Magazines and their unrealistic view of the world.

This evening I was indulging in what I consider giving my brain a break and reading some magazines. Over the past couple weeks my reading material has been comprised of all the books I will be teaching this school year that I hadn't read recently, which includes The Screwtape Letters, a rather oddly cleaned-up version of the King Arthur tales, a collection of various poems and short stories, and also the not as fun textbooks I need to be familiar with before August 18. I also, over the past few days, read the first 3 books of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. After the heady few thousand pages, I needed some brain fluff.

The first magazine was a fashion mag, and it was a title I don't usually buy. (I don't expect fashion magazines to do anything other than make me chuckle or give me ideas about how to combine clothes I already own. Any actual usefulness they give me is bonus. If I'm actually looking for fashion advice I talk to Benita.) I actually thought the cover story/interview might be interesting. Well that didn't work out so well, but what did make my noggin start whirling was a photo spread on the new "weekend" look. (For full disclosure: to me that means pajamas, unless I'm going to a friends' house. Then, jeans and t-shirt.) Instead of whatever people were wearing before as their weekend clothes, this new idea was some rigmarole about hanging tough in hardworking denim. Being a jeans girl, it's not like that doesn't appeal to me. What I found hard to swallow, though, was their idea of what that looks like. The photos are of models so skinny I am sure I could snap them in half, but that's nothing new. It's that whoever designed the shoot had it set in a factory/workshop/car shop setting and these ridiculous looking women dressed up in everything from socks that cost $14 to a jacket that cost $1155. One of the girls looks like she is sitting at my mechanic's desk, with his car parts reference book open. She's holding a phone and a mug, presumably of coffee to keep her going through her hard, hard day. One is standing on a small ledge with a wrench in her hands, holding it straight above her eyes on a pipe that looks like it would blast something horrible into her face if she actually had the strength to move the bolt. The models all have something shiny smoothed down their arms to approximate sweat. I'm not sure who these ads are trying to appeal to. Actual people who need hardworking jeans can't afford to spend $1155 jackets to get dirty in. Actual people who work hard with their hands get sweat rings around their necks and armpits. People who can afford those kinds of get-ups don't do those kinds of sweaty jobs. I'm actually still not sure why this spread annoys me so much. I think it's because I found it unusually condescending. As if these people have any idea what it means to work hard at something, rather than get made up to look as if they were working.

The other magazine I was looking through is one that promises to make my life easier. (Again, I have no expectations for anything other than amusement, and surprise at actual help.) They had a section on how to arrange bookshelves, whether you have a few books, a moderate amount, or a large collection. I flipped to the "large" collection picture, curious for some home-beautifying ideas. Their concept of a large collection of books made me wonder if they think their audience is illiterate. They promise help in arranging "a university's worth of reading material." The coinciding picture has maybe 75 books on the shelf, with mostly empty space and knick-knacks. A UNIVERSITY'S WORTH? If my mom wasn't probably reading this (hi mom) I'd write what is actually in my head in reaction to that. Those people should come look at my bookshelves. Or maybe go look at an actual university's collection before making such a stupid description.

Now that I have ranted, I think I'm figuring out what is annoying me. It relates to why I liked the Twilight books so much (which will be in a different post, eventually), past the cursory inner fangirl in me, and why I love to teach. Everything I've read over that past couple weeks up until this evening had some kind of significance, eternal and/or personal. I'm gearing up to teach around 120 young people this school year, hoping to impart knowledge and life skills all the while demonstrating the transformative power of Christ in my life. No biggie, right? And the Twilight books, which I'll elaborate on later, actually gave me some epiphanies/insights into my past character (it wasn't pretty.) All that made me want a break from reality for a bit. Well I got that, and more. It made me angry. Angry that people who don't know better will read these magazines and look at the pictures and think that is what real life looks like and hold themselves to a standard that is meant to tell them that they don't measure up and they need to buy things to make themselves matter. Angry that the young men and women who God gives me for a time, to try and influence them, might fall into that trap. I think I have a new vision for the school year. I want my kids to know that real life is messy. You get sweat stains. You cram all your books into whatever space you have. You make do with what is given you. You hold on dearly to what is real: Jesus, family, friends. Relationships are the only thing that are going to last. We take ourselves into the next world; nothing else. Nothing else matters.