Reality TV--Our New Entertainment Normal

Sitting down excitedly on the couch for the new episode of the Real Housewives of Orange County this week in my cozy and ridiculous hot pink velour track suit, some Kettle Corn, and a giant class of chocolate almond milk, I thought to myself just how lucky I was to have this opportunity. Are you kidding me?!? I actually thought for a moment that there was no place in this world I would rather be—I mean, I really couldn’t wait to be introduced to Tamra’s hot new Latin boyfriend or see how Alexis’ vacation would go in San Diego. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to watch other people they have never and will never meet? I can’t think of anyone.

In a society consumed with The Bachelor, Top Chef, Survivor, and Jersey Shore, it’s hard to imagine life without reality TV. It started in the 90’s with MTV and their national phenomenon Real World and then swept America’s youth up and away with Jack-Ass in the early 2000’s. This trend carried over into Laguna Beach and mainstream television with shows like Home Makeover and The Amazing Race. Nowadays, it’s difficult to find something on television that’s not a reality show—and maybe it’s even gone a little far.

                Back in the day, we watched Real World like it was crack. Miss an episode? Not a chance. We practically lived and breathed those characters, and the fact that this whole reality television concept was very new in existence made it all the more conversation-worthy in our daily lives. This was a whole new, delicious take on entertainment, and it was just that—entertaining! This made everyone feel that they could be a star, and it brought Hollywood close to home and within reach.

                But what about now? It’s one thing to follow a group of young adults in their endeavors to find themselves through lots of booze, “clubbin’,” a thousand sexual partners, and lots of hair-pulling, but it’s quite another to watch reality TV that glorifies gang life (Gangland) and highlights people’s odd and frequently detrimental compulsions (My Strange Addiction). Here’s the sad part, you know what I’m talking about because we all watch this stuff on a freakishly regular basis.

                I personally can’t remember a time when I sat down and had a traditional movie-thon because for me, reality-TV marathons are just way more appealing. I don’t know if it’s that we can relate more or if it’s the fact that reality television is close to the most brainless activity on the planet and is a breath of fresh air after a long day at work, but I think it’s safe to say that we as a society have become clinically obsessed with this movement. Although my common sense says that we should probably be reading the Economist rather than wasting time on Pawn Stars and Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I know that I will more than likely not be the first to pick up a magazine and read about the financial crisis in Europe when my favorite show is on.

                Reality TV has replaced teen flicks, soap operas, and trashy romance novels that gained so much popularity in their day, and this is no doubt to be attributed to the pure entertainment value, but also to the fact that this sort of entertainment in a way trivializes the seriousness of life—and we would be lying by denying that this is at least in part true for all of us. With all of the disaster, financial crisis, illness, and other tragedy that many of us are exposed to each day, it is refreshing to delve into a world where the biggest issue is so-and-so didn’t make it into the final round of Cupcake Wars.

                Will this trend end? Not likely—and I’m okay with that. I don’t yet have children to worry about following in the ways of Snookie, and I do feel mature enough myself to not be corrupted by the dismal morality that prevails on much of reality TV. While wasting hours in front of the tube watching idiots tumble around may not be the best use of time, it could always be worse, and I for one do not plan on giving up my favorite guilty pleasure. Now, time for a good glass of vino and some Kourtney and Kim Take New York……………..

We Are What We Eat; We Are What We Do

Despite my being someone who is surrounded by primarily those educated and employed in the sciences, the well-being of our earth has never really—here’s where several of you will disown me— touched home base with me. Closed-minded as this may seem to some, it has been true since the whole global warming phenomenon took root years ago. I just never really bothered to care. Recently, however, I have taken a slightly different approach. How can someone who is careful to avoid using cleaning supplies with harmful chemicals really not stop and take a look at the bigger picture? So I did. Now I’m buying organic with a dual purpose—not only am I saving my body from the detrimental pesticides, but I’m also saving the earth. Don’t we breathe this crap anyway even if we don’t buy the pesticide-infested produce? This is something that really does affect us all—in a huge and scary way. Despite my usual indifference to our environment, I do understand the recycle bins, using paper bags, and buying organic—not just for our health, but for our earth. But one thing I don’t understand is how the average 20-something can delve into a campaign to save the world, all while staying sustained on processed food and neglecting to breathe some fresh air by leaving the couch. We jump on the bandwagon to improve the world we live in, but we forget to save the most important environment of them all: the human body. How can we have a healthy earth without starting with ourselves?

