While I don't encourage real life friends to get into unhealthy relationships, they're lots of fun in art! Tom Cruise's "you complete me", Heathcliff and Cathy, etc. And songs are no exception: codependency, changing your identity for someone else, and relationship addiction. Here's to our inner demons.
I had to upload this one myself: Barney Bentall "If This Is Love Why Does It Hurt So Much".
There's a secret button Right here in my soul You know how to press it don't ya It gives you total control I need you like I need oxygen I don't care if it's all a crutch
"I'll Change for You" - Rosanne Cash & Steve Earle -- I love that this song even acknowledges its own wrongness.
I'll change for you I don't care what the books say I'll change for you I don't care what my friends say
And the good old fashioned drug analogy: "Addicted" - Kelly Clarkson
It's like you're a leech
Sucking the life from me
It's like I can't breathe
Without you inside of me
And I know I let you have all the power
And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time
I want to share some Joseph Campbell with you, cause he's one of my favourite philosophers. Reading him (or listening to him in interview) is what brought it all together for me--brought all my various beliefs into something cohesive.
I was first interested in him because of my Star Wars fanitude. George Lucas purposely tried to recreate the hero path, and Campbell watched the original Star Wars movies later in life and they formed part of his conversation with Bill Moyers in the series The Power of Myth.
Somewhere in the series (at the very beginning?) Campbell reads out a passage from his book The Hero with 1000 Faces, and I was smitten. I find this passage so beautiful, it can move me to tears. (Click the video to hear him reciting it.)
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He's making reference to the myth of the Theseus, who was only able to navigate the labyrinth and slay the Minotaur because Ariadne provided him with a thread to unravel as he went.
"It is, indeed, very little that we need! But lacking that, the adventure, the adventure into the labyrinth is without hope. ... Centuries of husbandry, decades of diligent culling, the work on numerous hearts and hands, have gone into the hackling, sorting, and spinning of this tightly twisted yarn. Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; and where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world."
The greater idea in the chapter is that we're born with potential that we haven't even realized, and the hero journey is meant to unlock that potential; and by doing so, we make our society richer.
"all the life-potentialities that we never managed to bring to adult realization, those other portions of ourself, are there; for such golden seeds do not die. If only a portion of that lost totality could be dredged up into the light of day, we should experience a marvelous expansion of our powers, a vivid renewal of life."
Doesn't he have a lovely way of looking at life? Makes the crapitude just a little less crappy.
In "The Soul of Man Under Socialism" Oscar Wilde felt that industrial/capitalist society wasn't conducive to people developing themselves, and asserting their individuality--the majority of people had to work too hard to be able to spend time creating art, philosophizing and such. He thought socialism was the answer to that, I guess the idea being that you all cooperate together (rather than compete), get the work done, and then have spare time. Okay, so not very prescient of him.
I wonder if it's true that working long hours, in a job that doesn't allow much for creative outlet, stunts growth. My first inclination is no. But if you look at the *great* western artists and philosophers, did they do much work outside of their art? Marx sat around in the British Museum library all day writing, and was often broke. Then again, Anthony Trollope worked at the post office for decades, and wrote a zillion books.
Rage Against the Machine would say that The Man doesn't want us to develop our thinking, so he makes us work our tooshies off, and then just come home and crash in front of the TV.
The main attraction, distraction
got ya number than number than numb
Empty ya pockets son, they got you thinkin that
What ya need is what they sellin
Make you think that buyin is rebellin'
From the theaters to malls on every shore
The thin line between entertainment and war
The frontline is everywhere, there be no shelter here (From their song "No Shelter.")
"Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live."
It's from the essay "The Soul of Man Under Socialism."
