So I finally caved in and decided to watch Twilight, and finally see what the hell everyone was going on about. I'm watching in right now, and I've got through twenty minutes of a 2-hour film.
So far :
-I think kristen stewart is a terrible actress
-WTF is with all those kids fawning over her the first minute she sets foot in school(the guys are all over her, the teen journalist thinks she has really good ideas,other girl thinks she's funny)?That seriously doesn't happen in real life.
-The faces Rob pattinson makes when he first has to sit next to her in biology are AWESOME. He looks like he's about to throw up.
-Jacob is pretty hot. So is Edward when he's not about to puke. Which is funny because those two have been all over the internets for ages and I'd never seen the appeal.
-Why is everything so damn grey?
-Her voiceover is fucking awful
-Edward is bloody unpleasant
-and now he's watching her sleep
-turns down nice dude because edward is watching her,but supposedly is because she's going to Jacksonville
-Edward wants to know WHAT is in jacksonville!!!Not creepy. especially the part where he only knows because he eavesdrops. And then she falls over AGAIN and he scolds her because she's clumsy. Sounds rather like my father, come to think of it.
-Edward is a prick.
-I like the asian dude.
-Edward is telling her to stay away from him, because he is BAD. (sound advice, as far as i'm concerned)
-Bella is a Very Good Friend to the girls.It's very obvious. She tells the dude she turned down to ask the girl who likes him (Jessica?) to prom, and tells the other to ask Eric (asian dude) to prom since he's not asking her ,and we all know it's because he likes Bella. Jeez. (and her advice works!)
-And three vampires eat some fisherman. This is the second death after some guy was "eaten by animals" earlier, and for the moment they're the only interesting thing in this film.
-SUN!!!!
-shopping!pink and purple dresses!
-scary dudes in an alley start seriously harassing Bella, but Edward turns up!It's magic. Or stalking. And he wants to kill them because he knows the disgusting, disgusting things they were thinking.
-Edward says creepy things totally randomly.
-Trying to cut Bella some slack here, because hey, hard to believe and all that, but is she an idiot, or is it just me?Maybe he can't read her mind because....there's nothing to read!I'm mean. But seriously. Plus this blank slate vibe she's giving off is squicking me out.
-And now he's frustrated because he can't read her mind. Which is seriously disturbing. And she, instead of being, i don't know, relieved that this freaky dude can't hear what she's thinking, actually wonders if there's something wrong with her. Answer : YES.
-Really "romantic" moment where Edward goes "i don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore", and Bella flutters "then don't" is just hilarious. I don't get it. Seriously, this is the kind of sentence that should make a girl, or woman, think for a minute. Plus it feels sooo contrived. Might be the acting. It is not good.
-They've found the fisherman. Another "animal" attack. Bella's dad is sad.
-Bella's google-fu is awesome, and she has Understood.
-And she walks to the forest, and he follows her. And this is the lamest scene of the whole movie, up to now. Bella Knows!And she tells him! And she says 'i know what you are' and he goes "say it"and she says it!HE'S A VAMPIRE, you guys!
-Right, no, this is getting worse, he is running up to the top of the mountain so that she sees what he looks like in the sunlight. This actually, seriously blows. Vampires do not do sunlight, for christ's sake. And no place on earth is THAT cloudy. NO SUNLIGHT, Stephenie Meyer!
-SPARKLES!!!!!!Plus he opened his shirt so, you know, she could see him sparle properly. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.
-Edward is a tortured soul. Teen angst.
-Now he is showing Bella how much stronger than her she is; he is designed to kill, has killed people. Plus he wanted to kill her. he wants her blood!
But she TRUSTS him.
-her smell is a drug to him.Just say no, Edward!
-Bella knows he can control his impulse to kill her!Now what does that remind me of?
Oh yes. Women as guardians of sex. You know the drill. Women don't like sex, only give it up because they want marriage and babies, blabla, that men only agree to because they want sex all the time. Wev.Back to the mountain! (actually the scenery is lovely. Only good point here.)
-Now Bella's only fear is losing him!They're in love!But no kissing.
-And now they're lying in (wet) grass, staring at each other. THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTIC. The sun comes out!He sparkles again!
Funny how him sparkling makes me think more of christian iconography and angels than vampires.hm. Someone's got all this slightly mixed up! But no, he's pure...he doesn't eat humans!(at the moment). Could probably work in some redemption themes in there somewhere. But it smells of religion to me.A lot.
-Edward has smiled!Everyone knows they're dating!Other vampires are not impressed!
-In this world, vampires have no restraint as soon as they get a whiff of human blood.
Like dudes supposedly have no restraint because their sex drives are so high?boys will be boys?
-Bella knows vampires killed those two people. And they all have special powers.
Okay, after 1 hour,1 minute and 30 seconds of this, I give up. I will try and finish it another time, but this movie?Is bad. And I like a lot of bad movies. I am no connoisseur. But this is just fucking terrible. And it's creepy that this is peddled to teenage girls as a great romance. I'm still looking for romance here, people!
This makes me wait for the next episode of True Blood even more. I miss Buffy :(
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Musings
I was reading shapely prose today, first the post on the DLBs which drove me nuts, then followed the link back to "turn that douchehound upside down" in which hundreds of comments tell of daily harassment. By men.
But hey, everyone knows a woman can't tell of what happens to her in her daily life, right?
This probably rubs me even more wrong than usual, since something particularly...unpleasant happened to me not long ago. It was my best friend's 21st, and I crashed in her roommate's bed, a dude I've known since I was 14; never anything between us, and we've shared a bed after parties a good few times. Plus that particular night best friend had someone sleeping with her^^
But anyways. We chatted a bit; we were both pretty drunk, subject got onto sex. Every now and again he tries to get me to have sex with him; i used to treat it as a joke. But he knew I didn't want to, since I explicitly told him that if I had wanted to, i'd have made it known by now. I'm not shy like that. I don't want to fuck him, never have wanted to. On top of it all, he has a girlfriend of two years.
