Merry Christmas!

I am sorry for the ridiculously long time I have gone without posting: but I have remembered you at this festive time of year and am writing to wish you a VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS and a most peaceful New Year.

With Love,

J xxx

Disney Princesses: Response to Terra!

(See Terra's article)

Here is 'Sleeping Beauty.' Observe her figure. Isn't it wonderful? Her waist is so tiny, her breasts so voluptuous, her hand so dainty. And the hair! A golden cascade of thick, smooth locks that every girl would kill for.

'Sleeping Beauty' also happens to be a cartoon character. No human being looks like that, so why does every little girl desire to be a princess? Maybe it's the fact that after sixteen years in a lowly cottage in the woods, Aurora returns to her royal roots, and doesn't every girl wish she could discover her royal ancestry unexpectedly? Or maybe it's because Aurora has an amazing team of hands-on (female) fairies as slaves.

Sleeping Beauty -- and the title says it all, a passive girl who is defined by nothing other than her looks -- is potentially harmful to girls who believe that appearances are more important than intellect, status is more important than decency, and Prince Charming is more important than discovering one's own destiny.

Having said this, Aurora and all her fellow princess-colleagues never had a harmful effect on me as a child. I visited Disney Land Paris at the age of seven -- not that I would ever return to that place! -- and had a fantastic time in the hot French summer of 1999 waving at the princesses on parade and purchasing a bright yellow, and horribly tacky, ball gown based upon the cartoon equivalent in Beauty and the Beast. I used to adore the films and the excellent artwork, and yet none of the Disney characters are inspirations or role-models in my life.

Indeed, there came a time when I was, suddenly, fed up of pink and glitter and pin-up cartoon characters. I've never been into any of the plastic pop-stars during my teenage years and I've never been particularly worried about being carried off to paradise by a rich Prince Charming; actually, the thought of royalty and Disney-like 'hunks' makes me feel slightly sick.

I recognise, however, that Disney princesses do shape the lives of girls who go on to think that they are not worthy, and that they need to be saved by a man. I agree with Terra's point about how times are a'changing over at Disney (Mulan is, incidentally, my favourite Disney film apart from 101 Dalmatians!) and I hope that eventually wider society will change. Obviously, it is no help that there stories such as my old favourite, Twilight, to present girls with the potentially-harmful fantasy of True Love.

Thank you to Terra for another wonderful article! Oh, and I love Target Women and Sarah too.

xxx

More Bits and Bobs

1) This is completely outrageous:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8352711.stm

It's bad enough that women are obsessed with changing their visible body parts! How on Earth did society get so sick that a woman now wants perfect genitalia? Excuse me? Is she really going to run around showing people what lies beneath her pants...? Maybe she is. I don't know. I just don't understand.

I really despair about where feminism went terribly, terribly wrong.

I am very sad about this.

2) Aaargh, Twilight!

I've read three out of four of the books in the series. While I admit that the books are very easy to read and hard to put down, they are sexist and badly written. Not only is the language itself less-than-sophisticated, but the themes are just a tad dodgy when you begin to think about it. Not only is Edward Cullen a predatory and over-protective vampire -- and we all know the sexual parallels attached to such a creature -- but Bella is completely unable to function without a man in her life. Bella is a rather uninteresting, two-dimensional female character, who spends most of her time doing housework when she is not obsessing over the byronic Edward or using another male, the strong and oh-so-handsome Jacob Black, to ease her pain. Obviously other girls get Twilight and I don't, so me going on about it like this has no point to it.

What is most sad, for me, is the fact that Twilight is written by a woman. I'm not going to comment on Stephenie Meyer's religious beliefs, because that would not be my place, but it saddens me that young girls could be encouraged in what they are taught from a young age: that a Prince Charming will come and rescue them, and everything will be well.

With the release of the film New Moon, the second in the series, there have been a number of interesting articles around on the more unsettling side of Twilight. This one, I think, is especially worth reading:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/nov/13/twilight-vampires-teenage-girls

Oh, and I am having a moral dilemma about whether or not I should go and see New Moon. What shall I do?

3) Earl Grey tea is delicious.

xxx

Bits and Bobs

Good evening!

I have a few things that are of interest to me to comment on this evening... I have not got the capacity to write a single organised post today, being so tired!

1) I came across this interesting article on the potential harmfulness of Tory policies in The Independent by Johann Hari:

http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/commentators/johann-hari/johann-hari-the-harsh-truth-about-tory-policies-1815642.html

It's an interesting read, and I think Hari is an interesting bloke. I agree with many of his principles: he's a strong believer in democracy, in secularity, in gay rights, in nuclear disarmament and in stronger action on climate change.I don't agree with everything he says -- he's a bit too much of a fan of the EU and the single currency for my liking -- but I think this article is a good one and I am inclined to agree with him.

2) I heard a new word this week: 'Flexitarian.'

What on Earth? See this BBC article:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/8341002.stm

This is ridiculous! As a committed vegetarian of ten years, I really can't see why flexitarians bother. Obviously, I am a big advocate for people reducing their meat consumption to try and help the planet in these times of strife, but I wouldn't expect such people to call themselves 'semi-vegetarians' or 'flexitarians.' I really hope I do not hear this term again. You are either a vegetarian or you are not. And, just for the record, vegetarians do not eat fish.

3) I am very pleased that the government have chosen to increase the amount of sex education in schools and make it more difficult for people to opt-out on religious grounds. Sex education is so important, and I really don't think it's right to pull your child out of a lesson on condoms because you as a parent oppose contraception on religious grounds.

I was having a conversation with my friend the other day, about how I think that a parent should not allow their personal principles to hold a child back. In that context we were discussing private education and the importance of giving your child the best education that you can, regardless of socialist principles or otherwise. When it comes to sex education, it is so important that religion does not interfere with the basic facts of life. Pulling your child out of a lesson, because you as a parent do not agree with homosexuality, is not going to make homosexuality go away.

This is not to say that I am opposed to children being brought up in a specific religion. On the contrary, I think religious values -- if not too extreme -- can be extremely beneficial to a child. Growing up in a Christian family, I have witnessed my parents' amazing hospitality to guests and the kindness, patience and tolerance that comes from their religious values. Yet I am not here to debate the pros and cons of organised religion, though I would certainly argue that telling a child categorically what to believe is morally wrong.

So, I believe that a child can learn about religion and sex and that children should not be patronised by being expected to believe that their parents' attitude to sex is the right one. A child must have freedom of choice. I simply cannot see why a child cannot be taught by their Christian parent that sex before marriage is wrong, at the same time as being told how to have safe sex. I do not see a contradiction, and the child is free to make up his or her own mind.

And, after all, which parent, however religious, would not be horrified if they discovered their child had caught a disease due to ignorance over contraception?

xxx

Aaaah so exciting!!!!

Shout! The True Story of the Beatles

It was with much excitement that I found Shout! in my favourite music shop, priced at just three pounds. I had it on Dad's authority, and from several magazines, that it is the definitive Beatles biography. I eagerly bought it, and a few days later began to read.

I have now finished it, surprised at how long it took to complete. The size of the book is misleading: while it could not be described as thin, it looks like a quick read until you open the pages and see the small and closely-spaced print. I read through it steadily, intrigued, as I always am, by the fascinating story of the world's greatest group.

The author, Philip Norman, writes in an engaging and readable style that is hardly academic but certainly creates the impression of a man who knows his stuff. Although I was slightly bemused by his rather foolish comparison of John Lennon's death with the events of 9/11 in the introduction, I felt that the book was going to be much more informative than the other Beatles biography that I have read, Hunter Davies' 1960s work The Beatles.

