Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Mad Max

My husband and I have this obsessive love for film. An average week for us finds us at our local theater seeing some film that either one or both of us voted for and we spend hours after analyzing each aspect of the visual story. That is just us. At our core the foundation of our relationship with cinema: the experience, the smells, the comfortable familiar.

On the particular Sunday which we saw Mad Max Fury Road I was battling my depression a bit. Nothing pulled me out of my peculiar funk that I try to shake off but it follows me step by step. I actually had gone to bed incredibly early because I simply could not think. I could not escape the melancholy. When into the bedroom burst J with all this energy saying we had a dinner appointment at Canal Bistro in Broad Ripple Village or we would go to see Mad Max. I had no desire to see Mad Max exactly other than my love of cinema…and Tom Hardy {1}. In the end a coin was flipped and we ate dinner at a local place called Yats who has a location near a Michaels, where I ran into quickly to purchase a few bundles of yarn because I love to knit then around the corner (literally) to see the film.

I would like to admit right now hand to Bible I have never seen any of the original Mad Max films. I really only heard of this current one because I love everything about ZoĆ« Kravitz. My first thought was “This film has zero plot…” which continued as “This entire film is like a handful of very long action sequences…” to “This film has nothing to do with Mad Max…” to “Oh that’s supposed to be a plot…” all mixed with heart pumping drumming and electric guitar. When asked what I thought of the film i stated “Provocative cinematography and erotic pacing.” That’s all I could really say. I had no clue this was a “FEMINIST” film.

After the film let out I saw my Instagram was blowing up. Prior to the film I had uploaded a photo with the comments saying I was seeing Mad Max for J and in marriage we make compromises and at least Tom Hardy is in it…so you know I could drool over him for a while. I received all this questions on IG and text inquiring to how feminist it was or whatever. I was so pissed over the lack of a real plot I didn’t notice it. It was a horrible place filled with women being milked like cows and younger women being locked away and raped. I just saw people behaving like people.

Flash forward a week and I am at an instant with friends drinking when my pal Julia asks me about Mad Max. I told her about it and how if there was a feminist story it was so blended it as to have not stood out. She said that is probably actually very good since it shows everyone equally and that is when it hit me. Mad Max Fury Road does not make any grande statements or manifestos. What is does is show feminism at its definitive level. It is simply feminism by definition. Equality. Girls, women, men, boys, everyone is shown as a person. Their was nothing proactive to J or myself about the women and Max…they were just using each other to reach a common purpose.

Then of course all the manist, who by the way have not seen said film, are hating on it and to them I say a jolly FUCK OFF!!!! From what my husband says Max is always a side character and each film outside of the original feature strong women in dominate roles. I think today we hear from them more due to the internet and yay democracy gives everyone for better or worse a voice.

Now to the big question: Should you see Mad Max Fury Road. Sure, why not? Will it be the best film you’ve ever seen? No. But it is visually striking if nothing else. For all the brilliance and disgust this film is sure to stir within you it is an interesting film…especially if you have never seen the originals. I had not so the style was completely new to me. I actually am thinking of seeing it again because the cinematography was such that I feel it may have distracted me. And yet it is beautiful on the screen. This film really pushes and uses film for its full purpose…outside of a plot that is. It is what I call action without plot. The plot is so fine it is like taking a hike in the woods in the summer and walking into a spiders web. You would not have ever seen the web and your like where did that come from? That is the plot it is so sheer and fine that you stumble upon it and think that’s it? What?



1: I don’t care if I am taller than Tom he is fucking HOT! 

Friday, May 1, 2015

So…who are you?

My legal name is Tyne Sherice Swedish and I was born December 3, 1986 in Indianapolis, Indianapolis, United States of America. My parents names are Giselle Motley and Michael Swedish. I have three older siblings Danielle, Corey and Erica. I have eight nephews and one niece. Growing up I was the only child at family gatherings, then I was the only tween/teen sandwiched between adults and children….in a weird way I still am.