So I fell asleep. And woke up in the morning with no knickers on. Wriggled back into them, while realising some other dude that had been at the party had also been sleeping in the room, which really freaked me out, whispered "why the fuck was I not wearing anything on the bottom?" or some french equivalent, got a "i don't know" shrug of the shoulders, and got out.
You know what? i know he groped me while I was sleeping. I have vague memories of warm feelings during the night, but I am a very sound sleeper when tipsy. My body responded to whatever he was doing; I could see traces of it in my underwear. I can also feel it the next day if my clit has been rubbed pretty vigorously, and need I say i was feeling it then, and feeling completely confused about it?
But that I probably got wet and rubbed my butt against him or whatever while fast asleep? IS NO FUCKING EXCUSE for feeling me up when 1)I had while AWAKE told him i wasn't interested, 2)IN NO STATE to say yes or no.
I felt bad after that. Dirty. Used. Confused. Scared. I haven't seen him since.
I told my best friend that night. She said she believed me, and she saw how upset I was. i also felt the disbelief. "he would never do that". Well he did. I know he did.
He probably didn't think of it as anything. i probably "wanted it" "didn"t say no""likes sex so why should she mind""why would i do that to her, she's not hot enough for me"
I can hear it. He had no fucking right to touch me, and I fully intend not to see him again. Whatever friendship we might've shared is now tainted by this. In retrospect, I guess the fact that he still brought up sex every now and again should've tipped me off to his, but as I said, I took it in jest. After all, this was the dude, who is in no position to consider me "under him" jokingly once said so, when he found out I'd had sex with more people than he had.
But then the Best Friend said he did that to plenty of girls. Please tell me how THIS IS NOT FUCKING CREEPY??
I didn't know about it. Now I do.
D'you know, it's made me realise how lucky I have been that this kind of shit hasn't affected me much through my life.
Primary school was fine, although boys looked under my skirt the one time I wore one, but it seemed a game to me at the time. I found it funny. I wonder what the other girls thought about it. Their memories might not be so fun.
Middle school-well I was mainly insulted with variants of "nerd" and plays on my surname. By boys. And fat and ugly. Not a happy period. Oddly enough I got called a feminist a lot, because I was very vocal about girls being just as good as boys. Plus I got jokingly asked out; of course it couldn't be serious, i was fat and ugly!
High school was extremely satisfying on the other hand, since I grew out of my puppyfat and became pretty attractive; the dudes who insulted me in middle school tended to give me a bit more than a second glance then, and I had the satisfaction of thinking I wouldn't touch them with a fucking bargepole.
High school for me was from 14 to 17, basically the years I really hit puberty hard and turned into a woman, blabla, but I don't remember that much abuse.
I have to point out that I had a large posse of friends, many of which were male, and that helped a LOT. Especially as, in retrospect, I see that for teenage boys they were pretty damn nice about women.
I do remember :
-a couple of male "friends" trying to throw me in the river, not managing (mainly because I was definitely not against violence if necessary) and being thoroughly ridiculed by a teacher walking by, saying "you can't even throw a girl in the river, all three of you!".
In retrospect i can't believe that dumbass teacher just walked by when I was screaming and kicking their knees in.
-One of my friends warning me that her theen-boyfriend and one of his friends, both that I knew from middle school, were planning to throw me in the river if they saw me; that summer, i stayed away from the riverside because of this.
-at the swimming pool, a couple of arab kids, of about NINE years old came behind me and my group of girlfriends. I was lying on my stomach, in my costume, and I distinctly heard one of them say that I was in a perfect position to stick a dildo, and other such comments. I turned around and asked them how the hell they dared talk like that, and their sisters started screaming at us. It only calmed down when a couple arab dudes a bit older than us-I must've been about 17-got involved and told the girls and kids to back the fuck off- and then asked if any of us were single.
-The dude in the street who asked me if i'd go to the hotel with him when i was sixteen.
-a guy I didn't know spreading the rumour that I'd been in a threesome with a friend and a dude when i was 16
-Older guys expressing their desire to fuck me when I was very much not interested. An dvery much underage.
-oh my god I've just remembered my class(second year of high school) used to call me a cocksucker because they got their hands on a picture of me with a lollipop, and one of the dickheads actually asked my boyfriend of the time how it was with me. Plus they called me Clara Morgane, because my name sounds a bit like hers; she used to be a porn star.
Catcalls only happen to me when I'm out with other women these days, mainly in Marseille. I seem to exude a definite "fuck off" vibe. GOOD.
this just makes me so damn angry, and not a DLB of anger ;)
But hey, everyone knows a woman can't tell of what happens to her in her daily life, right?
This probably rubs me even more wrong than usual, since something particularly...unpleasant happened to me not long ago. It was my best friend's 21st, and I crashed in her roommate's bed, a dude I've known since I was 14; never anything between us, and we've shared a bed after parties a good few times. Plus that particular night best friend had someone sleeping with her^^
But anyways. We chatted a bit; we were both pretty drunk, subject got onto sex. Every now and again he tries to get me to have sex with him; i used to treat it as a joke. But he knew I didn't want to, since I explicitly told him that if I had wanted to, i'd have made it known by now. I'm not shy like that. I don't want to fuck him, never have wanted to. On top of it all, he has a girlfriend of two years.
So I fell asleep. And woke up in the morning with no knickers on. Wriggled back into them, while realising some other dude that had been at the party had also been sleeping in the room, which really freaked me out, whispered "why the fuck was I not wearing anything on the bottom?" or some french equivalent, got a "i don't know" shrug of the shoulders, and got out.
