I am not Plastic Fob-tastic

Posted in Opinion by

If I had to choose one term that I hate with a fiery passion to abolish, it would be “plastic fob”. Never heard of it? Let me explain.

100% genuine. 0% plastic.

100% genuine. 0% plastic.

To those of you who don’t know me, my cultural background is Maori, Samoan and a dash of Irish in there somewhere. I was born in Australia so I identify myself as being Australian but will never hide my cultural background. I am proud of my pacific roots and embrace my culture – maybe not to its full extent, but I still love and acknowledge where my ancestors have come from.

As I have had a “traditional” Australian upbringing in the beautiful country town of Bathurst, I’m not as cultured as someone who was born and raised in the islands; I don’t know all of the cultural norms and I don’t speak neither fluent Maori or Samoan (not for lack of trying, I have pestered my parents to teach me on numerous occasions). In fact, I speak better Portuguese than I do either of those languages.

Does that make me any less Samoan or Maori than another child of the pacific? No, it doesn’t. As people who are normally stereotyped as easy-going and friendly, why are some Polynesians so bitter towards each other?

This is where “plastic fob” comes in. A plastic fob is, basically, someone who has a cultural background from the Pacific Islands yet doesn’t act or behave like a “normal” Polynesian would. That is what pisses me off. I get this term branded on me by so many of my own people who don’t even take the time to actually get to know me. My best friend, who had a similar upbringing as me and who is half Samoan and half Italian, has the same issue as me; we went through a lot of the exclusions just because we were “plastic”. I know some of my siblings have to deal with this kind of, dare I say, bullshit, as well.

Let me put this on the record: I am not plastic. I am not pretending to be anyone but me. I am who I am. Just because I am not musically gifted in singing or playing acoustic guitar does not make me any less Polynesian than it does the guys from Nesian Mystik. Just because I am not working in some form of security does not make me any less Polynesian than my big brave cousin who does. I haven’t been to neither of the homelands (New Zealand or Samoa just FYI), but you try and put me on a plane and you will see how difficult of a task that is (see attached).

I get judged a lot just because I am a lot different to the “stereotypical” Polynesian man and have been called a “plastic fob” many times in my life and sometimes worse. It’s ridiculous.

Please, my fellow Polynesians, whether you be Samoan, Tongan, Fijian, Niuean or Maori, we need to learn to stick together and not judge one another just because we’ve had a different childhood. One of the things I most enjoy about our culture is how I can bump into someone whom I’ve never met before and still say hello or give a polite nod just because we have that same cultural similarity. We are some of the most beautiful people on the planet so let’s not change that and let’s please abolish the term “plastic fob.” It tells a better story about the insulter than the insultee.

My name is Nikki. I am Maori. I am Samoan. I am Irish. I am a journalist. I am a rugby league enthusiast. I am video gamer. I am a horror movie lover. I am a country head. I am a pole dancing student. I am my own person. I am not plastic.

– by The Black Widow

Review: What Nora Knew

Posted in Books, Entertainment by

I had no intentions on reading and writing a review on a Chick Lit novel. This is not necessarily because I dislike the genre in particular, but because most of them tend to be too predictable, stereotypical, idealistic, unrealistically perfect etc so I tend to avoid them – yes, I’m one of those annoyingly fastidious people who demands that a film or novel be realistic to some degree (depending on the genre, of course).  What Nora Knew by Linda Yellin was an exception. I tend to skim over the blurb and take a quick peek at the first page or so of any novel in order to decide whether it’s worth continuing with, and on doing so for this novel, I was immediately and mercilessly hooked.