Here's the passage:
A man is called affected, nowadays, if he dresses as he likes to dress. But in doing that he is acting in a perfectly natural manner. Affectation, in such matters, consists in dressing according to the views of one's neighbour, whose views, as they are the views of the majority, will probably be extremely stupid. Or a man is called selfish if he lives in the manner that seems to him most suitable for the full realisation of his own personality; if, in fact, the primary aim of his life is self-development. But this is the way in which every one should live. Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. And unselfishness is letting other people's lives alone, not interfering with them.
I'm pretty in for that idea--that it's selfish to want everyone else to be like just like you, and it's not selfish to want to develop yourself. Ayn Rand would have approved, though she thought it was only under capitalism that people would be free enough to be themselves, and Oscar thought it was only under socialism that people would have enough free time to develop and think.
There's some other aspects of the article that are interesting, but I'll chat about that tomorrow.
"Hilton, born Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr., has posted a Youtube video, which touches on teenage suicides linked with bullying.“I need to be the change that I want to see. I need to be the solution and not part of the problem,” he said on the video, adding that in the past, he has said “hurtful” things about people." (The Epoch Times)
Well. That's nice! Good for him. He's also started a new blog about celebrities and fitness. It's not bad--for example, he has a Sesame Street video encouraging girls to love their hair, and support of Christina Hendricks' happy-with-my-body attitude (she's the curvy one on Mad Men.)
He probably wouldn't have gotten famous posting Nice Blogs, but now that he's got the following, I admire him that he seems to be following his conscience.
This is one of my favourite songs from Hawksley Workman. It has a goofy little melody and cute lyrics. It sounds like it should be on Sesame Street, and I especially like the last line: "cause hopeless isn't true." It makes me wonder: Are there any situations in life that are truly hopeless? I suppose not, because all you need for hope is your imagination, so provided you still have that faculty, it's there.
You could be sitting in the electric chair, ready to be zapped, and there's a power failure. Someone could be about to shoot you, and the gun malfunctions. You could get a crappy grader and pass that exam even though you didn't study.
You are what God made you
Everyone can see
You don't have to change for no-one
Especially not me
...Don't get trapped in hopeless cages
'cause hopeless isn't true
(Apologies that the only uploaded video of the song is also goofy.)
[pictures in this post link to books on goodreads]
Because I've ordered books from them in the past, I get emails from abebooks. They make great lists, like this one: Charlie Brown and Other Lovable Literary Losers. The accompanying essay is really nice, here's an excerpt:
Charlie Brown's claim to fame consisted of doing exactly what the rest of us do - living his life each day the best he could. ...There's a kind of dignity in Charlie Brown's refusal to give up, to change who he is. Surrounded by talented friends ...Charlie Brown himself failed at most things he tried. He was a terrible baseball player, but continued to doggedly practice and play. He seemed to carry with him an air of hope, as if he woke up every morning, yesterday's failures dissolved overnight, with a renewed sense that today might be the day he finally wins.
Go here to see the other literary losers they point out--here are three from the list that I personally love.
I love the Adrian Mole books--Townsend writes a new one about every 5-10 years, and the same real time passes in Adrian's life. Since he's about my age, we're growing old together. He's delusional and selfish, but there are these wonderful moments of sweetness, such as his relationship with his older son, that elevates these books from satire to something kinder.
Poor old Arthur Dent--he has pretty much the same experience the rest of us would were we whisked away by more intelligent beings into outer space.
The hero of this book is so nice, and so lonely, that I've never wanted someone to get laid so much in my life. Great book.
This is hands-down the weirdest articles I've ever read about a politician's appearance. I don't know who Rob Ford is, but this piece recently appeared in the Globe and Mail: (just some excerpts, cause it's also weirdly long)
"Rob Ford's not popular despite being fat. He's popular because of it Stephen Marche
The mounds of fat that encircle Rob Ford's body like great deflated tires of defeat are truly unprecedented in Canadian politics.
We have had chunky political candidates before, but the front-runner in Toronto's current contest to be mayor is so fat that his belly is invariably the first thing you notice about him.