The Beatles is a rather innocent book, leaving out the nastier side of the story and glossing over controversial facts due to the wishes of the relatives of those involved. Because it was, and still is, the only authorised biography of the group, Davies has no choice but to present The Beatles favourably. However, The Beatles does have the advantage of being a genuine historical source. Having read the book, and thoroughly enjoyed it, I closed it having built up much respect for his author. In a 100-page 2009 introduction, Davies explains why he has chosen not to revise and improve the text: it is like a time capsule of history. For all its inaccuracies, it's great.

Anyway, back to Shout! Unlike Davies' biography, Norman tells the whole story without fear of controversy. Sex, drugs, scandal: none of it is censored, and he weaves in the historical context successfully. He introduces each character gradually and thus doesn't throw too much individual biographical information in your face.

I particularly liked Norman's writing on the Beatles' manager, Brian Epstein, who tragically died in 1967 of a drug overdose. He was a sad and confused figure whose homosexuality was obvious to all who knew him yet was something he tried so hard to stifle. Madly in love with John Lennon, his management of the Beatles was at once an exciting and heartbreaking time for Brian. Unlike Davies, who barely hints at Brian's sexuality to avoid upsetting his mother, Norman gives a sensitive and touching account of the sad life of Brian Epstein.

Unfortunately, as the book came to its end, I became more and more annoyed with Norman. Particularly in the final section of Shout!, he demonstrates a clear and somewhat outrageous pro-John Lennon bias, whilst criticising Paul McCartney in a way that can only be described as harsh. Although admitting to being a "John person" in the introduction (most Beatles fans class themselves as either a "John-person" or a "Paul-person"; I pride myself on being both!), there is no excuse for his unbalanced adoration and dislike of John and Paul respectively. John's flaws are excused, whilst Paul's are enhanced. Norman appreciates John's sense of humour and sharp tongue, whilst he is unimpressed with Paul's "nice-guy" image; presumably he thinks John to be more authentic. John is presented as the talented one, the funny one, and his frankly awful treatment of his pre-Yoko wife Cynthia is barely commented on. Paul is presented as a jealous, obsessive fake who can never live up to his Beatle partner.

This bias irritated me and changed my opinion of the whole work. Its subtitle, The True Story of the Beatles, came into question for me. I was also irritated with Shout!'s abrupt end, and its increasingly arrogant assumptions. "George wasn't great," Norman writes, and goes on to say that he was merely an average guy who got lucky. Norman also assumes that his book is the best, particularly criticising Many Years From Now, an interview-based authorised biography of Paul. Naturally, Norman wouldn't approve of any book which portrays Paul in a positive light. It sneers at how a whole chapter of the book is dedicated to Paul's taste in art. I have been dipping in and out of Many Years From Now since May, and I will testify to its quality as a book.

Shout! is clearly a well-researched and well-written biography, but, despite its great start and middle, its bias becomes its downfall towards the end. Philip Norman is too confident in his talent as a Beatles expert and biographer for my taste, and, while Shout! may be juicier and more accurate in actual events than the quaint 60s The Beatles, its disappointing bias and almost vitriolic attack on Paul makes The Beatles a much less infuriating read. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy Shout! and I would still reccomend it to any Beatles fan; after all, it is "the definitive."

xxx

Identity for Terra

Human beings are obsessed with knowing themselves. A huge amount of money has been made from self-help and amateur psychology books, and there are thousands of websites where the searcher can find out their "personality type," as if personalities can realistically be confined into a given number of categories.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, artistic members of society seem to be more interested in "who they are." Philosophers, writers, poets, painters, and rock stars have attempted to answer that inevitable question: "Who am I?" Maybe this is simply because artistic people (I say from experience!) are often more introspective and emotionally-minded than their more scientific counterparts. Science looks at what we are: the biological, chemical and physical reality of being human. Art looks at who we are: the personal, philosophical, emotional reality of being human.

No wonder so many artistic people go off the rails and die young. It's enough to make anyone depressed.

But, on the other hand, it doesn't have to be like that. Part of being human is having many faces, many identities, many personalities even. Part of being a happy person is learning to live with them. Security doesn't come from being one clearly-defined, cardboard cut-out that can say, "I am X." Security comes from an acknowledgement that humans are pretty complex, but accepting it.

In the past I have been extremely miserable, confused about my identity, tearful and angry. There are quiet aspects to my personality, loud aspects, masculine and feminine aspects... am I clever or stupid, am I artistic or not, am I a good person or a bad person, am I selfish or selfless? And I'm interested in so many things that appear to be conflicting. I became obsessed with analysing my own personality and the personalities of the people around me. Then I realised that all the aspects of my personality are not conflicting, they are just opposite sides of a multitude of coins. They all make me. Me is not one thing; Me is many things.

While identity is confusing and frightening, every human wonders who they are. The teenage years, especially, are a time of coming to grips with the person one is, the depths of one's personality and personalities, realising what one does and does not enjoy doing. I feel as though I have come through that teenage confusion, but many others have not. My only advice is: keep going. You'll get there!

xxx

The Beatles and Childhood

Good afternoon!

I've been wanting to write a Beatles-related post for a while, partly because I feel I ought to start studying them in a bit more depth, and partly because I haven't got much of a desire to write anything angsty at the moment. Most of my anger about our sick society has already put itself into words, either on this blog or in discussions with friends. So until I find myself raging again, the blog's tone will probably be a little less angry and a little more relaxed!

I'm going to focus on the theme of childhood in the Beatles' work. Hopefully it won't be too waffly...

No matter what happens to us in life, we cannot escape our childhoods. We cannot escape the influence of our parents, our schools, our friends, our bullies, our favourite toys, the daily rituals, our worst punishments, our favourite memories. Our upbringing is beyond our control, and dependent on the lottery of birth.

For four young lads from Liverpool who took the world by storm, childhood was no less inescapable, and indeed there is a huge amateur and scholarly fascination with the Beatles' upbringings. Most biographies place a heavy emphasis on their childhoods, from which came a strange sequence of coincidences and lucky occurrences that turned a less-than-impressive skiffle band into the greatest supergroup of all time. A new development on the Beatles' youth never fails to make the News; most recently, of course, the ten-year-old Paul's prizewinning Coronation essay was discovered in Liverpool library. You can even visit the childhood homes of Paul McCartney and John Lennon, and stand amongst a small group of awed tourists as you survey the room in which the young Paul learned to play his guitar. Without their unextraordinary, Northern beginnings, the Beatles would never have existed.

Perhaps if Paul had not been brought up in a family in which his father, Jim, was a musician and his mother, Mary, encouraged a strong work-ethic for her sons, he would not have worked so hard at perfecting the guitar (despite at the detriment of his schoolwork!). If John's aunt and mother had not been such strong, witty individuals, John may not have the quick sense of humour that he brought to the band. If Ringo had not spent much of his childhood in hospital, the resulting better education may have sent him on a very different path. And if George had not been encouraged by his approving mother, he may not have worked so hard despite his unequal share of the lime-light.

Indeed, the Beatles themselves were fascinated by their own childhoods and the memories of the days before fame and fortune. John, in particular, referred to his past in several songs, most notably In My Life and Strawberry Fields Forever. Paul, of course, penned Penny Lane, a jolly tune about the Liverpool road and roundabout in which Paul spent many a childhood hour waiting for the bus.

