Monday 20 December 2010
Tuesday 23 November 2010
My Quest to be a Punk-Rock Chick.
Some stereotypes are true, its a sad fact but it's true. For instance; 'Irish people drink Guinness.' Now I'm sure there are people in Ireland who don't, but it is true that most Irish people do like Guinness... I've never met one who didn't.
Another true stereotype is, pretty much any, about gender. Most straight men like cars and violent video games, football and beer. And by the same token, most girls like cute things like babies, and kittens, and pink fluffy things and getting their nails done. I do, I hate it sometimes but its true.
I think all women have inside them the little girl they used to be, mine (like most) was obsessed with girly things like barbie dolls and Moomins, fluffy pen tops and cute little bunnies! But she also loved to climb trees make mud pies and sit for hours playing with ants, worms and woodlice.
So now as an adult I have a war between myself and I that rages on endlessly.
One side of myself loves filling pretty notebooks with poems written with pens that have fluffy animals on top of them. She loves listening to cheesy pop like Cher and Elton John, and reading Chick-Lit like Marian Keyes. She loves wearing floaty tops with floral patterns and gorgeous sparkly shoes.
She dreams of filling her home with antique furniture, beautiful jewelry boxes and perfume bottles, white ornamental bird cages filled with freesias and pansies. She loves hosting dinner parties and serving home made desserts. And she dreams of living in a country house, having lots of kids and being a stay at home mummy in a floury apron and baking cookies for when little Charlie and Lavinia come home from school!
Then there's the other side of myself, the side that forked out lots of cash on all the tattoos she has lovingly adorned herself with. She loves punk rock and alternative music like Rancid, The Goo Goo Dolls and Foo Fighters. She lives for live concerts and keeps the tickets from all the live bands she sees in a scrap-book with a scull on the front. She wears rock tees, punk boots and a trilby hat, and is building up the courage to get all her hair but her side fringe cut down to an inch or two long and dyed bright pink! She reads Shakespeare and Poe, and loves watching classic horror movies like 'The Shining', 'Psycho' and 'The Omen'.
These two very different people somehow co-exist in my (rather imperfect) body, and for years I have battled the soft and fluffy side of my self (I call her Tallulah btw), trying so hard to get rid of her altogether, but she's always managed to hang on in there! And although I do tend to lean more towards my rocky persona, I don't think I'll ever be able to kill Tallulah off completely, and if I'm honest I don't really want to. For years Tallulah was everything I hated about myself, my tendency to be over-emotional, my irrational fears, and my ditsy nature, it all infuriated me, when all I wanted to be was strong, self assured and down to earth.
But gradually I have come to realise that all these things, which seem at odds, are actually just all little parts of one whole person, and without them, I wouldn't be who I am. So I can like manicures, pretty handbags and soppy movies, and still be a tough punk-rocking chick. And I can have tattoos and a formidable rock and roll collection, and still be a feminine woman.
And if you think I'm weird for having tattoos and swearing, or if you think I'm a sell out for listening to Cher and doing my nails, then that's your opinion, and your entitled to it. But as long as I'm happy with who I am, I don't care what anyone else thinks about it!
Another true stereotype is, pretty much any, about gender. Most straight men like cars and violent video games, football and beer. And by the same token, most girls like cute things like babies, and kittens, and pink fluffy things and getting their nails done. I do, I hate it sometimes but its true.
I think all women have inside them the little girl they used to be, mine (like most) was obsessed with girly things like barbie dolls and Moomins, fluffy pen tops and cute little bunnies! But she also loved to climb trees make mud pies and sit for hours playing with ants, worms and woodlice.
So now as an adult I have a war between myself and I that rages on endlessly.
One side of myself loves filling pretty notebooks with poems written with pens that have fluffy animals on top of them. She loves listening to cheesy pop like Cher and Elton John, and reading Chick-Lit like Marian Keyes. She loves wearing floaty tops with floral patterns and gorgeous sparkly shoes.
She dreams of filling her home with antique furniture, beautiful jewelry boxes and perfume bottles, white ornamental bird cages filled with freesias and pansies. She loves hosting dinner parties and serving home made desserts. And she dreams of living in a country house, having lots of kids and being a stay at home mummy in a floury apron and baking cookies for when little Charlie and Lavinia come home from school!
