As the iCarly theme song says, somehow we're gonna get there.

Remember Britney’s meltdown? Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. No last name needed. THAT Britney. THAT meltdown. She was spotted without underwear a few times, she almost dropped her kids a couple more times, and then she shaved her head. The media ate that up.

Britney Spears. Lindsay Lohan. Mary Kate and Ashley Olson. Demi Lovato. Miley Cyrus. To a lesser extent, Britney’s little sister Jamie Lynn and High School Musical’s Vanessa Hudgens. What do these names evoke? Good girls gone wrong. Shoehorned for so long into the role of kid-friendly role models that the minute they were old enough to gain some independence (whatever that means), they went off the rails. Either they had a massive and public meltdown, or they began doing scandalous things like DRINKING. And DANCING SUGGESTIVELY. The horrors! How dare they do the things that eighteen-year-olds everywhere do?

I know the drinking age is twenty-one. I’m not condoning underage drinking. Hell, in college, I was a freaking prude, ask anyone who knew me then. But, statistically (which is another word for “realistically”), most eighteen-year-olds have experimented with alcohol. And yet the famous ones are held to a different standard.

The fall from grace for Vanessa Hudgens was not quite so dramatic, because everyone understood that the suggestive photos she took of herself were never meant to be seen by the public. People are more understanding when you are betrayed. I guess. Still, she revealed herself to be a sexual being, and that made a lot of people upset. I have to say, I’ve watched bits and pieces of High School Musical and I find it highly disconcerting for the simple reason that the high schoolers are not acting remotely like any high schooler I’ve ever met. Glee does a much better job of portraying high schoolers: drinking, sexting teenagers who also happen to sing peppy songs. All played by adults.

And if you’ll excuse me, I have to contradict myself—what I just said is ENTIRELY beside the point, because—are you listening? This is important—GLEE IS NOT A KID’S SHOW. I shouted that from the rooftops when Lea Michele was recently shamed for appearing on the cover of Cosmopolitan in a *gasp* low-cut dress. If you don’t want your kids seeing Rachel Berry in a low-cut dress, you probably don’t want them watching her get sloppy drunk and draping herself over the ex-boyfriend who, last season, honestly believed he had gotten a girl pregnant by ejaculating in a hot tub. The ACTUAL father of the baby seduced the President of the Celibacy Club with winecoolers and then sold marijuana-laced cupcakes to pay the doctor’s bills. In the meantime, Rachel Berry dated her co-star from Spring Awakening—the show in which she actually got naked on stage. And yet, because she then played a high schooler on a show occasionally watched by children of parents with questionable judgment, it wasn’t okay for her to wear a low-cut dress. Naked on stage—okay. Low cut dress on the cover of a magazine—not okay. Can someone please explain this to me, because I’m very confused.

I caught a lot of flak from friends around the time of the epic Britney meltdown, because I felt the need to defend her. I couldn’t really tell you why, except that I know how it feels to be mentally unstable and yet self-aware enough to know that things are spiraling out of control. It’s not fun. And if I had had paparazzi on my tail around junior year of college—or junior year of high school for that matter—I don’t even want to think about the pictures that would be haunting me.

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Miley Cyrus. I find the Hannah Montana franchise pretty annoying, because it’s terribly over merchandised for a TV show that’s moderately clever at best and hellooooooo, Jem did the “rock star with a secret identity” schtick first and did it better. But, I do think Miley is a good performer, and I will in fact sing along with her songs. Or, if I’ve had even one drink, I’ll sing them in my living room for no apparent reason. But that’s neither here nor there.

I’m trying to think who the girls were that played the “kid-friendly role model” role in my life, but I don’t think there were as many choices in the 80’s and early 90’s. After I outgrew Rainbow Brite and Jem, there were D.J. and Stephanie Tanner, but they always took a backseat on their show to the adult male performers and the Olsen twins in their age of innocence. As far as accessible female characters who I could look up to and relate to, who were given the freedom to carry a franchise on their own, only one name springs to mind: Clarissa Darling. That’s right—people think Disney invented the tween girl heroine, but Nickelodeon pioneered the concept first. And as this excellent article points out, it was a show starring a girl that both girls AND boys watched, and that is still something people seem convinced can’t happen.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a franchise. It was one TV show. But it was AMAZING. I wanted to wear her clothes, live in her bedroom, and have a male best friend who regularly climbed through my window via ladder. But even as that impressionable young girl who wanted to be Clarissa, I understood that there really was no Clarissa. I didn’t want Melissa Joan Hart for a role model. She was older than she played, and frankly, uninteresting (I’ve since learned that she’s a homophobic Republican who gets very bitchy when her acting style is criticized, so it was probably for the best). I didn’t want Melissa, I wanted Clarissa. That seemed to be fine then. So why is Miley’s identity so intrinsically linked with Hannah that the world goes into a tailspin if she does something out of character?

