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"Skins" Is there a problem with this show?

February 3, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

“Skins” watch trailer HERE

 

Call me naive, or a recent empty-nester, but this is the first I’ve heard of the teenage series “Skins” which premiered on January 17, 2011, drawing in 3.3 million viewers, with 1.2 million of them under 18.

“‘Skins’ is the American adaptation of a UK hit about the sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll lifestyle of a group of teenagers. The PTC (Parents Television Council), a TV watchdog group, thinks the program might actually be child pornography, as many of the actors playing wayward teens are under 18 themselves. The group has persuaded a number of advertisers to pull out of the show, and called for a federal investigation,” according to today’s article by Dr. Harold Koplewicz in the Huffington Post.

Dr. Koplewicz talks about “the apparent lack of consequences,” on the show which portrays extreme behavior involving drinking, sex, and pill-popping. Teens drive under the influence, get involved in drug deals, and generally skirt death, and I can understand why the PTC would declare “Skins” as perhaps, “the most dangerous television show for children that we have ever seen.”

Though I haven’t watched an episode of “Skins,” I agree with Dr. Koplewicz when he mentions, “a world where parents and adults are mostly ineffectual, not to be trusted, or simply absent. This isn’t a good message to send — but it’s sadly accurate for many kids whose parents, well-intentioned though they may be, are out of touch with their teenagers.”

When our son started dating, my husband and I struggled with the complete lack of parental involvement and supervision from the girlfriend’s side. Many of the parents were divorced and looking to date themselves, forgetting to act as parents. Peer pressures and problem teenagers was another reason we chose to uproot our kids and get out of Orange County, California, and start over in Belize in Central America.

The third episode shows the toll that having no available parents takes on one of the characters. “His mother has checked out, leaving only a thousand dollars in cash; his father has a new life and wants nothing to do with him. Hurt and abandoned, he tries to party those feelings away.”

So what does “Skins” offer teenagers? Perhaps a way for those who are struggling to, “see their very real emotions taken seriously,”

What are your thoughts?  “Skins”?  Comments?

Pitching at a conference is like bull-running.

January 31, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

My mind is foggy after two full days of networking, listening to presentations by agents, editors and publicists, and pitching my memoir.

This SDSU (San Diego State University) writers’ conference is known for being intense, especially when so many are hoping to get an agent or editor to fall in love with their work.

Here’s how the pitching sessions work. Prior to the conference, you’re allowed to select one agent or editor to do an advanced reading of your your first ten pages, and as many consultations as you wish to pay for.

This is what it felt like charging into the editors and agents appointments.
Photo from this link.

Numbered tables are set up in a large room and each agent or editor sits at his/her allocated table. Approximately fifty or so nervous and excited writers line up outside the room and charge into the room when told. Just like spectators chancing their luck in the streets of Pamplona, Spain, during the bull-running, here we are fifty or so writers chancing our luck at landing an agent or an editor. A bell rings two minutes before the session is over, and you realize your ten precious minutes are up.

During my third appointment, another woman took my seat. I couldn’t believe it. Had I made a mistake? It so happens she missed her 1 p.m., meeting and arrived at my 1:12 appointment instead. There am I waiting for her to get out of the chair as the clock is ticking. She’s negotiating with the agent to give her another appointment. Meanwhile, I’m losing precious time, but fortunately this agent liked my pitch and requested 50 pages.

If you’ve attended a writers’ conference, you’ll understand the mixture of emotions that comes from a weekend of intense workshops, networking, and getting the attention of an agent or editor. It’s exhausting for all attendees, and I admire the agents and editors for coming to the west coast from New York, where numerous canceled flights and delays due to snow, caused them to wait for hours at the airport.

So how did it go? I’ve been asked to submit 50-70 pages to two agents, my first chapter to two, and invited to contact three others. I am now on the second phase of my journey, and feel like a nap right now, before I can cope with the marketing proposal I have to work on.

By the way, all agents and editors, expect an online presence and about 10-20,000 unique hits per month. That’s significant. If you have figured out how, please share with us.

How to use the restroom in a French Starbucks

January 24, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

 

I plan on visiting the Centre Pompidou in Paris, and take the RER (Regional Express Metro) from the suburbs west of Paris to downtown, where I exit at Chatelet-Les Halles. It’s 11:10 a.m., and fortunately there are now seats available on the RER.

It’s a fifteen minute ride and once there, I get side-tracked by what seems to be an underground shopping center. Passengers push and shove in the dark, winding tunnels of this subterranean maze.