As 20-somethings, it would be naïve to say that we are new to the health craze that has recently taken hold of our society. People love fads, and I can’t help but think that this is just another to add to the repertoire. However, as a devout and self-proclaimed health-nut, I for one am pleased that awareness has been brought to such a vital topic amidst what most deem “news-worthy”—politics, war, global warming, Charlie Sheen, etc. etc. etc. We all know the basics of what it means to be healthy—eat wholesome food, cut back on sugar, exercise—right? But there’s so much more. There is an entire iceberg of health that most of us do not even consider, let alone touch the tip. Many people take the route of judging health by weight, and this couldn’t be farther from accurate. Let’s think for a second— what toothpaste are we using? What deodorant? Shampoo? What are we putting on our face that not only harms us but the environment? Healthy bodies and a healthy world are not and cannot be mutually exclusive. Name-brand toothpaste contains fluoride, the main ingredient in rat poisoning, as well as Triclosan, a proven carcinogen. Even though we brush, rinse, and spit, we absorb these toxins into our blood stream within seconds (we won’t even get started on the fact that fluoride is added to our water supply). Name-brand deodorant contains massive amounts of aluminum, which is widely known to cause breast cancer and Alzheimer ’s disease. Shampoo contains parabens—destructive preservatives—and synthetic chemicals that damage the skin and seep into the epidermis and on into the blood stream, carrying these substances to all areas of the body. Over time, these chemicals from the elements of our daily goings-on compound at astronomical rates, leaving our already-weakened immune systems to desperately fight for life. No wonder we always feel sluggish, foggy, and tired. We may do everything right for our health—eat lots of greens, run five miles every morning, and get enough z’s, but all this is for naught if we don’t look at the whole picture—the picture that includes protecting ourselves from everyday chemicals and artificial substances which in turn keeps our environment cleaner.

Why is all this relevant to us? Think of the abuse our bodies underwent as teenagers and young adults. We grew up on Taco Bell and Dr. Pepper, hot tamales and movie-theatre popcorn, Frito boats and Twinkies. Fried, artificial, processed. Now fast forward to college—we may have started eating better on a daily basis, and the athletics kept us slim, but never in our lives before or since did we receive fewer hours of shut-eye, more booze, more medium pizzas (………and hot wings, and potato wedges, and fresh-made midnight brownies) on those countless late-night binges, and more days in the sun without sunscreen. By the mid-20’s, our bodies are miraculously still surviving considering what we have already put them through.  Now is the time—and it’s certainly not a second too early—to start taking care of ourselves if we really want to have a manageable quality of life, let alone a better environment, later.

Please note: I’m not saying ditch the hair bleach and buy only clothes made from organic cotton. I plead most guilty for buying Mac makeup, feeding my dogs animal by-products made on pollution-inducing machines, and drinking out of more plastic Starbucks cups than the average American. I also am guilty of being a complete stress-basket most days of the week, drinking way more vino than could possibly be considered “heart-healthy,” and rarely getting more than seven hours of sleep each night. Also on the rare occasion, I enjoy myself several items from the Taco Bell menu or indulge in a giant ice-cream delight at the local creamery. I’m not saying go nuts with this, just give it some serious and real thought—make the larger, more important choices that will impact your body and your environment as a whole.

So girls and boys, let’s take a second to read some labels on something besides the soup can. Opt for the natural stuff—not because it’s a fad, but because it’s better for you and your environment. Buy organic—avoid the harmful pesticides that cause cancer and birth defects. Start using natural skin-care products that contain sunscreen to protect your no-doubt already damaged skin. Pretend you’re not a gym-rat and try some yoga or running outside—give the cardio machines a rest and save some energy! If we don’t start doing these things in our 20’s, it may be too late to prevent those crow’s feet and…..ahem…..heart disease…..when we think about them in our 30’s. If you care about the world you live in, you know that everyone must do their part to make a difference—a huge part of that difference is you taking care of you.

What Am I Good At? What Am I Doing? Where Am I Going?

After years of dedication to education and perfectionism, I’m at the ripe age of 24 and unsure as of what I’m doing in this world. I graduated from high school a year early only to enter college, finish my undergraduate degree in 3 ½ years in addition to beginning my teaching credential in that time, and begin teaching in a low-income, gang-ridden school at the age of 21. I believe I have been in way over my head from the get-go, and my go-getter attitude has proven more than once to get me in a heap of trouble. So what am I good at? Getting things accomplished, I suppose, and ambition—now I’m really good at that (is it possible to be good at ambition? I don’t know, but it sounds good for the time being). After a few months of teaching and realizing that the job was exhausting, political, and oftentimes unfruitful, I promptly began the masters program at Cal State Bakersfield in School Counseling, thinking that the job wouldn’t be cushy, but at the very least, behind the scenes, in which, as all teachers very-well know, is the most sought-after career choice after a grueling day in the classroom. During the course of my first year as an educator, I relished in having money—REAL money. I was still living at home since my little self was just 21 and not yet ready to move out of mommy’s abode, so next came the dream car, the decadent vacations, and the Prada. Student loans? O yeah, those. Those won’t be due until I’m done with grad school in two years. I lived, I learned, and I developed a mild case of alcoholism from the new-found joy of forgetfulness after a difficult day that you couldn’t quite shake (I’m only half joking here). By the end of first semester, however, I began to sincerely enjoy my job—yes, the gang members who were on school probation for assaulting a teacher or stabbing a classmate, the impossible task of teaching English language learners to write a half-comprehensible essay, and also the small joys that came from a student thanking you for helping them grasp a concept or having an entire class passing their state tests (this is a big accomplishment in today’s testing-ridden educational system). I started looking forward to my time with the students, who at the very least, never failed to keep things interesting. Aside from the lockdowns, bomb threats, and near-fights in my classroom that first year, my students respected me, and I had a very positive rapport with some of the toughest kids at that school. I loved this and grew fond of those students, the ones that everyone else was afraid of, because we understood each other in a way (mysteriously, since I’m from a white, predominantly middle-class family and live across the street from Joey Porter). I loved that students learn despite their circumstances, and I was fascinated that this is even possible. I finished out that first year on a positive note, with one year done of grad school, a new job offer closer to my home, and a cushy sign-on bonus waiting for me the very next year.