I was constantly bullied growing up due to my skin color and my families money, which wasn’t like old New England families…my family simply worked really hard and young Tyne reaped the benefits. Don’t worry a post later on will explain who I try to admit my privilege. Growing up I was very selective about how I appeared and who I was accepted by. I very much clung to fashion then (in junior high especially) as an outlet. I had zero true friends and a few associates. For the most part I remember everyone hating me and yet not completely excluding me. Shunned and yet in the “it” group of girls in our grade/junior high school.

High school I was still very different. Never been on a date. Never found any guys who after talking to for extended periods of time I did not find revolting. I had never been on a date and much like in junior high I was the odd one in the okay kids grouping. Though to be honest my school was so large I didn’t worry about completely blending in (or which my attitude and different way of thinking was of no help) and nor being Ms. Popular (going to school with kids who's families had real money saw to that…also I was not interested in fucking just anybody). My life was spent alone. I read and slept a great deal of time and the remainder was spent questioning everyone around me: teachers, adults, peers, nephews, etc… I was never satisfied. I had to know the reason behind the words people spoke. I had to know the truth. Often what I have found is that people are not interested in the truth. They prefer the lie of face value and my seeking value from real understanding was invalid. I had failed some basic human test that normal humans understood and that I failed miserably.

College was not as grande as I had imagined. I worked multiple jobs that varied by semester and was the film chair then the vice president of the Student Activities Programing Board. I made superficial friendships because if life had taught me anything it was that I was never meant to have lifelong friends (I have been cured of this and that comes later). I made okay grades and remained at home for far too long. The only actually great thing that happened in my late teens/early twenties was I fell in love with Jason C. Druley (now Dubois). Jason and I met at my first job ever. I was eighteen and a freshman in college and had just broken up with a violet and abusive boyfriend (he and I had dated the last semester of high school. He was a funny and great guy but then his mother was sick out of no where and she died during our senior spring break. He was a different guy after that. I hope he has found peace). Jason and I spent every shift after work together and through many difficulties and one breakup we are still us…nine years later.

After college my insomnia hit hard without college to ensure I was constantly exhausted. I was also unemployed for like the first time ever—Well in four years. After months of depression and exhaustion I found employment at a yoga studio I once frequented with my eldest sister. I was horrible but I met plenty of amazing people, some of which I am still friends with to this day. The great things to come out of this job (aside from the friends—obviously) was this adult I had bloomed into. This professional lady who could handle her own while working hard and efficient (two things i was in college). I would like to give credit to plenty of bogus ideologies and ideals but what really made me grow up in the workforce was the fact that I had bills to pay. This was no longer college where semester to semester I had a different job. My job had to aide Jason in providing, which my yoga job did very little of but in those four years I grew. I also had a fling with graduate school and lets just say I love academia but she doesn’t love me back. She broke my heart but I’ll never be able to forget her.

So that leaves now (to think a generalized and big picture view of my life basically fits onto one page. I guess I am only twenty-eight years old so I will take that as it is) and write now I am seated at my dining room table because my office needs work done. I am looking at running leggings I need to exchange at Target that I would have realized pre-run didn’t fit had my husband slowed his role and given me time to try them on. I am being haunted by Sophia Amoruso as she stares me down from her #GIRLBOSS book cover as I finish off a glass of red wine (not expensive because I am broke) and drinking water because I am roughly two liters behind where I should have consumed today. Oh and I am about to stand up and go into my kitchen to prepare my coffee (yes I had one earlier but due to some events it went cold before I could finish and had to drain the horrid cold coffee).

But wait theres more!

Never forget how this started a post ago. The internal depression of my mind plaguing me with questions remains constant. Am I black enough? Am I feminist enough? These are legitimate questions. I went natural but I straighten my hair. I don’t go around pontificating on the african diaspora. I wear makeup and enjoy a few fashion blogs. I am a dichotomy of traditional women clothing and menswear. I refuse to racially vilify people and have to internally smack myself for making board generalizations. I sometimes think I should be parading in four inch heels and starving myself to be a proper model size. Then I look at the beautiful Tara Lynn, Robyn Lawley, Ashley Graham, and Marquita Pring and realize I am beautiful just how I am.

But through all my mental ramblings I need to dissect my questions individually to gain proper understanding so I am not misunderstood as a form of pathos and the telos of my thoughts could be misconstrued into an abstract instead of a manifesto. So, upward and onward. 
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