12.15.09
My transit pet peeves, let me show you them
In no particular order, here are the things about getting around in New York City that make me want to go all “Hulk!Smash.”
1. People who stand blocking the train doors and DON’T MOVE when the train stops.
2. Guys who span 2-3 seats because they won’t keep their knees together (ironically, it’s always women being warned to keep our legs together, isn’t it?). Dude, your junk can’t possibly be THAT big. If it is, go get checked for elephantiasis.
3. Cars that don’t wait for pedestrians to cross before turning left on a green light. Pedestrian right-of-way: LOOK IT UP.
4. Cyclists who ride on the sidewalk, the wrong way down a street, across crosswalks, etc. What the Hell are you training for, the Tour De My Boot in Your Pants?
5. People who converge on street corners to chat, pull out maps, and generally block the flow of pedestrian traffic.
6. Tangentially, I also hate people who stop and take pictures of themselves and their families in the middle of the sidewalk. Dude, it’s a sidewalk. It’s a building in a big city. Get over it.
7. On an escalator: Pass to the left, stand to the right. HOW hard is that to figure out when there are twenty bajillion people chilling on the right side and people trooping up the left? Don’t stand there like a dumbass and block the way for the people behind you.
8. Musicians performing on the subway during the morning and evening rush hour commute. It might seem like a profitable time for mariachis, a capella singers and crazy old ladies playing the whistle, but they’re just making commuters think of ways to stuff their instruments where the sun don’t shine.
9. It’s great that you love your shiny iPod and your vast array of music. However, an iPod is not a boombox. Dial down the decibel level. Are you actively trying to start a subway sing-along or render yourself deaf?
10. Groups of kids (of all racial backgrounds) who stand together, dropping the n-word left and right. People fought and gave their lives so that the black community would be seen as more than that single, ugly word. It’s a shame to see that it’s become so ingrained into youth language and culture, with such common, casual usage. Does anyone under the age of 25 even know what it means anymore?
12.14.09
The facts of a critical life.
In an embarrassing instance of “when authors go apeshit,” genre writer Candace Sams began a mostly one-sided wankstorm over a few negative reviews of one of her books. Within hours, it had hit Twitter and even romance blogging site Dear Author, with people basically pulling up lawn chairs and popping popcorn to watch this woman dig herself deeper and deeper into a hole of thick-headed insanity.
Good God, y’all.
Criticism is tough to take. There’s no doubt about that. And lord knows, a book is like your child, so seeing someone say the time you spent birthing and raising it wasn’t well-spent probably hurts like a bitch. But you know what? You bite your tongue or you go curse a blue streak with your door shut. You do not let people see you sweat. As someone who both dishes it out and takes it, I feel pretty qualified to say that.
Think every “Miss” I’ve written for our Critical Mass page in WEEKLY. Imagine all those scathing Soapbox columns. Never once has something I’ve written kick-started a furious personal back-and-forth with the powers-that-be. There’s a tacit, professional understanding that this is how it works: You take the good, you take the bad. It’s just the nature of the industry, especially when it comes to arts criticism.
And, as I said, I dish it out but I take it, too. I’m a Google fiend and a message board junkie. You think I haven’t read less than complimentary things about myself? Some of it borders on the ludicrous, because it’s so far off the mark about who I am as a person and what I believe!
And you can’t let any of it get to you. Especially not in a public forum like the comments of an Amazon review. People may have picked up Sams’ book before, not really knowing who she is or what she’s about. Now? With all this really unflattering light she’s shining on herself, she’s become a spectacle and, in doing so, she’s made her book secondary to herself and irrelevant.
And that’s just sad…to put all this time and effort into birthing and raising a book, only to have it become overshadowed by its momma.
Ouch.
12.10.09
Homophobia: I don’t want to see it.