The Beatles, four young men influenced heavily by their pasts, went on to influence the lives of literally millions of 1960s children, many of whom were caught in the all-consuming disease-like phenomenon of "Beatlemania." Many young people had rooms filled to the brim with Beatles merchandise, and the euphoria and sexual excitement caused by the Fab Four awakened many an innocent young girl. One of the legacies of the group is that even today's children are influenced by the Beatles, as they become more and more engrained in the cultural identity of Britain. Few children can escape the dreaded Yellow Submarine in primary school music classes. My Dad had me singing Can't Buy Me Love and She Loves You at the age of six, and I remember curling up on the sofa, ten years ago, watching black-and-white footage of the band performing. Looking back, I was particularly bewitched by John Lennon.

Recently, in the wave of Beatles nostalgia that came with the 40th anniversary of the release of Abbey Road and the band's subsequent demise, the Times 2 featured an article about today's young kids and the Beatles. The journalist played a handful of infants the original vinyl of several well-known Beatles songs and recorded their reactions. One child's merry comment closes the article: "The Beatles are great. The modern songs are a pile of dog c**p.”
(http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/music/beatles/article6825010.ece)

Childhood is at the centre of the Beatles, just as childhood is at the centre of life. The upbringings of the Fab Four have the power to fascinate and indeed it is well worth visiting Liverpool to experience a glimpse of their lives before they took the world by storm. Over forty years on, they have the power to transfix and transform the lives of today's children, if not in the same hysterical way as they influenced the crazed children of their heyday.

J
xxx

Little Bits of Life

Bonjour,

I am possessed with the desire to write a blog entry, but what to focus on...? I therefore present to you a disconnected mess.

1) Political angst.

I'm beginning to wonder if maybe it's a good thing that I'll probably be two or three weeks too young to vote in the next general election. As my close friends place their ballot papers in boxes across the county, I will be watching BBC News in anticipation as political commentators express their predictions and thoughts on the election. I have absolutely no idea who I'd vote for if my mum had given birth to me a month earlier. Of course, there is a minuscule possibility that the election could be on or in the two days after my birthday, but it's not very likely.
I think, if I did have the privilege to be able to vote (and to be honest I'm slightly annoyed that, as an actively interested A-Level Politics student, I am not) I might end up spoiling my ballot paper or voting for a small party like the Greens out of protest. I feel that no party is representing the ethical Left.
We shall see, I suppose.

2) More identity musings

Identity is of enormous interest to me, partly because my own identity has been developing so much over the last few years and I've enjoyed self-analysing myself, and partly because the areas I'm most interested in (politics, feminism, music, sociology, religion, literature) have an over-arching theme of identity.
I spent many years agonising over my identities, because I was so confused and dismayed by how I seemed to be so many people at once. Today I am confused, but not so much dismayed. I quite happily place all my quirks under the label "eccentric" and forget about them. But my own identity, and the identity of others, continue to fascinate me.
I've been thinking recently about the difference between self-perception and the perception of others. John Lennon, perhaps one of our most misunderstood rock heroes, clearly felt that how other people, specifically fans, saw him was a load of rubbish! I love the wonderfully ironic Glass Onion, one of John's Beatles tracks off The White Album. John is clearly ridiculing the fans who try and read heavily into his lyrics and find non-existent meanings in them. In the song, he feeds the fans red-herrings, complete bollocks basically, as if to emphasise how no one can ever truly know him, or his songs.

"I told you about the walrus and me, man

You know that we're as close as can be, man.

Well here's another clue for you all,

The walrus was Paul."

In searching for identity and authenticity, none of us can afford to forget the danger of reading into things too heavily. I am a huge culprit and I spend far too long analysing everything anyone says to me. I'm very self-critical, and probably, if I'm being honest, critical of others.
The fact remains, however, that none of us can know what's going on in anyone else's head, and probably a lot of what is going on within our own.

3) Please buy Fairtrade.

Thank you!

This was truly awful, I know! Apologies!

J xxx

10 Reasons To Go Vegetarian

Bonjour!

I am on a mission to get everyone to cut their meat consumption by around 25% (I guess this would mean going for the equivalent of about two days without eating any meat). If this is difficult to stomach, you could always try the Meat-Free Monday campaign, which provides ways of cutting out your meat for one day of the week (backed by the likes of Paul McCartney, so it must be a good idea!).

Obviously it would be wonderful if everyone went completely vegetarian, but I am not naive enough to think that this is ever going to happen.

A lot of people are sceptical. As with cutting carbon emissions and buying Fairtrade products, people come up with excuses because they feel guilty. "Fairtrade products don't taste as nice" is a classic, and there's really no excuse! When it comes to vegetarianism, the classic excuse is, "It's not as healthy. You lack nutrients. You need meat."

Nonsense.

I present to you five perfectly sound reasons to go veggie, that show there is no excuse!

1) Vegetarians are healthier than meat-eaters. Vegetarians live longer, have 40% less chance of getting heart disease and cancers, and are a lot slimmer than the average meat eater (70% of our adult meat-eating population is overweight, a figure drastically lower amongst vegetarians).

2) Animal sentimentality in this country is completely hypopcritical. Pet-lovers who would be repulsed by the thought of eating a dog are often quite happy to tuck into an animal that is probably more intelligent than a domestic pet, such as a pig or a cow.

3) There are a huge range of products that provide a meat-equivalent for vegetarians. The range is ever-growing, and includes all sorts of delicious snacks such as sausages, burgers, mince and bacon. Of course, it's not meat (no one is trying to fool you), but they can satisfy the cravings that you might get from meat, and are a much lower-fat alternative. They also provide protein and other nutrients. Quorn is the best brand, but some of the supermarkets' own brands are good too.

4) THE BIG REASON (PAY ATTENTION).
The world faces environmental crisis and I am not exaggerating when I say that going vegetarian is one of the best sacrifices you can make, because vegetarianism can really save the planet. As the Eastern world becomes Westernised, its population wants to eat more meat (like the Americans, of course). This means that more and more land will be used for rearing cattle, which means less space for arable farming, and less forests. The more cows, the more methane, which is a greenhouse gas. The grain used to feed cattle could be used to feed twice the amount of human beings who are starving (it's not rocket science: eating crops is so much more energy efficient than eating meat). In short, the more meat we produce, the more we are contributing to global warming and humanitarian crises. Come on guys, this is really important!

5) The animal cruelty involved in meat-production is shocking. The animals are completely traumatised because they know they are going to die. I'm not trying to be emotive here, but they really do scream as they're being killed, there is lots of blood, it is very painful, and there is absolutely no dignity involved at all. The meat you see on the supermarket shelves is the bloody flesh of a sentient creature. It's barbaric.

So, please please please cut your meat consumption!

It's so important: for the animals, for the planet, and for our fellow humans who don't have enough to eat.

Here are some resources to check out:

http://www.meatfreemondays.co.uk/
http://www.vegsoc.org/
http://www.peta.org.uk/

Have fun!

xxxx

An Apology

I am so sorry that it has been so long since my last post. I'm back at school, rehearsing for a play and trying to juggle a social life, working bloody hard and getting enough sleep.

However, rest assured that I have not forgotten about this blog and I will try to come up with a good post as soon as possible.

Regards,

J xxx

A Fond Farewell

Greetings,

I'm packing my bag and heading off to Cheltenham for a while, for the Greenbelt Festival. Over the next five days I shall be discovering new bands, dancing in the crazy way that I do, eating lots of crap, getting very little sleep and throwing all inhibitions out of the window!

I shall return on Tuesday, hopefully with a nice long blog-post thought out in my mind, ready for my last evening of peace before I return back to the SCHOOL OF DOOM.

In the meantime, keep standing up for yourself and hating the sickness in society!