Yet far from harming his political image, his bulk is the key to his appeal. Neither intelligent nor sympathetic, Mr. Ford offers voters fat. And we want fat. In fat, we see ourselves. ...
Fat is the physical manifestation of postindustrial life.
... Whether through the migration to white-collar jobs or through rust-belt unemployment, we have lost the physical labour but we have kept the diet that once sustained it.
Fat is the bodily equivalent of the boarded-up factories in once-industrial powerhouses like Windsor and St. Catharines and Buffalo and Cleveland. Fat in North America is work that is not being done.
... His gut embodies the parts of the city and the country hardest-hit by the changing nature of our economy and the evisceration of manual labour from our society.
His fat is all he has going for him; it makes him look working-class even though he's a drunk-driving, second-generation political dilettante, a man who has never been faced with the financial difficulties of ordinary people. Mr. Ford's body reflects the decline around us better than any story he could tell."
"I have to say, there aren’t that many good looking actresses around today. I mean, there’s Angelina Jolie and there’s… Angelina Jolie. Jennifer Aniston is cute, but I wouldn’t call her beautiful. I think that is why Cheryl Cole is so popular, because she is just so pretty and the public are starved of gorgeous people. When I was young, everybody on screen was gorgeous."
As with many people, I think Collins' definition of beautiful is severely stunted.
Apparently this week is "Fat-talk Free Week". I think that's a nice movement, and a big part of it is aimed at girls. My basic conclusion on all this weight loss stuff is that we just need to talk about it LESS. I don't think there's anything wrong with trying to lose some weight (though I'm anti-diet), trying to get fitter, etc., but I think we need to stop bloody talking about it all the time. So I'll stop now.
Delta Delta Delta and key partners are raising the nation’s consciousness about the dangers of 'fat talk' and the impact it has on women’s overall self-esteem and confidence.
Fat Talk Free Week is a five-day public awareness effort sponsored by Tri Delta, The Center for Living, Learning and Leading, and many other generous partners. The campaign was intended to draw attention to the damaging impact of fat talk and the “thin ideal” on today’s women.
We ask all women to make the pledge to spread our message by eliminating “fat talk” from their conversations. Help us end Fat Talk.
Fat Talk describes all of the statements made in everyday conversation that reinforce the thin ideal and contribute to women’s dissatisfaction with their bodies. Examples of fat talk may include: “I’m so fat,” “Do I look fat in this?” “I need to lose 10 pounds” and “She’s too fat to be wearing that swimsuit.” Statements that are considered fat talk don’t necessarily have to be negative; they can seem positive yet also reinforce the need to be thin – “You look great! Have you lost weight?”
I heard on the radio (Randy Bachman's music show on CBC - it's really good) that this song by Beck is about vanity. Beck said so. I thought that would be blog-appropriate, but reading the lyrics... I don't get it. He's clearly too smarty-pants for me. Here's what he said about the song:
I don't know if I ever HAD any youthful purity, but I can understand that you might be tempted to make commercial shit and compromise to do it. I try not to compromise on anything. I think we associate becoming an adult with compromise. Maybe that's what the devil is. In 'Devils Haircut' that was the scenario. I imagined Stagger Lee... I thought, what if this guy showed up now in 1996... I thought of using him as a Rumpelstiltskin figure, this Lazarus figure to comment on where we've ended up as people. What would he make of materialism and greed and ideals of beauty and perfection? His reaction would be, 'Whoa, this is disturbing shit.'
"Devil's Haircut"
Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
And everywhere I look there's a dead end waiting
Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis
Stealing kisses from the leperous faces
Heads are hanging from the garbage man trees
Mouthwash jukebox gasoline
Crystals are pointing at a poor man's pockets
Smiling eyes ripping out of his sockets
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Love machines on the sympathy crutches
Discount orgies on the dropout buses
Hitching a ride with the bleeding noses
Coming to town with the brief case blues
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
Ghetto-blasting disintegrating
Rock 'n' roll, know what I'm saying
And everywhere I look there's a devil waiting
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
I bought this book on the way to the orthodontist, one day in my teens, and fell right in love with it. It's so SO sad.
