#it kind of came off like the culture he came from was slightly less regressive about gender which makes sense

[ladyloveandjustice]

i'm not one of those 'media literacy is dead and our youth is wrong' people but the tags on that atla poll are. making me want to say it.

[ununniliad]

Book Review: The Further Adventures of Superman

The Further Adventures of Superman is an anthology of Superman stories that came out in 1993 - just after he'd died in the comics, and right on the heels of the premiere of Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. It's especially interesting here, because it acts as a sampler of examples of what the wider culture was thinking about Superman when there was no movie around - hadn't been for a while, wouldn't be for even longer.

There are two different trends in this volume that are especially interesting to note. The first is that many of the stories are themed around religion and spirituality, gods and devils. It doesn't feel like an editorial edict - the stories come at the subject from many different directions, and a couple leave it out entirely; it's fascinating that this seems to just have been what was on everyone's mind.

The other trend is even more curious: the majority of these stories seem to have been written about Superman as he was in the 1970s! Some of them use explicit elements of '70s Superman comics, like Clark Kent working for WGBS instead of the Daily Planet, or the use of 'Kal-El' as a 'true' identity. Others use explicit elements from Superman: The Movie - at least one talks about the twenty-eight galaxies that baby Kal-El's starship wandered through. Yet others are simply about combining the planet-juggling levels of power the character had back then with the heated melodrama of the era.

It feels like most of the writers here hadn't read a Superman comic for ten to twenty years, and were working off of memory; many of these writers are reliable licensed fiction writers, not particularly known for superhero fiction, so that may even be true. Either way, it's weirdly consistent, and I've got to wonder if it's a reflection of how, in the '80s, comics turned towards specialty shops and away from general audiences.

In any case. Why don't we try out some capsule summaries, see how that goes?

The Riddle of Superman's Mask: This story was written by Will Murray, the writer who created Squirrel Girl, and like SG herself, it's trying to combine the fun weirdness of the Silver Age (in the form of a 'what fantastic thing happened to Superman to make him act so weird?' mystery) with the emotional depth of later eras. It doesn't quite work, but it's an interesting try.

Apparitions: By the redoubtable Diane Duane, this story brings Superman face-to-face with several of her recurring tropes - the heat death of the universe, the immanent presence of divinity, the truly alien mixed with the truly kind. And the investigation of that divinity, that alien-ness, and how they may intersect is the meat of the story. The ending feels slightly unsatisfying, in a way that it kind of has to be in this space, but the journey is interesting.

Lucifer Over Lancaster: This one actually explores a pretty similar space to the last story, but not as well, in my opinion - it has a more judgmental Superman and a more judgmental tone that clashes with the message of tolerance and love of the alien, as well as a fair bit of gore and death that doesn't quite feel earned. But it has some neat psychic visions, if you're up for that.

Dateline: Metropolis: Possibly the least fantastic of the stories in this volume, this is a straightforward "what Lois is up to while Clark's having an adventure" story. In this case, she's pursuing the idea that up-and-coming businessman Roger Gunn is, in fact... Superman! And it's... ehhh. There's some good Lois, but the moments in which she's dense, and especially her reaction to the idea of knowing Superman's secret ("I'll have to stop writing important news articles in order to not out him! Oh well, maybe being his girlfriend would make up for that")... ehhhhh.

Mine Enemy Grows Older: Easily the most fantastic of the stories in this volume, going into the outright cosmic - Superman and Lex Luthor in the year 900,000 AD, and the stakes are nothing less than apotheosis - transformation into a literal god. I originally read this anthology as a kid, and this story blew my mind - and unlike many similar stories that, on adult readings, turned out to have wonderful concepts but mediocre execution, it really does hold up. Worth it.

Forget Me Not: It's funny, but this one feels kind of like a riposte to the "lesson" of Superman II - Superman tries to break up with Lois For Her Own Good, but discovers via supernatural shenanigans how important she is to both his sides. The writing is adequate, but with some nice flourishes. Not bad.

Deja Vu All Over Again: A weird-ass story, with a bunch of interesting bits that simply do not come together. In theory, it's about Superman's compassion fatigue and his alienation from humanity, as seen through cosmic events on the day of Krypton's destruction; really, it's a meandering story with cosmic bits that sets Big Things up but doesn't really follow through. Odd.