I touched on this briefly in my Aug. 30 discussion of Milk, but I want to explore it further. Why is homophobia still socially acceptable? Why is it okay to express anti-gay opinions in a public forum? I see it on a weekly, if not daily, basis: people casually talking about how they don’t want to see gays on TV, how gays should just go kiss on their own channel. “It’s disgusting.” “It’s unnatural.” “The Bible says it’s wrong.” People don’t think twice about putting these opinions out there. And the irony is that a lot of times these are people who, if asked if they’re racist, might gasp and say, “Of course not!” And, yet, all you have to is replace the words and it’s the same exact display of ignorance. “I don’t want to see blacks and interracial couples on TV.” “They should kiss on their own channel.” “They’re disgusting.” “It’s unnatural.”
Why don’t more people acknowledge that? Is it because linguistically it’s a “phobia” and not an “ism” like racism or sexism that implies hate? Is it because you’re allowed to be “afraid” of the unknown as long as you don’t translate that fear into violence? Is it because we, as a society, are obsessed with what goes on in people’s bedrooms? Is it because we are so careful to tiptoe around religious freedom that we allow people to use their holy books as their shield for their bigotry? Like, “Oh, they’re not gay-bashing anyone, they’re just being a good Christian/Hindu/Muslim, etc.”?
Intolerance should not be excused because it hasn’t led person x to violence. Homophobia is virulent and dangerous in any form. Because you’re defining a person by one thing: their sexuality. Just like boiling down someone else to their skin color or their religion. The minute you stop seeing someone as a living, breathing person and only view them as The Gay, The Black, The Hindu…you’re treading on dangerous ground. It’s easier to hate an abstract Other, to dismiss it as feeling-less, and unequal and undeserving of rights. (Which is bitterly ironic, given much of this country’s stance on giving the abstract potential of The Baby equal rights.)
Sometimes I really just ache at how the Civil Rights Movement is not seen as a fight that should apply to the LGBT community as well.
12.07.09
The 2009 Wrap-Up, Best and Worst.
I cannot believe that it is almost 2010…that I’m now less than two months from turning 32. Ack! However, with the new year approaching, it’s time for the reflection, accidental oversights, and perverse favoritism that comes with a Best and Worst post! So, without further ado, here’s my year in media:
Best Book: Living Dead Girl, by Elizabeth Scott
Worst Book: Dark of Night, by Suzanne Brockmann
Favorite Book: Goddess of the Hunt, by Tessa Dare
Best Movie: (tie) Star Trek and Billu Barber
Worst Movie: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Delhi 6
Favorite Movie: Star Trek
Best Primetime TV Show: NCIS
Worst Primetime TV Show: (tie) Smallville and Heroes
Favorite Primetime TV Show: Glee
Most Heinous Cancellation: (tie) Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and Life
Best New Show: The Good Wife
Surprise Hit of the Year: The Vampire Diaries
Best Import: Being Erica
Worst Import: Robin Hood
Best Mini-Series: Torchwood: Children of Earth
Worst Mini-Series: The Last Templar
Best New Character: (tie) Neal Caffrey, White Collar and Alicia Florrick, The Good Wife
Worst New Character: Riley Richmond, Melrose Place
Sexiest Male: Ian Somerhalder (Damon, The Vampire Diaries)
Sexiest Female: Cote de Pablo (Ziva, NCIS)
Best Couple: Nathan and Haley, One Tree Hill
Favorite Couple: Casey and Cappie, Greek
Worst Couple: Riley and Jonah, Melrose Place
Best Bromance: Peter and Neal, White Collar
Best Evil Overlord: Misha Collins (Castiel, Supernatural)
Best Daytime TV Show: The Bold and the Beautiful
Worst Daytime TV Show: All My Children
Favorite Daytime TV Show: (tie) The Bold and the Beautiful and One Life to Live
Most Heinous Cancellation: (tie) Guiding Light and As the World Turns
Best New Character: Bill Spencer, The Bold and the Beautiful
Worst New Character: Ethan Lovett, General Hospital
Best Couple: Bill and Katie, The Bold and the Beautiful
Favorite Couple: Kyle and Fish, One Life to Live
Worst Couple: Nikolas and Elizabeth, General Hospital
Best Bromance: Cristian and Fish, One Life to Live
Cutest Baby: ALL OF THEM. OMG.
