Meet the kids. Icarus (black and white) and Penelope (calico).
Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
parents only kinda sort understand
I mentioned a few posts ago how I'd been following this kid Mikey on his blog, agayhockeykidslife. Turns out he's, like, super popular and his shit has blown up into a full website.
Anywho, bravo to him for that, but he had this post the other day talking about his relationship with his father. Closeted gay context removed, Mikey is a 17 year-old guy who plays varsity hockey for his high school team but can't seem to win the respect of his father no matter what he does or how well he plays (which, it should be noted, is seemingly quite well). His younger brother, Jake, however, is consistently lauded by his father, who makes special effort to go to Jake's hockey games but rarely makes an appearance or even acknowledges Mikey's efforts. From what Mikey has said about their relationship, it seems as though his dad holds a degree of deep-seeded resentment towards Mikey for having chosen hockey over baseball -- a sport he equally excelled at -- because Mikey's dad had a promising future as a baseballer in his younger years.
What I find so intriguing about this is is how undeniably cliche it is. And I certainly don't mean that in any sort of dismissive way (honestly, Mikey, I don't). I liken to how I found out in college that people I met actually went to high schools where the head cheerleader was blond and dated the quarterback and made fun of the band kids and all that shit. Like, Mean Girls actually existed. Because in my high school that just wasn't the case. Of course there were social groups that were segregated, but it wasn't based on any notions of superiority or archetypal caste systems. I didn't regularly hang out with someone in band because, hey, I wasn't in band. But if they showed up at parties or sat with us one or two days at lunch, that was fine. By conventional definition I was a "popular kid," but I was also deeply engrossed in the drama department. And I had friends who's high school experiences were just as juxtaposed.
I digress. Back to my point, which I realize may come across as obviously rooted in inexperience because, "Hey, Seth, you didn't grow up with a dad in the house," so I'll concede the good point. Still, I'm now ruminating on parent/child relationships as they develop in tandem with the development of the child. We all get that our parents, for better or sometimes worse, live vicariously through their children. And why shouldn't they? We are invariably reflections of our parents, of their ability to raise us, to influence us, to make sure that we experience everything we need to experience in order to be ready for the world. That's a lot of pressure. Put yourself in the position with your own child and tell me you wouldn't sit there and think "Damn I hope this kid does amazing things." Where it gets sticky is when a parent tries to force their kid to be someone they're not, or, as in Mikey's case, something they the parents were never able to be. All they and we (because, yes, we are that old now) can do is make sure the experiences are available to them, and then do our best and hope they don't make the wrong decisions. **Though select cases apply: I still say that my mother should have forced me to play piano when I was a youngin' despite my protest, because I deeply regret that I don't play an instrument, specifically that one.
So back to Mikey and his dad. I sympathize with the kid because he's affected by the situation, and why wouldn't he be? He can't, by any means, gain acceptance by the one person in his life who should be there to support him no matter what. Beyond cliche, it's also just so foreign to me. Now, I'm not saying I grew up in a household without pressure to do well. My mom, who is the most influential and amazing person in my life, was very much on me about keeping my grades up and doing well in, well, whatever I was doing. But, she never rejected me because I didn't do something I didn't want to do. So when I refused to take piano for whatever juvenilely conceived reason, she said "Okay." If I can find any semblance of what Mikey is going through, if anything, it's my mom's persistence is asking me when I'm complaining about my job or New York or boys or whatever to just say "why don't you just go?" And by that, she means go off and travel and see the world and sort of say "fuck it" for a while and relive a life she did when she was my age. I'd be lying if I don't think about it at least once every day...
So, all in all, I guess I'm lucky. Still though, Mikey's situation is sort of the beginnings of a pivotal and sometimes heartbreaking point in adolescence. I think one of the most confusing processes any kid can go through is the deconstruction or implosion of the fallacy of their parents. That is to say, our parents are imperfect human beings just like everyone else. Remember being, like, five and thinking that your parents really did know everything? They really were the smartest people in the entire world? Unable to make any mistakes. Immune to jealousy, resentment, insecurity? But then that day comes when it just hits you like a bag of sand that, shit, my parents are sometimes just as fucked up as I am, only they've had a longer period of time to learn how to manage being fucked up. And, as budding adults, we have to take that into account when dealing with them. So, in a case like Mikey's, while it may seem like absolute bullshit that his dad treats him the way he does, Mikey has to sort of acknowledge an insurmountable immaturity in his father. Mikey then becomes the bigger man, which feels inherently and uncomfortably backwards because the entire dynamic of parent/child changes in that moment. It's a loss of innocence and an apprehensive gain in responsibility. I remember a friend of mine once told me about the day she, only 17 at the time, realized she was smarter than her mother. And I thought...that kind of sucks. Personally, while I argue enough with my mom about, er, enough, she'll always know more than me. And I like it that way. Everyone needs a sage in their life. But, I know when she's wrong and I'm not afraid to butt heads and tell her so. I'll leave it at that, though. Any and all Seth-and-his-mom ruminations will better be left for my memoirs.