Then there's the other side of myself, the side that forked out lots of cash on all the tattoos she has lovingly adorned herself with. She loves punk rock and alternative music like Rancid, The Goo Goo Dolls and Foo Fighters. She lives for live concerts and keeps the tickets from all the live bands she sees in a scrap-book with a scull on the front. She wears rock tees, punk boots and a trilby hat, and is building up the courage to get all her hair but her side fringe cut down to an inch or two long and dyed bright pink! She reads Shakespeare and Poe, and loves watching classic horror movies like 'The Shining', 'Psycho' and 'The Omen'.
These two very different people somehow co-exist in my (rather imperfect) body, and for years I have battled the soft and fluffy side of my self (I call her Tallulah btw), trying so hard to get rid of her altogether, but she's always managed to hang on in there! And although I do tend to lean more towards my rocky persona, I don't think I'll ever be able to kill Tallulah off completely, and if I'm honest I don't really want to. For years Tallulah was everything I hated about myself, my tendency to be over-emotional, my irrational fears, and my ditsy nature, it all infuriated me, when all I wanted to be was strong, self assured and down to earth.
But gradually I have come to realise that all these things, which seem at odds, are actually just all little parts of one whole person, and without them, I wouldn't be who I am. So I can like manicures, pretty handbags and soppy movies, and still be a tough punk-rocking chick. And I can have tattoos and a formidable rock and roll collection, and still be a feminine woman.
And if you think I'm weird for having tattoos and swearing, or if you think I'm a sell out for listening to Cher and doing my nails, then that's your opinion, and your entitled to it. But as long as I'm happy with who I am, I don't care what anyone else thinks about it!
Thursday 21 May 2009
Annabel-Lee By Edgar Allan Poe.
| It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel-Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we- Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. I am a big fan of Edgar Allan Poe, and 'Annabel-Lee' is my favorite of his poems. It is such a beautiful, yet poignant poem, I defy anyone not to be moved by it. 'Annabel Lee' was the last poem that Poe composed, and was first published in November, 1849, a month after his death. |
Monday 18 May 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part VI
People say many things about death, people say it is the only thing in the world that is assured, and they say that it is just another part of life, but no matter what anyone says, it never makes it hurt any less.
He had given her forty-six years, three children and a life full of happiness and love. And as she stood to give his eulogy, and began to speak of what he meant to her, his life and what kind of man he had been. All she could hold in her mind was his death, and the hole he had left in her heart.
She remembered sitting by his bedside that afternoon, just a few days before. He had held her hand and told her it wouldn't be long, they had talked lightly, about the weather and the garden, all the time ignoring the elephant in the room. But he had known, somehow in himself, he had felt death drawing closer. And without fear or sadness, he looked at his wife, he saw her how he always had, and with dignity and a warm loving smile he squeezed her hand and said "You can give me the umbrella back next time you see me." The same words he had said to her after the first time they met.
And then, he was gone.
So as she stood, in front of their friends, their children and all their family, she wondered how best to sum up her feelings. Was it better to have loved and lost? Did she know everything happened for a reason? No. Instead she said these words:
"Our life together was not all of the big memorable moments, it was the little ones we shared every day. Shopping together, doing chores or just sitting watching television. Its the moment's you don't take pictures of, those are the ones that are missed the most."
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
He had given her forty-six years, three children and a life full of happiness and love. And as she stood to give his eulogy, and began to speak of what he meant to her, his life and what kind of man he had been. All she could hold in her mind was his death, and the hole he had left in her heart.
She remembered sitting by his bedside that afternoon, just a few days before. He had held her hand and told her it wouldn't be long, they had talked lightly, about the weather and the garden, all the time ignoring the elephant in the room. But he had known, somehow in himself, he had felt death drawing closer. And without fear or sadness, he looked at his wife, he saw her how he always had, and with dignity and a warm loving smile he squeezed her hand and said "You can give me the umbrella back next time you see me." The same words he had said to her after the first time they met.
And then, he was gone.
