Monday, 30 September 2013

we all have a Choice


“You have a choice in this world, I believe, about how to tell sad stories, and we made the funny choice.”
This quote comes from "The Fault in our Stars" by John Green.
Thus far I have only posted songs or quotes by themselves. With no further commentary from me, mostly because I believe they are strong enough to stand on their own and still be just as meaningful. However, this quote is amazing to me because I believe that is true with every moment in life. Everyone has the option to be either upset and miserable or laugh and move on. When given the choice, making the choice to laugh will make the problem seem like it happened a million years ago. 

Friday, 27 September 2013

Bury Me In Satin Lay Me Down On A Bed Of Roses


If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors
Oh, and life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even gray, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I've never known the loving of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls
What I never did is done
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing
Funny, when you're dead how people start listening
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them, oh
The sharp knife of a short life
Well, I've had just enough time
So put on your best, boys
And I'll wear my pearls

The Band Perry-- If I Die Young



Thursday, 26 September 2013

"You see the flicker of the clipper when they light up"

I wanna be drunk when I wake up 
On the right side of the wrong bed 
And every excuse I made up 
Tell you the truth I hate 
What didn't kill me 
It never made me stronger at all. 

The title is a line from the song

Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Just a Little Update


Hello Lovelies 
starting now is a not-so-daily blog!
I will be posting some of my favourite quotes, my favourite pictures, general life updates not about me but about society in general. Topics will vary and if you comment suggestions of a topic I will cover them! 




Tuesday, 24 September 2013

“What didn’t kill me, it didn’t make me stronger at all.”



In the dystopian story “Harrison Bergeron” Kurt Vonnegut imagines a world in which the innate differences among people are eliminated by handicapping those with greater talent, strength, grace, beauty, or intelligence. The effort to equalize will fail because people will see the heavier weights on ballerina’s ankles, the uglier masks to cover beautiful faces, and the louder sounds to cloud the thoughts of the highly intelligent are perceived as markers of grace beauty and intelligence and therefore people will always perceive difference. When Hazel, a person of perfectly average intelligence, envies her husband George’s mental handicap radio which makes a loud noise so he forgets his thoughts every twenty seconds, she does not envy the irritating noise she envies the intelligence that sets him apart as shown by the device he must wear. Moreover, the efforts to weigh down the graceful or strong may fail in the longer term because those who are determined to excel physically will simply get stronger by wearing weights.

            To the extent that the handicap system succeeds in making announcers with beautiful voices stutter, or ballet dancers stumble and shuffle the effort to equalize makes every form of human achievement boring. People only want to watch basketball, or ballet to marvel at the talent and achievement of those who can do extraordinary things. To make the extraordinary into the ordinary deprives those of ordinary abilities of the joy of admiring talent and achievement that they cannot attain.

“And I wondered if hurdlers ever thought, you know, this would go faster if we just got rid of the hurdles.”

My title is a quote from Ed Sheeran
And my end quote is from The Fault in Our Starts by John Green

“I like flaws. I think they make things interesting.”


In a play on the notion of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, W. H. Auden proposes a monument to the perfectly average and therefore entirely forgettable man. His poem “The Unknown Citizen” describes a monument built to honour “one against whom there was no official complaint”, who “satisfied his employers”, “was popular with his mates” and reacted to advertisements normally in every way.  He purchased on the “Installment Plan… everything necessary to the Modern Man.”

He did absolutely everything that was expected of him, nothing more, and nothing less. The statue honours him for being perfectly ordinary. Yet he has no known name, and as Auden points out we don’t know the two most important things about him “Was he free? Was he happy?”

Ironically, although Auden suggests his averageness makes him anonymous because he has no name in the poem, he is the subject of sustained research efforts by the government Bureau of Statistics, Social Psychology workers, and Producers Research. This imagery ordinary man is conjured up in memory by Auden’s poem just as the unknown solders are remembered by their anonymous tombs to stand in for all the people who lived and died without making any particular mark on the world.

“Be a true Heart, not a follower.”

My title is a quote from a Sarah Dessen book called The Truth about Forever
And my concluding quote is from Ed Sheeran

Monday, 16 September 2013

“We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.”


The paradox of modern living is that we are more capable than people in the past to affect the lives of others and, in particular, to reduce the suffering of those who are less fortunate than we are and, yet, we do nothing about it.  Because of modern communication and travel, we know how people around the world suffer and we have the ability to ameliorate their suffering.  Yet we get up every morning and feel no pressing need to do something for other people and we feel no responsibility for people around the world.  We hardly make a difference in our own life, much less the lives of people elsewhere.
                                                                                          
I don’t remember when I became aware of the suffering that is occurring around the world. I think on some level I have been aware of it for a long time.  I avoid uncomfortable situations and conversations at all costs, so I tend to avoid thinking about things that are unpleasant for me or for those in my immediate surroundings.  Like the people in Omelas, I wake up each morning, focus on the people I see and the things I need to do. 

