Had a talk with my analyst last night about advertising to children. Does anybody in the English-speaking world, besides me, him, and Mr. N's girlfriend, still think that's wrong? It's been fucking getting me down, I suppose in combination with new little media stinks about free will and the absence thereof but mostly because of the increased pro-telepissing spin at work.
Well, blah blah - I believe for all intents and purposes we have free will, in the sense that we may have fewer reactions and choices than we think we do, but that we can still make decisions about them. But I'm also starting to believe - and this is no doubt a symptom of working at a job that promotes advertising by promoting its (still principal) vehicle - that people, especially children, can be trained out of believing they have free will. That they can be trained to believe impulses equal decisions and that the impulses that make you a consumptive member of consumer society are the ones you pay attention to above the others.
So, too much child-directed crap at work, including spin articles about how great it is that children still watch so much telepissing. And how great that younger children watch more than older children, who still watch alot. And that computers aren't a real risk, because older kids use them socially in a multi-task type way while watching telepissing. Argh.
Anyways, my analyst made me feel better about my own prospects as a human, aunt, and (when something breaks) mother by telling me it's awful et cetera but smart imaginative kids will still be smart imaginative kids. He also sent me this - well, he sent me the Times text but Disney is now desperate enough to retain market share that it reprints criticism to look progressive-like, which I have to admit I find endearing, especially when it's free to read and the New York Times archive isn't.
Anyways again, that was followed with a phone conversation with my brother offering me a job nannying his kids until I leave if I manage to get myself sacked at work. If I could get sacked, you see, what he could afford to pay me and my EI payments would about equal what I get now. And it would let me spend lots of time with the kids before I left, enough probably for us to get royally sick of each other, which would be perfect. So now I really want to get sacked but I'm thinking of just quitting outright and finding a way to flesh out my income, if I can't get EI, by teaching in the evenings at Figaro's old agency. I'll need to talk to my brother about it again and see if it's practical. And get in touch with the labour board, which in my lethargy I have not yet done.
So much to fucking do . . . I need to write a list of it all today, which I will, after I finish and publish that Goya review.