Don't mock the Mockingjay (Spoilers, Ahoy!)

I have sent a little bit of my thoughts on Mockingjay to a few folks, but thought I would put it out here as well.  If you are one of the lucky hoards to whom I emailed recently, this will be a snoozefest.    Sorry 'about that.

For me, Collins completely and utterly delivered on Mockingjay.  I had high hopes for the ending and she did not disappoint.  In fact, I believe that Collins has elevated herself to premier author and I will be following anything else she writes here on out.  I am sold on her.  Done.

I thought it was appropriate that she ended up in District 12 and that overall,  the ending was brilliant.  It made sense with keeping Kat in character and was written in a tone that was slightly melancholy and with that usual reservation about her that ultimately carried throughout her life.  A person who has experienced such extreme loss at the hands of her own decisions should realistically not get a pitch-perfect ending because that would be trite and ultimately, undersell her experiences.   She bore full responsibility for being the Mockingjay - with all of the loss and triumph that it entailed. But mostly, the loss. 

Also, I was particularly touched with how Kat referred to her own children as "boy" and "girl".  It seemed that even in motherhood, she held her emotions in check for fear of being hurt, too invested.  Growing up in the era of Hunger Games shaped (or rather, squashed?) her maternal side and that did not change, even after peace was finally achieved and even after Peeta convinced her to have children.   It could also be argued that with losing Prim, Kat was never willing to invest of herself that much again in a child.  And who could blame her?

Ah, Peeta.....  Yes, I was on Team Peeta and yes, I loved that she ended up with him - it just made more sense to me.  He was the only person in her life who could bring her any measure of peace, I think (remember all of the rooftop scenes and "Peeta comforting her at night scenes" in Catching Fire?  They were the few moments in the entire trilogy where Katness seemed to be anything resembling "happy".)  Yes, happiness would be overstating it, but the description of "peace" fits for what Peeta could do for her. I did have more fondness with Gale this time around, but ultimately, I think he and Katniss were too much alike, both warriors both at war with their own hard edges.  She was never fully content with herself, with anything, when she was with Gale.  Even all of their times together in the woods were fraught with the background tension of them being caught or with the worry of the fence being turned on.  So, Peeta was the better fit for her.

I am not even sure where to begin with all of the ethical/moral ramifications of this series - a high school English teacher could have a field day with this.  I did appreciate Collins' portrayal of the Kat's inner dialogue and turmoil when it came to her decisions.

This series was emotionally brutal, yes brutal.  But also brilliant.  I am keeping this series and not selling it, I want my children to discover it someday as they thumb through all the other books I have kept for them.

Young Adult Lit Thunderdome: The Hunger Games vs. Twilight

Note: There are absolutely NO spoilers about Mockingjay in this post.  If you want to discuss Mockingjay in any shape or form in the comments, please put SPOILER in large! gargantuan! letters and leave some leading blank space for good measure. Let's not ruin it for folks, okay?

I have seen various conversations and comments going on about the Hunger Games series vs. The Twilight series.  Which I find laughable, quite frankly.

Seriously?  The Hunger Games series vs the Twilight Series?

As I have commented on another site, there is no comparison. Well, not unless you are the sort to also examine the differences between the Sweet Valley High series and anything that Judy Blume has ever written. Francine Pascal and Judy Blume are both authors who wrote books that made you want to read, but Blume actually wrote things that made you want to think . Pascal just made you reach for your Bonnie Bell lip gloss and mourn being a teenager.  Ah, but I kid Jessica and Elizabeth, those wacky identical twins.

But.  Still.

The Hunger Games series is like Judy Blume - you will read, you will read again and you will think. Twilight was fun, oh sure. But there was not much substance going on there.

The Hunger Games?  Atwood-esque, speculative fiction set in the future that is action-packed with a delicious Love Triangle?  I am so there.   But!  Within a seemingly simple series lay some earnest questions.  How far would you go to protect the ones you love? Is it better to be loyal to a cause, or to one's self first?  If caught in a war zone, is it better to just run away to safety or to stay and fight the enemy?  If you stay, is it better to turn the other cheek?  Or to live by the old rule "An Eye for an Eye"? 