So as she stood, in front of their friends, their children and all their family, she wondered how best to sum up her feelings. Was it better to have loved and lost? Did she know everything happened for a reason? No. Instead she said these words:
"Our life together was not all of the big memorable moments, it was the little ones we shared every day. Shopping together, doing chores or just sitting watching television. Its the moment's you don't take pictures of, those are the ones that are missed the most."
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
Life and other works of fiction. Part V
Looking back on it, he didn't remember the fear, the screaming, or the panic. Just what came next.
Just nine months before, when they had watched hand in hand as that little blue line appeared, and cried with joy. It seemed like mere moments had passed, and now it was time. It began on a Wednesday, at 02:17 in the morning, as he watched her scream and curse him for inflicting this pain on her, he held on tight to her hand and didn't let go, even when he thought his own was broken.
As she screamed and howled, he was filled with terror, a million thoughts raced through his mind. 'Surely it wasn't meant to hurt this much?' 'Something must be wrong!'
But then the screaming stopped, and he stared, dazed, as the doctor gently placed this tiny person, into the cradled arms of the woman he loved. And he stared at his wife, the girl he lent his umbrella to all those years ago. He stared at her, sweaty and smiling with her hair wet and stuck to her face, holding this human being that they had created together. He was filled with more love and pride than ever before, and as he watched her, with tears running down his cheeks, he realized she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment.
As a mother.
Just nine months before, when they had watched hand in hand as that little blue line appeared, and cried with joy. It seemed like mere moments had passed, and now it was time. It began on a Wednesday, at 02:17 in the morning, as he watched her scream and curse him for inflicting this pain on her, he held on tight to her hand and didn't let go, even when he thought his own was broken.
As she screamed and howled, he was filled with terror, a million thoughts raced through his mind. 'Surely it wasn't meant to hurt this much?' 'Something must be wrong!'
But then the screaming stopped, and he stared, dazed, as the doctor gently placed this tiny person, into the cradled arms of the woman he loved. And he stared at his wife, the girl he lent his umbrella to all those years ago. He stared at her, sweaty and smiling with her hair wet and stuck to her face, holding this human being that they had created together. He was filled with more love and pride than ever before, and as he watched her, with tears running down his cheeks, he realized she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment.
As a mother.
By Me ~Please Don't Copy~
Monday 27 April 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part IV
Finally the day arrived. It is never as romantic as it is meant to be, more stressful. But their is usually a window, one small moment in the day, when thoughts of ripped dresses, family feuds and dropping the cake all melt away. And in the future, that window is what is remembered, all the rest is more like a dream. For those two it was the entrance, and each before in their allotted places. Waiting.
She stood behind the huge white closed doors. Nerves engulfed her, as she stood, in her beautiful white dress. Arm in arm with the first man she had ever loved, about to be given to the last.
And for his part, just as nervous, as he stood. Waiting, with the eyes of all he knew focused on him he stood fiddling with his buttonhole.
At that moment, before the doors opened, they both wished the same thing. They both wished that they could be alone, with the only person who made them feel safe, and comfortable. The only person they couldn't see. Eachother.
Then the doors opened, and she began her march. They both looked simultaneously, their eyes met, and they smiled, their nerves evaporated. As she reached her beloved, and placed her hands in his, they knew, without words, that this was it. And as they spoke their promises to eachother, and meant every word, they both knew that after today, after this moment, neither of them would ever need anything more ever again, because all they needed, they had. In eachother.
And that was the moment they both would remember, forever.
She stood behind the huge white closed doors. Nerves engulfed her, as she stood, in her beautiful white dress. Arm in arm with the first man she had ever loved, about to be given to the last.
And for his part, just as nervous, as he stood. Waiting, with the eyes of all he knew focused on him he stood fiddling with his buttonhole.
At that moment, before the doors opened, they both wished the same thing. They both wished that they could be alone, with the only person who made them feel safe, and comfortable. The only person they couldn't see. Eachother.
Then the doors opened, and she began her march. They both looked simultaneously, their eyes met, and they smiled, their nerves evaporated. As she reached her beloved, and placed her hands in his, they knew, without words, that this was it. And as they spoke their promises to eachother, and meant every word, they both knew that after today, after this moment, neither of them would ever need anything more ever again, because all they needed, they had. In eachother.