You know what? i know he groped me while I was sleeping. I have vague memories of warm feelings during the night, but I am a very sound sleeper when tipsy. My body responded to whatever he was doing; I could see traces of it in my underwear. I can also feel it the next day if my clit has been rubbed pretty vigorously, and need I say i was feeling it then, and feeling completely confused about it?
But that I probably got wet and rubbed my butt against him or whatever while fast asleep? IS NO FUCKING EXCUSE for feeling me up when 1)I had while AWAKE told him i wasn't interested, 2)IN NO STATE to say yes or no.
I felt bad after that. Dirty. Used. Confused. Scared. I haven't seen him since.
I told my best friend that night. She said she believed me, and she saw how upset I was. i also felt the disbelief. "he would never do that". Well he did. I know he did.
He probably didn't think of it as anything. i probably "wanted it" "didn"t say no""likes sex so why should she mind""why would i do that to her, she's not hot enough for me"
I can hear it. He had no fucking right to touch me, and I fully intend not to see him again. Whatever friendship we might've shared is now tainted by this. In retrospect, I guess the fact that he still brought up sex every now and again should've tipped me off to his, but as I said, I took it in jest. After all, this was the dude, who is in no position to consider me "under him" jokingly once said so, when he found out I'd had sex with more people than he had.
But then the Best Friend said he did that to plenty of girls. Please tell me how THIS IS NOT FUCKING CREEPY??
I didn't know about it. Now I do.
D'you know, it's made me realise how lucky I have been that this kind of shit hasn't affected me much through my life.
Primary school was fine, although boys looked under my skirt the one time I wore one, but it seemed a game to me at the time. I found it funny. I wonder what the other girls thought about it. Their memories might not be so fun.
Middle school-well I was mainly insulted with variants of "nerd" and plays on my surname. By boys. And fat and ugly. Not a happy period. Oddly enough I got called a feminist a lot, because I was very vocal about girls being just as good as boys. Plus I got jokingly asked out; of course it couldn't be serious, i was fat and ugly!
High school was extremely satisfying on the other hand, since I grew out of my puppyfat and became pretty attractive; the dudes who insulted me in middle school tended to give me a bit more than a second glance then, and I had the satisfaction of thinking I wouldn't touch them with a fucking bargepole.
High school for me was from 14 to 17, basically the years I really hit puberty hard and turned into a woman, blabla, but I don't remember that much abuse.
I have to point out that I had a large posse of friends, many of which were male, and that helped a LOT. Especially as, in retrospect, I see that for teenage boys they were pretty damn nice about women.
I do remember :
-a couple of male "friends" trying to throw me in the river, not managing (mainly because I was definitely not against violence if necessary) and being thoroughly ridiculed by a teacher walking by, saying "you can't even throw a girl in the river, all three of you!".
In retrospect i can't believe that dumbass teacher just walked by when I was screaming and kicking their knees in.
-One of my friends warning me that her theen-boyfriend and one of his friends, both that I knew from middle school, were planning to throw me in the river if they saw me; that summer, i stayed away from the riverside because of this.
-at the swimming pool, a couple of arab kids, of about NINE years old came behind me and my group of girlfriends. I was lying on my stomach, in my costume, and I distinctly heard one of them say that I was in a perfect position to stick a dildo, and other such comments. I turned around and asked them how the hell they dared talk like that, and their sisters started screaming at us. It only calmed down when a couple arab dudes a bit older than us-I must've been about 17-got involved and told the girls and kids to back the fuck off- and then asked if any of us were single.
-The dude in the street who asked me if i'd go to the hotel with him when i was sixteen.
-a guy I didn't know spreading the rumour that I'd been in a threesome with a friend and a dude when i was 16
-Older guys expressing their desire to fuck me when I was very much not interested. An dvery much underage.
-oh my god I've just remembered my class(second year of high school) used to call me a cocksucker because they got their hands on a picture of me with a lollipop, and one of the dickheads actually asked my boyfriend of the time how it was with me. Plus they called me Clara Morgane, because my name sounds a bit like hers; she used to be a porn star.
Catcalls only happen to me when I'm out with other women these days, mainly in Marseille. I seem to exude a definite "fuck off" vibe. GOOD.
this just makes me so damn angry, and not a DLB of anger ;)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
On Michael Jackson
So, another one of a multitude of posts about the King of Pop.
I don't feel the same grief as many people around me, but it does feel..odd.
I didn't grow up during the height of Michael's fame; I never experienced the waiting for one of his albums, never got to think of going to one of his concerts, and now I obviously never will. I was fourteen in 2003, and watched the trial incomprehendingly. I'll never know if he was guilty or not; it's not up to me to say. I believe...I don't know what I believe on that count, but I'm not sure he was guilty, as I'm not sure he was innocent. What I am sure of is that he was profoundly disturbed, and needed help, and never got it.
I see people complaining a lot that these issues have been glossed over in the wake of his death, while others are going on about how he wasn't convicted so he must be innocent; now the second claim ignores what the justice system actually is, and I've not been seeing much evidence of the first, myself, but then I also find it impossible to not think of the darker sides of his life, whatever really happened. I'm not sure he was a child molester; I'll never be sure, I think, unless something comes up in the next few weeks, which is quite possible. But I'm fairly sure he had some extremely inappropriate attitudes which could've been abuse...no, I really don't want to go there. Suffice to say I'm not trying to erase all the bad-because there was a lot of bad-, but I'm also not going to be part of the people shouting "pedophile" like it's going out of fashion, although I can understand the furore at the perception of a child-molester "getting away with it". I don't know, I really don't know.
