Am no longer updating this.

For the stalkers, please stalk this.

Telling 'em like it is.

For everyone who's immensely concerned with feminism and women empowerment, Emily's your girl. Whoever you are Emily, you have my admiration and respect. You go girl!

Offside...

Football is an extremist's game, hinged on pure, unadulterated passion for ninety solid minutes. Or so a friend muses, and I find myself agreeing with her view without the slightest hint of reluctance. I understand extreme behaviour in football; the classic dichotomy of good and bad that surrounds the club we support, and everyone else - they are by default the enemy.

If you lurk, or actively participate in football forums, you'll begin to see the trend of how sensitive people can be with the club they support. How quick they are to question someone's loyalty, and how equally speedy they are to brand someone a gloryhunter in the middle of online altercations make a fascinating study. Perhaps someone should do a new study on the psychology of a sports fan - if I weren't struggling with the overwhelming presence of Economics in my life, I might have done the relevant module offered in my university - Sports Psychology - and would've made an attempt to elaborate said demeanour within 2000 words.

Alas, I'm not.

But I'll tell you one thing; it annoys me gravely when someone tries to direct my opinion over football matters. When they tell me, "Oh god S, you can't like him! He's from so and so club!" - granted unnamed club is the biggest, most competitive rival of the club I support. Look, there's a difference between admiring a player/coach for his abilities and jumping ships to go and support his club when yours undergo a tough time.

Loyalty isn't a novelty. Not in a game like football. I know I'll never stop feeling that sense of passion, and blind attachment I feel with Real Madrid - even if they are relegated to the Segunda division. It's true that from time to time they frustrate with their lackluster performances. There have been occasions where I've wanted to do nothing short of smashing Kaká and Cristiano Ronaldo's heads to a concrete slab for being overpaid, underperforming douchebags. But at the end of the day - this is Real Madrid. With their Di Stéfanos, and Puskáses, to their Butragueños and Hierros, to the Raúl's and Morientes', they are what they are. They win some, they lose some; that is just how football plays itself out.

I GET THAT.

My biggest consternation is when friends tell me flat out that I'm not allowed to express admiration for what Pep Guardiola has done with Barca. I cannot stress sufficiently my dislike for Barcelona. I'd love to see them relegated, or caught in the middle of a Calciopoli v2.0, Spain; I'd love to sit back and smirk when Joan Laporta loses his fortunes, and is forced to sell Lionel Mess etc etc. I do. Ask any other fan who understands the importance behind the Clasico, they'll tell their exact same sentiments.

But it is ridiculously childish to take away the admiration from a man whose achievements speak for themselves - even in this hard line dichotomous dimension of football . He might have won it at Real Madrid's expense, but it isn't an easy feat for a coach, with no proper first team experience, to step into the shoes of the Barcelona boss and win six trophies in his first season. That is greatness. Regardless of the colour of your club, that needs to be recognized and applauded.

If you think otherwise, you are a shallow-minded moron.

Faux feminism (a.k.a tinhat behavior)

Having commenced my Sunday morning with a healthy doze of cartoons (on Nickelodeon; yes, I see the absurdity in the picture. I'm beyond my teenage years and my knowledge of contemporary Disney, Nickelodeon and to some extent Cartoon Network is probably more diverse, more reliable than yours), I went on to catch up with the happenings around the internet.

Then, I came across Neil Gaiman's (whom I religiously follow on Twitter) new journal post which led to the preceding post where he talks about his unwell cat as well as some minute kerfuffle from the feminists of the internets. (a.k.a self appointed internet police propagating gender equality [read: female superiority] since the beginning of time)

It sparked off with this post where he explains to a fan about the rules of entitlement regarding George R.R. Martin. Basically the crux of his lengthy explanation is that George R.R. Martin is not your bitch.

Of course you can imagine this being the internet, it sent more than a few knickers into a nasty twist.

But let us be honest: The use of "bitch" here is not merely a misogynist slur. To be someone's "bitch" is to be sexually subservient to hir, and the phrase is typically associated with nonconsensual sexual subservience, i.e. rape. (Specifically, it originates with prison rape.)

Source of LAWL

I'm not suggesting that rape isn't wrong - it is. And those who've suffered it, or who have suffered any form of physical abuse, misogynistic or otherwise, have my deepest sympathy. I will never defend rape. Or degrading a woman's dignity - physically or otherwise. So let me just set it straight, in bold fonts, before anyone else gets their panties in a twist. To me, rape is wrong. Degrading a woman's dignity is wrong. Holding chauvanistic and misogynist ideals in this modern era is a sign of sheer uncalculated stupidity.

BUT.