And that was the moment they both would remember, forever.
By Me ~Please Dont Copy~
Friday 3 April 2009
Life and other works of fiction. Part III
Christmas had always been her favorite holiday, but this, the first ever spent with just those two, excited her more than usual. She had bought him an umbrella stand, amongst other things, a little joke betwixed two lovers, a celebration of their meeting. She awoke on Christmas morning at 6.45am, turned to rouse him, but found him gone. Her first instinct that he had gone to sneak a look at Santa's generosity, but then she saw it, a note stuck to his pillow, 'Come Downstairs' its instruction.
She smiled and rose from the bed, eager to discover what lay in wait for her downstairs... a puppy?... a romantic Christmas morning breakfast with the man she loved?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor, to a strange feeling underfoot. Looking down, she realized it was petals, a carpet of petals littered the corridor and stairs. She followed her trail to the end, quietly and slowly, her breath caught in her throat. She followed her trail to the living room door, slightly ajar, she could see something, a glow emanating from inside.
She pushed the door open and saw the room, lit by the Christmas tree. And Candles. A thousand candles covering every surface. And in the middle of the room, a box, a huge gift, beautifully wrapped with a tag that read another instruction 'Open Me.' She looked around, he was nowhere to be seen, she tiptoed towards the box, barely breathing, for fear of waking in bed to find him snoring next to her. But as she reached out to touch the box, it did not disappear, she felt the ribbon between her fingers and pulled. The box fell open and revealed inside - another box, smaller but still beautifully wrapped. Again inside that one, a box smaller still, and again and again until the floor was covered with tissue and ribbon and boxes of descending size.
Finally she held in her hand the smallest box, the last box, she looked around again, but still no one was there. Her heart stopping, her breath caught in her throat she opened the last box, and inside she found, a folded piece of paper. Confused, she began to read. Its one last instruction......'Turn Around.'
She stopped, her heart leaped to her mouth as she turned slowly, and there merely inches behind her he was. Kneeling, holding in his hand, a piece of jewelry more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Overwhelmed as he began to recite the words she had dreamt of hearing her whole life, she began to cry, and as he slipped the ring on to her finger, they embraced. They sank to the floor, and there, amidst candles, and petals, and boxes, and ribbons, and a Christmas Tree. They made love
She smiled and rose from the bed, eager to discover what lay in wait for her downstairs... a puppy?... a romantic Christmas morning breakfast with the man she loved?
She opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor, to a strange feeling underfoot. Looking down, she realized it was petals, a carpet of petals littered the corridor and stairs. She followed her trail to the end, quietly and slowly, her breath caught in her throat. She followed her trail to the living room door, slightly ajar, she could see something, a glow emanating from inside.
She pushed the door open and saw the room, lit by the Christmas tree. And Candles. A thousand candles covering every surface. And in the middle of the room, a box, a huge gift, beautifully wrapped with a tag that read another instruction 'Open Me.' She looked around, he was nowhere to be seen, she tiptoed towards the box, barely breathing, for fear of waking in bed to find him snoring next to her. But as she reached out to touch the box, it did not disappear, she felt the ribbon between her fingers and pulled. The box fell open and revealed inside - another box, smaller but still beautifully wrapped. Again inside that one, a box smaller still, and again and again until the floor was covered with tissue and ribbon and boxes of descending size.
Finally she held in her hand the smallest box, the last box, she looked around again, but still no one was there. Her heart stopping, her breath caught in her throat she opened the last box, and inside she found, a folded piece of paper. Confused, she began to read. Its one last instruction......'Turn Around.'
She stopped, her heart leaped to her mouth as she turned slowly, and there merely inches behind her he was. Kneeling, holding in his hand, a piece of jewelry more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Overwhelmed as he began to recite the words she had dreamt of hearing her whole life, she began to cry, and as he slipped the ring on to her finger, they embraced. They sank to the floor, and there, amidst candles, and petals, and boxes, and ribbons, and a Christmas Tree. They made love
By Me ~Please Dont Copy~
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