Best Song: “Paparazzi,” by Lady Gaga
Worst Song: “Russian Roulette,” by Rihanna
Favorite Song: “Poker Face,” by Lady Gaga
Favorite Artist: Lady Gaga
Surprise Hit of the Year: Taylor Swift and her general awesomeness
Favorite Twitter to Follow: Guiding Light’s Melinda Sue Lewis
Guilty Pleasure Twitter: Jonathan Knight, from New Kids on the Block
Best Twitter Bromance: Michael Muhney and Daniel Goddard (Adam and Cane, The Young and the Restless)
Best Twitpic Poster: Nathan Fillion (Richard, Castle)
Best Blog: Jezebel.Com
Best Online Store: Old Navy
11.16.09
Updates from La Casa Mala
I’ve been on a big of a blogging hiatus, as my creative spirit battles it out with the onset of winter. I just don’t do well with cold weather. My instinct is to hibernate, both physically and emotionally. Of course, the peril of Internet silence is that if you let it stretch on too long, you become a nonentity, quickly forgotten as people move on to more immediate sources of entertainment.
So here’s a slapdash update, as I get the rant machine revved up again.
I’m still working my way through Liz Carlyle’s backlist, currently reading No True Gentleman. I haven’t watched much in the way of movies lately, and I sent Bad Education back to Netflix unwatched because a)I wasn’t in the mood to sit through it and b)Pedro Almodovar signed that fricking Polanski petition. I keep going back and forth as to whether I want to see This Is It and Precious, both of which have gotten rave reviews. And my sense is that I can’t watch either of them in the theater. I think — for different reasons, obviously — both films are just too personal and emotional to share with a big crowd of moviegoers. I need to be in my pajamas, with tissues and comfort food nearby.
Speaking of which, I’m really proud of myself because I’ve nailed a standard Bengali comfort food recipe. Khichuri, often served after prayer services, is a mix of rice, lentils and spices and is one of my favorite rainy/cold day foods. It’s like chicken soup or chili, something that just spells home. Between this and somewhat mastering chana masala (a chickpea dish), I feel like I’m really getting a handle on traditional Indian cooking once more. At some point, I have to start making chicken curry again. I was really good at it back when I lived in Ohio. Haven’t made it in New York, though.
I’m trying to balance my non-soap TV viewing as best I can, but when you watch upwards of 20 hours a week for work it gets exhausting. I had to jettison Castle (sorry, Nathan Fillion!) because the Monday at 10 spot was brutal. I’m a week behind on How I Met Your Mother. I make sure to tune in to NCIS and The Good Wife on Tuesdays, Glee on Wednesdays, and The Vampire Diaries/Supernatural on Thursdays. If I’m awake, I watch White Collar live on Friday nights at 10, but I mostly catch it On Demand on Saturday or Sunday.
Aaand that’s pretty much it for me at the moment.
Not too thrilling, eh?
11.07.09
It’s about the journey (and sometimes the Journey)
Five years ago, on Nov. 6, I came here with three suitcases and a chest tight with anxiety. Just a small town girl (living in a lonely world, but I didn’t take the midnight train going anywhere) in the big, bad city, ready to tackle a job at Soap Opera Weekly and live some place where I basically knew no one.
I can’t believe it’s been that long already. In some ways, I feel like it was just yesterday that I was walking into my first NYC apartment — that I’d procured sight unseen — sleeping on the floor because I didn’t have a bed yet. And in other ways, I know I’ve changed irrevocably.
I am not the same girl who came here…the one who pretty much hid out in her Queens neighborhood for months, and took shelter between her cubicle walls at work. I remember bursting into tears when my flight home for Christmas got canceled because a severe snowstorm closed the airports. I sat in my cube, shaking, actually unable to believe I was that upset. I’d only been here a month and a half! I ended up spending the holiday weeks split between work and home…where I finally bought a TV and DVD player to get me through the hours.
