Until earlier today I was reading my way through Donna Tartt's The Secret History, but at page 401 (of the existing 628), I stopped and moved on to another book. Now, as I obviously cannot write a full review on the book, as I had planned to do had I finished it, I have decided to instead write an entry on why I will not finish it.
In the beginning, or, rather, all trough the first half of it, it was very interesting; lovely group of main characters (some more difficult to sympathize with/understand, but interesting nonetheless); nice, adequate descriptions; fantastic use of language; etcetera. I particularly liked the way the ending was spoiled in the beginning of the book, namely the murder of a major character (I do not consider this a spoiler as it is mentioned on the very first page).
Or, rather, what I thought to be the ending. As it turned out, the believed "ending" occurred halfway through the book. Up to the point of the murdering, it was all very interesting; exciting at times, more puzzling at others, as books goes. Sadly, after the murder had occurred, the reading experience went downhill. For a couple of hundred pages it was interesting to be given an insight of the aftermath of a murder, but after a while it grew very dull, in spite of the entrance of FBI and all that; dull, in fact, to the point where I did not even care about how this all would end, and the book mainly bored me, and, in my opinion, when this is how you feel about a book, it is better to put it down and perhaps pick it up later, instead of staggering on slowly and without interest. (My mother wisely informed me that this is also a healthy approach to have to e.g. relationships.)
So, to wrap this up, that is basically why I stopped my reading of The Secret History on page 401. This might mean that I missed out on a fantastic ending or the breathtaking event on page 402, but that is something I am willing to sacrifice; especially as I am already on page 101 in Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay.
19/12/2013
The Bird in the Birdcage
You have no idea
What it is like
To be me
Likewise,
I have no idea
What it is like
To be you
I am tethered inside my own, clustered mind
And I am afraid that if I ever were to leave
I would not find my way back
Into this clustered mind of mine
Maybe you feel the same
Or maybe you feel comfortable where you are
In your mind
Perhaps you are not tethered to yours
Perhaps it is not clustered
In which case, I wish I could be you
To know what it is like
To be where you are
Inside your free mind
As I have never been to such a place
Or perhaps
You do not wish
To let my clustered mind in
As yours is perfectly comfortable
Whilst mine is not
But I will never know
In fact
I have no idea
What it is like
To be you
Likewise,
You have no idea
What it is like
To be me
04/12/2013
"You CAN'T wear that item like that!"
Welcome to a brand new episode of Things That Bothers Me. This week: people giving too many shits about how other people chose to wear their items of clothing, because this kind of criticism is something that I see far too often. (It might be one of those things that aren't really worth being bothered by, but as it happens, it bothers me, so now I'm going to write a blog entry about it because I want to.)
Far too often I happen to come by people going 'I can't believe people can wear that kind of crop top in this weather!' or, as I actually heard today, 'You can't wear leggings with just a small shirt! Leggings aren't pants!'. These are examples of people giving way too many shits about what other people chose to wear. No, I can't see why someone would wear a crop top with an open jacket when it's winter outside because it must be bloody freezing; neither would I wear leggings with nothing but a small shirt to accompany it, but as it happens, the people wearing it would, and one hopes that the people with crop tops doesn't freeze too much. I myself am not completely estranged to more 'unusual' clothing, actually.
Frankly, what I or you would or wouldn't wear is unimportant when it comes to what other people wear. Because they are neither you nor me, and them wearing whatever they wear doesn't affect either of us more than we let it do. If someone wears something that makes them feel pretty and comfortable (or whatever feeling they're going for), let them. Nothing suits one better than whatever gives one confidence and/or makes one feel comfortable. This might sound like a real cliché, but it's a cliché for a reason. People knocking on other people's confidence even though it's really not their business is just plain sad. Seriously. Don't.
Sadly though, people don't always wear certain items of clothing in certain ways just because they like them. There is, of course, the issue of fashion. I can almost certainly say that some of the people who wear crop tops and leggings don't do it because they want to, but because it happen to be fashion. Possibly, these people (or at least some of them) doesn't feel confident in these clothes at all, which is really sad, since one should wear one feels like. But since one hardly can tell them apart from the confident ones by the same glance that it takes to judge them, skip the judging part. This is a different problem which also needs a different approach; criticising someone's clothes won't help anyone in any case.
So, basically, don't criticise peoples way of dressing even if it doesn't make sense to you, because it doesn't have to make sense to you. Odds are that the person you criticise hasn't dressed in order to please you, anyway.
Far too often I happen to come by people going 'I can't believe people can wear that kind of crop top in this weather!' or, as I actually heard today, 'You can't wear leggings with just a small shirt! Leggings aren't pants!'. These are examples of people giving way too many shits about what other people chose to wear. No, I can't see why someone would wear a crop top with an open jacket when it's winter outside because it must be bloody freezing; neither would I wear leggings with nothing but a small shirt to accompany it, but as it happens, the people wearing it would, and one hopes that the people with crop tops doesn't freeze too much. I myself am not completely estranged to more 'unusual' clothing, actually.