Best wishes,

J
xxx

Gender and its Complications

The world is obsessed with gender.
Whether it is those who solidly stick to their conservative belief in the defined roles of men and women, or those who make tacky television programs centering around unfortunate teenage transsexuals, gender is constantly on the agenda (if you will forgive the rather awful pun!).

I have been watching the press go wild over the current dispute centering around Caster Semenya and her high testosterone levels, and marvelling at how obsessed people are with being "masculine" and "feminine." People just cannot accept that there are men and women who do not fit into society’s expectation for them. Indeed, feminist groups in South Africa are angry at Semenya's treatment; I watched a woman on BBC News yesterday exclaiming that "a woman's integrity should be respected." Of course, if there is something fishy going on in Semenya's case, the matter changes considerably.

Yet whatever the outcome of the situation, it is clear that peoples' feelings on what a woman should be are still set in stone. Gender is a difficult issue. I have often felt that people place too much emphasis on the difference between men and women and not enough emphasis on the difference between human beings. "He is better at maths than she is, because he is male" would be an example of this. Why cannot people accept that being good at maths is a quality that some men AND some women have, and some men AND some women do not have?

Perhaps I am biased because I've never really felt any pressure to fit into a feminine norm. My mum always jokes that I have a "male brain," to which I always protest because I hate to be labelled. Mum would argue that my "male characteristics" include a loathing of shopping, channel-hopping with the remote control, laziness, not being able to ask directions, not being able to ask shopping assistants for help, not being able to find anything in the fridge, and various other characteristics. However, this is completely ridiculous because those are only a few aspects of my personality, which is as complicated as any other human being's. I wear make-up, I have hair long enough to brush and shampoo seperately, I'm much more creative than I am technical, and I probably speak more words in a day than most women, let alone men. These are very girly characteristics. So... judge at your leisure, but I like to think of myself as 'me' before I think of myself as 'female.'

But I am one person. Aside from certain times in history when gender boundaries were blurred, perhaps most recently the 1970s and 1980s with the popularity of glam-rock, new-wave, electro-pop and glam-punk, it is only the gays, the geeks and the mega-creative who dare to go against society's restrictions.

What REALLY gets on my nerves is when women metaphorically queue-up to make friends with gay men. These women are of the opinion that "every girl needs a gay best friend." This is like "diamonds are a girl’s best friend," or "hair-straighteners are a girl's best friend." In short, the gay friend is yet another commodity, another must-have. People fondly look at gay men who are happy to wear make-up or more flamboyant clothing and say, "It's OK, they're gay, it's fine." Excuse me? So it'snot OK for straight men? The world is so mixed up! I love David Bowie's gender-bending stuff, but I often ask myself whether he would have done it if he hadn't been famous. If you're a pop-star, people see you as an entertainer, almost like a circus-freak who can do what they want when they want, and it's fine because you're famous. I think the answer is that Bowie probably wouldn't have bothered with the make-up if he hadn't been Ziggy Stardust and had his stage-act.

Women, especially, often feel pressurised to look a certain way (as I often bang on about in my blog, I apologise!). It's as though sexuality, money, gender and attractiveness are all tied in together in one 2D-appearance. It must be pretty difficult, trying to give off this is straight, rich, pretty impression for your average girl. And sadly, it makes life harder for those who are not bothered about appearances, because they may be judged to be things that are not true.

I apologise for rambling!

XXX

On Happiness and Modern Society

Earlier in the day I fell across an interesting article written by a BBC entertainment journalist about what happens at an X-Factor audition.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8209429.stm

The article confirmed the feeling of disgust, sadness and discomfort that I feel when watching the early stages of The X-Factor (and, to a lesser extent, the later stages). I didn't watch it last year, and don't intend to this year, because of my increasing feeling that the makers of the program are both reflecting and contributing to Britain's deeply unhappy culture.

For those who are genuinely talented and are purely looking for a "big-break," The X-Factor is undoubtedly a useful tool. I'm not a fan of Leona Lewis, but I appreciate the incredible range and tone of her voice and enjoyed watching her rise to fame. I don't know her personally, but from her story it seems to me that she was always a reasonably happy, well-rounded individual with a few normal self-confidence issues.

However, there are thousands of sad, deluded individuals who audition each year and are mocked and humiliated in front of millions of viewers as their human need to be loved and adored is crushed. This is, I think, because people in our sick British society today feel that they need to be famous, beautiful and talented to be loved and adored, and are looking for love and adoration from people they don't know rather than those closer to home. A religious figure recently said that he felt social networking sites are detrimental to society, because people now feel that having 1000 friends on Facebook is more important than having five friends in the real world.

Try explaining this observation to your average viewer of The X-Factor, and they will probably shrug and respond: "They put themselves up for it." Yes, of course they do. It's a choice. But would they make that choice if society was not infected with the pressures of fame and fortune? To laugh at these "freaks," to mock their pathetic attempts to become "the next Michael Jackson," is to laugh at our society, and to accept the way our country has become.

People "choose" to have boob-jobs, "choose" to mimick specific celebrities, "choose" to become glamour models. "Isn't it wonderful," people say, "We are free now. Sex is no longer a taboo, women are free, we can choose to dye our hair how we like, we can do what we want!" People are obsessed with shaping their own identities in the way they look, sometimes distorting their bodies, rather than letting their personality and inner beauty shape their personality.

The reality is, that freedom and "choice" is an illusion. People are slaves to fame, slaves to fashion, slaves to everything that makes someone unhappy.

REAL choice is a beautiful thing. Choosing to put two fingers up at our X-Factor culture, choosing to search for real happiness when the rest of the country is walking straight into its own misery, choosing to love those who may not find acceptance anywhere, and believe they can find it in fame.

OK, I'm not the perfect advocate for this! I'm not a saint. In my life I've done my fair-share of laughing at X-Factor auditions and wishing I could be adored by the general public. I'm ashamed to say it, but I know that I'm not totally free of the scars of our society.

But I do realise, and I think many people don't, that money and wealth and fame and beauty and fashion don't make you happy. "Money doesn't buy you happiness" is, of course, an age-old proverb, but no one takes it seriously. Even though there is much proof around, everyone believes that they will be an exception to the rule. Studies show that Lottery winners, once they have got over the initial rush of apparent well-being and excitement, return to their prior level of happiness or unhappiness within a reasonably short time.

An individual's freedom, an individual's choice, an individual's happiness, is a beautiful thing. But fake freedom, fake choice, fake happiness is threatening to extinguish the light that is in every human being.

Off to France

I'm off to France tomorrow!

This is very exciting, and carries none of the apprehension that I felt on preparing to leave for India. I'm rather a francophile... oh, the joys of gay Francais! Warm weather, lovely frites (yes! The chips are one of the best things), elegant architecture, lovely language... Bring on my proper summer holiday!

I will miss this blog, however, although it will be great to have a break from repetitive strain injury. :)

I'm going to try and be academic while I'm away (or that's the plan, anyway!), and take a few books for English Lit and Politics with me in my suitcase. This will mean my personal statement will no longer be lying: my draft currently says I've read things that I haven't.

But when I'm not being "academic" (which I will believe when I see) I intend to do absolutely nowt. Nil. Zero. And I shall have a fantabulosa time in my tent with my iPod. Yum.

Talking of iPods... I'm getting a bigger one! 8GB is no longer enough for me, and now I'm being forced to take stuff off my iPod to make more room, I've decided enough is enough. I've given my Uncle's partner the task of finding me a 'Pod on eBay, and hopefully it shall be waiting for me on my glorious return!