In case you don't know the story, it's of a très ugly bellringer, in Medieval France, who is taken in by a priest and raised in the Notre Dame cathedral--Frollo is his only "family" and the church his only home. One day he's shown a momentary kindness by the beautiful gypsy Esmerelda; and in return he saves her life when she's falsely accused of a murder. Of course he falls totally in love with her.
If you've only seen the cartoon/movie versions, you may not know that Esmerelda's a superficial idiot in love with another superficial idiot (the captain of the guards), who's not in love with her. Frollo the lecherous priest is in lust with her, and he eventually delivers her to the law, and she's hanged. As she's being killed, Frollo laughs evilly, so Quasimodo shoves him over the side of the cathedral. This is pretty much the ending:
Quasimodo returned his gaze to the gipsy girl, whose body, dangling in its white robe from the gibbet, he beheld from afar quivering in the last agonies of death; then he let it drop once more on the Archdeacon, lying in a shapeless heap at the foot of the tower, and with a sigh that heaved his deep chest, he murmured: “Oh! all that I have ever loved!”
I only share all this so that you know how SAD it is. Heartbreaking. But the point of this blog entry is to share with you the bit I loved most as a young lass, Book IX, IV "Earthenware and Crystal."
Sometimes, in the evening, she would hear a voice concealed under the leaden eaves of the steeple, singing, as if to lull her to sleep, a melancholy and fantastic song, without rhyme or rhythm, such as a deaf man might make
One morning when she rose she found two vases full of flowers standing at the window. One of them was of glass, very beautiful in shape and colour, but cracked; it had let all the water in it run out, and the flowers it held were faded. The other was of earthenware, rude and common, but it retained all the water, so that its flowers remained fresh and blooming. I knew not if she acted with intention, but Esmeralda took the faded nosegay and wore it in her bosom all day. That day the voice from the tower was silent.
Yes it's vair vair sad. But a nice metaphor on Quasi's part.
The top comment for this video reads: "of course she's amazing just the way she is...she looks like a model. i wouldn't change a thing in her either."
Does it make the video less touching that the woman is so *traditionally gorgeous*? My first instinct was "yes." But then I've known my share of really really ridiculously good looking people who didn't think they were. Or who knew they were good looking, but had low self-esteem in other ways, or thought they were dumb, or didn't think they were special, etc.
If you ever want a classic story of how money/success/fame don't buy happiness, catch a bio of George Michael. He thought he was so ugly when he was young that he couldn't stand to look in the mirror. Imagine how confusing it was to become "every school girl's fantasy"* especially when he was also hiding/messed up over the fact that he was gay. (Hiding in plain sight, mind you, as he jokes in interview.) He then built his solo career on a "brand new face for the boys on MTV" and that just screwed him up more.
Beauty is a complicated thing, my pretties.
* Quoting lyrics from his song "Freedom 90," which closely reflects things he's said in interview.
The first of the trapped Chilean miners is out! Yay! Let's hope everyone gets out safely.
There's a sweet story in the BBC about how some of the wives/girlfriends/family members are preparing for their reunions. Maybe it's a sexist subject for an article? But I think, if there's a time for everything (turn turn turn), then there's a time for dressing up too.
* Christina pulls out two sets of lingerie from a bag: "I was given these by a woman who owns a lingerie shop in Copiapo," she tells me. "I wasn't sure at first whether to wear them or not, but then I mentioned it to Claudio, and he seemed really keen on the idea, so I will."
* Lilian, 57, wants to make sure she looks pretty the next time he will see her. She wants to buy a new dress specially for the occasion. "Something simple, yet elegant, and some high heels to go with it."