But he still was an important feature in my life.
You see, i grew up in France, in an english-speaking household, with an odd mix of cultures that's up to this day impossible for me to define. My family observes very few traditions; I can think of two indiscutable ones, a swedish Christmas eve smorgasbord at my grandmother's, and an English Christmas at my house, with no presents until after lunch and roast and christmas pudding and the like. My mother only cooks traditionally english food on such occasions, and other than that I think we were more brought up according to French usages than English ones, but I don't really know. The main difference I had with my friends growing up was the language and the fact that they all had a lot of relatives living nearby; I often envied my best friend's family reunions, while she still actively avoids them.
So the main way I related to my roots, up until I turned fifteen and first went to Scotland without my parents, was through books, music, and films. I turned fifteen in 2004; we'd had internet for years, but we only got broadband in 2006, so before that watching stuff online was nigh impossible, and we didn't yet have english-language channels, so most of the movies I saw were french-dubbed; it took me ages to get over watching Friends in English, for instance. Books on the other hand were in no short supply, and to this day i read mainly in English.
But music was something else.
When I was little, even in France(I say "even" because as a child it seemed like i was so very far from everything I'd known before) everyone knew Michael Jackson. His songs came on at every party; they still do. He was ubiquitous, he was the King of Pop. My dad actually used to live with one of his choreographers in the seventies in LA, of all the odd occurrences.
It's a very odd thing, how I relate to his music although it's in no way of my generation; an odd thing to watch my brother, who's only three years younger than I am and yet to who MJ's death is just a big thing for old people. But then my brother was always very much more French than I was...
I can't hear a song of his without it bringing back memories of my childhood; happy memories. And I can't listen to I want You Back without being sent right back to the Best Friend's old car, two years ago, when we drove from here through northern Italy, all the way from here to Venice and back, with her old CD player in the back of the car and that song blasting out from a 70's compilation CD. Good times.
Him, Elvis, Kurt Cobain-they were what I grew up with, they were what made me stop and think "hey, I'm part of this culture too". I watched his (old by then) videos on MTV, watched the new ones when they came out in '01. I taped Kurt's last live performance when it came on TV in 2004. But Kurt was more during my angsty teen phase, unsurprisingly enough; Michael Jackson was my childhood. Through his music, a part of me stayed connected to who I was, even when I was hiding the fact I spoke English from everyone around me and tried to be as French as i could.
And it made me happy, and made me dance, and it still does; and for these things I can thank him, and hope he rests in peace, and leave the darker aspects of his life well alone, while hoping those around him can have a peaceful life.
(Edit : Holy Shit, he actually made the intertubes crash.Insane.And there's not a blog or website that I've yet seen that doesn't mention his death)
I don't feel the same grief as many people around me, but it does feel..odd.
I didn't grow up during the height of Michael's fame; I never experienced the waiting for one of his albums, never got to think of going to one of his concerts, and now I obviously never will. I was fourteen in 2003, and watched the trial incomprehendingly. I'll never know if he was guilty or not; it's not up to me to say. I believe...I don't know what I believe on that count, but I'm not sure he was guilty, as I'm not sure he was innocent. What I am sure of is that he was profoundly disturbed, and needed help, and never got it.
I see people complaining a lot that these issues have been glossed over in the wake of his death, while others are going on about how he wasn't convicted so he must be innocent; now the second claim ignores what the justice system actually is, and I've not been seeing much evidence of the first, myself, but then I also find it impossible to not think of the darker sides of his life, whatever really happened. I'm not sure he was a child molester; I'll never be sure, I think, unless something comes up in the next few weeks, which is quite possible. But I'm fairly sure he had some extremely inappropriate attitudes which could've been abuse...no, I really don't want to go there. Suffice to say I'm not trying to erase all the bad-because there was a lot of bad-, but I'm also not going to be part of the people shouting "pedophile" like it's going out of fashion, although I can understand the furore at the perception of a child-molester "getting away with it". I don't know, I really don't know.
But he still was an important feature in my life.
You see, i grew up in France, in an english-speaking household, with an odd mix of cultures that's up to this day impossible for me to define. My family observes very few traditions; I can think of two indiscutable ones, a swedish Christmas eve smorgasbord at my grandmother's, and an English Christmas at my house, with no presents until after lunch and roast and christmas pudding and the like. My mother only cooks traditionally english food on such occasions, and other than that I think we were more brought up according to French usages than English ones, but I don't really know. The main difference I had with my friends growing up was the language and the fact that they all had a lot of relatives living nearby; I often envied my best friend's family reunions, while she still actively avoids them.
So the main way I related to my roots, up until I turned fifteen and first went to Scotland without my parents, was through books, music, and films. I turned fifteen in 2004; we'd had internet for years, but we only got broadband in 2006, so before that watching stuff online was nigh impossible, and we didn't yet have english-language channels, so most of the movies I saw were french-dubbed; it took me ages to get over watching Friends in English, for instance. Books on the other hand were in no short supply, and to this day i read mainly in English.
But music was something else.
When I was little, even in France(I say "even" because as a child it seemed like i was so very far from everything I'd known before) everyone knew Michael Jackson. His songs came on at every party; they still do. He was ubiquitous, he was the King of Pop. My dad actually used to live with one of his choreographers in the seventies in LA, of all the odd occurrences.
It's a very odd thing, how I relate to his music although it's in no way of my generation; an odd thing to watch my brother, who's only three years younger than I am and yet to who MJ's death is just a big thing for old people. But then my brother was always very much more French than I was...
I can't hear a song of his without it bringing back memories of my childhood; happy memories. And I can't listen to I want You Back without being sent right back to the Best Friend's old car, two years ago, when we drove from here through northern Italy, all the way from here to Venice and back, with her old CD player in the back of the car and that song blasting out from a 70's compilation CD. Good times.