I fail to see what is so misogynistic or degrading about the phrase I am not your bitch. Yes, I agree, that a small portion of the reference can lead to the association with non-con sexual subservience and rape, but then we must ban the use of the word bitch entirely.

I find it to be gross double standards that when a woman says she isn't someone's bitch everyone applauds her liberalism; for standing up for herself. We view it as iconic, a testament to the progress of the modern woman in this generation. However, the second a man is found to have used the same phrase (albeit a POV switch), in a purely non-sexual context, he becomes a misogynist? That it insinuates making a travesty out of the seriousness of rape? DUDE SERIOUSLY?

The way our language has evolved today you can hear most English speaking twelve year olds with the word bitch and sometimes more insulting phrases readily available at the tip of their tongue. So are we to say they are potential misogynists we must take steps to rectify and set straight? That they are making a mockery out of the rape culture?

I use the word bitch very liberally; as does everyone else I know. After a bad day at school, I might come to complain that my teacher, who did nothing short of grinding my nose to the grindstone, is a bitch. Am I implying that she is sexually subservient to me? (The image is frightfully disturbing) Or does that make me a misogynist (though it might be physically impossible to reduce me to a careless, condescending misogynist - I'd require boobjobs. Not the kind you see most women getting for themselves.) My best friend and I freely address each other as bitches. I can tell her at a restaurant in the middle of our meal that, "Dude you are such a bitch!!!" or I can start a Skype conversation with "Hey bitch! What's going on?" I've made very casual posts on forums and journals where I've called so and so (most famous people) a bitch for doing something that wasn't to my liking. I know I'm not entitled to how they carry themselves in public, but if I disagree with something they've done, I'll tell how I see it. No one, not even on the internet has accused me of being insensitive to women with my remarks - because I'm a woman and by default spared any and all misogynistic accusations?

Perhaps if bitch sends everyone's knickers in a twist, we need an entirely new nomenclature that puts forward the same set of intentions and feelings, but that won't drive every other person to cry Misogyny or Chauvanism at their utterance.

I read Neil Gaiman's post (see link above) and from what I understood of it, a misogynist slur did not even cross his mind when he was explaining about fan entitlement to a fan who had written in. (By the way, you should read it: the way he breaks the traditional delusion that writers OWE us is frighteningly awesome) The comments at Shakesville makes me wonder if people actually know the difference between genuine feminist concerns and stirring up pointless shit in the name of feminism. It no longer remains a wonder that feminists are branded with a big LAWL like Hester Pyne on their foreheads.

Having said that, here a few things I feel I need to reiterate. Rape is intrinsically bad, and rapists should face the toughest punishment the law can impose on them. To rid a woman (or sometimes a man) of his dignity by forcing her/him into sexual acts, violating their personal space is wrong. Being a chauvinistic pig towards women is wrong too. Using the word bitch in a purely non-misogynist way however is NOT WRONG. Perhaps Neil Gaiman should've exercised a better choice of word; given his popularity, and given the existence of people whose sole purpose in life is to stretch a seemingly harmless comment into ground breaking proportions. Perhaps he should've just stuck to George R. R. Martin is not working for you. throughout the entry.

But my respect for Neil Gaiman still holds (unless he really is a misogynist, which I'm sure he isn't) and I find myself snickering at the general out of proportion perception of his remark.

I have more things to say about rape culture and misogyny in the 21st century; but I'll save that for the next post which, hopefully, shall be composed in a calmer state of mind.

The not-so-private review of Pippa Lee

My friend and I watched The Private Lives of Pippa Lee today, not by choice but out of compulsion to watch something. It is quite astounding, when you think about it, to believe that the choices on display were so criminally bad. I hate the post-blockbuster season lull because even when one wills herself to dress up, take the train and go to the cinema they are presented with ridiculously limited choices.



Anyway, The Private Lives of Pippa Lee (based on a screenplay by the same name), referred to only as Pippa Lee from henceforth, was an interesting experience. First of all, the seats justified the $10 a piece tickets we bought. The film; not so satisfying but there were some interesting bits that managed to hold onto my attention for the duration.

The film revolves around the lead female cast, named, pointedly obvious, Pippa Lee (Robin Wright Penn). Through a series of flashbacks, the audience is privy to Pippa’s past, from the time of her birth to the moment she met Herb Lee (Alan Arkin), her current husband and a successful publisher; who happens to be 30 years senior.

The couple have two kids; an adventurous daughter who is a photo journalist, chronicling events unfolding in Baghdad. The son is studying to be a lawyer at the time he is introduced to the audience. After Herb suffers two consecutive heart attacks, the family is forced to move from their upscale Manhattan lifestyle into the quaint droll of a retired life in Connecticut.