Au revoir,

J
xxx

DIY Botox

Hello Internet,

Yesterday I was having a conversation with the good old 'rents about an article that was apparently on the television concerning so-called "Do-it-yourself Botox."

This is, according to Dad, a method by which you can personally inject your face with a syringe that can be ordered online and sent directly to your door.

What the hell has the world come to?! Women are actually injecting themselves in the face?! This is complete lunacy! I am so angry that these things have not been banned, it's completely disgusting!

(OK, end of rant, I will now resume my more subdued writing style...)

I have three significant objections to the concept of DIY Botox.

1) Older women are feeling increasingly pressurised to remain young. This implies that being old, having wrinkles and showing maturity is a bad thing. Beauty products offering the illusion of youth are worrying enough as it is, without the addition of Botox for home-use. Personally, I think older women can look stunning. As with younger women, there are those who are especially beautiful. I really think it's time people changed their perceptions so that there is no such thing as being "past-it." Humph.

2) This is extremely dangerous. Botox freezes your face, so imagine if you were to overdose on it! Syringes in general aren't the safest of things. I think injecting yourself with this stuff is as bad as injecting yourself with drugs. Your mind will be twisted in a similar way, and you will become completely self-obsessed and feel delusional about your wrinkles.

3) The wider availability of such treatments as Botox potentially opens up the market for other DIY products. What will it be next? The beauty industry is so destructive now. There was once a time where everyday beauty was about impeccable make-up and walking with good posture, which were more than achievable for your average girl-next-door. Today everyone wants to look like a Hollywood star, and Hollywood stars are generally skeletal, Botoxed creatures of doom. If Botox starts becoming a casual treatment, like having a manicure, then it becomes acceptable, and if it becomes acceptable it becomes increasingly difficult to challenge. That frightens me.

I hope I'm not the only one who finds the whole concept hideous!

J
xxx

Ramble

I'm confused.

Life is very confusing in general, but today especially so.

I guess this is unsurprising. I've recently returned from the trip of a lifetime in India, and have seen sights that have challenged my perspective and broadened my horizons. Now I'm home, I sit inside listening to music or lying in bed, wallowing, and letting my brain slowly process what I've seen. Although I'm not using my 'loaf' to its full capacity (not that it's a particularly intellectual one anyway!!!), it is definitely whirring away behind the scenes. And I don't know what to do with myself.

I miss school, but I feel like I still need a holiday. I want to see my friends, but after two weeks of human company I want to be alone. I'm hungry, yet I don't want to eat. I'm exhausted, but too much sleep could make it worse. I want a bath, but I don't want to get out of my clothes. I just don't know what I want, what I need, what I should be doing.

The boredom is all-pervading. It's like some kind of illness, that settles over every muscle and seeps into the eyes. It brings with it a dead tiredness that refuses to go away, even with the optimum number of hours shut-eye. It's the anti-climax. It's the sudden stop.

And the confusion! It's as if I am standing in front of a clouded mirror the whole time, in this heightened state of boredom. The reflection in the mirror is visible, but only just. Identity becomes unidentified. I don't know who I am, I don't know what I want. I need the mirror to clear again. I think India has triggered the confusion, and post-India has nurtured it.

I set up this blog to try and write about issues that are important to me (essentially, to moan about the government and the flaws in our ever-worrying society). I also set up the blog to write about opinions on cultural events, or things that have been going on in my life that might make for vaguely-interesting reading material. And now, embarrassingly, I find myself writing in a horribly juvenile way about my pathetic teenage angst... Oh, and did I also mention, that I'm confused about a person that I might or might not be attracted to?

SHIT. I will probably delete this post in the future. I haven't got a clue why I'm doing this.

Still, there is room for happiness: my Beatles records never fail to put a smile on my face!!! And I will be going to sleep today. Yee-har.

Love
xxxx

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Harry Potter Six, and Twilight

Good day, good day!

Review-time!

In the past week, I have watched three films: Twilight, in Dundlod, while it was projected onto the wall of the Fort, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, in a cinema in Jaipur, and The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, in my humble living room. I have strong thoughts on each of these successful movies, and so I'm going to share my valueless opinion on each of them.

I think I'll do them in the order in which I saw them, which means I must begin with Twilight.

I was never particularly attracted to the idea. Hearing girls twittering amongst themselves, drooling over one Edward Cullen, put me off. I mentally rejected Twilight and placed it in the same box as High School Musical. Vampires, while undoubtedly interesting creatures, have been over-done a bit, in my opinion. I couldn't see how after years of generic movies about the Undead, and a century on from Dracula, they could be attractive in the context of the VERY unattractive American high school movie.

The film wasn't disappointing because I was expecting to be disappointed, so when it was as bad as I thought it would be, I was spared great dissatisfaction. Edward Cullen's character, which seems to have charmed most of the world's teenage girls, was very unappealing. His over-protectiveness of Bella, the heroine, and his stalker-ish tendencies were rather suffocating, I felt, so God help me if a vampire ever falls in love with me. The ending, which was supposed to be a cliffhanger, still seemed to leave the film unfinished and unfulfilling.

This isn't to mention the fact that very little actually HAPPENS. The film is set in a dreary place, and most of the characters are dreary. There is a shortage of actual events, and I seem to remember that for most of the film Bella and Edward seemed to be throwing each other meaningful glances which I suppose was intended to come across as sexual tension. Not very successfully.

Having watched the film, I bought a copy of the original novel at Delhi airport for £4.09. I thought it was worth spending such a small amount of money to try and get to the bottom of why people are so in love with the storyline (I wanted to believe the other girls on the trip when they assured me that the novel is better than the film and I shouldn't be put off). I'm now over half way through; because I'd expected it to be bad, having seen the movie, I'm actually finding myself pleasantly surprised. Stephenie Meyer may not be the world's best writer of prose, but she isn't as awful as I expected, and there are some good descriptions in there. Her style isn't as frustrating as the screenplay, and in spite of myself I am enjoying reading the book. Yet the fact still remains that Twilight, both book and film, have been hyped up beyond the level that they deserve. The story is neither original or endearing. Nor is Edward Cullen.

Now onto an adaptation of a genuinely good novel: the sixth installment of Harry Potter. I will confess that Half Blood Prince isn't my favourite of the series, but I feel that the novel is approximately fifty times better than the film. I wasn't hugely impressed.

I will copy and paste the message I sent to one of my friends regarding the film, because I've already discussed it so many times so I don't want to write about it again!

"Well, Harry Potter. Not the best. It was beautifully filmed, looked
amazing, lovely costumes, special effects and sets. Great one-liners (my
personal favourite: "I do love knitting patterns"). Very funny, very enjoyable.
BUT. They took too much artistic license (as in, added too much stuff that
wasn't in the book, I wasn't happy about the Burrow burning down AT ALL). They
spent so much time focusing on the teenage relationships that they didn't
explain horcruxes properly. Lots didn't make sense if you hadn't read the book.
Kiss between Harry and Ginny disappointing. Ending not dramatic enough. In its
favour, I really loved moments of it, like I think they dealt with the Draco
storyline well, I loved the Weasley shop, and I thought for once that Emma
Watson acted well (a novelty!). I liked the opening too, with the bridge. But I
thought, overall, it was a film of good moments, rather than a really good
film."

Now I come to my final film, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. I've wanted to see this for a while, as I'm intrigued by the concept of seeing the holocaust through the eye of a child.