Frankly, what I or you would or wouldn't wear is unimportant when it comes to what other people wear. Because they are neither you nor me, and them wearing whatever they wear doesn't affect either of us more than we let it do. If someone wears something that makes them feel pretty and comfortable (or whatever feeling they're going for), let them. Nothing suits one better than whatever gives one confidence and/or makes one feel comfortable. This might sound like a real cliché, but it's a cliché for a reason. People knocking on other people's confidence even though it's really not their business is just plain sad. Seriously. Don't.
Sadly though, people don't always wear certain items of clothing in certain ways just because they like them. There is, of course, the issue of fashion. I can almost certainly say that some of the people who wear crop tops and leggings don't do it because they want to, but because it happen to be fashion. Possibly, these people (or at least some of them) doesn't feel confident in these clothes at all, which is really sad, since one should wear one feels like. But since one hardly can tell them apart from the confident ones by the same glance that it takes to judge them, skip the judging part. This is a different problem which also needs a different approach; criticising someone's clothes won't help anyone in any case.
So, basically, don't criticise peoples way of dressing even if it doesn't make sense to you, because it doesn't have to make sense to you. Odds are that the person you criticise hasn't dressed in order to please you, anyway.
03/12/2013
They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul
They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul
Which is incorrect
Yet, a small truth in it lies.
You see, in the eyes
You can see no soul,
But you can see the dreams.
As people believe
That they are safely concealed
Inside their minds,
They actually live vivid lives
Inside their eyes.
But then again,
What defines a soul
If not its dreams?
So maybe it is true
What they say
When they say that the eyes are the windows of the soul.
28/11/2013
Play, darling, play
Play, darling, play
Play for now
Play for then
Play for life
Not for later
Nor for death
For now will never come again
And soon now is gone
Death lies before us
Then now was then but that now is gone
Existing only in our memories
Later does not exist yet
Soon later is now and now is then
Soon always will be now and now always will be then
Death is always near
But play for now and play for then
Play, darling, play
Don’t waste your life on death.
24/11/2013
We Forgot We Were Human - A short story
~~~
In humanity's great rush for the future, we forgot the most important thing that we could possibly forget. However, as we had forgotten about it, we did not think about it, which eventually led us to this.
Poetry does not exist anymore; neither does music or any fictional literature at all, because such phenomenons are all based on emotions and feelings, which do not exist. Not anymore.
We operate as we have for centuries; we wake up, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, and so forth. No one really knows why any longer, but that is irrelevant. It is what we have done for centuries, ergo the norm, and the norm is all we have to tell us what to do. Without it, we could not function. It is said that humans used to say that about emotion, but we have no need for emotion. Not anymore.
I do not feel. I have never felt, and therefore I am unaware of how feeling feels like. I only know that I have never felt it because if I had felt it, I would have felt it. It is what is said about feeling and emotion; that you could feel it. But I cannot. No one can. Not anymore.
Although, I have read about it in ancient books, probably from the 19th and 20th century. For a while, such books where hidden away so that we would not risk to read them and be 'inspired' (whatever the meaning of that word is) to feel; however, that was soon considered unnecessary as no one sought them. No one cared any longer, because the feeling had already begun to fade. I know that the books speak of feelings because they use those strange words, and they describe them; 'anger', 'stress', 'happiness', 'feeling low'. I soon stopped reading them because they were meaningless; they all took it as for granted that I, too, felt, which I have never done. They wondered why, asked for my emotions, and I tried to explain that I do not feel. They denied the truth I presented to them, and therefore I stopped reading them; they denied the norm, as no one does. Not anymore.
This is where humanity's great rush for the future has led us; this is what happened when we forgot the most important thing that we could ever forget. But I do not care. No one does. I have no opinion; there are no opinions. Not anymore.
This is the story of how we lost the most important thing we ever could lose, the one that makes a human human; this is the story of how we forgot we were human.
~~~
20/11/2013
The Light Within
There is an old house down by the moor
It has a rumour of being haunted
Perhaps you have heard the story before?
In which case, I shall not bother to tell it
But I have made some interesting observations
Involving a spirit
Now, you might from this have concluded
That I believe to have seen a ghost by the moor
But no, I am not yet quite so deluded
For, you see, it is not a disembodied person
Which has caught my eye;
It is not it's previous inhabitant, Mrs Anderson
No, this house holds
Something quite more extraordinary;
As is told in none of the tales of olds
At night
The whole house will shimmer
With an inward light
For the spirit of the house
Is the house itself
And not the deceased spouse
You might ponder
Why this seemingly simple house
Is filled with such wonder?
That, I cannot answer
Yet, depending on your preferred ideology
There are some suspicions
Some involving ancient, alien technology
It has a rumour of being haunted
Perhaps you have heard the story before?
In which case, I shall not bother to tell it
But I have made some interesting observations
Involving a spirit
Now, you might from this have concluded
That I believe to have seen a ghost by the moor
But no, I am not yet quite so deluded
For, you see, it is not a disembodied person
Which has caught my eye;
It is not it's previous inhabitant, Mrs Anderson
No, this house holds
Something quite more extraordinary;
As is told in none of the tales of olds
At night
The whole house will shimmer
With an inward light
For the spirit of the house
Is the house itself
And not the deceased spouse
You might ponder
Why this seemingly simple house
Is filled with such wonder?