That was a hell of a ramble, but my fingers were itching to write, and that's what blogs are for, right?
Seth
Anywho, bravo to him for that, but he had this post the other day talking about his relationship with his father. Closeted gay context removed, Mikey is a 17 year-old guy who plays varsity hockey for his high school team but can't seem to win the respect of his father no matter what he does or how well he plays (which, it should be noted, is seemingly quite well). His younger brother, Jake, however, is consistently lauded by his father, who makes special effort to go to Jake's hockey games but rarely makes an appearance or even acknowledges Mikey's efforts. From what Mikey has said about their relationship, it seems as though his dad holds a degree of deep-seeded resentment towards Mikey for having chosen hockey over baseball -- a sport he equally excelled at -- because Mikey's dad had a promising future as a baseballer in his younger years.
What I find so intriguing about this is is how undeniably cliche it is. And I certainly don't mean that in any sort of dismissive way (honestly, Mikey, I don't). I liken to how I found out in college that people I met actually went to high schools where the head cheerleader was blond and dated the quarterback and made fun of the band kids and all that shit. Like, Mean Girls actually existed. Because in my high school that just wasn't the case. Of course there were social groups that were segregated, but it wasn't based on any notions of superiority or archetypal caste systems. I didn't regularly hang out with someone in band because, hey, I wasn't in band. But if they showed up at parties or sat with us one or two days at lunch, that was fine. By conventional definition I was a "popular kid," but I was also deeply engrossed in the drama department. And I had friends who's high school experiences were just as juxtaposed.
I digress. Back to my point, which I realize may come across as obviously rooted in inexperience because, "Hey, Seth, you didn't grow up with a dad in the house," so I'll concede the good point. Still, I'm now ruminating on parent/child relationships as they develop in tandem with the development of the child. We all get that our parents, for better or sometimes worse, live vicariously through their children. And why shouldn't they? We are invariably reflections of our parents, of their ability to raise us, to influence us, to make sure that we experience everything we need to experience in order to be ready for the world. That's a lot of pressure. Put yourself in the position with your own child and tell me you wouldn't sit there and think "Damn I hope this kid does amazing things." Where it gets sticky is when a parent tries to force their kid to be someone they're not, or, as in Mikey's case, something they the parents were never able to be. All they and we (because, yes, we are that old now) can do is make sure the experiences are available to them, and then do our best and hope they don't make the wrong decisions. **Though select cases apply: I still say that my mother should have forced me to play piano when I was a youngin' despite my protest, because I deeply regret that I don't play an instrument, specifically that one.
So back to Mikey and his dad. I sympathize with the kid because he's affected by the situation, and why wouldn't he be? He can't, by any means, gain acceptance by the one person in his life who should be there to support him no matter what. Beyond cliche, it's also just so foreign to me. Now, I'm not saying I grew up in a household without pressure to do well. My mom, who is the most influential and amazing person in my life, was very much on me about keeping my grades up and doing well in, well, whatever I was doing. But, she never rejected me because I didn't do something I didn't want to do. So when I refused to take piano for whatever juvenilely conceived reason, she said "Okay." If I can find any semblance of what Mikey is going through, if anything, it's my mom's persistence is asking me when I'm complaining about my job or New York or boys or whatever to just say "why don't you just go?" And by that, she means go off and travel and see the world and sort of say "fuck it" for a while and relive a life she did when she was my age. I'd be lying if I don't think about it at least once every day...
So, all in all, I guess I'm lucky. Still though, Mikey's situation is sort of the beginnings of a pivotal and sometimes heartbreaking point in adolescence. I think one of the most confusing processes any kid can go through is the deconstruction or implosion of the fallacy of their parents. That is to say, our parents are imperfect human beings just like everyone else. Remember being, like, five and thinking that your parents really did know everything? They really were the smartest people in the entire world? Unable to make any mistakes. Immune to jealousy, resentment, insecurity? But then that day comes when it just hits you like a bag of sand that, shit, my parents are sometimes just as fucked up as I am, only they've had a longer period of time to learn how to manage being fucked up. And, as budding adults, we have to take that into account when dealing with them. So, in a case like Mikey's, while it may seem like absolute bullshit that his dad treats him the way he does, Mikey has to sort of acknowledge an insurmountable immaturity in his father. Mikey then becomes the bigger man, which feels inherently and uncomfortably backwards because the entire dynamic of parent/child changes in that moment. It's a loss of innocence and an apprehensive gain in responsibility. I remember a friend of mine once told me about the day she, only 17 at the time, realized she was smarter than her mother. And I thought...that kind of sucks. Personally, while I argue enough with my mom about, er, enough, she'll always know more than me. And I like it that way. Everyone needs a sage in their life. But, I know when she's wrong and I'm not afraid to butt heads and tell her so. I'll leave it at that, though. Any and all Seth-and-his-mom ruminations will better be left for my memoirs.
