You've Got (No) Mail

One of the bad things about being in college is that I rarely get mail. Apparently no one loves me enough to send me letters. Not even my mom. Geez! But mail is kind of a double edged sword and one of the great things about being in college is that I rarely get mail. That means I don’t get carpet cleaning coupons, missing child notifications or bills. The fact that I don’t get mail is indicative of my blissful state of irresponsibility.

The one piece of mail I get consistently is from my bank. No, it’s not a credit card offer—I think we can all agree that would be a pretty bad idea. It’s my monthly bank statement.

I’m pretty sure there’s something I supposed to be doing with these things, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it is. Some people can look at them and see mistakes they know how to correct. Some people can look at them and make important financial decisions. I look at them and see all the things in life I don’t understand.

A better person than me would take this opportunity to learn something. It’s safe to say that I am not that better person.

I take all of my monthly mail and tear it in to pieces and throw it away. Why should I keep a piece of paper around to remind me of my own stupidity? I don’t need that. In fact, my monthly statement makes me angry with the bank. It’s not like I need send monthly reminders to other people to let them know I’m pretty smart. Does Chase Bank need some kind of validation of their awesomeness? Do they think we don’t already know how smart they are?

I have heard tell that you can “check” your bank statements against your receipts. But who keeps those? I hate it when I participate in retail therapy and the sales girl tries to finish my session with a reminder of the real world. Jerks! I mean seriously. You can’t even go grocery shopping without someone trying to give you a piece of purse-cluttering paper. It’s not like grocery shopping is worth the hassle of cleaning out my clutch. They shouldn’t even call grocery shopping “shopping.” It hasn't earned the title.

I think the good news is that I have another nine months until I—to use my father’s euphemism for graduation—“enter the real world.” At that point, I guess I will have to figure out these things. I’m going to have to learn to love grocery shopping. I’m going to have to keep my receipts. I’m going to have to learn to read my bank statement.

I think I will start early by saving my bank statements. Perhaps I will preserve them in a time capsule so that future generations can learn how a frivolous college student spends her money. Or I could make a scrap book. Or maybe I will use them in a papier mache project.

Dammit Feminists, You've Taken My Princesses

Someone should call Child Protection Services. Our nation’s children are being deprived of an important aspect of youth. The new Disney movies are alarmingly devoid of Princesses. In fact, new movies in general are alarmingly devoid of princesses.

Undeniably, Disney has suffered a decline of late. Gone are the days of Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and, my personal favorite, the Little Mermaid. And they’ve been replaced by…by what? By Herbie: Fully Loaded, Hunchback of Notre Dame and Lion King 1.5. The re-release of the Little Mermaid has only emphasized the gaping disparity in Disney quality.

But what is the cause of these quality control issues? I think we can credit it to the feminist movement.[1] Actually, I think we can credit most problems of the 21^stCentury to the feminists. But the end of the Disney Princess Dynasty is especially tragic.

At first blush, Disney Princesses are not out of line with the larger feminist movement. They are strong independent women who come of age under trying circumstances and become better people in the process. Cinderella overcomes a wily step-mother and conniving, ugly sisters. Snow White endures exile and numerous attempts on her life made by her jealous step-mother. Sleeping Beauty is also exiled and attacked by a jealous old hag. And then there’s the Ariel. She goes behind her father’s back to become human and realize her dream of being “part of [our] world.”

So what’s the deal? I believe the feminists have three serious problems with the Disney Princess.

1. Disney Princesses find themselves, true. But they find themselves in the arms of a man. A feminist doesn’t need a man in her life to achieve self-actualization. She only needs herself and Simone de Beauvoir.
2. Disney Princesses come from broken homes. Usually, their mother is inexplicably gone or dead. The step-mother is almost always a witch. Homes reconstructed in this manner have created an entire generation of lost Royal Disney Daughters. These movies undermine the feminist notion that broken homes produce well adjusted children with the same frequency as unbroken homes.
3. Disney Princesses promote the idea that good people are beautiful and bad people are ugly. This promotes the ideal that women with “unconventional” body types are, necessarily bad.[2] But on the other hand, it promotes the idea that women can be smart and beautiful.

The real problem with the feminist critique of Disney Princesses is this: A feminist protagonist makes a bad movie. I don’t care to watch movies where ugly girls find mediocre young men. I can find that in my real life.

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[1] Thank you Stephanie Claire Melkonian.
[2] Where would I be without Emily Kathryn Bell?