Him, Elvis, Kurt Cobain-they were what I grew up with, they were what made me stop and think "hey, I'm part of this culture too". I watched his (old by then) videos on MTV, watched the new ones when they came out in '01. I taped Kurt's last live performance when it came on TV in 2004. But Kurt was more during my angsty teen phase, unsurprisingly enough; Michael Jackson was my childhood. Through his music, a part of me stayed connected to who I was, even when I was hiding the fact I spoke English from everyone around me and tried to be as French as i could.
And it made me happy, and made me dance, and it still does; and for these things I can thank him, and hope he rests in peace, and leave the darker aspects of his life well alone, while hoping those around him can have a peaceful life.
(Edit : Holy Shit, he actually made the intertubes crash.Insane.And there's not a blog or website that I've yet seen that doesn't mention his death)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
In love with an idea
This happens to me a lot.
It's been nearly two weeks since that weekend in Scotland, and I never did hear from John, apart from his confirming me as a friend on Facebook. I'm not too fussed now, but I'll admit to being annoyed, and confused.
Probably because he seemed so damn interested. Dude, don't tell me you're going to write on FB if you're not going to, don't tell me "why d'you have to live in France?" in a wistful voice, don't tell me you've had the best time.
I'm not going to have a nervous breakdown over you, don't you worry.
I have a few ideas on the subject, the first being that boys often have a certain idea of girls, and so say this kind of stuff to appease them, i suppose; the famed "i'll call you" when they have no intention whatsoever of doing it.
i don't know, I just find it so dumb, as do many women I know. What's the point of making me expect something more? It doesn't really matter to me either way to start off with, and if I don't expect anything I won't be disappointed. But since I'm expecting to hear from you, I can wait and wait and get all paranoid and shit, which is time-consuming and a pain in the arse.
i'll never understand the logic, I must admit.
But then I've been hearing a lot about John, and apparently he's somewhat of a ladies' man, and tends to sign off and not give any news. Seems kinda stupid of him to fuck me in that case since his sister loves me to bits. Men can be very odd.
But there you are, I am definitely not heartbroken, which would probably surprise him, and I'm looking forward to the Best Friend's 21st this weekend :)
It's been nearly two weeks since that weekend in Scotland, and I never did hear from John, apart from his confirming me as a friend on Facebook. I'm not too fussed now, but I'll admit to being annoyed, and confused.
Probably because he seemed so damn interested. Dude, don't tell me you're going to write on FB if you're not going to, don't tell me "why d'you have to live in France?" in a wistful voice, don't tell me you've had the best time.
I'm not going to have a nervous breakdown over you, don't you worry.
I have a few ideas on the subject, the first being that boys often have a certain idea of girls, and so say this kind of stuff to appease them, i suppose; the famed "i'll call you" when they have no intention whatsoever of doing it.
i don't know, I just find it so dumb, as do many women I know. What's the point of making me expect something more? It doesn't really matter to me either way to start off with, and if I don't expect anything I won't be disappointed. But since I'm expecting to hear from you, I can wait and wait and get all paranoid and shit, which is time-consuming and a pain in the arse.
i'll never understand the logic, I must admit.
But then I've been hearing a lot about John, and apparently he's somewhat of a ladies' man, and tends to sign off and not give any news. Seems kinda stupid of him to fuck me in that case since his sister loves me to bits. Men can be very odd.
But there you are, I am definitely not heartbroken, which would probably surprise him, and I'm looking forward to the Best Friend's 21st this weekend :)
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Singlehood
Title says it all. I am officially single again, after another argument with JJ made me say that this was it.
I know it's the better choice; he's been making me feel less than for a while now, he was going to dump me in august anyway, it's not as if it would have been very different. I still feel a bit weird about it though. I'm terribly bad at breaking up with people, unless there's a really definite reason, something I can point out that's immediately recognizable.
I'm trying to figure out how much of this was triggered by my weekend in Edinburgh, but if truth be told i've been thinking of ending it for a while, and just never had the guts, which is why i needed an argument to do it.
and the problem is he just won't stop talking to me now, what with texts and emails, and i need some space. And he's not even saying he wants me back and stuff, he's only said "well, i love you but i won't beg" man, i don't want you to beg, i want you to stop talking to me until I can deal with it. Like tomorrow. Although knowing that he actually didn't want to break up with me would've been nice, I'm definitely not convinced, but i'll survive.
I just need some time to figure this out. I have so much shit to figure out at the moment, it's not even funny.
I know it's the better choice; he's been making me feel less than for a while now, he was going to dump me in august anyway, it's not as if it would have been very different. I still feel a bit weird about it though. I'm terribly bad at breaking up with people, unless there's a really definite reason, something I can point out that's immediately recognizable.
I'm trying to figure out how much of this was triggered by my weekend in Edinburgh, but if truth be told i've been thinking of ending it for a while, and just never had the guts, which is why i needed an argument to do it.
and the problem is he just won't stop talking to me now, what with texts and emails, and i need some space. And he's not even saying he wants me back and stuff, he's only said "well, i love you but i won't beg" man, i don't want you to beg, i want you to stop talking to me until I can deal with it. Like tomorrow. Although knowing that he actually didn't want to break up with me would've been nice, I'm definitely not convinced, but i'll survive.
I just need some time to figure this out. I have so much shit to figure out at the moment, it's not even funny.
Up close and personal
So, last night I got back from a weekend in Edinburgh, which is one of my favourite places, and man am i depressed.
I went there for my lovely JB's 21st birthday party, and ended up spending three days partying and not sleeping much. I am completely shattered.