Excerpt From the Diary of Dr. Morris Finkelstein: It's not funny, but at least it's short.

I Now Pronounce You Superman and Wife: You might expect a regressive, heteronormative viewpoint from a story with that title... and you'd be absolutely right. Packed with toxic jealousy culture, showing marriage as a disturbing, mechanical affair of control, it manages to be a throwback of remarkable fidelity to the worst and most sexist stories of the '50s and '60s. Yeesh.

Warrior of the Final Dawn: The writing here is just okay, but the theme is strong - the death of Krypton reaching forward to try to take Superman it its grasp from beyond the grave. Notably, this story is the only one in the volume to use the comics-contemporary setup of Lex Luthor as the powerful head of LexCorp, but it also calls out things like the Bottle City of Kandor and the city of Kryptonopolis in ways which belong to the older, pre-Crisis comics.

Prologue/Epilogue: An odd little framing device that doesn't really add anything, but doesn't hurt anything either. Inoffensive.

Overall, the stories in this volume average out to "okay". But it's an interesting sampler, and the best of these - "Mine Enemy Grows Older" and "Apparitions" - are, I would say, worth the price of admission alone. As well, examining the trends in this story - the throwbacks to older ways of viewing Superman, the focus on a plane higher than humanity - make some of the odd choices we saw in Superman Returns feel less odd.

[privilege-archives]

CAILA MOTTA ➝ FIFTH SIBLING

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

❖ FULL NAME: Caila Juliet Motta. ❖ PRONOUNS: She/Her. ❖ AGE: 21. (September 9th). ❖ BIRTH ORDER: Fifth. ❖ GRADE: Part-Time. ❖ MAJOR: Acting. ❖ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Fluid. ❖ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Fluid. ❖ FACECLAIM: Sarah Hyland.

I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME

Caila was less than half a year old when she landed her first job. Being still pretty young parents, and living in Hollywood, Stacy and Al were swept up in the fun of having an adorable baby girl, who was more like their doll than their child. They weren’t bad parents, not by a long shot, just a little clueless and distracted, that was all. Caila was their last child, so they had a lot keeping them occupied. Someone told Stacy that their baby had a face for television, and taking it very literally, she saw to it that she and her husband hooked her up with an agency; then, at barely five months old, Caila was cast in her first commercial. Something about diapers, apparently. Though, she has never actually watched it, despite her parents having an old copy on VHS. Being so young, Caila didn’t have to have any special talent. All she had to do was lay there with a couple cameras pointed at her, and be picked up by an on-screen mom, though Caila branded her a natural. For what, Caila has no idea, but she was incredibly proud of her regardless. Al, too, but the whole acting daughter gig was more Stacy’s thing than his.

It seemed, from that very moment, Caila had been bitten by the work bug, and was now stuck with it for life. Before she’d even reached her first birthday, she’d starred in two other commercials, and just a month after she’d turned one, she’d been cast as the main character’s youngest daughter, Marissa, in a show titled Single With Children. Again, it didn’t take a whole lot of talent to be a one year old in a sitcom, so she was apparently a natural all over again, according to Stacy. The show actually did pretty well, running for a total of four seasons, with short hiatuses between, resulting in Caila being six years old before its ending. Her Single With Children family had become like her second family, with Caila being the baby, so it was a huge adjustment for her to lose the second set of parents and older siblings she’d grown up with, and to suddenly be a little sister to her real siblings. Not that she disliked it or anything; she was a very friendly little girl, and loved hanging out with the others. That wasn’t enough for her, though.

Despite their other children needing attention, Stacy and Al still gave plenty of it to Caila—perhaps an unfair amount, in fact—and met regularly with her agent to set up new projects for her. Now that she was a little older, she could take on slightly more demanding roles, and was soon cast in a movie alongside Kate Hudson, titled Raising Riley. Caila played the title character, although the movie focused mostly on her estranged parents, with Riley just getting up to general seven year old mischief. The movie did exceptionally well, though once it was all done and dusted and the hype had calmed down, Caila had begun to find her own voice, to the point where she could express to her parents that acting was fun, but she wanted to focus on other aspects of the performance world, too. It had become something of an ongoing thing for her Single With Children character to burst into song at random, inopportune moments (one time in church, another in the middle of an important meeting with her mother and her boss, etc.), and it turned out that Caila had a pretty great voice, especially for someone so young.