* Maria [sister of a trapped miner] says that before D-Day she will go for a bit of a make-over, a pedicure and manicure to get all the desert dust off her, and a bit of colour to cover the greys in her hair.
* Alicia says that unlike so many of the other women at the camp, she is not going to change anything about her appearance. "My hair has gone grey with worry," she says. "But I won't dye it. I'm too old for that, and anyway, this is how my son knows me, and when he is reborn - because this rescue will be like a rebirth - I want him to find me just like when he left me, no different."
...and I liked this exchange between two characters.
Our hero is having a bad time with the chick he digs, and a fellow actor tells him she wants our hero to fight for her. Our hero says: "I'm not sure that's who I am." Fellow Actor replies: "And who you are--is that who you want to be?"
This strikes me as a fair question. I'm all for knowing your limits, and not trying to be someone you aren't. For example, I'm not good at math, and I never will be--believe me, I've tried to even be OK at math and failed.
On the other hand, what things could I still be? Maybe Knowing Thyself can be limiting too? Or at least, thinking you know thyself. ;-)
Reminds me of Oscar Wilde's phrase: "Only the shallow know themselves."
Hey - I meant to put up one posting for while I was traveling, and instead accidentally posted two in one day. So if you're feeling blog-deprived, make sure you saw this one. ;-)
The reviews for this book are pretty unanimous--better idea than execution. But I heard one story read by the author on CBC and it was humorous and sweet.
Goldstein is retelling Biblical stories, adding a human perspective to them. The one I heard was the story of Jonah, and I recommend just listening to the end (at the link above.)
Jonah's this odd kid, horrified by the act of picking flowers, outshone by his brother, invisible, "embarrassed to be alive". When Jonah returns from his fish-swallowing-Ninevah-saving experience, he's now famous His brother Vito decides it's time he marries, and Jonah goes through 52 blind dates before he meets a woman who's interested in his stories of what it's like to live inside a whale.
Goldstein writes that "all Vito wanted for his brother was normalcy" and he finally insists (at date #53) "There's more to my brother than [being swallowed by a fish]... he is just like everybody else!"
And the date replies: "Oh on the contrary, I think being swallowed by a big fish makes a person pretty special." Then she turns to Jonah: "You have seen something that no one else has seen, I want to hear about it, every detail you can remember."
Jonah replies: "Out of the fish's eyes I saw where Moses and the children of Israel had marched across the ocean's floor. I saw their footprints stamped into the mud. ... I was invisible my whole life until I fell into that fishes' mouth. If it hadn't have been for dumb luck I'd still be invisible."
She says: "I don't think it was dumb luck. ...God made you invisible to keep you safe and protected, so that one day you could meet the fish and become more visible than anyone else. You were saved so Ninevah could be saved. And maybe also so we could now be talking."
Through much of my life my parents have lived in different provinces, and I visited my mother on my vacation every summer, and still do. As a child/teen these were extended stays, for a month or so.
I was able to follow my natural inclination to stay up laaaate and that's probably when I got into old black and white movies. I remember being curled up in a chair, in a darkened living room in Kingston, Ontario, watching films like Cyrano de Bergerac.
It was probably during one of these times that I first saw Now, Voyager. It's about a plain, low self esteem woman living under her horrid mother's thumb, until a psychiatrist brings her to his sanitarium, and she goes on a cruise. She slowly gains confidence, and in the process sheds the ugly eyebrows and such. She also falls in love with a married man, and they don't end up together; but the ending doesn't feel all bad, since the movie is really about her journey.
(Click on the pics if you want to see her Before and After scenes on youtube.)
I have mixed feelings about makeovers. I feel like there's a fine line between blossoming and growing into your Best Self, and changing to be what other people want or think you should be. I haven't seen Now, Voyager in a long time, but I think the makeover was well done. It was gradual, and reflected the changes in her character, and was completed before she met the Male Love Interest.