And I managed to end up cheating on JJ, but since we started arguing as soon as I set foot on French soil, I'm not feeling so guilty about that at all.
I'm just so tired. I had such a great time this weekend, I met some really lovely people, including JB's brother, John, the guy I got with, and it's such a brutal crash being back here, having to work and write my report and having JJ go on and me and all that. I just don't want to deal with anything, and I want to go and spend my summer over there, away from everything here.
There's always a place for me in Edinburgh, and that's the nicest thing ever.
So back to John...well it was great fun. It felt so good to sleep with someone who's actually really enthusiastic about sex, as opposed to JJ only really wanting to when we haven't seen each other for at least ten days. I always feel so bizarre with him, like there's something wrong with me. Plus his rebuffing me doesn't do my ego any good at all.
Yes, i know, I'm a bad person, blablabla. But hey, I'm happy with it, and he'll never know, so there.
I just want to go back there, and it's not for John. It's just because I love Edinburgh, I love the people there, i always have so much fun (no comments on that) and it just feels so comfortable. I don't know. It's a home away from home, I guess.
Funniest moment : picking up one of JB's welsh mates at the empty airport, and seeing this familiar woman walk towards us with two policemen, and then JB goes "oh, it's Susan Boyle" really loudly, in a surprised voice, and then Susan Boyle waves at us. And i was looking behind to see who she was waving at, while JB was turning red, and Sa was giggling away. A right trio of fools we must've looked, but it was funny. Plus now I get to go "oh...it's Susan Boyle" at JB any time, and she laughs. There was my claim to fame for the weekend^^(and she looked a bit spaced-out, but otherwise fine, to me. Very smiley.)
I went there for my lovely JB's 21st birthday party, and ended up spending three days partying and not sleeping much. I am completely shattered.
And I managed to end up cheating on JJ, but since we started arguing as soon as I set foot on French soil, I'm not feeling so guilty about that at all.
I'm just so tired. I had such a great time this weekend, I met some really lovely people, including JB's brother, John, the guy I got with, and it's such a brutal crash being back here, having to work and write my report and having JJ go on and me and all that. I just don't want to deal with anything, and I want to go and spend my summer over there, away from everything here.
There's always a place for me in Edinburgh, and that's the nicest thing ever.
So back to John...well it was great fun. It felt so good to sleep with someone who's actually really enthusiastic about sex, as opposed to JJ only really wanting to when we haven't seen each other for at least ten days. I always feel so bizarre with him, like there's something wrong with me. Plus his rebuffing me doesn't do my ego any good at all.
Yes, i know, I'm a bad person, blablabla. But hey, I'm happy with it, and he'll never know, so there.
I just want to go back there, and it's not for John. It's just because I love Edinburgh, I love the people there, i always have so much fun (no comments on that) and it just feels so comfortable. I don't know. It's a home away from home, I guess.
Funniest moment : picking up one of JB's welsh mates at the empty airport, and seeing this familiar woman walk towards us with two policemen, and then JB goes "oh, it's Susan Boyle" really loudly, in a surprised voice, and then Susan Boyle waves at us. And i was looking behind to see who she was waving at, while JB was turning red, and Sa was giggling away. A right trio of fools we must've looked, but it was funny. Plus now I get to go "oh...it's Susan Boyle" at JB any time, and she laughs. There was my claim to fame for the weekend^^(and she looked a bit spaced-out, but otherwise fine, to me. Very smiley.)
Monday, June 1, 2009
In memory of Dr George Tiller
I'd never actually heard of Dr Tiller before this, and I've been learning pretty damn fast. It's things like these that make me so damn thankful my parents didn't decide to raise me in the US.
He was shot in a church because he provided late-term abortions, saving women's lives.
I don't understand how anyone, much less a "pro-lifer" can justify this. Pro-life, my ass.
I'd never clearly before understood the extent of the harassment women, nurses, and doctors in the US face when dealing with abortion.
I don't understand the black/white mindset in general, but this makes it even more crazy. Can these people not read? Do they not know why people are allowed late-term abortions? I mean, maybe I have supernatural abilities because I have a vagina and so might face this situation, but seriously. How can anyone be so settled in their narrow little conceptions of right and wrong, of life and death.
I wish I could be at a vigil right now. I wish I could scream at all these people, browbeat them into being afraid as they try to do to women. I've never wanted to be in the US this badly, I think. Sad, isn't it.
I just can't get my head around it. I'm not crying over this death, but it's the second one to shock me badly in two weeks. Sylvain only died two weeks ago, and here comes another death that hits hard. This hits me hard because I am really worried about what will happen to all the women in the US now.
There are now, from what I understand, only TWO late-term abortion providers. How is that even possible???How are they ging to manage? Which students are going to step up to the task while knowing they risk their lives to help women, to save their damn lives?
Oh, yeah, a woman's life is worthless, I forgot.
You know, I had a pretty bad scare this month. My period was extremely late, probably because of shock and illness and stress, and I was seriously worried. I didn't even think about it. I am in no way fit to raise a child at this time in my life. I don't want to raise a child. All my thoughts are centered on going to Taiwan and studying and the like. It's just not a question. So I looked up exactly what to do if I needed to-one of my fears has always been to not know I'm pregnant until the 14th week, which is the limit here save for medical deformities and the like-the same stuff Dr Tiller was dealing with- and not being able to get an abortion. So I read that I have to call a hospital that provides abortion as a service, make an appointment, i'll see a counselor, make another appointment, and it'll be done.
Just where my parents live, I can go to three different hospitals that aren't more than half an hour away.
And if I can't afford it (that's possible, i think it's paid for up to 70% by the State)or if I don't want my parents to know, I could go to the Planning Familial, and they'd sort it out for me.
