One thing that has managed to ceaselessly preturb me is the rather widespread use of the verb 'rape' on Facebook of late. I frequently log in to my live feed to find a friend boasting about 'raping' an exam or 'raping' an assignment. Of course there are also many signs of 'Frape' or Facebook Rape. What I'd love to know is when rape became a term that is used so flippanty?
For me, rape has always meant something horrific. It disturbs me that anyone would so easily make use of a term that is generally associated with unlawful sexual assault. Yes, rape also refers to a kind of seed, but I seriously doubt any of the people who claim to have 'raped' their exams are attempting to infer that they gave it a good seeding.
Rape can also refer to certain atrocities in military history such as The Rape of Athens or The Rape of Belgium in 1914. However, I highly doubt that anyone using the phrase is referring to this kind of action either; unless you study history or have a keen interest in it, the chances of these incidents being in your sphere of general knowledge is slim.
Now I'm no conservative and I'm certainly not a prude. I'm well able to have a laugh when I don't find the joke unsettling. There's just something about joking about rape that doesn't sit well with me. Even thinking of such an act makes me recoil in horror. You only need to listen to the men and women who have suffered through such an horrific experience, hear the stories of those who were too scared to come forward, to realise that this is no mere action. It's pure violation. So talk about making an exam your 'bitch' or something equally representative of the fact that you pretty much aced it, but don't suggest you're a rapist with respect to it. Just don't joke about rape at all.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Remorse is the echo of a lost virtue.
Breaking a confidence is perhaps one of the easiest things to do; it's horrible, but true. There may be nobility, malice or sheer stupidity in breaking a confidence. Nevertheless, the consequences remain the same. Someone trusted you to keep your mouth shut and you didn't; they'll either forgive and forget or hold it against you.
There's nothing worse than being known as the 'nice one' that lovely person who wouldn't hurt a fly. Especially when you feel as though you have a skeleton in your closet, a shadow looming over you that though not on you conscience daily, raises it's head whenever a name is mentioned. I find myself in that situation because of a stupid, frivolous mistake I made at 16. I spectacularly let someone down. I won't go into it because they deserve more than that. All that matters is that they never forgave me; I'll probably never forgive myself.
What is guilt? Why do we feel guilty when we make mistakes and someone suffers as a result? Is it because we genuinely feel remorse for what we have done? Or are we just trying to convince ourselves we do? For instance, in my situation I regularly convince myself that I have no excuses for what I did, that it was just wrong and idiotic and that I should never have done it and that's it. Yet I can also find exceptions when I look further into it; I didn't tell everyone, I told three/four people and told them not to tell anyone else. Sadly one of those people didn't manage to grasp the concept of keeping their mouth shut. But how can I be mad at them when I failed to do that myself? If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.
Then comes the question 'what if I'd never been caught?'. What if someone hadn't told someone else? What if the person who suffered had never gone through any of it? I'd still have broken a confidence, but would I feel guilty then? Chances are it would never have even entered into my head. Would I still be friends with the people I felt to ashamed to see? Would I have left the place I left? I left something I loved behind because I felt someone I'd let down deserved it more than I did. Am I really sorry or did I do it all to make a martyr of myself? Shame and guilt are funny things.
I did apologise, probably too late because I was too scared to face what I'd done. But I console myself with the fact that I did say sorry. I say I don't care if that person ever forgives me, that I don't deserve to be forgiven, but I'm not sure I really mean that. As life moves on and I meet an increasing number of people who connect us in some fashion, my fear that they'll realise what I'm capable of grows. The fact that so many have reacted with indifference to my confession has been both a comfort and a nightmare.
I'm sorry, truly sorry and I will always regret breaking that confidence.
Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
There's nothing worse than being known as the 'nice one' that lovely person who wouldn't hurt a fly. Especially when you feel as though you have a skeleton in your closet, a shadow looming over you that though not on you conscience daily, raises it's head whenever a name is mentioned. I find myself in that situation because of a stupid, frivolous mistake I made at 16. I spectacularly let someone down. I won't go into it because they deserve more than that. All that matters is that they never forgave me; I'll probably never forgive myself.
What is guilt? Why do we feel guilty when we make mistakes and someone suffers as a result? Is it because we genuinely feel remorse for what we have done? Or are we just trying to convince ourselves we do? For instance, in my situation I regularly convince myself that I have no excuses for what I did, that it was just wrong and idiotic and that I should never have done it and that's it. Yet I can also find exceptions when I look further into it; I didn't tell everyone, I told three/four people and told them not to tell anyone else. Sadly one of those people didn't manage to grasp the concept of keeping their mouth shut. But how can I be mad at them when I failed to do that myself? If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.
