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Suzanne Vega has got to be one of the greatest underrated singers of our time. It’s funny how such a "bare-bones" performer, the mellow queen of accapella, minimalist, zero histrionics/shrieking performer (sort of an antidote to Mariah/Celine) winds up being the "mother of the MP3" and also the first "live" performer as an avatar.
Here’s a brief interview and short performance-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCLSkTEBj2k
The other day P and I were talking with friends about how people select their Avatars. You’ll note in Suzanne’s audience that there are no obese or ugly "people" since in our virtual relations we can all creat finely sculpted torsos and dress in anti-gravity clothing far cooler than what exists in our actual wardrobe.
I work with a grown woman who looks and acts sort of like a walking cartoon/avatar: cute, Japanese, smiley-eyed, sometimes comes to work in overalls and sandals or with a bouncy ponytail. An adorable voice that could launch a thousand anime fantasies. Come on, we all have a friend or two who is sort of a walking caricature of sorts. When I had my super short, layered haircut two of my colleagues announced to me one morning that I reminded them of an anime character. (is that a compliment or an insult…?!)
I’m sort of partial to the folks whose representations of themselves include stuff like the shimmering purple butterfly wings, green alien skin, or devil horns. Thus far I refuse to assume any avatars or alternate lives, I figure I’ve lived several lifetimes (in the form of my numerous and varied vocational adventures) and have already overcrammed myself with committments in this present reality.
But years ago I became hyper aware of the disparate reality; between how I feel, and how others seem to view me. Apparently there is a tendency for people to assume that I’m- how shall we say- slow in the uptake. A bit wimpy, perhaps. A lot "exotic" at times. high -maintenance, even?
Sigh. Such is the fate of the petite Asian woman in the era of yellow fever.
Look man, I’d bet money that my English skills far surpass yours. I’m about as exotic as a boxy ‘ol Volvo & this is one wimp that’s been trained since infancy that "in America, if someone attacks you, you just have to kill them."
(kid you not, my Dad taught me that as a little girl. In retrospect, guess that sounds kinda psycho. But he meant that you had to do it so that they didn’t come after you another day or litigate you into oblivion, and that one should never feel even slightly guilty for defending onself tooth and nail. Thanks, Dad!)
If my bodily self matched my mental status, I’d be some kind of 6 ft. Amazon, hippy, curvy, Earth mother; kind of a beautiful, scary, Kali:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kali
Hoo-yah, now that is the avatar to end all avatars…
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