This is not to discredit Twilight for what it truly is: a fun romp through some typical teenaged angst, save for the special "sparkles".  And the vampires.  And the wolfpack with their six packs.  Okay, okay, perhaps Twilight was a little more unique than Sweet Valley High, after all.  I will grant all the Twi-Hards that much.

As a reader? I am fine with both series - both were entertaining, albeit offering different merits and quality of writing (Meyer is simply not qualified to hold Collins' inkwell.  Ahem.)

As a mother? It gets trickier.  I am totally down with difficult questions and serious material.  My own parents did not monitor my reading material and while I probably should not have been reading Sidney Sheldon at the age of 12 or for that matter, Gone With the Wind at the age of 11, I am still grateful they let me read whatever I wanted.  And I plan (or hope?) to do that with my own kids.

However, as a mother, I did have one major issue with the Twilight series - the violent, consensual sex in Breaking Dawn when Bella was still human.  Bella's insistence that it was okay, despite the fact that Edward was distraught with himself, really, really disturbed me.  I firmly believe it is incredibly dangerous to romanticize such a situation for impressionable young teenagers and I was so furious at those scenes that I put the book down and did not pick it back up for another 6 months.  I have to wonder how many mothers out there do not even know that their daughters read such scenes -- such graphic scenes that really should be discussed. Can I repeat?

Edward was contrite over the violence of sex and Bella still insisted it was okay.

Seriously folks, that is some extremely malignant thinking and you will have difficulty convincing me that violent sex ever belongs in a series meant for teenagers.  Ever.

Will I let my kids read Twilight if they want?  Yes.  Absolutely. 

And then, I will gently nudge them towards The Hunger Games.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming of Perfect Parenting.

The last few weeks have not all been screeching and rending of garments.  There have been some sweet spots.

For example, we went to the Kansas City Zoo to meet Nikita, the new polar bear. Nikita seems aware of the fact that he is an official spokesbear for global warming and therefore, must be on his very best behavior.  He did not disappoint.  I believe that bear could charm the panties off a nun.

Nikita the Polar Bear at the Kansas City Zoo! from Kelli Oliver George on Vimeo.

We made construction paper monsters, then waited anxiously for Daddy to arrive. 
We hoped he would be too frightened to enter The House of Teeth and Tentacles.

We ate some late season cherries wearing our Official Cherry Stain Resistant Dress. The only piece of clothing she is now allowed to wear while eating cherries.  Ahem.

On Saturday, we went to the Lawrence Busker Fest!  We watched the guy from The Flying Debris Show do an incredible job - not only was he hilarious, but he was a damned fine juggler.

Arun fought for the honor of a damsel in distress with his balloon sword unsheathed.

We watched the Tribal Fusion Belly Dancing Troupe.
Pssst!  Look closely. 
Yes, that is what you think it is decorating her head.

We admired their tricked-out tip jars.

Even Anjali got into the mood.

 I took advantage of the lighting to get a snap of my son's gorgeous, jewel-tone eyes.

We watched a bluegrass band and admired someone's unique mode of transportation - a hand-welded contraption using two different bikes and a shopping cart. 

Damn, y'all.  I simply adore Lawrence, Kansas, a bright spot of Blue in a bloody state full of Red. 
Let it never become urbane or God forbid, normal.

Screaming in tongues.

This site is my Happy Place, the spot where I throw glittered confetti as I squee over my kids and this sweet life I have happened upon.  However, in this quest of keeping it light, I feel like such a fraud.  In reality, I am quite impatient and quick to anger - anyone who hangs out with me in Real Life on a consistent basis knows this.  Yes, I do think there is value in keeping things light around here on Rancid Raves - I want to remember the good stuff, not the fact that I often nag my kids and sometimes, sometimes, unleash my inner posessed soul that Screams in Tongues (or speaks in the Voice of Zuul, as my friend Jenny calls it)

Last week was one of Those Weeks.  Every morning, I would wake up and declare a Fresh Start, determined to keep my impatience and crabbiness on high alert.  By afternoon, I would fail.  Miserably.

How do the kids react?  Well, it depends.  If they have actually done something wrong (say, for purposes of illustration, they have marked every door in our house with a bright! red! X! as if it were Passover (my special punishment for taking a shower?)), then the kids get their act together quickly.  But the worst is when they have not really done anything wrong and I am just irritated.  When I scream, they look away and ignore me because they know I am just plain crazy and that ignoring me is the most efficient escape route.  As if to say, "Lady, you are insane and we know better than to engage."