That, I cannot answer
Yet, depending on your preferred ideology
There are some suspicions
Some involving ancient, alien technology
17/11/2013
Sunday afternoons with smoke from incense and steam from tea
As the smoke from the incense
Interweave with the steam
Of the newly brewed tea
And the sun sets in the distance,
Emitting an orange light
Which wraps the world in a glowing light
Coordinating with my misty room
I think of no one in particular
For I have no one in particular to think of
Instead I pick down from a shelf
My favourite book,
Open the cover
And fall down through the pages
To the circus in which I wish I could live
Or to space, to distant lands
Where adventures roam everyday
But as I am there,
Just where I want to be,
A sudden, loud bang
Reaches my ears
And I am yanked back from the world of the book
To my dull, ordinary room
Thinking of no one in particular
As the sun disappears beyond the horizon
Leaving the world in darkness
The tea cup stands empty
The incense burnt out.
Interweave with the steam
Of the newly brewed tea
And the sun sets in the distance,
Emitting an orange light
Which wraps the world in a glowing light
Coordinating with my misty room
I think of no one in particular
For I have no one in particular to think of
Instead I pick down from a shelf
My favourite book,
Open the cover
And fall down through the pages
To the circus in which I wish I could live
Or to space, to distant lands
Where adventures roam everyday
But as I am there,
Just where I want to be,
A sudden, loud bang
Reaches my ears
And I am yanked back from the world of the book
To my dull, ordinary room
Thinking of no one in particular
As the sun disappears beyond the horizon
Leaving the world in darkness
The tea cup stands empty
The incense burnt out.
The 'normal girl vs. fangirl' phenomenon
I was just scrolling through my tumblr dashboard, and came across this post.
Nice touch with the Moriarty gif, but I have some serious criticism for gallifreyansquid's comment.
- How can she (I know that it is a person of female gender because I looked it up) possibly know what 'normal' girls think of, seeing as she appears to consider herself as one of these weird 'fangirls'? The answer is, she cannot.
- Besides, and I cannot stress this enough: There is no such thing as a 'normal' person. What gallifreyansquid does, which sadly is rather common on tumblr, is to completely generalise every person of female gender who does not consider themselves 'weird' in the same way as they do. I am pretty sure that most 'normal girls' think about other things than getting married and perfect outfits. What gallifreyansquid wrote is equal to writing that 'Fangirls just daydream about their OTP and what post to reblog next'. If you have been to tumblr, you will notice that this is not the case; there are plenty of posts that covers neither of those subjects. Maybe there are 'fangirls' who only daydream about that, I don't know, I have not spoke to all of them, but most of them do not. The same goes for 'normal girls'.
- Yet another fault that is seen both in gallifreyansquid's comment, and in general on tumblr: 'Normal girls'. People of female gender. Fangirls. There is no room for male fans on tumblr. Here we all have a vagina. No vagina, no tumblr. Or, well, you can still have a tumblr and hang out there, but you will be secluded in most posts. Ah, love what an accepting place tumblr is.
Actually, going by tumblr's norms, gallifreyansquid did not do anything wrong. Her comments fit perfectly with all the other special snowflake-ness and sexism that is far too commonly found on the online community of tumblr.
This makes me wonder why I still have tumblr, but I think it is because when tumblr is nice, it is really nice. But there is this side of it.
16/11/2013
I cannot produce an adequate title
I try to write,
To create magic
By combining letters
Yet my ability seem lost
The letters drift in front of me
In a blur of my confused mind
As I try to grab them, to form them,
They drift but further away,
Even more concealed in my mind's foggy mist
And I am but left alone,
My wand stolen,
My inability
To practise the magic
Of words
Lasting evermore
Never faltering
Always
Just
Here
To create magic
By combining letters
Yet my ability seem lost
The letters drift in front of me
In a blur of my confused mind
As I try to grab them, to form them,
They drift but further away,
Even more concealed in my mind's foggy mist
And I am but left alone,
My wand stolen,
My inability
To practise the magic
Of words
Lasting evermore
Never faltering
Always
Just
Here
13/11/2013
Making people feel appreciated
If there is something I am rubbish at, it is showing people in my surroundings how much I appreciate their existence and the fact that they are a part of my life.
That is partly because I do not wish to sound cheesy (for some reason I have no wish to be a cheesy-kind-of-person), but mainly, I believe, because I am afraid to scare them away; I am afraid that they do not appreciate me and my existence, at least not as much as I do theirs (yay low confidence), and if I come up to them and am all like 'HELLO YOU ARE WONDERFUL PERSON I APPRECIATE YOUR EXISTENCE PLEASE DON'T EVER DISAPPEAR FROM MY LIFE', and they do not feel the same toward me, it will make them uncomfortable and they will slowly remove themselves from my life. Which is seriously stupid and sad, because I know how wonderful it is to feel appreciated and loved; to know that at least someone does not consider you nothing but a pain in the ass.
There are, I think, approximately three people who know that I appreciate their existences, which is far less than the real amount of people who's existence I appreciate. Which sucks.