The film opens with writer Sam Shapiro (Mike Binder) toasting to Herb’s success and reminiscing their professional relationship over the years. Herb appears less than enthusiastic about being reminded of his ailing health and forced retirement. Sandra Dulles (Winona Ryder) is then introduced as Sam’s partner. The opening scene is very nicely (and deceivingly) set up to the main content of the story, like a tasty but not filling appetizer served before entrée.

Pippa’s adjustment into the retired community is less than satisfactory – being the youngest housewife there, she develops a sleeping disorder. She sleepwalks and upon finding out about her condition by recording her night-time activities, she appears devastated. Whereas Herb finds re-adjustment equally hard, but in his own reserved and charismatic way.

It starts with his desire to want an office from where he can delegate his company, whose young workforce he refers to at one point of time as “babies”. We find out that Pippa’s relationship with her daughter Grace (Zoe Kazan) is less than satisfactory with Grace bluntly ignoring her presence at a family dining night in a posh restaurant.

The focus again shifts back into Pippa’s past; zooming in on the disintegration of her mother who suffered from bipolar disorder. Her condition was exacerbated by the constant use of amphetamines. The prolonged absence of Pippa’s father on the screen helps audiences understand Pippa’s reactions and responses better. Frustrated at her inability to help her mother, she seeks refuge at her paternal aunt Trish’s place in NYC. There she finds out her aunt is a lesbian and is introduced to her roommate Kit (Julianne Moore).

There is a touching confrontation/conflation between Pippa’s mother Suky (Maria Bello) and Pippa at Trish’s apartment but Pippa insists on staying at NYC. Kit’s influence on Pippa leads to a downward spiral in her lifestyle. Trish catches Pippa participating in one of Kit’s BDSM themed photoshoots and their relation ends. Pippa ends up on the street, and she carapaces her vulnerability with a anti social lifestyle by taking up smoking, alcohol, drug abuse and promiscuous sex.

Back into the present, Chris (Keanu Reeves) is introduced as the emotionally troubled son of their neighbour’s, who has left his wife and has been sleeping in his car for weeks. The on screen chemistry between Pippa and Chris is instantaneous. And when we are certain that there will be more than subtle looks and awkward stares, perpetuated by Pippa’s sleepwalking (where she ends up at the store Chris works at), we are once again catapulted back to the past where Pippa met Herb.

There is a stunning scene delivered by Monica Bellucci who played Gigi Lee, Herb's wife, also prominently younger than him. To keep it brief, Herb became a shining light in Pippa's incredibly dark world. Their love is unusual, defying stereotypical barriers but in a subtle way it is also very cathartic. And it stands true to the notion that love doesn't distinguish between the old and the young, the rich and the poor and every other love-related clichés ever uttered.

Just when the skeptical souls wondered if there'd ever be a conflict in the film, we along with Pippa discover what Herb's been doing in his office. Shacking it up with Sandra, who is even younger than Pippa. Jumping from a trophy wife to a trophy mistress, but somehow our sympathies remain with Herb when he admits he doesn't want to grow old and indulging in frivolity conceals this inconvenient truth from his mind.

When Pippa decides to leave Herb, he gets another heart attack and becomes brain dead. Grace and Pippa reconcile. Chris and Pippa have sex in Chris's car. The Lee family pulls the plug on Herb and Pippa takes off with Chris on a spontaneous roadtrip, leaving it upto Grace and Ben (her kids) to arrange their father's funeral.

My gripe with the film is that the ending felt a bit rushed up - it could've ended better, more dramatically but it sort of whimpered off the screen. However I like the issue of fidelity, and the constant human need to be reassured, to be loved, the overwhelming fear of growing old, of dying, of being alone are addressed well in this film. The moral quandary, when cheating on your spouse, or cheating with the spouse of your good friend, wasn't developed well. I mean, come on, if you are going to sleep with your best friend's husband or wife, you are bound to have some kind of second thoughts. Maybe guilt trips? Though I admit Sandra's guilt was fantastically portrayed by Winona in the last hospital scene - it was the highlight of the film for me at least.

My problem with Herb is his cavalier attitude towards women - he treats them like trophies. And there is a scene in the film where an animated 2-D form of Pippa ran the length of a race track and handed a baton to a cartoon form of Sandra who continued to run ahead. This is a nice dig at this prevailing attitude in many men in society who see women as prizes; attractive when shiny, dull and boring when the polish wears off.

Edit: Oh and I forgot to add, THEY ARE ALL NEUROTIC. ALL OF THEM. LIKE A DAMAGED AND NEUROTIC CLUSTERFUCK.

Overall, I wouldn't watch it twice. Some parts were just painful to sit through. And the end felt a bit unsatisfactory. However, if you have a few bucks to spare and plenty of time on hand, do watch it. It'll be an interesting experience.

Long entry is long.