I know that venting my anger is not healthy and actually serves little purpose.   I want to be one of those perfect moms I keep reading about - the ones who do not get irritated when her kids are just being kids.  The ones who have it all figured out.  The ones with endless stores of composure.  Dammit, I want all of the answers, too.

Anjali and Arun deserve it.

Do not fret, Team Chaos.  Someday, mama will have it all figured out.

Crossing lines as I am drawing them.

The other day, Amy posted a hilarious bit about Pillow Pets ( It's a pillow! It's a pet! It's a Pillow Pet!  Best advertising earworm EVER.)

In her post, Amy observes:

My kids have never been exposed to many commercials. Though only in the strictest sense of the word: I am fully aware that NickJr. advertises the shit out of other NickJr. shows and products under the guise of: 

"LET'S GET UP AND MOVE WITH THE FRESH BEAT BAND, EVERY WEEKDAY AT 4, YAY EXERCISE!" 

"LET'S GO BEHIND THE SCENES AT THE THEATER FOR A LOOK AT A CARTOON-TIE-IN LIVE SHOW THAT WILL COST YOU $375 AND YOUR WILL TO LIVE, YAY CULTURE!" 

"LET'S LEARN TO SAY IT TWO WAYS WITH DORA AND PROMOTE SPANISH LANGUAGE LITERACY, YAY COMING ANCHOR TERROR BABY APOCALYPSE!!"

Apparently, someone reading Amy's post missed the Satire and Parody Boat and instead, hopped on the Literal and Sensitive Yacht when they commented that they were miffed about the Anchor Baby reference.  Of course, me being me, I hopped on that chain gang and commented:

Dude, we have Anchor Babies and we LOVE our Anchor Babies. (They are particularly delicious when deep-fried). You should really think about getting your own Anchor Baby and quit mocking mine, Amy.

That said, my anchor babies have been denied pillow pets. I fear they will seek revenge by reporting Manoj's ass to the INS (or worse, Ari-FUCKING-zona), but we try to keep a close eye on them and limit their Internet access and phone usage. Anchor babies are a sneaky lot. Still, they are TASTY.

And then I went about my business.

But after awhile, I realized that perhaps, just maybe, my comment was also over the line and offensive.  It is difficult for me to gauge these things because Manoj, my own little Guest Pass into the Immigrant World, appreciates my twisted sense of humor and lets me push buttons - huge, gargantuan, RED buttons.  Therefore, while Bill O'Reilly and the rest of the Death Eaters at Faux News were decrying the salacious practice of birthin' babies on American soil to secure status here, Manoj and I were busy mocking such a stupid, ignorant proposition.

Quite simply, a baby does not grant you security in this country.  Ever.  And until Manoj is an American citizen, I will not rest easy with his so-called "permanent" resident status.  Period.  So yes, the concept of Anchor Babies is so very laughable - a joke with a myriad of simply irresistible punchlines.   And yes, to be honest, Manoj and I are the sort of couple who follow current events in lieu of religion and when fun needs to be poked at something, we are more than happy to Poke, Poke, Poke ourselves into giggles (remember the George Allen Macaca Debacle?  We had much fun with that one.) 

But I am my father's daughter - he taught me to make fun of everyone, including myself.  However, at times, I do take it too far and Manoj will not hesitate to call my pale posterior on the carpet over it.  For example, when he told me it was absolutely rude to tell people that my Catholic Indian husband was "Not Feather, Not Dot".  Apparently, it is acceptable to mock-complain that he does not do the Asian Head Bob or wear a loongi or babble in a sing-song, Apu-worthy accent.  It is also okay for us to giggle when it is clear that "Gary", our recent customer service rep at AT&T was talking to us from the sweltering depths of Bangalore.  And realistically, we will watch the new TV show Outsourced and at least give it a chance to tickle our wicked funny bones.  But that one bit?  The Not Feather, Not Dot bit was over the line and I must concede that my Guest Pass has restrictions, after all.

Still, I stubbornly maintain that deep-fried Anchor Babies are magically delicious.