That was a hell of a ramble, but my fingers were itching to write, and that's what blogs are for, right?
Seth
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
"we just need some time"
I don't usually take to my blog for activism, but with Don't Ask, Don't Tell in debate and most likely on the verge of "repeal," I just wanted to examine the language of the heavily assumed terms as explained by The Washington Post:
"President Obama's top defense officials will tell the Senate on Tuesday that the military will no longer aggressively pursue disciplinary action against gay service members whose orientation is revealed against their will by third parties, sources say. ...But Gates and Mullen are also expected to tell senators that it could take years to integrate gay men and lesbians fully into the military, defense officials said. Two appointees will be named to oversee a group that will draw up plans for integrating the armed forces, according to sources familiar with the Pentagon's deliberations on the subject. The planning effort is expected to take up to a year."
So, basically it could be January 2011 before even the "planning effort" is finished.
First off, I love that all of this requires a "planning effort" and secondly -- and most frustratingly -- letting gays serve openly in the military is described and considered an "integration." It's like we're an alien species that has to be steadily introduced into an order so as not to frighten or disrupt the natural way of life in the ecosystem that is the military. Seriously? How about if a gay man or woman wants to take a fucking gun, do what the government tells them to do, and risk their lives to serve this country in a way that they feel is just and appropriate, you just let them fucking do it without continuing to label them as something "other." A uniform is called a uniform for a reason. When you put it on, you are part of a group, a coalition, a collective whole, despite whatever the hell you do in the bedroom.
Integration my ass. I am, we are integrated. Why? Because I'm living and breathing right now. Won't it be great when one day we can all live without any fine print?
Seth
reference via Towleroad
"President Obama's top defense officials will tell the Senate on Tuesday that the military will no longer aggressively pursue disciplinary action against gay service members whose orientation is revealed against their will by third parties, sources say. ...But Gates and Mullen are also expected to tell senators that it could take years to integrate gay men and lesbians fully into the military, defense officials said. Two appointees will be named to oversee a group that will draw up plans for integrating the armed forces, according to sources familiar with the Pentagon's deliberations on the subject. The planning effort is expected to take up to a year."
So, basically it could be January 2011 before even the "planning effort" is finished.
First off, I love that all of this requires a "planning effort" and secondly -- and most frustratingly -- letting gays serve openly in the military is described and considered an "integration." It's like we're an alien species that has to be steadily introduced into an order so as not to frighten or disrupt the natural way of life in the ecosystem that is the military. Seriously? How about if a gay man or woman wants to take a fucking gun, do what the government tells them to do, and risk their lives to serve this country in a way that they feel is just and appropriate, you just let them fucking do it without continuing to label them as something "other." A uniform is called a uniform for a reason. When you put it on, you are part of a group, a coalition, a collective whole, despite whatever the hell you do in the bedroom.
Integration my ass. I am, we are integrated. Why? Because I'm living and breathing right now. Won't it be great when one day we can all live without any fine print?
Seth
reference via Towleroad
Friday, January 29, 2010
currently with Seth Plattnet
Song of the moment: "Ain't No Way" Aretha Franklin
Phrase I'm Using Too Much: "I want to go to there"
Over it: hah. duh.
Girl Crush: Leslie Knope
Obsession: NCAA basketball (seriously!)
Reading: Nine Stories
Phrase I'm Using Too Much: "I want to go to there"
Over it: hah. duh.
Girl Crush: Leslie Knope
Obsession: NCAA basketball (seriously!)
Reading: Nine Stories
Friday, January 8, 2010
color me bad
via ELLE.com
In another life, I could have been an amazing artist (or: a concert pianist, a gymnast, a downhill skier, a dancer, or zoologist), but a chronic lack of interest in practice and technique in favor of pleasurable free-handing led me to be one who just “dabbles.” Still, I owe any and all interest in drawing and painting to the very basic exercise of coloring. As in, a coloring book, a box of crayons, and my adherence—or lack there of—to the palette of the world. I still remember my older brother sitting me down at age 4 and teaching me how to color, instructing me to outline the object first, then color it in so I could better stay in the lines. That tiny bit of know-how was instrumental in the many accolades and awards I received for my coloring skills in the early years of elementary school.