Furthermore, I feel an even greater urge to tell people how much I appreciate their existences when they seem to be a bit low, but then it feels even more pathetic because I feel like I say it merely as an attempt to make them feel better. But it is not like that.
This text is not heading for some clever conclusion, because there is no clever conclusion. This time it is merely me telling a tale from my awkward life. But if you happen to have some clever conclusion, a tale from your own awkward/not-that-awkward life, a comment, or whatever, please do share in the comment section. I like comments; they make my blog feel like it is appreciated. (Yes, I am really pathetic enough to be asking you for comments. And my blog does not actually feel appreciated if you comment, because it is a blog, so it lacks of emotion. Did you really think that a blog could have feelings? That is slightly peculiar.)
That is partly because I do not wish to sound cheesy (for some reason I have no wish to be a cheesy-kind-of-person), but mainly, I believe, because I am afraid to scare them away; I am afraid that they do not appreciate me and my existence, at least not as much as I do theirs (yay low confidence), and if I come up to them and am all like 'HELLO YOU ARE WONDERFUL PERSON I APPRECIATE YOUR EXISTENCE PLEASE DON'T EVER DISAPPEAR FROM MY LIFE', and they do not feel the same toward me, it will make them uncomfortable and they will slowly remove themselves from my life. Which is seriously stupid and sad, because I know how wonderful it is to feel appreciated and loved; to know that at least someone does not consider you nothing but a pain in the ass.
There are, I think, approximately three people who know that I appreciate their existences, which is far less than the real amount of people who's existence I appreciate. Which sucks.
Furthermore, I feel an even greater urge to tell people how much I appreciate their existences when they seem to be a bit low, but then it feels even more pathetic because I feel like I say it merely as an attempt to make them feel better. But it is not like that.
This text is not heading for some clever conclusion, because there is no clever conclusion. This time it is merely me telling a tale from my awkward life. But if you happen to have some clever conclusion, a tale from your own awkward/not-that-awkward life, a comment, or whatever, please do share in the comment section. I like comments; they make my blog feel like it is appreciated. (Yes, I am really pathetic enough to be asking you for comments. And my blog does not actually feel appreciated if you comment, because it is a blog, so it lacks of emotion. Did you really think that a blog could have feelings? That is slightly peculiar.)
10/11/2013
If trees could talk
I wonder, if trees could talk, how would that be? Imagine, if you are walking into or simply near a forest, and you hear the trees chatting away.
Would it be bothersome? No, I don't think so. See, just as the whistling of the wind, the twittering of the birds, the sound of a train passing by in distance and so forth, we would be accustomed with the tree's chattering. Never would you walk around in a forest in complete stillness, but you would be surrounded by voices and life.
Of course, that would remove the pleasantness of a quiet and still walk in the forest, but simultaneously it would open up a new, previously unknown dimension. Imagine walking into the forest, sitting down on a big piece of rock, and having a chat with a tree. All the things you could learn, and not only from the tree to whom you are talking; I rest assured that that tree has been talking to that other tree, who in turn has been talking to the third tree, and so on, which might result in you hearing a 200 year old story from Mali.
And meanwhile, in a parallel universe in which trees do talk, parallel-universe me writes a blog entry about how awful, yet rather relaxing, a world in which trees do not talk would be.
Would it be bothersome? No, I don't think so. See, just as the whistling of the wind, the twittering of the birds, the sound of a train passing by in distance and so forth, we would be accustomed with the tree's chattering. Never would you walk around in a forest in complete stillness, but you would be surrounded by voices and life.
Of course, that would remove the pleasantness of a quiet and still walk in the forest, but simultaneously it would open up a new, previously unknown dimension. Imagine walking into the forest, sitting down on a big piece of rock, and having a chat with a tree. All the things you could learn, and not only from the tree to whom you are talking; I rest assured that that tree has been talking to that other tree, who in turn has been talking to the third tree, and so on, which might result in you hearing a 200 year old story from Mali.
And meanwhile, in a parallel universe in which trees do talk, parallel-universe me writes a blog entry about how awful, yet rather relaxing, a world in which trees do not talk would be.
06/11/2013
Why fandom is important
Since I realised that there are more important matters to focus your mind on than whether the upcoming Star Wars trilogy will include my favourite character or not, I have felt a bit guilty spending time with anything that has to do with any of my fandoms*, because I have almost constantly been having thoughts like 'and while I watch this episode of Doctor Who 100 children are dying of starvation. But why spend your time helping them when you can sit on your fat arse, staring at a screen?', which is really rather unnecessary, seeing as I am unable to help those children from my current position, anyway. But I have been thinking a lot about it in attempts to justify my affection for various fandoms, and now I have found a way of doing it/ found the reason to why fandom is important to me.
*drum roll* It is, I believe, because of its similarity to religion. And no, I am not using this simile because my major fandoms happen to include god-like aliens flying around in blue boxes or Norse gods, but because it fills the same need for me as I can imagine that religion does for other people (or, one of the needs religion fill). I have never been particularly religious (currently I am agnostic/atheist), so I cannot tell what really believing in a certain religion is like, but from what I have gathered from my general experience of life and a very brief research ten minutes ago, the main needs that religion fill seems to be:
(This turned out to be a rather confusing, cheesy and generally poorly-written ending, but I am severely tired so we will have to live with it.)