I don’t find a balance between living my life and bettering the world. For as long as I have been aware of the situation of those less fortunate, I have ignored the problem.  Yet I accept that I have moral responsibility to do something to help make their lives better.

The people who walk away from the utopia of Omelas in Ursula LeGuin’s story, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, are neither cowards nor heroes. They are braver than those around them because they lose patience with watching this wretched child suffer.  However, they don’t stand up for the child or help it either. Their leaving does not affect the child. It won’t make the child’s life better or worse.  It only shows them to be humane enough not to be able to tolerate watching a child suffer, but not sufficiently humane to do anything about it or to feel so responsible that they cannot walk away.  

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

A Long Conversation, Which Always Seems too Short.


         Recently I read two short stories, "To the Ladies" by Mary, Lady Chudleigh and "Eveline" by James Joyce.  These texts savagely critique marriage and domesticity as a form of slavery for women. Both acknowledge that marriage brings respect and security for wives and Joyce in particular recognises that some marriages offer love and companionship. Each author advocates that women have independence as people as a prerequisite to happiness in marriage.

Most people only know about Joyce what I did. He was a renowned twentieth century novelist from Ireland. His oeuvre includes a number of novels, poems, a play, and the short story collection, Dubliners, of which “Eveline” was one. I’ve heard of James Joyce, but I had never heard of Lady Mary of Chudleigh.  So I googled her.  She was born around 1656 in Devon, England. Very few women received an education at this point in time, and she was not one of the very few.  She educated herself by reading theology, science, and philosophy. She married a nobleman from Ashton, which is also in Devon, and that’s how she became Lady Mary. To the extent she is known as a writer, she is known for her letters and poetry. While people may argue about if she was happy in her marriage, at that point in history the husband still had to allow the woman to publish, and Chudleigh posted quite controversy feminist pieces. Little else is known about her and her personal life besides that they had at least three children.

"To the Ladies" is not something you would quote in a wedding toast. The first line of the poem --  “Wife and servant are the Same” -- alludes to the theme of the poem.  “For when that fatal Knot is ty’d … Then all that’s kind is laid aside.”  Her advice to women:  “shun, oh! Shun that wretched state.”  This poem is an argument directed to women about why they should not marry. While men only have to promise to cherish their wives, women have to obey their husbands, just as slaves must obey their masters. Not only must the wife obey, she cannot even speak.  “Like Mutes she Signs alone must make,/And never any Freedom take.” For a writer nothing could be worse than to be silenced. As a married woman her ability to publish depended entirely on the good will of her husband. She uses a comparison to slavery because in her opinion silencing her would be the equivalent of enslaving her. She concludes her poem with advice to women considering marriage: “Value your selves, and Men despise,/ You must be proud, if you'll be wise.” She believes that women are wise to resist offers of marriage.

         "Eveline" is another indictment of marriage. The story begins with a girl sitting at a window leaning against curtains of "dusty cretonne." She recalls at that moment how she and the "other children" used to play in the empty lot across from her house. She “seemed to have been rather happy then.  Her father was was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive."  Her thoughts return to the present and to her mixed emotions about leaving for a “distant and unknown country” (Buenos Aires) where “she would be married – she, Eveline.  People would treat her with respect then.”  Eveline is leaving Dublin to marry Frank who is "very kind, manly, open-hearted." The exact opposite of her father. Frank "took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little." And Frank sang along with the music at the theatre, something she would never be able to do, because she would worry too much about what others thought of her. She reminisces about when her father was a good man and about the day her mother died. Eveline promised her mother that she would keep the house together although her father has become drunk and abusive. Her mother’s last words were, in Gaelic, “the end of pleasure is pain.” She cannot leave her father because of the promise she made to her mother and yet if she keeps the promise she will be trapped in the same snare of domesticity as her mother.

         At the beginning of the story Eveline seems trapped and marriage to Frank seems like an “escape… Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But she wanted to live.” Yet at the end at the station where she and Frank are to depart, she cannot pass with him through the “barrier”. “He would drown her.” And so “She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal.”  

         Both Joyce and Lady Mary note the pride and respect that married women enjoy in the community, but portray marriage and domesticity as a trap for women. Marriage may seem an escape from the dismal life of the spinster, but as Eveline suddenly realises and Lady Mary knows, wives are denigrated and enslaved every bit as much as adult unmarried daughters living in their father’s home.
        
         Yet at another level, neither Joyce nor Lady Mary entirely condemns marriage. Lady Mary’s husband apparently does not treat her as a slave because he allows her to write and publish under her name, and indeed to write very critically about marriage. The reader will never know if Eveline would in fact have found freedom and happiness with Frank in Buenos Ayres, but there is no reason to believe that she found freedom or happiness by staying in her father’s home in Dublin. So although in law marriage was a state of servitude for women at the times that Joyce and Lady Mary wrote, not every marriage would turn out to be awful. The most these authors can say and the reason why neither is appropriate for a wedding toast is that the state of matrimony is an extremely risky one for women.

The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.
---  By Henny Youngman