At her request, Stacy, who had become something of a momager to her, enrolled her in vocal classes, as well as dance classes, though she never really cared about the latter. She continued to take on small movie roles and television appearances, all while perfecting her voice. Caila never went to regular school, and instead would have her own private teachers who would give her lessons on set or at home, depending on her current project. Despite living her life in the spotlight, however, Caila was not your typical Hollywood brat. She was polite, sweet, and very driven. So much so that at only eight years old, Nickelodeon had approached her agent with a show all of her own. With Caila’s input, they came up with the title Caila’s Courtyard. It consisted of a set made up to look like an eight year old’s dream house, where Caila and a bunch of other kids lived without parental supervision. They would often have fans star in episodes, where they could win prizes. It was kind of all over the place, but it was a total hit, with Caila and the other kids being thirteen by the time it came to an end.

Throughout Caila’s Courtyard’s prime years, the family received the news that would flip their world upside down. Stacy’s mother had passed away, and everything changed from that moment. Stacy started to withdraw, to the point that it seemed she didn’t even care about her children anymore. Not even Caila, who she’d always seemed close with. Stacy’s mental health regressed rapidly, and the ever optimistic teen wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it. She was able to keep herself busy with various projects, even dabbling in songwriting, though that was something she never went on to pursue. Her work continued to steadily flow, while Stacy’s mental state worsened. Finally, shortly after Caila’s thirteenth birthday, Stacy took off without a word, and that day was probably the worst of Caila’s life. She’d never experienced loss like it before, and had considered herself incredibly close with her mother. Stacy had always been her biggest supporter. Not having her around anymore was a lot for her to swallow.

A light in Caila went out after that, but she refused to stop. She took a brief break to just try to find a little happiness again, to come to terms with the, for lack of a better word, loss. There was only so much a hormonal teenager could do to help herself, though, especially when her father had begun to rely more heavily on his own work, so she became even more career obsessed than before. She threw herself completely into her work, still appearing in television shows here and there, but it begun to take a bit of a backseat to music. The latter was more of a challenge for her, and that was what she needed. She needed a challenge; a distraction. Music was it. Caila poured her entire heart and soul into it, though she never quite found her own specific sound. That wasn’t to say she didn’t do well; she released an album by the time she was seventeen, and it wasn’t the world’s best seller, but it did pretty well. Well enough to land her an invitation to London, England, to work as a judge on the UK’s X Factor at only nineteen years old.

Judging and mentoring young performers (she was given the teens category the first time, being the youngest judge herself) was a ton of fun, and Caila didn’t hesitate to come back to the States and judge on the US X Factor panel, then a little later, she was back in the UK to work on a new season. England was nice, if not a very big culture shock, and Caila considered staying out there for a while. She wasn’t sure what she expected from all of the back and forth trips, other than to find something that was missing, she just didn’t know what it was. It took a little while for her to realize that what was missing was her mother, and no amount of working and busying herself could bring her back. Caila allowed herself a quiet breakdown, before deciding she would lose herself if she let it go on for too long. Staying in the States for the time being, she enrolled in Pacific State, where she is currently taking part time classes in Acting. Despite that, Caila is still yet to slow down, and takes on as many projects outside of school as she can. She’s going back to acting, and is currently working as a judge on America’s Got Talent.

It’s still not enough for her, though. With her mother gone, nothing ever will be, and Caila’s finally starting to accept that.

BABY, THERE'S NO OTHER SUPERSTAR

Despite being in her twenties, Caila has a total baby face, and stands at a modest 5'2. Having been in the spotlight since she was five months old, her body has never truly been her own, which means she has never had the option to make many changes to her appearance, other than the blonde color she has in her otherwise naturally brown hair, which falls to just below her shoulders. She’ll wear hair extensions sometimes, which reach just below her chest. Since she is always in the spotlight, she has to look her best, so is always on top of trends, with her makeup done to a natural looking perfection. She wears heels often, and two piercings through each ear lobe. As of yet, she has no tattoos, with no plans to get one anytime soon.

YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE YOUR PAPARAZZI

Stacy has not been in the picture in a long time, but she was once an extra on a movie with Al Motta, who is a very well known actor and has been since he was a teen. Their youngest daughter, Caila, has been acting since she was five months old, and is still an active actress, singer and judge on both the X Factor and America's Got Talent.

[aditi-kumar-prod500-journal]

PROD 500 Assignment: Vision Writing (Autobiography and Influences)

Autobiography and Influences

School:

It was a era predominantly marked by confusion, incredible envy and tremendous achievement at the same time. Despite excelling in my studies, training as much as time allowed at sports and pushing myself to do the very best for various institutions, I remember feeling happy during only a handful of moments. Teachers straddled the line between being completely supportive and rather regressive, while my schoolmates seemed to forever gossip or conspire to make the next non-conformist feel terribly about themselves.

However, if it weren’t for these conflicting forces, I would not have learned the value of hard work. Not everything came easy to me at first. But by dint of sheer bullheaded-ness (in fact, all I lacked were actual horns; I could be quite undiplomatic when I wanted to succeed badly), and the unflinching support of my parents (who in fact, believed in me more than I did myself - they often became angry if I seemed to give up at anything), I was able to attain a sense of dignity. That prevented me from kowtowing to the more ‘popular’ crowd. More importantly, the desperation to be liked, to prove myself was instead channelled into drive, not addiction. And with the help of an incredible friend who saw me through it all, I passed this phase without too much difficulty into the next.

Adolescence:

Can there be a period in your life where you remember feeling more angry than anything else? I had a chip on my shoulder about everything - from people who I was sure disliked me right off the bat, to people who really did despise me, to the way I was handling my insecurities. Instead of carefully working through them a step at a time, I’d bundle them all into one fragile basket of eggs, before dumping this on the next person who irked me. Needless to say, I was not especially kind to the people I loved, despite only wanting to be liked by everyone.

That was the key need: wanting to be liked, adored, respected. The last was begrudgingly earned because of various leadership positions I occupied over the years in school - I always did justice to my roles - but the first two were more successful in alienating others. I could be a very nice person, till I decided I had something to prove.

People I’ve loved:

He was unlike anyone I had ever met. Aloof, selfish in his need to protect himself But he was also extraordinarily kind and easy to talk to, which I’d experienced with very few before. Curiously, I readily befriended without constantly questioning his actual motives - which meant that I had absolutely no unnecessary standard to live up to.

It seemed like we could talk forever and still not cover everything we wanted each other to know. Learning about the niches in popular culture - he was very knowledgeable when it came to music and films - was now pleasurable, not an exercise in internally comparing ourselves to the other. Of course, the deep affection I had for him grew into my first love - and the moment I decided I was happy - happy that I’d found someone without any expectation of him reciprocating - a major portion of my insecurities fell away like old snakeskin. 

It ended as most first loves do - on a semi-sweet parting note. His agenda was to cut off from everyone he’d met during college (for this was when I met him), and he’s ended up sticking to it. As for me, I will always remember him with immense gratitude. He gave me the confidence to be myself. 

People I’ve hated:

We started out as best friends, and because we grew up together, we did everything in twos. I revered her - she was older by nearly a year, and acted it too, but somewhere along the way, the terrible curse of middle school hit. Suddenly, popularity was her number one goal (as was mine, but to a lesser and less successful degree). She quickly realized that I was prone to being mocked for deserved and undeserved reasons, and left me in the dust. I become bitter, jealous and spent most of my high school years in real unhappiness, for she also seemed to have the knack of taking away people I was close to by turning them into her lackeys.

In retrospect, this could have partly been a reaction to the secret rivalry we had, one that made us intensely competitive for a very long time. The arenas ranged from academics, to individual achievements, to winning the affection of various people in the building complex where we lived. I suspect we never were truly content with our lives - although this worked as great motivation - and that we were both frankly relieved when school ended. It meant the end of a tiring relationship forced upon us - we did not talk about our mutual resentment, and her folks did not make it easier by pretending all was hunky-dory and friendly between us.