It's an exceptionally well-made, well-acted film. The attention to detail is fantastic. The story is more symbolic than realistic -- the likelihood of the son of a concentration camp Commandant having any kind of relationship with an inmate of the camp is practically zero -- and if you've seen the shocking ending, you'll realise why. This is a deep and impressive moral fable that isn't for historical accuracy (watch Schindler's List to see a distressing account of the reality of the holocaust), but for human understanding. Every young person should see this, every old person should see this. You'll need your tissues, but if you're anything like me you'll also need people to talk it through with as it raises so many interesting topics for discussion and debate.

I really want to read the book now, but I don't think I'd want to watch the film again!

That's that then.

Yours in film-loving,

J xxx

India

Quite to my surprise, I survived.

I haven't come back unscathed. I'm tired, jet-lagged, and angry about some of the sights I have seen. However, I am nothing like the rabid, malarial, thin, swine-fluey corpse that I expected I would be at this point. In fact, quite the contrary, as I'm generally healthy, happy, and very satisfied having returned from an incredible trip.

India is extremely different from England, and indeed Europe. As someone who has never got further than Switzerland, this trip was an eye-opener. Obviously, because last time I looked I wasn't quite as naive as I might come across, I knew that India was going to be different. Nothing prepared me for the reality. Even the smell, the air, is different to the UK; thicker, sweeter, dustier. The streets are literally covered in litter -- public bins are few and far between -- over which thousands of stray dogs and cows scramble aimlessly. There is no concept of Health and Safety in the way that British people understand it: if you thought construction work had dangers here, please do not go and be a builder in Delhi. I'm not convinced you'd last very long. Shops are generally not housed in tall glass-fronted buildings, as they are in Europe, but in low, wooden open-fronted shacks that line the streets. Explosions of colour and a bizarre mixture of Hindi and English hit you in the face with every turn. People certainly do not share our British worshipping of privacy; men quite happily go to the toilet by the busy roadside, and families' living spaces are open for passers-by to view. It's strange, this openess, given that it is contrasted with conventions of dress (Indian women of all faiths are very modest -- no bare female Indian legs in sight).

In general, England is a much more picturesque place. Our streets are clean and rather quaint, and even areas that cause us embarrassment or tower blocks that are up for hasty demolishment are still not as bad as some of the conditions in India. Our litter is, for the most part, in bins and landfill, and our cities are neat. However, India is a bustling and vibrant country and there are glimpses of stunning beauty. When you come away from the almost make-shift constructions of everyday life, the architecture of the country's landmarks is breathtaking. I refer not only to the Taj Mahal, which is stunningly beautiful, but to other sights such as Qutab Minar and Humayun's Tomb. I genuinely relished the opportunity to visit these places, and compare them with the British sites I take for granted such as Warwick Castle and St. Paul's Cathedral.

The second week of my visit was spent away from the cities of Delhi, Jaipur and Agra, in a little town called Dundlod. It's a pretty town (well, as far as Indian towns go!), with a friendly local population, and we stayed in a wonderfully informal guesthouse called Dundlod Fort. It used to really be a fort, and is complete with a now-dry moat, but it now takes visitors and makes them feel extremely welcome. It's basic accomodation (meaning we had to cope in high temperatures without air-conditioning, and rely on fans that would be off for long stretches of time due to fifteen-times-daily power-cuts), but I personally enjoyed staying there more than I enjoyed staying in the glamorous international hotels in the first week. The Fort is homely, and was free for us to explore. We could walk out onto the roof, hide in the nooks and crannies, stroll through the large gates into the town with friends. The Fort even has two resident labradors, Thunder and Lightning, who freely roam around the place, barking occasionally. We were well looked after, treated to several displays of Indian culture, and treated like long-lost relatives by the Fort's adorable owner. The Fort was really our own for the week, and we projected films onto the outside wall in the evening, and ate dinner on the darkening roof.

The purpose of the week in Dundlod was to teach the children of Indo International School. Sadly education in India is not free like it is here, but this school is funded by non-government bodies and individuals which means that the poorest kids in the town are able to get a free education there. It's a wonderful place with a wonderful headmaster, and the kids are for the most part bright, funny and warm. Teaching was a difficult experience, mainly because of the language barrier, but it was extremely rewarding. I will never forget it.

So, I think I'll stop blabbering on now!

xxxxx

Last Post Before India!

Hey,

Tomorrow, I shall catch a plane for Delhi. I'm nervous, excited, yet rather underwhelmed. I'm all packed up and ready to go, and I seriously hope that a year and a half's worth of waiting (and paying) will pay off over the next two weeks!

Today I thought I'd have a David Bowie appreciation rave, because if I'm not going to do anything for a while I might as well do something fun! I'm not quite sure what form this will take, but I hope this post will sort-of-evolve as it goes along!

OK, so... erm, maybe I shall explain why I like David Bowie so much? I suppose most people have a band or artist that is particularly dear to them, for many reasons. It's not very often that anyone asks why that band or artist has such appeal. We tend to judge each other so much on music taste, as we judge on so many other things.

I think I'll focus on three areas of particular wonderfulness about Bowie!

Firstly, his diversity. When I first became a fan, I already had a big mix of genres within my limited Bowie listening material. There were the songs from Labyrinth, which were always a magical part of my childhood, a few glam-rock tunes such as Starman and Cracked Actor, 80s pop such as Let's Dance, and of course classic, genre-free tracks like Life on Mars and Space Oddity. Today, when I own copies of pretty much everything David Bowie has recorded, I can see that the phrase "I'm not in the mood for Bowie" is a stupid one, because of the vast versatility and different "moods" of his music. In my Bowie collection there is heavy rock, folk, glam-rock, soul, funk, industrial, pop-rock, pop, soft rock, experimental, instrumental, electronic and art-rock.

Secondly, his personality. OK, I don't know the guy, but his stage and album persona is incredibly endearing and as diverse as his music. There are his famous alter-egos, most famously Ziggy Stardust and the Thin White Duke. There is his gender-bending, androgynous fashion style, seen most clearly in the early 70s with his outrageous make-up and glittery costumes. There are the complex elements to his personality, at once witty and tragic. There is the slightly frightening laugh, the beguiling smile, the beautiful painful nuances in his voice. Bowie comments with wonderful irony and wit about stereotypes (Boys Keep Swinging being an example) and seems to have a lot of respect for women (which I like, obviously!). The sexual ambiguity and androgyny appeal to me very much, especially in times of confusion and loneliness. "And Lady Stardust sang his song of darkness and dismay..."

Thirdly, the structure of the albums. His concept albums are probably my favourites, specifically the dystopian albums Diamond Dogs, based on Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, and The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. The balance between passion and dull sadness is carried of brilliantly, and there are some excellent tunes too! I have listened to Rebel Rebel over and over and over again and I'm still not sick of it! I still remember the first time I heard Five Years and how I fell in love with the Ziggy Stardust concept at once:

"Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing

News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in

News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying

Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying"

The general structure of Bowie's work is fantastic, even in his non-conceptual albums. The way the songs are placed in order for maximum effect is really remarkable, the way he draws you in and finishes in style. The length is always perfect: not too long that you are pleased you can stop listening and get some tea, not too short that your thirst for more outweighs the enjoyment of the album. The themes Bowie deals with on his albums (apart from the end of the world!) are sometimes heavy, sometimes light, and there seems to be the right balance. Even dark albums such as Station to Station, produced while Bowie was at a very low point in his life and struggling with cocaine addiction, feature a balance between light-hearted songs (the love song Golden Years and the nonsensical TVC-15) and cries for help (the title track and Word On A Wing). Throughout his long recording career, David Bowie has sung about love, domestic violence, homosexuality, desperation, suicide, religion, 9/11, youth, age, happiness, loneliness, contentment, drugs, politics, America, aliens, rock'n'roll, creativity and a bit more love.