If you ask my colleagues, they won’t even remember how quiet I was, how meek, because I’m such a freakin’ loudmouth now. The city utterly overwhelmed me back then. The subway lines, the tiny, sketchy grocery stores, and the noise. My goodness, the rattle of the 7 train going by overhead, the cars whizzing by on the street…it was such a change from Ohio. Now it’s nothing. The blaring of fire engines, the bus, the reggaeton. I’m used to it all. I thrive on the lights and the life of this vibrant city. And, yes, I can hop a midnight train going almost anywhere.
I’ve learned a lot about who I am, about what I’m capable of accomplishing. I wonder what lessons the next five years will bring.
10.20.09
Women, fashion and unintelligent design
I don’t understand the upper echelons of the fashion industry. I get that, objectively, you could look at it as a form of art, using cloth as a medium instead of paints or clay. But when it comes to creating things for people to actually wear, that’s when my brain starts to shut down.
Look, I shop at Old Navy and H&M. I cannot justify spending more than $40-50 bucks on a piece of clothing. I grew up in a family where being clothed was the vital thing, not how cool you looked, and as sullen I was about it at the time, looking back I appreciate that value being instilled in me. It probably comes from having a father who grew up in a rural village, worked his way through school and didn’t buy his first pair of lace-up formal shoes until college. (My dad is awesome, and I respect him so much for what he’s accomplished!)
So spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of cute high heels? Not my thing. I just don’t understand it. Why would you spend $600 or more on a shoe or a blouse? My skin actually crawls at the thought of wearing something that expensive, when that money could go towards rent or food or a vacation. Of course, seeing as how my freakishly small feet are the only part of me that could conceivably fit into a high end design, my bank account is safe. Because as someone who fluctuates between a size 10 and a size 12 at all times, I’m definitely not the target demo of your Ralph Laurens and Versaces. Hell, according to that world, I’m a fattie. Gasp.
This is hardly a new thing, what with sizes getting smaller and department store chains vanity sizing to make double digit women feel comparatively better about ourselves. But these past few months have been a truly eye-opening time when it comes to the fashion design biz. It’s like they’re not bothering to hide it anymore. Their ideal female is one grossly underweight and disproportionate. Beauty is less than a size zero. Beauty is too rich and too thin and way beyond the reach of the average woman.
Karl Lagerfeld thinks no one wants to see curvy women. Filippa Hamilton, the model infamously Photoshopped so skinny that she looked like a bobblehead doll, was fired for being overweight, when she’s 5′10 and weighs 120 pounds. Sought-after shoe designer Christian Louboutin created shoes for Mattel’s Barbie and thought Barbie’s ankles were too fat and altered her already ridiculous proportions. And then there’s October’s issue of French Vogue,featuring Dutch model Lara Stone in blackface, which is a whole separate level of WTF that I could go on and on about.
Perhaps all these cutting edge designs are tailored to make it easier to show one’s ass?
Read the rest of this entry »
10.03.09
Once upon a time in India
I currently have two work-in-progress novels in play, and one of them uses a lot of storytelling to flesh out the themes for the main character. I’m trying to figure out if that’s a cop-out that takes away from what’s happening in the present/in “real time” or if it’s exactly what the story needs.
Because here’s the thing: I’m dealing with a lot of Hindu mythology, and it’s stuff that I know like the back of my hand, but my readers have no context for. And, similarly, I’ve built my main character as someone who needs major tutelage when it comes to her heritage. So, the way to educate both her and those who would potentially pick up this book is to have other characters tell her stories from our two great Sanskrit epics, the Ramayana and Mahabharata.
Oral tradition is a big part of how I know what I know. I read Amar Chitra Katha comic books as a kid and devoured C. Rajagopalachari’s translation of the Mahabharata, but it’s my mother’s stories that really steeped me in my culture. So, for me, it feels perfect natural to have stories be the avenue by which Tara (pronounced with a soft “th” sound) learns where she comes from.