Today, it’s a little easier to speak to her. I will probably never understand her fully, and vice-versa. But the distance has helped put the past in a new perspective. We learned hard lessons because of each other and are perhaps better for it.

Art:

The first stories I heard were about the gods and goddesses in Hindu mythology. My mum and dad regaled me in their own ways (my father’s tales had a slightly more religious bent) about the cowherd prince Krishna who stole butter; who would eventually grow up to oversee the events leading up to the legendary Kurukshetra war. There was the honorable Ram, the mischievous but big-hearted monkey-god Hanuman, Arjuna the brave warrior…and then, from the West, about Achilles, Helen, Hector and Athena.

Heroes versus villains. The struggle between good and evil - various forms of each force, of course - have been a regular feature in my imagination. Anything that involved a epic, life-changing moment to fight back influenced me, from Mulan and Aladdin and most importantly, the Harry Potter series. Even today, if I have to be brave about something, my mantra is to chant, ‘If Harry can, I can.’ The themes of friendship and sacrifice from JK Rowling added nuance to my black-and-white view of the world.

But it’s not all popular culture. My mother is an artist. From the bright, sunlit colors of Vermeer’s portraits and Van Gogh’s achingly vivid work, to Rembrandt’s elusive impressionism, her descriptions and my own research have helped me, to an extent, pursue the fine arts on my own time. I’m not the best at it, but the practice has helped better my visual storytelling abilities. My mother’s averse to anime art, though, and that was a wonderful discovery I made all by myself - in fact, it was learning the media’s strange parameters for its characters that made me practice sketching seriously.

Having grown up in Oman, big bare landscapes are the kindling to what I consider free-flowing inspiration. Its stark, rugged mountains, the unflinching heat, the unspoiled, undulating sand dunes and in sharp contrast, the utter blueness of Oman’s waters are home for me, where I can breathe and dream freely. 

Role models:

Harry Potter, the orphan who found a purpose thrust upon him, and rose to the occasion. Fa Mulan, who took a potentially fatal risk and ended up saving China. Aladdin, the diamond in the rough. And Benjamin Franklin ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce of M*A*S*H, a devil-may-care surgeon who got so worked up over an injustice that he rode a jeep in bloodied scrubs through a war zone to an international conference, and protested.

Fiction is as influenced by reality as real life is by the art we make, and these four characters are heroes of mine - or should I say, very close to becoming anti-heroes till they grasped the first opportunity they were given to fulfill tremendous potential. That such initial pieces-of-work, who really believed they were creation’s mistakes, could defeat the very notion on their own, is something I try to emulate everyday. It’s a great way to overcome my severe imposter syndrome.

It’s harder to find people like that in real life, however, because of that irritating truth: they can change, and for the worse. Having said that however, JK Rowling (for her belief in failing to succeed, and the immersive world she’s created), Andy Samberg (for crazy perseverance, comedic talent and the immense clarity of mind he portrays in public), Alan Alda (for the absolute love of the work and play balance) and Charlotte Bronte (for her early feminism, and for doggedly pursuing her literary ambitions) are my role models.

And now, in my life, there are three who have made a mark on who I am today. My mum is the earliest and most enduring. We are oil and water in terms of personality, but her strategic patience and boundless love are two qualities I have to strive to imbibe. In that, she is second to none.

My dad rose from a deprived background, where some family members were decidedly less moral than others. Despite that, he refused to work without studying and today, is the only one to make it out of this narrow-minded society. His determination to prove himself, and admittedly silly humor are why I believe life is always worth improving by trying just a little harder.

The last is tricky, for I have changed in spite of him. A friend I consider a mentor in some ways, and a former crush, he is hugely talented but curiously cynical for it. I tried to become him, failed and learned the difficult way. I have come to see his virtues and faults, and have decided to forgive myself because he doesn’t; have aimed at trying to be more optimistic because he doesn’t; have moved on from believing that a single word of disapproval from him will ruin everything I’ve achieved regardless. He is a wonderful teacher, and he doesn’t even know how much I’ve studied from him!