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Archive for January, 2013

using another pseudonym, giving a lot of truth out
chasing dazies
chasing crazies
thats the life
thats the dream

love you P, K and J xoxo

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you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg and you are petrified
what will you ever do if I showed you whats inside

all the things I have done
they are not simple sweet mama
I don’t understand my own drama

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ImageI watched The Lion King the musical in 2006, and yesterday almost six years later I decided to go see it again. Needless to say, college has truly ruined me.

While my aunt and uncle sat next to me marveling at the set ( I too can marvel, FYI) and my cousin sat in awe as it was her first time, I felt a pang of jealousy, I remember my first time watching this musical, it was amazing, I had come with my then boyfriend we had the best seats, and I watched in awe as I clutched his hand. The Scene 8 when a disappointed but caring Mufasa sings They Live in You to Simba in Act 1 reminded me of my father, and it still does, somethings, as they say never change.

But after all these years, and numerous media classes, gender and race classes and a few life experiences here and there, The Lion King felt very different.

Hakuna Matata felt like college, and currently I feel like the runaway Simba who refuses to go back and join the circle of life. But lets leave that or my therapist, or maybe another blog entry.

The Lion King is a spectacular musical, and one of the best I have watched, yes yes I have watched mostly all of them with an exception of one or two. It dwells a lot on racial stereotypes, a lot of scholars in race and gender studies have recognized that the varying accents of the animals depicted in the Lion King are very racially influenced. While in college I read a few papers on Disney, where I found through different medias children become susceptible to racial stereotyping without realizing and Disney throughout has played a major role in it. If anyone has sat through a woman study’s class and came across an infamous instance in a paper where a white child recons the african american children sound like hyenas from the lion king, I wouldn’t be surprised. And why must it be so that the evil Scar must have this English accent?

But how does one make art without inducing these things in it-afterall it is culture, or maybe I am reading too much into it?

But anyways, thankyou college for if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be as susceptible and aware.

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