Twenty-years later, RxArt is allowing me to indulge, once again, that small, almost Zen-like luxury of simply coloring, albeit on a more adult level. Now in its second volume, Between the Line: A Coloring Book of Drawings by Contemporary Artists is available to those adults who have since forgotten how joyous filling in a colorless image can be. With drawings by forty-eight artists including Takashi Murakami, Adam McEwen, Aurel Schmidt, and fashion designer Cynthia Rowley, there’s a picture and a style for any artistic taste—there’s even a few pages of stickers to play around with. I took the first picture in the book by McEwan and had a go on my lunch break. She’s got blue skin and green hair, but so what? I stayed in the lines, didn’t I? My older brother would be proud.
Both volumes of the contemporary artist coloring books are available online, or in the RxArt store at 208 Forsyth Street, New York, NY 10002 (212.260.8797).
—Seth Platter, Assistant Editor
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
my year, in song
This mash-up of all the hits from the past year has been floating around the internet today and I'm kind of obsessed with it. I listened to it this morning and it got me to thinking about how integral music is to my life in that I tie so much memory to certain songs -- where I was, what I was doing, who I was with, when, in that singular moment, it imprinted on my brain and will forever remind me of a time and place (good or bad).
So I decided to sort of dissect the mash-up and illuminate the memories that come with some of the sampled songs. In doing so it was kind of a great way to time stamp the last year, which obviously had a lot of ups and downs. I'm going to go the way of the optimist and say that it was all for the best.
The Black Eyed Peas - BOOM BOOM POW
-- Logan Slaughter's twinky sidekick busting out Fergie's "people in the place..." bridge at Barracuda, sending the whole place into a riot of laughter and dance.
Lady Gaga - POKER FACE
-- Andy Dodds. Period.
Lady Gaga Featuring Colby O'Donis - JUST DANCE
-- more from 2008, but dancing at Splash on Thursdays with Ryan and Michael and anyone else who decided to be as delightfully tragic as we were each week.
The Black Eyed Peas - I GOTTA FEELING
-- cruising to the beach in San Diego with Aja, Charlotte, and Caitlin."Mozel tov??!!"
Taylor Swift - LOVE STORY
-- runs along The East River.
Flo Rida - RIGHT ROUND
-- general skankiness throughout the year
Jason Mraz - I'M YOURS
-- singing to myself alone in my room...sometimes way too loudly.
Beyonce - SINGLE LADIES (PUT A RING ON IT)
-- Lauren Murphy busting out the dance, full stop, at any opportunity available, sometimes with her sister as backup
Kanye West - HEARTLESS
-- lamenting our love lives with Christine
Taylor Swift - YOU BELONG WITH ME
-- T. Swift jam sessions at ELLE
The Fray - YOU FOUND ME
-- watching So You Think You Can Dance with my ladies of Hotel 194
Kings Of Leon - USE SOMEBODY
-- moments like this
Jamie Foxx Featuring T-Pain - BLAME IT
-- giving my number, yelling at someone, or eating something when I shouldn't have
Pitbull - I KNOW YOU WANT ME (CALLE OCHO)
-- the top 16 group dance of SYTYCD season 5. BEYOND.
T.I. Featuring Rihanna - LIVE YOUR LIFE
-- Ringing in the New Year at our kick-ass party NYE party
Jay Sean Featuring Lil Wayne - DOWN
-- getting low at Elena's wedding
Miley Cyrus - THE CLIMB
-- camping out on Lauren and Blythe's floor, watching Hannah Montana: The Movie, and noming on Mexican food before saying goodbye to my chica as she leaves New York.
Kelly Clarkson - MY LIFE WOULD SUCK WITHOUT YOU
-- all my friends who kept my chin up through 2009 and who, truly, without my life would so suck.
Beyonce - HALO
-- weekend ski trip to Vermont with my harem of women: Aja, Charlotte, Caitlin and Lauren.
Katy Perry - HOT N COLD
-- jumping around like fools at Hiro with Patrick (aka Tragitwin) and Mary at the Paper+H&M party/Katy Perry concert
Saturday, December 12, 2009
are you there, Santa? it's me, Seth
I went to a Christmas party/variety show of sorts last night and we played a game that involved reading quotes from notable Christmas movies and then trying to guess what film they were gleaned from. I got this gem:
The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn't home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That's when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He'd been climbing down the chimney... his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that's how I found out there was no Santa Claus.
Poor Kate. I guess a story like that puts the whole gremlins-are-trying-to-claw-my-face-off situation into perspective....
Think dad dead in the chimney trumps your older brother telling you Santa isn't real when you're only four years old? It's debatable, me thinks.
Seth
Friday, December 11, 2009
currently with Seth Plattner
Song of the moment: "Alejandro" Lady GaGa
Phrase I'm Using Too Much: "deal breaker!"
Over it: Serena's philandering
Girl Crush: Cate Blanchett
obsession: athletes
Phrase I'm Using Too Much: "deal breaker!"
Over it: Serena's philandering
Girl Crush: Cate Blanchett
obsession: athletes
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