Oh, and if I can add a cheeky fourth: Bowie is beautiful! Quite a few people are in disagreement with me here, yet it is widely agreed that Bowie's appearance is not quite of this world. The mismatched eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the skinny frame... Whether Bowie is from another planet or not, he is more than welcome on the walls of my bedroom!

Think of me as I go to my Indian fate!

J xxxx

Thoughts on the Male Species!

Good evening,

Today I have been reflecting on how difficult growing into a man must be.

So much of feminism focuses on the oppression of women and the dominance of men. This is hugely significant, and matters. In a world where men still earn higher than women, our government, legal system and civil service and are mostly in the hands of men, and women are treated as commodities, this is an important issue. It must be changed.

However, often feminism seems to promote positive discrimination and an empowering of women, while leaving the men unchanged. Often men seem confused and frightened by a powerful woman, and may feel threatened. It's no good marching into an organisation and telling them that fifty percent of their workforce must be female. This is an ideal that we would hope to achieve eventually, but naturally. It is important to involve men in the debate and in the revolution.

Like it or not, men are important. Women are important. We're all important. If I had a fifty-pence coin for every time I've heard "Anything a man can do, a woman can do better," I'd be very rich. I think, while women might bring different skills to a task, the emphasis should be on equality, not superiority.

While there may be a pressure for women to be pretty, skinny and oppressed, there is also a pressure for men to be hunky, muscular and powerful. How does the scrawny, acne-covered adolescent boy feel when he sees an advertising campaign using a tight-muscled, topless "ideal" man? How does the shy, geeky boy feel when he is forced to play "macho" contact-sport and fail miserably? I have always been a huge fan of "Billy Elliot," which explores issues of masculinity.

Men are arguably powerful because it is expected of them that they must be powerful, and those who are not powerful, hunky or surrounded by attractive blondes must feel hurt by society as much as a woman who refuses to conform to feminine ideals.

What needs to change goes beyond women. Women need to be informed, liberated, empowered. But men need to understand that there is no "norm" for them, either, there is not an "ideal" man as there is not an "ideal" woman. If men were true to themselves, and women were true to themselves, would society not fall into a balance of its own accord? There would be more house-husbands, less male politicians, less housewives, more male nurses and make-up artists.

I am a feminist because I believe that women deserve equality and that they haven't got it yet. I am a feminist because so many males have already REALLY got on my nerves for their sexism and prejudice. But I am a feminist, too, because I believe that feminism is not just an ideology but an achievable goal, because men will listen if they realise that it's OK to listen.

xxxxx

Torchwood, Trips and Time

Bonsoir!

Tonight's penultimate episode of Torchwood has just finished, and I am reeling slightly from it's somewhat cathartic plotline.

CAUTION: If you are a viewer who has not yet caught up with the story-so-far, please do not read the next paragraph.

Firstly: Ianto dying in Jack's arms was heartbreaking! I never thought they'd kill off Ianto, having only killed off Tosh and Owen at the end of the last series. And he never got to know Jack, he never got to know how much Jack loved him! Oh dear... I'm being really pathetic now, that's quite enough of that. Secondly: HOW ARE THEY GOING TO SAVE THOSE KIDS?! I really can't see how they can, short of phoning up the Tardis and getting the Doctor to come and save everyone. Well, I will find out tomorrow night!!! Oh, the suspense.

Moving on...

Today was a supposedly "grown-up" trip to Waddesdon Manor and Bicester Village, and I must say that it wasn't the best day of my life. I enjoyed the outbound bus journey, and I enjoyed seeing the aviary and rose-garden, but that's pretty much where it ends. For most of the tour of the house I was so hungry I couldn't think about anything but my stomach, and the weather was neither hot or cold and decidedly dull with a slight hint of humidity. After a pathetically short time to explore the wonderful grounds, we were whisked away to Bicester Village. I had a headache, but I was also slightly wound up by the ridiculous wealth-obsessed, too-perfect, capitalist, Pleasantville nature of the place. An extremely sexist lingerie shop window display annoyed me, and I felt completely out of place. My headache didn't help either. I was glad to leave. What a waste of time.

Time is a funny thing. Ellie sometimes says, "Time you enjoy wasting isn't wasted time," and I quite agree, because I sometimes think people spend hours and hours trying to savour every moment by keeping outrageously busy all the time or taking a ridiculous amount of photographs to mark occasions. I'm actually a big advocate for doing nothing. I enjoy being lazy. Lying on my bed listening to records with a cup of tea at my side is the closest thing to bliss.

I look forward to wasting my time when I get back from India. It'll be lovely to have a week of doing nothing, and thinking instead of moving. I love thinking. I love having an opinion. It's so much more important to me than being a social butterfly or a big user of the gym.

Another phrase springs to mind: "Remember that we are human beings, not human doings."

xxx

Tension: Dramatic and International

Good evening!

The rain is pouring, it's rather chilly, and I am drinking a very pleasant bucket of ordinary tea.

But beneath the internet-geek, tea-sipping facade is a rather tense person.

I have relatively recently arrived home from an hour and forty-five minutes of drama doom. I HATE THE CASTING PROCESS FOR SCHOOL PLAYS. This particular play, "The Diary of Anne Frank," has already been a long, drawn-out affair. Firstly, the initial auditions at the beginning of June. Secondly, the call-back auditions a week ago. Thirdly, the publication of the cast list, without specification of individual roles. Then, this evening, the read-through. It was essentially a reverse witch-hunt: a search for shining talent. It was hideous, nerve-wracking, and now I have been assured I will finally find out my part tomorrow after one month of DOOM, my stomach is tight with nerves.

Still, there's nothing like a bit of tension in the world. My schoolgirl tension is nothing in comparison to the international tension that bubbles under the surfaces of all of our little lives.

However, according to this morning's Independent, THE COLD WAR IS OVER. This is an interesting idea. Firstly, the Cold War is generally acknowledged to have finished in the early 90s, although it has become fashionable to discuss the concept of whether the Cold War is still a reality or not. Let's face it, Russia has thousands of nuclear warheads, and the states still has only slightly less than their traditional Eastern enemy. George Bush and Putin were hardly the best of friends. Perhaps, though the Doomsday clock was turning its wrathful attention to climate change as opposed to nuclear holocaust, we were in a state of Cold War throughout the last twenty years, which brings us to the second point. Why is the Cold War now completely over if it wasn't before? Well, Obama and Medvedev have had nice, pleasant discussions and have posed for a few pretty pictures in the usual stage-set fashion that is so familiar in international relations. Oh yes, and they have agreed to reduce the number of nuclear warheads.

Perhaps the risk of the Americans being blown up by the Russians, or the whole world being blown up by the Americans, has diminished as a result of today. But the fact remains that those horrible, disgustingly evil WMDs are still lurking in the submarines of the world's seas, and it is still possible for either nation to wipe the world out several times over. What happens the next time a Republican is elected to the Presidency?

Maybe the headline should have been phrased differently. THE COLD WAR IS OVER. FOR NOW.

J xxx

p.s. Please look into CND. I'm wanting to join Liberty at the moment, so I can't afford to join CND as well, and I'm a bit unsure as to what to do with all that nuclear waste once you've disarmed, AND I'm a bit unsure how you can prove that a nation has entirely disarmed, and without a deterrent it is possible the world could be blown to smithereens. But I agree with them on principle! http://www.cnduk.org/

p.p.s Wish me luck in the play!