Sandwich shops with refrigerated display cases tempt me with their sandwich jambon/fromage, (ham and cheese), pastries, and now American style wraps.

View from Chatelet-les-Halles Metro station. Centre Pompidou.
 

There are clothing stores, even perfume and body lotion stores in these winding hallways offering facials and waxing, on your way to or from work. My mind is focused on a specialty tea shop, with floor to ceiling tea canisters, and a mini tea pot museum.

I stand for a few seconds, confused as to how to get out of this maze. People bump into me when I hesitate; this is not a place to be unsure where you’re heading. You have to be Gutsy in Paris.

I see a Starbucks, and as I wait in line, staring at the menu in French, the woman in front of me orders a Venti Chai. When asked if she wants milk in her Chai she says, “They always put milk in your Chai at Starbucks in New York. You should know that, unless the customer asks for soy milk.” The French Barista turns defensive and throws the change back at the woman. This is Paris after all!
 
In case you need the restroom at a Paris Starbucks, let me warn you not to throw your receipt in the trash. Keep it handy. Punch the code at the bottom of your receipt on that gray code puncher. (See photo below.) Once inside, the door will lock automatically, don’t panic. Look for the tiny white button next to the door frame and click it. The door should open and you’ll find freedom again.

How to enter restroom at Paris Starbucks. Punch in your code.
It also says, “Beware, wet paint” above.

I find a table in this overcrowded French Starbucks next to two women speaking English. The blond, short-haired woman mentions she’s from Long Beach, California, yet she has a slight French accent. The other woman is Italian, and both of them are complaining about men. Once again I hear the universal theme: “I can’t find a nice man.” I told her to look in the U.S.

Now you know how to get out of a French Starbucks.

Inside a French Boulangerie and Market

January 20, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

If there’s one thing I admire about the French, it’s their obsession love of fresh, quality food and bread.

Fresh Coquilles St Jacques (Scallops) in their shells at local market

 Markets are bustling with shoppers even on a cold, crisp Wednesday morning where parking spaces are fought over and pedestrains race across the street to purchase their warm baguettes for lunch.

This baker has the best grainy baguettes in the area.

As soon as you step inside the boulangerie, the movie unfolds. Steam-clouded windows and the aroma of fesh, golden loaves, bring you into another world. During a ten-minute wait in line, you can watch the baker open the oven and place baguettes on a metal shelf.
Behind the counter, his wife and her assistant smile and chat with each customer.

The baker and his wife treat each customer with the same warmth and attention they give to their craft.

Another bakery with creamy eclairs, and tartes aux fruits.
Bread is purchased daily; a must in French society, hence the importance of relationships between the baker and each customer. In a way it’s a form of therapy for the customer, where for several minutes a day, you can share stories about your family, your health or ask questions about which type of bread goes with a camembert , saumon fumé, (smoked salmon) or pâté de foie gras. Even in a city like Paris, the store owners value relationships with their customers. They pay attention, remember who you are, and show that they care.
Bon appétit
Another fish stall with fresh oysters and mussels. Wish we had seafood, this fresh, in southern California.

Copenhagen: My birth place.

January 17, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

Sonia in front of the little mermaid in Copenhagen

Greetings from Copenhagen where the snow is melting and more frost is on its way.

After living in the U.S for twenty-eight years, I’m always surprised at how easy it is for me to become “European.” Sometimes I “forget” that I live in California.

“Skaal” from Denmark

Old habits and customs return, such as the way people interact with one another.
Danish people are warm and friendly and speak “calmly,” to one another, unlike the French. (More on that later.) One of my favorite airports in the world is Kastrup, in Copenhagen. Danes are world renowned for their architecture, furniture and home design. They come up with new designs for simple things. I don’t see these in the U.S. For example, an unusual, high tech wine glass, a contemporary candlestick, a special magnetic see-through picture frame that can make a photocopied photgraph look professional. Style, design and cozyness are three words that best describe Denmark, to me.

Nyhavn in Copenhagen
The new opera house in Copenhagen

As far as Danish habits, I had forgotten one tradition. In Denmark, it’s considered impolite to take a sip of wine when you’re having dinner with friends without saying “Skaal,” first. I did the California thing of taking sips whenever I felt like it, and remembered my manners.

Next post from Paris.

Funny how every country has different habits. Are there any traditions or habits you remember from childhood or from living in another State or country? 

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