Is that natural for readers, though? Is that interesting? Or is it more like, “Aw, man, I don’t care about the story of Savitri and Satyavan. Shut up.” Of course, that particular tale actually has some metaphorical resonance for my characters, as most of what I’m using does. But I guess I fear that the metaphors, the callbacks, are only going to make sense to me.
The obligatory disclaimer post.
There’s been an increase in traffic of late, so I just wanted to have the obligatory talk about the purpose of this blog.
This is my personal blog, where I review books, talk politics, and also dish what I watch on TV. Nothing I say here represents the views of my place of employment and my comments should not be attributed to SOW. It’s just Mala being Mala. Obviously I can’t stop people from quoting me left and right, and I am the same exact person who works there and then comes home to blog here, but bad necklace is hosted at WordPress for a reason: to be my own forum.
Thanks for reading!
09.29.09
Can I just boycott and blacklist LIFE?
Woody Allen, Pedro Almodovar, Wes Anderson, Darren Aronofsky, Alfonso Cuaron, Jonathan Demme, Terry Gilliam, Taylor Hackford, Isabelle Huppert, Neil Jordan, Wong Kar Waï, Milan Kundera, David Lynch, Sam Mendes, Mike Nichols, Salman Rushdie, Martin Scorsese, Steven Soderbergh, Tilda Swinton.
These are just some of the big names from film and literature who have thrown their support behind Roman Polanski, a man who admitted to engaging in sex acts with a 13-year-old girl and then fled the country to avoid facing the consequences.
Let me say this in simpler terms: These are people who support a rapist. And not just a rapist, but a man who raped a child, someone one year into her teens.
Why? Because he’s a brilliant director who was going to Switzerland to accept a Lifetime Achievement Award and arresting him there was mean and unfair. Or something. My brain exploded reading all the articles. I’m still cleaning pieces off my hardwood floor. After a while the rationalizations turned into the teacher from the Peanuts cartoons going “wah wah wah wah.”
Polanski’s name, his celebrated catalog of films, has given him more notoriety than millions of molesters and rapists the world over whose crimes have long been forgotten. No one cares about the statute of limitations for their acts, is pursuing them or demanding their extradition, because they are non entities. By the same token, Polanski’s name gives him an absurd protection, this legion of voices crying out in his defense, signing their names to a petition to see him freed. People whose names have weight, saying that something that happened 32 years ago doesn’t matter now, that it’s his accomplishments in films we should remember and not one mistake. That, too, is something your average child molester or rapist doesn’t have either, right?
I’m honestly at a loss as to what to say. I look at those names above and I’m shaken. Almodovar, Cuaron, Gilliam, Scorsese, Soderbergh…these are people whose work I respect, and they are seeking mercy for a man who committed an ultimate act of disrespect. How do I reconcile that? How do I pick up one of their films or their books knowing that they think the rape of a 13-year-old is something Polanski shouldn’t face the music for? Aren’t some of these people parents or siblings? Would they sign a petition asking to absolve a man who fed their daughter booze and drugs and had sex with her?
Roman Polanski is a French citizen, a renown and international artist now facing extradition. This extradition, if it takes place, will be heavy in consequences and will take away his freedom.
That’s what the petition says. Extradition will take away his freedom. Do you know what an act of sexual violence takes away from the victim? Dignity. Self-respect. Confidence. Peace of mind. Privacy. The feeling that you deserve to be loved. A sense of happiness. A sense of the future. And countless other things that are are heavy in consequences.
I don’t care if it’s been thirty-two years. I don’t care that the victim herself has spoken out in Polanski’s defense. An act of rape, an act of molestation, should never be waved away as something less important than directing Rosemary’s Baby. And extradition shouldn’t be made out to be a bigger offense.
I’ve never been so ashamed to be an avid fan of film and literature.