Melissa Joan Hart did get in some trouble for posing in Maxim during her Sabrina the Teenage Witch days, but—please correct me if I’m wrong—I don’t remember that being a big deal.

These thoughts all came to mind after reading this New York Times article about Miranda Cosgrove, aka iCarly. I am not too proud to admit that I enjoy an occasional episode of iCarly, largely because it has the same kind of snarky-but-cute/ let-me-tell-you-what-I-think/ girl-power-is-a-dish-best-served-with-humor vibe that Clarissa Explains It All had. The article makes Miranda Cosgrove seem like a real, down-to-earth, positive role model, but that could just mean she has excellent PR. What’s really striking about the article is the sad truth that everyone is expecting her to crash and burn. Because that’s what kid-friendly female superstars DO. Notice the key word: female. As a follow-up article on Jezebel (which incorrectly states she works for Disney) points out, the boys don’t have this problem. The oldest Jonas brother is twenty-one: no sign of meltdown. Nobody seems concerned about what will happen when Justin Bieber turns eighteen. Let’s face it: it’s different for girls.

But why? That’s the part I can’t quite understand. So I called my brother (the film student) for consultation. He says it’s because little girls are supposed to be sweet and innocent, and there is no clear point where one is allowed to shed that image. The New York Times Article also points out that career-wise, it’s very difficult to move on and have a real career when you’ve already been pigeonholed into the “sweet and innocent” role.

My brother also says that what made Melissa Joan Hart as Clarissa different than the girls today is that cable TV just wasn’t as big of a deal. Nickelodeon flew under the radar then, and there was never any expectation that Melissa Joan Hart should be a role model, or that she should grow up and have any kind of adult career. The fact that her name is still recognizable is probably a surprise to the Nickelodeon execs of yesteryear.

I should probably stop rambling, but I want to point out that there are exceptions. I had the great pleasure (that is sarcasm, in case you didn’t notice) of working at the Disney Store in 2003, and at that point in time, Disney’s great mission in life was to promote Hilary Duff with all their might. Star of a little show called Lizzie McGuire. Don’t remember it? That’s because Hilary Duff had enough of Disney (as did I), and the minute Lizzie McGuire ended, they began pushing Hannah Montana. The first time I saw a promo for Hannah Montana, I said to myself, “Oh, look, they got themselves a new blond girl show.” Little did I know the extent to which that particular blond girl (actually a brunette girl in a wig) would take over Disney. Granted, Hilary Duff is far from a superstar, but she’s not an object of vitriol either.

Good luck, Miranda Cosgrove. I’m rooting for you.

Earwax Buildup

I was going to blog about my car's terrible fate, but it seems insensitive in light of the tragedy in Japan. Why should I be sad about losing a car when others lost everything? So, instead, I'm going to blog about earwax. Yes, earwax.

I remember saying "do you have an earwax buildup?" when I was a teenager. My friends and I just thought it was a funny thing to say when someone couldn't hear something. I never knew that earwax could actually build up to the point where it affected your hearing. But it can, and it did.

For about two weeks, I've been feeling increased pressure in my right ear, and if I was lying in bed on my left side (I am a side sleeper), I couldn't hear anything. I had this problem once before, but it cleared up on its own. I kept thinking it would do that this time, but it didn't. It got worse.

By the beginning of this week, it had spread to both ears, and was still getting worse. I had the TV turned up to 34, and I didn't hear the door when my husband came into the apartment. My mom thought it might be allergy-related, so when I went to see her on Sunday, she sent me home with Zyrtec. When I finally went to bed at 1:00 am (spring break!), all the Zyrtec accomplished was knocking me out for twelve hours.

Last night I went to Bible Study, and had barely gotten in the door before I was asking friends to repeat themselves. I nodded my way through most of the conversation, imitating what my grandfather does. There was a cat outside, apparently, that my friends kept saying was yowling. When I admitted that I couldn't hear the cat at all, my friends told me to go to the doctor. This sentiment was later echoed by my husband when he realized how loud the TV had been turned up.

I went to the walk-in clinic today, lacking the energy to make an actual appointment. After sitting in the waiting room for over an hour, I finally saw a doctor, who looked in my ears and proclaimed them "all the way blocked" and in need of being "washed out." I had no idea this was something one could actually have done at a doctor's office.

Only one nurse in the place was willing to take on the task, since even among medical professionals, earwax is considered pretty darn gross. And it was pretty gross, to see the water and peroxide she pumped in with a heavy duty syringe type shooter (I do not know the proper terminology) come out BROWN. And it took several times, but finally she pulled out what-- I kid you not-- looked like a small animal.

And that's when I was struck by how LOUD everything seemed. On the drive home, I could hear not only the engine running, but the wind blowing, and then I came into my apartment and heard a clock ticking. I can't remember the last time the clock was audible. My earwax had to have been building up for some time. When I turn my head, I can hear my hair move. This is a very weird feeling.

In conclusion, kids: clean your ears on a regular basis, with chemicals if necessary. Earwax buildups are not a joke.