Today marked a rare lurch forward in my doctoral program. I submitted my prospectus to The Committee (TM)) for approval. The Committee is comprised of several professors I don’t know who teach things rather unrelated to my subject area (theology and young adult fiction--a marketable combination, I know). They were friendly, but still The Committee. Not unlike all such bodies, they had as their guide the King in Yellow. He laughed a dusky laugh at the voids of chaos, and then ate a printed copy of my prospectus whole. I don’t expect it to pass.
Later this month, I must go before The Other Committee (TM pending), the one that decides my fate in the United Methodist Church. And I think I’ve come up with a workable strategy for not getting kicked out of the Wesleyan ilk. I will preface every sentence, every response with “God is calling me towards.” Try it. It’s fun. You’ll feel a part of the holiness movement instantaneously.
“Adrienne, why are you here?”
I feel God is calling me towards work with God’s people. Particularly people who still think it’s a good idea to throw flaming couches out of dorm rooms windows. People who feel called towards defenestration. *Insert winning smile here*
“Adrienne, why are you still in school?”
I feel God is calling me towards faith through understanding. Understanding faith. And God. God, faith, and understanding, together, as one. *Insert reverently folded hands*
“Adrienne, why do you watch so much reality television?”
I feel God is calling me towards knowing every Project Runway script by heart. *This speaks for itself*
See? How could they turn me down? The Almighty is infused into every moment of my day.
Though, now that I’m thinking about it, I should have told The Committee (the academic one) I thought God was calling them to pass my prospectus. Now they may not know! Ah, well. Next time. God is calling me to say it next time.
There is this lovely young adult fiction book by Marcus Zusack called I am the Messenger. Its premise is simple--you can help others, you can change the world.
There is also a wretched show by Oprah Winfrey called The Big Give. Its premise, though trying to be as simple as that of Messenger, is actually appalling--if you give enough, you will win. Don’t give enough and you are eliminated.
Oh, the problems with this ridiculous show. There have been positive reviews for this mess, something I can’t fathom. Perhaps the reviewers looked into Oprah’s eyes and were hypnotized, brain-washed into thinking this was a good idea.
I am all in favor of people getting out of debt, rising out of homelessness, doing good for people with disabilities, etc. However, first, the people picked as contestants all have stories of woe/over-abundance that make them reality-show caricatures of real people. In this narrative format, they are not sharing their stories (I’m all in favor of sharing stories), they are instead waving them as banners to show that they have the goods to win a contest of who is the-best-humanity-has-to-offer. Secondly, the plights of the people being helped are likewise exploited and stretched. The “good” the contestants do seems to be based on the cash value of their efforts. One woman needed a home and they got her an apartment rent free for six months (because all she wanted was some time to get herself back on her feet.) Another guy needed 206,000 dollars to pay off medical school debt so that he could volunteer his time for children in need. (Because plastic surgeons have a hard time making money now in the days of managed care, I guess? I’d have felt worse for him if he’d just come out of social work school.) So, even though both teams helped their assigned person get what he or she needed, it really comes down to who raised the most money (even though one person “needed” more money than the other). Well, no, sorry. Who raised the most money and who made their fund-raising/reveal look the best.
Ah, vanity.
I hope they come upon someone who needs a kidney transplant and they a contestant gives that person his or her own. And then they lose because kidneys are really only worth a few thou on the black market these days. That would be great television.
Also, pitting one person against another in a show about giving? What? Really, Oprah, do you honestly think that that is teaching this world to try and pay it forward? No. If you designed a show where people with very different, very specific skills come together and do something really cool and help a lot of people, that would be good. Making altruism a competition just tears us all down, a little bit at a time.
Finally, the overall winner of this nonsense gets a million dollars. This would seem to mean, then, that the person doing the most good will get more money then every person combined who was “helped” by the show. Uh. Why don’t you just take the million, Oprah, and give it to the people in need? Or no, heck, give it to the contestants to give to people in need. Kind of like a miniature Publishers Clearing house sweepstakes without the magazine subscriptions.
Somewhere there’s a widow putting the last of her cash into a collection plate. And she’s got a whole lot more going for her than this show. *sigh* Oprah. You really could do a lot of good. But I’m disappointed in you. It is you who could do better.
My cell phone rings.
“Hello?’
“Hey Adrienne, you won the zombie contest.”
“Indeed.”
“Well I have a joke.”
“Oh?”
“How do you know when a turtle is a zombie?’
“*sigh*”
“When rigor tortoise sets in!” Hysterical laughter.
“Did you come up with that yourself?”
Giggle. Snort. “Yup.” More laughter.
I laugh too. You know what they say, if you can’t beat em’, you have to wait until they’re within arms length.
The zombie final, it is over. My undead has risen above the rest.
And this is lovely, because let’s be honest, it’s probably the only accolade I will receive for my creative endeavors. I’d like to thank the academy for answering my bribes appeals. You like me, you might sort of like me.
Though, an anonymous commenter o’er the zombie contest site (soon to return to the zombie-free, writerly arena) said of me, “Who was the winner? A 29 yr old beat out a teenager? Should have had it in age groups.”
I find this interesting, because how did you know I am 29, anonymous commenter, while at the same time knowing the other writer was a teenager? And why is my being 29 such a zombie-writing asset? Am I too old to have entered? Here is what my week looked like:
Sunday Went to Sunday school. Played board games.
Monday Read Twilight by Stephanie Meyer.
Tuesday Aimlessly surfed Facebook, then later stood on stage at the hospital and sang a song about driving because my 13-year-old patient dared me to do it (and it was broadcast to the entire hospital, thank you very much), and the 13-year-old told me “never audition for American Idol.” Then after I got home I madly texted everyone I know, “OMG, VOTE CUZ I WUD H8 TO LOOS.”
One could look at this and think I am, in fact, 13. If you ignore my motivation for the activities, namely employment, my dissertation, and megalomaniacism. But you hear what I’m saying . . .
And lets not ignore the fact that I live with over 200 teenagers. In a dorm. Most of whom were the people who voted for me for the victory in the first place. So, technically speaking, I think I won because I know more teenagers.
Alas. Truly I am not meant for fame. I want only to revel in the glow of destroying honoring SARK’s work, but there are those who would take that away. I’ll stick to this corner of the world from now on, I think.