                By the summer of that year, I was feeling optimistic, accomplished, and good at what I did. I came to a new high school with the worst reputation in the district because of location (next to the “inner-city” ghetto), but I had come from a place that taught me a lot. I was confident in my classroom management skills, and I knew that it would be ok. That second year will reside in my memory as one of the best. We were a young staff who worked together to create a school where learning was fostered, and despite the difficult population, we stuck together and supported one another indisputably—through bi-weekly happy-hour sessions and weekend getaways, that is. But this was good for moral, and it paid off. From this year, I remember the great times, the respect I received—even considering being a fairly new teacher—and the stress of that time fades away in the distance. I was heavily delved into my graduate degree by this time in addition to fast-tracking to receive the professional clear for my credential—basically a secondary credential program to solidify a teaching credential for life. I knew that I would one day leave the teaching profession, but I always wanted a back-up plan, as I often do, and needed the security of knowing that I could always return to the classroom if need be. I was swamped with working full-time (full-time being somewhat of a joke to a teacher, who knows that it’s really more like TWO full-time jobs to be an educator with endless planning, grading, adjunct duties, and extra student tutoring), going to four-hour classes every night, and attending BTSA meetings (oftentimes skipping class to attend these) in order to finish the clearing of my credential in one year rather than two. Like I said, ambition for me has never been an issue…..I took this all in stride and finished the year out strong. That summer, I spent my time interning at a local middle school to finish up the clinical aspect of my degree and received a job offer at my high school to do part-time teaching/part-time counseling. This would be a heavy workload, no prep period, new classes to teach, and a whole new job in the counseling realm, but I readily accepted the task. I finished my degree that next spring, graduating at 22 with my master’s degree in Educational Counseling. I loved my job, however busy, and I finally felt my place in the world. That all changed in the spring of that year, just before the end of school, when I found out that our senior and head counselor would be leaving. By leaving, I mean moving to another school, leaving four brand-new, inexperienced, first-year counselors to pick up the slack. While I don’t blame him personally, I was scared out of my wits to learn that I would, as a measly counselor with just one year of part-time experience, be given the responsibility of manning the following year’s seniors as our high school’s very first graduating class. No pressure. Actually, the pressure started just then when I was fully aware of the task that lay before me: no experience, no one to look to in our school for guidance. It was perhaps the scariest moment of my life to date—that is until the next school year actually started. I had spent the summer working, cleaning up and making sure that we would start the new year smoothly. Once the year actually got underway, I was quickly met with a feeling very familiar to me, a feeling I had not had in quite some time—I was in way over my head, perhaps more so than I had ever been before. This feeling, by the way, has not yet subsided as we enter the end of the school year. So here I stand yet again, a 24-year old female with three degrees and feeling completely and utterly at a loss in my personal aspirations. It is in my nature to question whether I could have done more, been more, but I suppose that is natural for some to wonder. Should I go on to get a PhD? Pursue a career as a college professor at a local jc? Finally make the move to my OC dream home?

After four years of working in my chosen career fields, I also do not feel as financially stable as I had wished and hoped for. I presume my previously frivolous spending habits have carried over into adulthood, thoughts of “I do not know how I ever lived without this sweater” or “I cannot possibly go on another day without that Gucci bag” often consuming my already packed mind. While I have gotten noticeably better—by “better,” I mean whereas before I was buying Chanel and going to The Vegas every other weekend, now I’m spending the same amount of money on a brand-new home in a great part of town, making the payments on a BMW, and also managing to save a little in the process—I should not feel the financial oppression that I do as a single individual with no dependents (aside from two very spoiled and very adorable Chihuahua puppies) on a fairly substantial salary. O wait. I’m living at my means. Now it makes sense. E does it again!

All things aside, however, I stand at a place where I should be 100% content, and I still feel that I should be doing more, feeling more accomplished. I do not necessarily desire more education, a different career, etc., but I do feel the pressure to do something outside of the realm of normal. Write a book. Get a regular column in the local newspaper. Take up significant charity work. Start a local campaign to stop youth gang-violence. Run marathons. I don’t want to be known, I just want to feel like I’ve accomplished something. I have a wonderful life—amazing boyfriend who supports me in all I do (even in my craziness), wonderful family, unbelievable friends. I love my home, my job (usually), the wine, the travel. So is it just my insatiable ambition that drives me to want to do more? Is this bad, or just a natural part of the human condition that promotes us to strive?