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What Nora Knew is about Molly Hallberg (a writer for an online newsmagazine) who, having been through a (long) string of unsuccessful relationships – one marriage included – has a somewhat jaded view on love.  Although she is in a steady relationship with her current boyfriend, Russell Edley, she is not a believer in the sort of flowery love that is generally characterized by plenty of passion, elaborate and romantic gestures, and excitement etc – the sort of love that many of the characters in the novel coincidentally have. Instead, she settles for a “comfortable” relationship with him, mainly due to the limiting factor of her age (late thirties), or so she feels. Somewhere along the way, she meets a certain Cameron Duncan (a famous author) who she progressively, unwillingly and inevitably falls for. From this, I’m sure even those of you who are not familiar with/not fans of Chick Lit novels can guess the ending without too much difficulty.

Despite the stereotypical plot, I was quite fond of this novel. For, Yellin’s abilities as an author are more than admirable; the voice of Molly is so internal, witty, sarcastic, sharp, funny, entertaining and likeable. I was constantly chuckling and more than that, she seems very real – indeed it is like she is a real person talking to you instead of for you and that, to me, is one of the marks of a great author. However, that was the best part of this novel. The drama, events and dialogue – albeit quite entertaining in some parts – was mostly just a little bit above average.  At certain times, I actually got a little bored because there wasn’t anything particularly enthralling and some parts were not very believable. But, it was Molly’s amusing and engaging voice that kept me reading right to the end.

One other redeeming factor of the novel that I have to mention is that Yellin readily highlights the fact that most love stories in Chick Lit novels and Rom-Coms are stereotypical and/or predictable, but that people still want to read on or keep watching anyway because they are “mesmerized by the journey”. She does this through the guise of certain characters and with references to some Rom-Coms (the title itself is in reference to Nora Ephron who is most notable for certain films such as When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless in Seattle, for those of you who don’t know). It could just be me, but there is something rather comforting about the author acknowledging that what they’re writing about is stereotypical or clichéd and that they know that people still like to read it anyway to experience the “journey” – it makes them (or their writing, at least) seem more genuine.

Anyway, in short, this book was quite enjoyable but nothing to make you truly go WOW! The ending is very obvious (but then again, it was what Yellin intended), so I suppose some or most will do what she anticipates (as I did) – keep reading until the very end, not because they want to know who Molly ends up with etc, but because they want to experience the journey with her. This is most likely one of those books you might want to take along with you on a holiday (that is, if you like reading Chick Lit novels in the first place and/or if you like reading them when you’re away on  holiday). Even if there wasn’t anything especially riveting, the engaging and laughter-inducing voice of Molly herself would be enough to make most want to read this novel.

Solst-o-meter
Storyline: 6/10
Style of writing: 9/10
Overall: 7.5/10

– by Rosemary Nguyen

Roz3 by any other name…

Posted in Lifestyle by

It was my main man William Shakespeare who, through the romantic words of Juliet Capulet, said “What’s in a name?” For the lucky ones, their name has some kind of deeper meaning, or a poignant family connection. Blaire, for example, means ‘field of battle’ in old Scottish Gaelic and Nicole is Greek for ‘victory of the people.’ So yeah, I have a pretty cool name, except for when I stop to think about the pressure it puts on me to be some kind of super warrior princess…I wonder what Xena means and if she’d mind giving me a few arse-kicking lessons…

For some unfortunate people-children of celebrities and idiots- their names are as well thought out and deep as the lyrics to Friday.

No.

No.

I respect the desire to avoid naming your kids John and Jane but there’s a line between unusual and downright insane. Just ask Moon Unit Zappa, North West or ‘K’ the little girl who was actually Christened Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii… Yeah. That happened.
Then of course there’s Prince Michael I, Prince Michael II (AKA ‘Blanket’) and Paris Michael Jackson. It astounds me that the genius behind Thriller, Billie Jean and basically every chart topper from 1964-1990 couldn’t come up with anything better than his own name.