*What 'fandom' means
Not really a source but it helped me whilst writing this
*drum roll* It is, I believe, because of its similarity to religion. And no, I am not using this simile because my major fandoms happen to include god-like aliens flying around in blue boxes or Norse gods, but because it fills the same need for me as I can imagine that religion does for other people (or, one of the needs religion fill). I have never been particularly religious (currently I am agnostic/atheist), so I cannot tell what really believing in a certain religion is like, but from what I have gathered from my general experience of life and a very brief research ten minutes ago, the main needs that religion fill seems to be:
- Feeling that your existence serves some sort of purpose
- A sense of identity
- A sense of security and comfort
- Guiding in moral principles
- A sort of connection to a higher being
- A medium for socializing and a feeling of belonging
- [I probably forgot something]
Now, as for the first five needs, I have either filled them in another way or have no need for having them filled. It is when it comes to need number six that fandom comes in. See, what makes being in various fandoms important to me is exactly that; I feel like I belong somewhere, and it is a way to meet new people (I can not count all the friends I have just because we happened to like the same TV-show/film). This feels particularly important as I am a severely socially awkward person who experiences difficulties talking to certain people. Equal fandoms provide lots of topic to converse about. And there is that special kind of connection between two people who are in the the same fandom (fandom-people knows what I am referring to).
Come to think of it, it might also fill the second need, at least partially. Just take a look at my first post, wherein I presented myself as both a Whovian and a Ravenclaw. Hm.
So, thanks to this, I no longer feel as guilty devoting a bit of my time to fandom, because sometimes you are actually allowed to think of and prioritize your own well-being, and, as some wise tumblr-user who's username I have sadly forgotten once said, if doing something makes you feel good, whether it is spending some hours on tumblr, baking a cake, watching Doctor Who, or whatever, however meaningless it might seem compared to demonstrating for human right, do it. And my fandoms are just as important as religion; perhaps not to society, but to me.
(This turned out to be a rather confusing, cheesy and generally poorly-written ending, but I am severely tired so we will have to live with it.)
*What 'fandom' means
Not really a source but it helped me whilst writing this
04/11/2013
Billy Elliot - the Feminist
What follows now is a review of the film Billy Elliot, which I wrote for an English test in class. It is not entirely spoiler-free, but for your leisure, I will mark the paragraphs/sentences which include spoilers with a "*", thereby ensuring your reading to be spoiler free, or at least giving you a choice between spoiler-free and the opposite. That said, allons-y!
Billy Elliot is directed by Stephen Daldry and takes place in the 1980's. The story is about the young boy Billy (Jamie Bell), who lives with his dysfunctional family in a small mining town in Northern England, where the gender roles are strong. We follow Billy through his fight against them as he fights for his right to dance, despite his father Jackie's (Gary Lewis) strong objections.
When it comes to films alike this one, I think the time and place in which it is set is a brilliant choice. Had it, for example, been set in London and present day, it would not at all have been the same kind of film, as the power of the gender roles are not as strong there in the present day.
In the film we follow Billy through a long period of time, so there are some big jumps in the story's time line, which sometimes works nicely but tends to be confusing, in my opinion.
Furthermore, I think that Jamie Bell, who, as previously mentioned, takes on the role of Billy, makes an outstanding performance for being such a young actor, as he is not only needed to act, but also to dance ballet. His amazing performance really enhances the greatness of the film; as does the other actors' brilliant performances.
As I mentioned briefly earlier, it is not merely a beautiful story about a boy who fights for his right to do what he wants, but also a story about the fight against the norm of what is typically male/female and, in Billy's (and his friend's Michael's) case, working against them. This is portrayed beautifully in a boy who really is not trying to fight them at all, but simply wants to do what he loves to do, and in that way he, more or less subconsciously, makes a stand about his and other people's rights and brakes the norm without even really intending to. *In the meantime, one can notice how his character changes and he becomes more and more confident as the story progresses; from hiding his ballet shoes from his father, to take a stand and simply dance in front of him.
*When it comes to character development, I think that the greatest one seen in the film comes from Billy's father Jackie, which makes a beautiful kind of side-story (which is strongly entwined with the main story), as he transforms from a grumpy, distant father who wants Billy to follow the male norm, to a warmer father who is even prepared to give up his moral and take up his mining job, just in order to support Billy. Characters like Jackie are often what makes great works of fiction as great as they are.
The film shows a beautiful story about the life of a devoted young boy, at the same time as it is a great representation of the society and the norms it is built around, and also displays a fairly large quantity of inspirational characters, which all in all makes it a film truly worth watching and reflecting about.
I feel as though there are a ton of other aspects I could bring into the review, lots of characters and their developments to write even longer paragraphs about, but I feel as though I have now bored you for long enough.
Billy Elliot is directed by Stephen Daldry and takes place in the 1980's. The story is about the young boy Billy (Jamie Bell), who lives with his dysfunctional family in a small mining town in Northern England, where the gender roles are strong. We follow Billy through his fight against them as he fights for his right to dance, despite his father Jackie's (Gary Lewis) strong objections.
