“Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“Their work was non-work. Just air, like the holes in my lace. Wind the bobbins, twist and cross, work the piece, catch all the nothing in the looping patterns of the thread.” Wow. Brilliantly put. #Feminism
I learned to make lace when I was small, solemnly winding my bobbins with white thread then working over the pillow with deepest concentration – twisting and crossing the splints of wood, carefully weighted with scavenged beads, never learning so well that my hands could work without stumbling, but working all the same. I made my first few pieces, slack-tensioned and a little sloppy. My older female relatives and family friends inspected them indulgently but unimpressed. They were Bedfordshire women who had learned the needle arts at school, women who had been educated for domesticity, women who could not believe that I would leave school at 16 unable to knit, sew or make pastry. “I could make this,” my grandma would say, plucking the unhappy hems of my Topshop jumpers. “Didn’t they teach you anything?”
Their lives didn’t stop at what their education had fitted them for, though, because this…
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A hefty melody is the one
Mixed with memories
And decorated with heart breaks.
It is a cocktail too heavy to consume
And too acidic to gulp down.
It burns your insides
Creating this ringing sound
So strong and so loud
That you trip over your own feet
And land straight on the shattered glass
Of your cocktail which at some point
You had dropped because of the ringing,
Oh so painful ringing.
Later, that same cocktail of rainbow colours
– Red, green, yellow, blue
Becomes white wine
– Critical, analytical
And less colourful
Yet you go back to the bar
Again after some time
And order the fates to bring you
The same colourful, revolting cocktail
You sip it, you clutch your head and you fall
You do it again, and again some more.
Because face it,
Do you too sometimes feel emotions come rushing back to you as soon as you listen to a song. Do you too attach memories and feeling and emotions to songs. Do you too feel that agonising pleasure every time you hear a sad song? Tell me about it, I would love to hear from you!
He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that, no gift will ever buy back a man’s love when you have removed his self-love.
~John Steinbeck, East Of Eden
I was nominated for The Creative Blogger Award by the amazing and awesomest Noopur a while ago. So, before I proceed with the tradition, I would like to shower Noopur with lots of thanks, hugs and kisses because this is a big deal, yes? Or even if it isn’t, don’t burst my bubble, please. I like it in here, thank you very much. :33
Now, the proceedings:
1. Nominate 15-20 blogs and notify the nominees.
2. Post the link of the blog that nominated you.
3. Share five random facts about yourself.
Five random facts about me (after a long while of 3am thinking):
- My favourite book is The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand followed closely by a million others including Pride and Prejudice, Gone with the Wind, Harry Potter, Fangirl, Eleanor and Park and so so so many more.
- I’m very indecisive. I cannot differ from what is right and wrong. I cannot make a decision to save my life and what’s the worst part is that I want to become a surgeon. Every single time I imagine myself in the Operation Room, I laugh at myself.
- I’m not passionate but I am ambitious. That is a very deadly combination, I guess. It’s like, you don’t like a thing for a very long time but in that short period, while you like it, you need to get perfect at it. It’s a grueling feeling.
- I have a dog whose name is Leo. He’s an American spits and the cutest thing on Earth!
- My favourite music genres are indie pop and alternative rock.
The people I nominate for the Creative Blogger Award are:
Have fun guys! ^_^
In February lifelong Star Wars and Liverpool Football Club fan Gordon Deacon died of cancer, and the 58-year-old’s funeral commemorated his passions. The Cardiff father of four was escorted to St. Margaret’s Church by a phalanx of stormtroopers who then oversaw his pallbearers, who were themselves clad in Liverpool jerseys. Deacon’s funeral was distinctive, but he is by no means alone embracing his fandom for his final earthly ritual. For instance, the widow of Pittsburgh Steelers fan James Henry Smith requested that he be placed in his favorite reclining chair as if “he just fell asleep watching the game,” covered by his beloved Steelers blanket and facing a television showing a Steelers game (with the television remote in his hand). When Doctor Who fan Seb Neale died his family and friends arranged…
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