And I want everyone to have this choice. I want every woman to able to choose what the hell she wants to do with her body. Whether that's by contraception, so abortion isn't needed; cheap, easy to get, safe abortion for whatever reason ; State help if she wants to raise her child alone.
Christ am I glad to live in a secular country. My thoughts go out to Dr Tiller's family, friends, staff, to the women he helped, to those who need his help, and basically to anyone who needs them tonight :( .
Fuck you, prolifers. Fuck you. I hope there is a hell, so that you burn in it for advocating murder. Not just his, but the murder of all the women he saved and would have saved.
I don't give a flying fuck about "tarring all prolifers with the same brush". Fuck that shit. I don't give a damn if you're moderate-you never hear about the moderates. By not speaking out, you've just been condoning all the "Tiller the Baby-Killer" rhetoric that led to his murder. You've been condoning the people who posted his address and phone number. Fuck you too.
Here's my take : there's no prolife about this. You're prochoice or antiabortion. And anyone who's advocating taking away a woman's right to choose, instead of, oh, I don't know, advocating birth control and sex education, can kiss my ass.
I just can't believe it's the 21st century.
here are the links to much, much better posts on the subject.
He was shot in a church because he provided late-term abortions, saving women's lives.
I don't understand how anyone, much less a "pro-lifer" can justify this. Pro-life, my ass.
I'd never clearly before understood the extent of the harassment women, nurses, and doctors in the US face when dealing with abortion.
I don't understand the black/white mindset in general, but this makes it even more crazy. Can these people not read? Do they not know why people are allowed late-term abortions? I mean, maybe I have supernatural abilities because I have a vagina and so might face this situation, but seriously. How can anyone be so settled in their narrow little conceptions of right and wrong, of life and death.
I wish I could be at a vigil right now. I wish I could scream at all these people, browbeat them into being afraid as they try to do to women. I've never wanted to be in the US this badly, I think. Sad, isn't it.
I just can't get my head around it. I'm not crying over this death, but it's the second one to shock me badly in two weeks. Sylvain only died two weeks ago, and here comes another death that hits hard. This hits me hard because I am really worried about what will happen to all the women in the US now.
There are now, from what I understand, only TWO late-term abortion providers. How is that even possible???How are they ging to manage? Which students are going to step up to the task while knowing they risk their lives to help women, to save their damn lives?
Oh, yeah, a woman's life is worthless, I forgot.
You know, I had a pretty bad scare this month. My period was extremely late, probably because of shock and illness and stress, and I was seriously worried. I didn't even think about it. I am in no way fit to raise a child at this time in my life. I don't want to raise a child. All my thoughts are centered on going to Taiwan and studying and the like. It's just not a question. So I looked up exactly what to do if I needed to-one of my fears has always been to not know I'm pregnant until the 14th week, which is the limit here save for medical deformities and the like-the same stuff Dr Tiller was dealing with- and not being able to get an abortion. So I read that I have to call a hospital that provides abortion as a service, make an appointment, i'll see a counselor, make another appointment, and it'll be done.
Just where my parents live, I can go to three different hospitals that aren't more than half an hour away.
And if I can't afford it (that's possible, i think it's paid for up to 70% by the State)or if I don't want my parents to know, I could go to the Planning Familial, and they'd sort it out for me.
And I want everyone to have this choice. I want every woman to able to choose what the hell she wants to do with her body. Whether that's by contraception, so abortion isn't needed; cheap, easy to get, safe abortion for whatever reason ; State help if she wants to raise her child alone.
Christ am I glad to live in a secular country. My thoughts go out to Dr Tiller's family, friends, staff, to the women he helped, to those who need his help, and basically to anyone who needs them tonight :( .
Fuck you, prolifers. Fuck you. I hope there is a hell, so that you burn in it for advocating murder. Not just his, but the murder of all the women he saved and would have saved.
I don't give a flying fuck about "tarring all prolifers with the same brush". Fuck that shit. I don't give a damn if you're moderate-you never hear about the moderates. By not speaking out, you've just been condoning all the "Tiller the Baby-Killer" rhetoric that led to his murder. You've been condoning the people who posted his address and phone number. Fuck you too.
Here's my take : there's no prolife about this. You're prochoice or antiabortion. And anyone who's advocating taking away a woman's right to choose, instead of, oh, I don't know, advocating birth control and sex education, can kiss my ass.
I just can't believe it's the 21st century.
here are the links to much, much better posts on the subject.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Heartbroken
I can't deal with this.
Saturday night, one of my university friends and his girlfriend were run over by some drunk dude, and now they're dead. I'll be going to his funeral on wedsnesday.
I found out Saturday evening, and I've been a wreck ever since. I can't believe it. I can't accept this.
Sylvain and I weren't the best friends in the world, but I really liked him. We'd met a year and a half ago, the first time the uni was blocked while I was there, in the last months of 2007. We were both active, trying to get our uni back on track and be able to go back to class, and those were good times. He was truly a lovely guy. In all the time I knew him, even when the rest of us were pulling our hair out in rage, he always had a joke and a smile. I actually nearly went out with him, but at that same time i met my exboyfriend, and that was that. I find it hard to get my head around. What would have happened if I'd been his girlfriend?Would I be the one being buried tomorrow? Or would we not have been at that place at that time, would he still be alive now?
He was a history student, and wanted to be a teacher. An intelligent guy, and a handsome one to boot. i truly believe the world is missing out without him here, and now I'm angry. I'm so angry. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? i'm sure everyone thinks that when someone they love dies, but I just...can't. Wednesday I'm going to have to face him dead. his parents, whose pain I cannot even begin to comprehend. All the friends I don't know. And worse of all I'm going to have to face the friends we had in common. I'm going to see Etienne, his best friend at uni. Gael, who invited me to his mega birthday bash just a day before Sylvain died and I know he was supposed to be there too, and Aymeric, and god knows who else. I nearly feel i shouldn't be going, because I wasn't as close to him as they were, but I'm grieving too. Oriane says this is the best homage anyone could have, that even people who weren't that close to you are grieving for you, and she's probably right.