When it comes to films alike this one, I think the time and place in which it is set is a brilliant choice. Had it, for example, been set in London and present day, it would not at all have been the same kind of film, as the power of the gender roles are not as strong there in the present day.
In the film we follow Billy through a long period of time, so there are some big jumps in the story's time line, which sometimes works nicely but tends to be confusing, in my opinion.
Furthermore, I think that Jamie Bell, who, as previously mentioned, takes on the role of Billy, makes an outstanding performance for being such a young actor, as he is not only needed to act, but also to dance ballet. His amazing performance really enhances the greatness of the film; as does the other actors' brilliant performances.
As I mentioned briefly earlier, it is not merely a beautiful story about a boy who fights for his right to do what he wants, but also a story about the fight against the norm of what is typically male/female and, in Billy's (and his friend's Michael's) case, working against them. This is portrayed beautifully in a boy who really is not trying to fight them at all, but simply wants to do what he loves to do, and in that way he, more or less subconsciously, makes a stand about his and other people's rights and brakes the norm without even really intending to. *In the meantime, one can notice how his character changes and he becomes more and more confident as the story progresses; from hiding his ballet shoes from his father, to take a stand and simply dance in front of him.
*When it comes to character development, I think that the greatest one seen in the film comes from Billy's father Jackie, which makes a beautiful kind of side-story (which is strongly entwined with the main story), as he transforms from a grumpy, distant father who wants Billy to follow the male norm, to a warmer father who is even prepared to give up his moral and take up his mining job, just in order to support Billy. Characters like Jackie are often what makes great works of fiction as great as they are.
The film shows a beautiful story about the life of a devoted young boy, at the same time as it is a great representation of the society and the norms it is built around, and also displays a fairly large quantity of inspirational characters, which all in all makes it a film truly worth watching and reflecting about.
I feel as though there are a ton of other aspects I could bring into the review, lots of characters and their developments to write even longer paragraphs about, but I feel as though I have now bored you for long enough.
An Apology for my Abcense
In this entry I assume that you care about the fact that I have been absent from writing blog entries for a while, seeing as you are currently "checking" my blog; if you do not care, I advice against your continuous reading of this entry. Move along, move along.
Now, before I go to work on my upcoming, thrilling blog entry, I wish to apologise for my far too long absence. My sole reasons be that I have had a visit of a friend who lives far away; I have begun the work on a novel; I have attended a party (or, more of a dinner with some friends); and generally have had other activities to fill my time, as other thoughts to fill my mind (not to mention that I have been lazy and rather reading Shakespeare than blogging).
But now I hope to back on track, as they say, with regular entries on Wednesday and one of the two days of what is referred to as the weekend; one exception being the upcoming entry today, which I hope shall serve as at least some compensation for my absence.
Now, before I go to work on my upcoming, thrilling blog entry, I wish to apologise for my far too long absence. My sole reasons be that I have had a visit of a friend who lives far away; I have begun the work on a novel; I have attended a party (or, more of a dinner with some friends); and generally have had other activities to fill my time, as other thoughts to fill my mind (not to mention that I have been lazy and rather reading Shakespeare than blogging).
But now I hope to back on track, as they say, with regular entries on Wednesday and one of the two days of what is referred to as the weekend; one exception being the upcoming entry today, which I hope shall serve as at least some compensation for my absence.
Yes, I felt a strong need to write this rather meaningless post.
23/10/2013
"Every woman has these insecurities!"
The headline to this entry represents one of the multiple, highly common, sexist comments that I simply hate. But it is just not something that people say; in general, it is twice as likely that a person of female gender suffer from anxiety disorders, than that one of male gender does, according to AADA.* AADA also writes that "differences in brain chemistry may account for at least part of these differences", which I do not doubt, but as the quote says, it is not the whole problem. So, what is it, more than the possible brain differences, that make women generally more insecure than men?
Well, if you ask me (which I will suppose that you do, seeing as you are reading my blog), I say that if anything, it is because society, in various ways, tells women that they are supposed to be insecure, just because they happen to lack a penis, and that is what other people who lack a penis is. Thou art a woman; therefore, thou shall feel insecure. As with so many other sexist prejudices, it has rather become something like one of the many unwritten laws that for some reason seem to control our lives to a great extent.
But, of course, these deeply ingrained prejudices do not only affect women; what must it be like, I wonder, to be a insecure man in today's society? Naturally, I have no idea, but I thought "Hey, I'll google!". The results I received where merely general tips on how to stop being insecure, but when I performed almost the exactly same search, save for changing "man" to "woman", the results I received mainly consisted of tips for insecure women.
I think that this quick google search rather answers the question I asked at the beginning of the previous paragraph; it is both common and generally accepted to be insecure as a woman (again, because that is what we are supposed to be), but as a man, it is neither common nor accepted, and hardly a part of the male norm (as oppose the female norm).
(By the way, if there are any people out there with both insecurities/anxiety issues and penises, please do leave a comment about what it is like, because I am really curious about it. Do you feel secure confiding your emotions to close friends, or are you afraid to be judged? Do you know any other people in the same situation? and so forth. I will be ever so grateful. (This blog probably has like three readers at the moment, but I figured that I can at least try and ask.) )
And I mean, come on, if women felt secure, they might come and claim their rights and things like that, and we just can not have that, can we? (I used sarcasm in this paragraph.)