I’ve always had a fascination with names but, after sitting in a McCafe and hearing a woman scream at her identical twins named, wait for it, Isabelle and Isabella, I finally cracked it. I instantly messaged a dear friend of mine who is equally as judgemental as me and lost my mind, venting about how some people shouldn’t be allowed to procreate because having a child means they’re going to name it something stupid (harsh, but we know I’m brutally honest). At some point during this rant, a solution to solve World Stupidity and the Employment Crisis came to me; we create a Government body whose sole job is to approve names with a two question interview process.

1. What do you intend to call your child?
If your answer is stupid, like Apple or Pilot Inspektor, you fail and cannot reproduce. If you are successful, you move on to question two.
2. How do you intend to spell the approved name?
If you’re going to pull a Kath & Kim and spell Tiffany ‘Typhphanniii’ you first get a slap, and then a fail.

It sounds harsh, I know, but I’m only trying to protect the next generation from the inevitable mockery that comes with being called Zowie Bowie, and a future of constantly being asked how to spell Jahzzmeine.

Lastly, I don’t give two shits about how many likes you get on Facebook- calling your kid Megatron or Voldemort is as cruel as it is stupid.

Tupac is a great name for a scrawny white guy...

Tupac is a great name for a scrawny white guy…

Just remember: “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me…” unless that word is Kizziera or Loneoxx because there’s a fair amount of emotional hurt going on there.

– by Blaire Gillies

Review: Hopeless

Posted in Entertainment by

I’m not trying to sound like a broken record a la the last book review I did, but I finally got around to finishing this wonderful novel that I had been in the middle of for a good month. Now that this novel is finished, I’ve realised that I need to do some serious book shopping!

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Hopeless by Colleen Hoover details the life of 17-year-old Sky, an extremely sheltered young girl whose life is turned upside down when she meets Dean Holder, the resident bad boy with a bad reputation to match her, to be frank, slutty reputation… despite not being a slut.

This novel starts out pretty cruisy, until you get to the middle-ish of the novel where:

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Never in my 21 years of reading novels have I read a book that escalated as quickly as Hopeless. What seemingly starts off as a typical teenage romance novel turned upside down on its head and did a Booker T spinaroonie because the drama that followed was so… dramatic. Without revealing too much, the drama was so good.

The storyline was so predictable that it was unpredictable, if that makes sense. I read it thinking “Oh yeah, and now this is going to happen and this is going to happen” and while some of my predictions were correct, most of them were so wrong that I felt the need to say sorry to Colleen Hoover. Colleen, if you’re reading this, please forgive me for doubting your excellent storyline abilities. The characters personalities were expressed well in the novel through the use of descriptive writing and the image of Dean Holder was clear in my head. COUGH Steve Grand.

The relationship between Sky and Dean was cute, albeit a bit clichè. Two unusually attractive teenagers with troubled pasts fall for each other and are completely in love after a month or two of being completely inseparable. Sky was a hit-or-miss with me; she was either really annoying and “Wah feel sorry for me” one minute and next, she was this funny, sassy spitfire who I found myself to really like. Dean Holder was perfect… almost too perfect. He was so swoon-worthy that I didn’t feel the need to swoon. He had his shining moments just like Sky, though, so I will praise him as a character.

Colleen Hoover’s use of language in this book was almost flawless. The action in the novel was impeccable and the use of imagery and other descriptions painted a clear picture in my head as I read this novel. I can no doubt see why this novel is so acclaimed and why it’s a New York Times bestseller – the author is great and the story is even better. The fact that nearly all the loose ends in this novel were tied together in a nifty little bow by the end of the story demands a round of applause for Hoover who really, in my sweet and humble opinion, knocked this one out of the park.

Solst-o-meter
Storyline: 9.0/10
Style of writing: 8.6/10
Overall: 8.8/10

I can guarantee you, whether you’re a romance reader or not, that this is definitely a must read. I was so wowed with the entire novel as a whole that I don’t know what to do with my life now that I’ve finished it. I can also guarantee you that you will not want to put this book back down once you’ve gotten into it. It is that damn good.

– by The Black Widow