Response to Terradoll's Article on "Girl Poison"

Terradoll, a good friend of mine, and a very talented writer, has commenced blogging on literature, music and life that you will find very interesting if you are interested in identity, feminism and riot-grrrl. I urge you to look her up! The blog is in its early days but hopefully it will gain a large following.

http://terradoll.blogspot.com/

In response to the intriguing article on Girl Poison, I thought I'd write some of my own thoughts on the matter of our young girls and how they have been, and are being, "poisoned."

Perhaps I was once poisoned myself, to a certain extent, and the remnants still remain. I've never been "into fashion," I abhor the fashion industry's confining influence and the skeletal models seen upon the catwalk, I have strong principles concerning individuality and self-expression. Yet I confess to worrying about my weight and general body-issues, undoubtedly a concern that will have trickled down from the media and the fashion industry. As a feminist-socialist-vegetarian-weirdo (!!!) I still bear the scars of our capitalist society and I completely concur with what Terradoll, and Angelspit, are saying.

I am, relatively-speaking, unpoisoned when you observe some of the young girls out and about today. I am only seventeen and yet I have seen it happen in my lifetime; when I was little, dressing up meant putting on a Laura Ashley children's dress and a sunhat, perhaps some jewellery if I could put up with its irritating feel against my skin. Now I go into my local shopping mall and see children no older than ten with handbags and wearing mini-skirts and make-up. It is popular knowledge now that more young girls aspire to be glamour models than doctors. I find this shocking and unacceptable and it needs to change.

Terradoll rightly argues that girls need to have fostered within them a sense of confidence and self-worth, and I have been reflecting upon where this should come from. Should it come from education, and stronger Personal and Social Education? Perhaps an awareness of the history of women's rights and the struggle that we have always been engaged in would help (I was most shocked the other day when a classmate of mine asked me, "What's a suffragette?"), as well as an assurance that each girl is beautiful no matter how thin, tall or blonde she is. But then arguably, this would be useless in a world where beautiful breasts are fake and girls' role models are cosmetically-enhanced pop stars and glamour models. Maybe the media and the fashion industry need to change? The problem with this is that fake breasts and fast-fashion sell, and the industry is worth mega-bucks. Maybe the government need to do something? But what could the government do, when it suits them to keep women oppressed (note the falling number of female MPs since the "Blair's Babes" boost and Cameron's selection of all-male team to fight the recession)?

Perhaps the only thing to do is Girls educating Girls, supporting each other, and trying to take little steps. I personally think things have, in many ways, got worse in the last fifteen years, and it's a shame that Terradoll's beloved riot-grrrl and Third Wave Feminism have gone so underground in recent years (I confess to being relatively new to the concept of riot-grrrl, as it is conveniently left out of many information books and magazines). I want to change the girls who ask "What's a suffragette?" and I think it's particularly worrying that in an all-girls' school there are still people who believe feminism is not an issue. I'm in favour of increasing the study of Women's Issues in Personal and Social Education lessons, even if it won't make a huge difference.

Perhaps this is worth writing to my MP over?

An interesting thought!

Sorry to ramble!!!

J
xxxx

Password-forgetting and India-doom!

Greetings internet,

Yours truly, as wonderful as she is, forgot all her log-in details for Blogger.

After about an hour of trying to work out how to recover my password and log-in under this new Google system, I'm finally back in business. I'm blogging today because I'm bored, and I've spent most of this lovely, bright Sunday morning skulking around the house in my pyjamas. My repetitive strain injury from typing is now beyond a joke, so really I ought not to be on the computer at all. Still, in a week's time I will be away from the computer for TWO WHOLE WEEKS, because...

I'm going to India.

I am absolutely terrified. Preparing to be in a play, or waiting to sit a particularly nasty exam, does not compare. This is The Unknown.

Although I'm not quite at Victorian-heroine levels of fainting, I'm not brilliant with heat. To be fair to myself, there has been a heatwave in England this week and I've been coping well, with the aid of floaty dresses that I would not normally be seen dead in. India, however, will probably be between five and ten degrees hotter than the peak temperature this week, so I still don't feel completely confident.

Mosquitoes. "Delhi-Belly." Long-haul flight. Rabies. Humidity. Exhaustion.

OK. Don't get me wrong, I am actually looking forward to this trip. I wouldn't have signed up if I didn't genuinely want to go. There are things I'm excited about, such as teaching the young kids in Dunlod and seeing the world-famous Taj Mahal. It'll be nice to spend two weeks with friends, too, and experience a completely different culture from my own. If the Beatles could survive three months there, I think I can survive two weeks.

Lots of love,
J (GCSE AS swimming cert. future BA)

Sleep

For once in my life I am glad I'm a teenager.

This gives me a good reason as to why I'm so tired. Permanently. Constantly. 24/7. And it also gives me hope that one day I will "grow out of it."

At the end of 2007 I went for a test for anaemia and glandular fever, because I was so exhausted that it was making me very blue. Both tests came back negative. I went through all of last year feeling tired (although better during BST because of the long hours of daylight), and now I am once again shattered.

Get out the violins, woe is me, etc. etc. Never mind. Moving on...

HOW TO MAKE AMAZING VEGAN BISCUITS (I am a vegan for Lent, in case you didn't know)
Pre-heat the oven to about 150 degrees, but it doesn't really matter. Make it up as you go along basically.

1) Seive 6 oz flour into a bowl
2) Melt 6 oz sunflower spread (you can use butter if you're not a vegan) and stir into the flour
3) Add 6 oz of brown sugar and stir in
4) Keep adding sugar as you stir
5) More sugar
6) Then a bit more
7) Make sure the mixture is on the borderline between being really firm and really soggy (this makes the final biscuits chewy and lovely).
8) Roll it out. It should be so soft that when you try and roll it out it nearly falls apart. You shouldn't be able to cut out shapes easily, so roll little balls of mixture, drop it onto the greased tin, then pop a glass bottom on top then pull it off to reveal the circular shape (you may need to use flour to stop it sticking).
9) Bake until you can smell them and they're nice and golden brown, like the Stranglers' song.

The more brown sugar the better!

You could also add chocolate chips for the best cookies on the planet.

Yes I am good!

xxxxx

Procrastination and Civil Liberties

1) Why? Why do I do it?

I am a motivated student in so many ways. I love my subjects, I usually only daydream for five minutes per lesson, and I am desperate to go to a good Uni. I really do care.

Most of my Sundays are spent glued to the computer screen, doing "homework." This means that for about six out of seven hours I will be on Facebook, and maybe I will occasionally procrastinate in other ways, such as compulsively cleaning my teeth or looking up pictures of ageing glam-rockers.

Procrastination is, for me, like a health condition. It causes me distress and I hate it, but I cannot really help it. There have been some articles in the newpapers recently saying that people who are happy in spite of the recession must have an "optimism gene." Perhaps there is a procrastination gene? I should contact Richard Dawkins.


2) Britain is sleepwalking into a police state, a nanny state, a Big Brother surveillance state...

It's time to wake up!

I have decided to refuse to carry an ID card if this bad idea, if you will forgive the pun borrowed from the Tories, ever comes through.

And if I do manage to vote in the next general election (although this is seriously unlikely as the election will probably be a month before my 18th) I will cast some kind of protest vote, possibly Green. I've always been a bit of a hippy at heart.

For more info, there's a fascinating and frightening film called "Taking Liberties" by Chris Atkins, which I definitely reccomend if you ever find yourself wondering what happened to liberty and justice.

Also visit no2id.co.net, liberty-human-rights.org.uk, and get reading political manifestos: our rights are slipping away! Let's get them back :)