*Source
(And yes, I know that there is a difference between feeling insecure and suffering from anxiety disorders, but it was the most accurate comparison I could think of; the google results that was presented to me when I tried looking for research about insecurities and gender were merely depressing.)
Well, if you ask me (which I will suppose that you do, seeing as you are reading my blog), I say that if anything, it is because society, in various ways, tells women that they are supposed to be insecure, just because they happen to lack a penis, and that is what other people who lack a penis is. Thou art a woman; therefore, thou shall feel insecure. As with so many other sexist prejudices, it has rather become something like one of the many unwritten laws that for some reason seem to control our lives to a great extent.
But, of course, these deeply ingrained prejudices do not only affect women; what must it be like, I wonder, to be a insecure man in today's society? Naturally, I have no idea, but I thought "Hey, I'll google!". The results I received where merely general tips on how to stop being insecure, but when I performed almost the exactly same search, save for changing "man" to "woman", the results I received mainly consisted of tips for insecure women.
I think that this quick google search rather answers the question I asked at the beginning of the previous paragraph; it is both common and generally accepted to be insecure as a woman (again, because that is what we are supposed to be), but as a man, it is neither common nor accepted, and hardly a part of the male norm (as oppose the female norm).
(By the way, if there are any people out there with both insecurities/anxiety issues and penises, please do leave a comment about what it is like, because I am really curious about it. Do you feel secure confiding your emotions to close friends, or are you afraid to be judged? Do you know any other people in the same situation? and so forth. I will be ever so grateful. (This blog probably has like three readers at the moment, but I figured that I can at least try and ask.) )
And I mean, come on, if women felt secure, they might come and claim their rights and things like that, and we just can not have that, can we? (I used sarcasm in this paragraph.)
*Source
(And yes, I know that there is a difference between feeling insecure and suffering from anxiety disorders, but it was the most accurate comparison I could think of; the google results that was presented to me when I tried looking for research about insecurities and gender were merely depressing.)
19/10/2013
How to write "strong", female characters
There are probably plenty of aspiring writers out there in cyberspace, and being an aspiring writer, one can probably use with a couple of nice tips. Therefore, I have completed this list of tips (or, if you wish your piece to be famous, rules) about how to write strong, female characters. Enjoy!
- Make sure she is rather bad-ass, except when it comes to that one guy (aka the hero*), who makes her change completely, so that suddenly she is oh so weak. It is also important that this guy makes her lose all her bad-assness like *that*. The guy does not necessarily need to have as passionate, or even any at all, feelings for her; in fact, it makes him cooler if he does not.
- Do not give her a proper personality. She only needs to consist of her bad-assness and passionate love for the hero.
- This bad-assness must consist of at least 90% sexiness. Ergo, her only power must be to be able to flirt with various male characters (I mean, her flirting with a female would imply some sort of bi-, pan- or homosexuality and that is something we simply can not have).
- The previous point implies that, naturally, she has to follow media's idea about what "being sexy" means.
- Whenever she has a conversation with another female, it has to be about one/some of the male character/-s.
- She must not do anything for her own sake. Remember, it is all about the hero.
- Giving her a name is not a high priority. The hero could always simply call her "babe", "sexy" and so forth.
- If you do give her a name, at least make her the only female character with a name.
- She has to be naked at least once (preferably more than once though).
- When she is not naked, make sure her clothes are revealing (as oppose to the hero, who should be properly dressed at all times).
*Note about the hero: Make sure that the hero is a male. A female hero would completely brake the norm and it just would not be sane (again, remember what I wrote about bi-, pan- and homosexuality).
There are, of course, plenty of other things (/rules) to have in mind when writing strong, female characters, but I hope that this small guide helped you in some measure. Good luck with your writing!
This sarcastic entry has been brought to you by Hedda, aka panphobic.
12/10/2013
Temporary brake of my candy bar-boycott
Yesterday I did something awful and I still feel bad about it; I temporarily broke my boycott of candy bars and bought one. I was on my way home from school, I passed a store and I felt this great need to buy a small chocolate bar, just for once because I have not in a long time. So I bought one, feeling bad instantly afterwards, and it only tasted good for like three bites, then it just tasted like plastic and all the colourants and chemical flavouring it consisted of.
Now, I should explain why I am boycotting candy bars. Well, firstly, I am trying to not eat any of the kind of candy that is plastered with E-numbers, because I have no idea what I am really eating, which merely is scary. Furthermore, I hardly think a large intake of E-numbers is good for your health. (I know, of course, that they are not only found in candy, but candy is what I find most easy to keep away from. I try to cure my sweet tooth with home baked stuff instead.)
Secondly, individually wrapped chocolate bars are not environment friendly what so ever. In fact, according to Jessica Hoppe, "a 49-gram chocolate bar has a carbon footprint of about 169 grams —a ratio of 3.45 grams of CO2 for every gram of chocolate".* And frankly, how can one not realize that small pieces of chemical-plastered candy bars individually packed in plastic packages are bad for the environment?