When i first found out, I never realised it would be this hard. I've never had to deal with sudden death like this before. The only person close to me who's died was my grandmother a year and a half ago, right around the time I met Sylvain actually, and I had six months to prepare for her death, although I still miss her. Him...it's so sudden. It's so fucking unfair.
The nights are the hardest.
I wish I could make sense of this somehow, but all that goes through my head is that Sylvain's dead. I'm never going to see him again. I'm never going to see his curly brown hair, never going to see his smile, hear his laugh, hear him teasing me; we're never going to have a coffee break and smoke cigarettes at uni, i'm never going to see him strut around with his raybans and brown leather jacket; never going to run into him at the library doing his research and sitting with me to make fun of my chinese work, to make me talk to him because he's sick of working; never going to go drinking with him again, and take silly pictures; never going to be happy when I see him again, because I always was; he could akways be counted on to make me smile. Never going to hear one of his stupid jokes, never going to hear him make fun of all our anarcho-communists, never going to hear him try and make me come to one of the university parties, never going to hear him say I'm not wearing enough clothes on purpose because i want to flirt, never actually going to flirt with him, never going to argue about the world and hear about his latest history work.Never, ever, ever.
And it hurts so much I can't breathe.
Jesu, if I'd known...well, what. I can't have regrets now. It's too late to wish I'd spent more time with him, and it wouldn't have changed anything. Maybe it'd even hurt more.
This is one of those times where I nearly wish i believed in God, because it's sort of comforting; and then i think that if there is something out there, and that whatever it is planned for this to happen? Well it can fuck the hell off, with all due respect (so=none). i don't really believe in fate and all that; i wish I did, it would make this a lot easier, to believe that it was sylvain's fate to be run over by some drunk dude and die at the age of 21 with his girlfriend.
But I just fucking can't.
I just hope that bastard spends the rest of his life being sorry.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
He might not have been my lover, but this...says it all.
Saturday night, one of my university friends and his girlfriend were run over by some drunk dude, and now they're dead. I'll be going to his funeral on wedsnesday.
I found out Saturday evening, and I've been a wreck ever since. I can't believe it. I can't accept this.
Sylvain and I weren't the best friends in the world, but I really liked him. We'd met a year and a half ago, the first time the uni was blocked while I was there, in the last months of 2007. We were both active, trying to get our uni back on track and be able to go back to class, and those were good times. He was truly a lovely guy. In all the time I knew him, even when the rest of us were pulling our hair out in rage, he always had a joke and a smile. I actually nearly went out with him, but at that same time i met my exboyfriend, and that was that. I find it hard to get my head around. What would have happened if I'd been his girlfriend?Would I be the one being buried tomorrow? Or would we not have been at that place at that time, would he still be alive now?
He was a history student, and wanted to be a teacher. An intelligent guy, and a handsome one to boot. i truly believe the world is missing out without him here, and now I'm angry. I'm so angry. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? i'm sure everyone thinks that when someone they love dies, but I just...can't. Wednesday I'm going to have to face him dead. his parents, whose pain I cannot even begin to comprehend. All the friends I don't know. And worse of all I'm going to have to face the friends we had in common. I'm going to see Etienne, his best friend at uni. Gael, who invited me to his mega birthday bash just a day before Sylvain died and I know he was supposed to be there too, and Aymeric, and god knows who else. I nearly feel i shouldn't be going, because I wasn't as close to him as they were, but I'm grieving too. Oriane says this is the best homage anyone could have, that even people who weren't that close to you are grieving for you, and she's probably right.
When i first found out, I never realised it would be this hard. I've never had to deal with sudden death like this before. The only person close to me who's died was my grandmother a year and a half ago, right around the time I met Sylvain actually, and I had six months to prepare for her death, although I still miss her. Him...it's so sudden. It's so fucking unfair.
The nights are the hardest.
I wish I could make sense of this somehow, but all that goes through my head is that Sylvain's dead. I'm never going to see him again. I'm never going to see his curly brown hair, never going to see his smile, hear his laugh, hear him teasing me; we're never going to have a coffee break and smoke cigarettes at uni, i'm never going to see him strut around with his raybans and brown leather jacket; never going to run into him at the library doing his research and sitting with me to make fun of my chinese work, to make me talk to him because he's sick of working; never going to go drinking with him again, and take silly pictures; never going to be happy when I see him again, because I always was; he could akways be counted on to make me smile. Never going to hear one of his stupid jokes, never going to hear him make fun of all our anarcho-communists, never going to hear him try and make me come to one of the university parties, never going to hear him say I'm not wearing enough clothes on purpose because i want to flirt, never actually going to flirt with him, never going to argue about the world and hear about his latest history work.Never, ever, ever.
And it hurts so much I can't breathe.
Jesu, if I'd known...well, what. I can't have regrets now. It's too late to wish I'd spent more time with him, and it wouldn't have changed anything. Maybe it'd even hurt more.
This is one of those times where I nearly wish i believed in God, because it's sort of comforting; and then i think that if there is something out there, and that whatever it is planned for this to happen? Well it can fuck the hell off, with all due respect (so=none). i don't really believe in fate and all that; i wish I did, it would make this a lot easier, to believe that it was sylvain's fate to be run over by some drunk dude and die at the age of 21 with his girlfriend.
But I just fucking can't.
I just hope that bastard spends the rest of his life being sorry.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
He might not have been my lover, but this...says it all.
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