can say about me, I certainly have my own style. Skater it is not. I am far too gangly to own a skateboard.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against skateboards per se--I could even ride it properly, though hills scare me, and i'm really much better on rollerblades. It's just that this skateboard represents 1. Cheyne, and 2. my failure (or success, depending on how you look at it) to fit into an image of someone I'm just not. That longboard is just covered in slippery, disgusting feelings, and riding it is thus sometimes difficult. I also fell for the second time off it this morning going down a hill because I don't know how to stop! Humiliating, and really, just so uneccessary.
Anyway, I'm selling it. It's a great board, if that's your bag, it's just not mine. Look how awkward I am in the photo!