But still, I shall not sit here and pretend I am some kind of completely organic and environment friendly guru, for oh look at the amount of E-numbers there are in the cookie I am currently eating just because it happened to be in the pantry, and have I yet arranged a system so to sort out and recycle the plastic emballage of the cookies from the general garbage? No, I have not. But hopefully I will in a not-too-far-away future. In the meantime I will keep to environment friendly chocolate and home-made cookies.
At least I got something good out of buying that bloody candy bar; I know now that I will not be doing it again, for I still feel bad about abandoning my morals in that fleeting moment.
*Source
Now, I should explain why I am boycotting candy bars. Well, firstly, I am trying to not eat any of the kind of candy that is plastered with E-numbers, because I have no idea what I am really eating, which merely is scary. Furthermore, I hardly think a large intake of E-numbers is good for your health. (I know, of course, that they are not only found in candy, but candy is what I find most easy to keep away from. I try to cure my sweet tooth with home baked stuff instead.)
Secondly, individually wrapped chocolate bars are not environment friendly what so ever. In fact, according to Jessica Hoppe, "a 49-gram chocolate bar has a carbon footprint of about 169 grams —a ratio of 3.45 grams of CO2 for every gram of chocolate".* And frankly, how can one not realize that small pieces of chemical-plastered candy bars individually packed in plastic packages are bad for the environment?
But still, I shall not sit here and pretend I am some kind of completely organic and environment friendly guru, for oh look at the amount of E-numbers there are in the cookie I am currently eating just because it happened to be in the pantry, and have I yet arranged a system so to sort out and recycle the plastic emballage of the cookies from the general garbage? No, I have not. But hopefully I will in a not-too-far-away future. In the meantime I will keep to environment friendly chocolate and home-made cookies.
At least I got something good out of buying that bloody candy bar; I know now that I will not be doing it again, for I still feel bad about abandoning my morals in that fleeting moment.
*Source
Nice, welcoming entry
It is the middle of the night and I should probably be at least attempting to fall asleep, but I am not in the mood so I thought I would pick up blogging instead.
When I write that, I think I kind of sound like a person who is completely chill with doing it. I am not. I am in fact really anxious about whether I will accidentally wake someone up by with the sound of me pressing the different keys of the keyboard; I am afraid that I will wake up far too late tomorrow due to problems with going to sleep once the computer is turned off, caused by this late night writing; I am afraid that I will become too paranoid to be able to go to sleep in the time I spend up writing, and so forth. And that is kind of who I am as a person.
I do not know what I was meant when I wrote the the title of this entry, because hitherto it has not really been nice and welcoming at all, has it? Perhaps I miscalculated my ability to write such an entry. Ah well.
A basic thing to mention in an introducing entry would be one's gender, and so I will: I am a so-called female. But I really do hope that you do not immediately apply any prejudices just because I wrote that. No, I should not write any prejudices, because, frankly, practically all of us has some sorts of prejudices about everyone; it is more a question of how proud one is of them, and how tightly one clings to them. Just try not to cling too tightly to yours, will you? Unless, of course, they prove to be 100% accurate, in which case I suppose that I was wrong and I recant my previous statement.
Further relevant information about me is that I suppose I could call myself a feminist, I am a Ravenclaw and I enjoy drinking tea and watching Doctor Who. It has hitherto taken be about one and a half hour to conjure this piece of text, and I really ought to get some sleep now (I will probably end up staying up for at least one more hour reading once the computer is off, but ah well), so hereby I will bid thee good night and wish thee a merry welcome to this blog that will hopefully stay updated, despite the not-so-very-warmly-welcoming-entry.~
When I write that, I think I kind of sound like a person who is completely chill with doing it. I am not. I am in fact really anxious about whether I will accidentally wake someone up by with the sound of me pressing the different keys of the keyboard; I am afraid that I will wake up far too late tomorrow due to problems with going to sleep once the computer is turned off, caused by this late night writing; I am afraid that I will become too paranoid to be able to go to sleep in the time I spend up writing, and so forth. And that is kind of who I am as a person.
I do not know what I was meant when I wrote the the title of this entry, because hitherto it has not really been nice and welcoming at all, has it? Perhaps I miscalculated my ability to write such an entry. Ah well.
A basic thing to mention in an introducing entry would be one's gender, and so I will: I am a so-called female. But I really do hope that you do not immediately apply any prejudices just because I wrote that. No, I should not write any prejudices, because, frankly, practically all of us has some sorts of prejudices about everyone; it is more a question of how proud one is of them, and how tightly one clings to them. Just try not to cling too tightly to yours, will you? Unless, of course, they prove to be 100% accurate, in which case I suppose that I was wrong and I recant my previous statement.
Further relevant information about me is that I suppose I could call myself a feminist, I am a Ravenclaw and I enjoy drinking tea and watching Doctor Who. It has hitherto taken be about one and a half hour to conjure this piece of text, and I really ought to get some sleep now (I will probably end up staying up for at least one more hour reading once the computer is off, but ah well), so hereby I will bid thee good night and wish thee a merry welcome to this blog that will hopefully stay updated, despite the not-so-very-warmly-welcoming-entry.~
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