Memory, TV

Thoughts on TV, millions of viewers and tits

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It’s 3 am in Austin and I can’t sleep.

Despite the fact that I was on literally the world’s most viewed talent show a few weeks ago and have been pretty chill about it (The Brain China has 400-500 million viewers per season), I am a little nervous about my participation in Sweden’s Got Talent 2017 airing tonight. There’s more hype in my head because I’ve watched it since I was thirteen. A DECADE LATER, here I am. The hype is real.

During the shoot I had a lovely combo of menstrual cramps and a high-grade fever (which broke out into pneumonia, I found that out a week later when I had to cut the trip to Beijing short, seeing as I was half dead and all). Tried to cheer myself up by watching How to get away with murder in French but felt down about running out of French-dubbed episodes. All the male actors sound better (read: more attirant) in French.

In some weird act of torture my friends have been sending me the audition tapes of other people on the show with captions like “OMFG THEY’RE SO GOOD YANJAA CHECK IT OUT”. So that helps, thanks friends. All other acts dd amazing stuff that touches people’s hearts and it’s impossible for me to be perceived as being as nice as them, because I’m not. I’m not a “good / kind / innocent” immigrant or on any spectrum of the normative. I’m pretty vulgar, not PC and find it difficult to be serious and not cross the line of ethics/jokes. I’m a so-called “oskön” girl as “sköna” dudes would say in Swedish. That may well be but at least my dog ​​likes me. I think.

Hope they cut out the parts when I was slightly unpredictable and I hope my nipples don’t show too much. I usually don’t wear bras because I don’t like boob-prison and also because we should #freethenipple, but I’m kind of tired of the amount of angry messages and/or dick pics in my inboxes.

On the topic of being a bad immigrant with stubbornly visible femininity, I ordered The Good Immigrant by Reni Eddo-Lodge among others (I met her irl in Switzerland!) and Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (I have not met her… yet). So I got that to look forward to, which is nice. After doing the morning news show on Sunday I’ve got the rest of the day to hopefully devour those epic books. Yay!

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