Then comes the question 'what if I'd never been caught?'. What if someone hadn't told someone else? What if the person who suffered had never gone through any of it? I'd still have broken a confidence, but would I feel guilty then? Chances are it would never have even entered into my head. Would I still be friends with the people I felt to ashamed to see? Would I have left the place I left? I left something I loved behind because I felt someone I'd let down deserved it more than I did. Am I really sorry or did I do it all to make a martyr of myself? Shame and guilt are funny things.
I did apologise, probably too late because I was too scared to face what I'd done. But I console myself with the fact that I did say sorry. I say I don't care if that person ever forgives me, that I don't deserve to be forgiven, but I'm not sure I really mean that. As life moves on and I meet an increasing number of people who connect us in some fashion, my fear that they'll realise what I'm capable of grows. The fact that so many have reacted with indifference to my confession has been both a comfort and a nightmare.
I'm sorry, truly sorry and I will always regret breaking that confidence.
Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Everybody knows the end; don't wanna get there wishing that you'd given more
Losing my little dog to cancer has proven something of a turning point in life.
Those who have loved and lost a dog will understand; for those who have never gone through it, my thoughts and feelings on the issue may be difficult to comprehend.
It's amazing how a dog becomes such an enormous part of your life and a member of your family. Our boys have always been particularly spoiled; they have their own armchairs in the kitchen, the by-product of a recent enough house renovation. Oz, my dalmatian cross (who possesses the body of a dalmatian on the legs of a corgi), now sits alone in his armchair whilst Archer's remains empty. My heart feels somewhat empty without my clever little monster. The house is not our home; it will be in time, but not now, not without Archer.
Archer's death has achieved one victory; it has steeled my determination to live my life to the full. In his 8 years on the planet Archer survived death at 6 months old shortly after being abandoned by his owners, lived in an animal rescue for almost a year, survived being hit by a car, survived a fall into a canal which a fire brigade refused to rescue him from, lost a piece of his ear, escaped about 17 times and so on. I could go on. Genetic misfortune, which landed him in that 5-7% of dogs who would contract a particularly vicious form of canine cancer, was the only thing that stopped my little beagle.
My outlook on life has changed somewhat; I've never been more sure of what I want to do when I finish college for one. I also finally managed to find myself a job. I guess it takes a shock to the system to clear your head. Life's too short to waste it worrying about ifs and buts. Life is out there to be lived. My little beagle lived, now I'm going to follow that same philosophy.
Those who have loved and lost a dog will understand; for those who have never gone through it, my thoughts and feelings on the issue may be difficult to comprehend.
It's amazing how a dog becomes such an enormous part of your life and a member of your family. Our boys have always been particularly spoiled; they have their own armchairs in the kitchen, the by-product of a recent enough house renovation. Oz, my dalmatian cross (who possesses the body of a dalmatian on the legs of a corgi), now sits alone in his armchair whilst Archer's remains empty. My heart feels somewhat empty without my clever little monster. The house is not our home; it will be in time, but not now, not without Archer.
Archer's death has achieved one victory; it has steeled my determination to live my life to the full. In his 8 years on the planet Archer survived death at 6 months old shortly after being abandoned by his owners, lived in an animal rescue for almost a year, survived being hit by a car, survived a fall into a canal which a fire brigade refused to rescue him from, lost a piece of his ear, escaped about 17 times and so on. I could go on. Genetic misfortune, which landed him in that 5-7% of dogs who would contract a particularly vicious form of canine cancer, was the only thing that stopped my little beagle.
My outlook on life has changed somewhat; I've never been more sure of what I want to do when I finish college for one. I also finally managed to find myself a job. I guess it takes a shock to the system to clear your head. Life's too short to waste it worrying about ifs and buts. Life is out there to be lived. My little beagle lived, now I'm going to follow that same philosophy.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Admiral Archer
To the best little beagle in the whole wide world, I love you dearly and I hope you'll be finally able to rest easy this way. I'll never forget you, your floppy ears and your big dark eyes, the way you'd stand on the dresser or the way you'd steal Oz's food. I'm sorry I can't save you. x
Friday, July 2, 2010
The J Team
For an astronomical list of reasons I have avoided writing about Twilight.
However, I fear the time has come to bite the bullet.
To set the record straight let me first state that yes, I have read Twilight and all of it's sequels. In fact I read them before they had even been released in Europe. I have had a long standing tradition of taking a hoard of books on holiday with me, and so a trip to Tunisia way back when proved no different. In the weeks before the trip I searched Google for the best recommended reads I could find. The New York Times Bestsellers List lead me to a curious little book about vampires called 'Twilight'. An avid Buffy fan in my earlier youth, Twilight seemed fair game for a read on a sun-lounger. Let's face it, it was chick-lit wrapped in a fantasy fiction; I just wanted a cheap read. Whilst I was at it, I figured paying a little more and getting its two sequels would do no harm; I'm pastier than any vampire, tanning was going to be a time consuming process which would inevitably result in skin that would burn more quickly than Dracula's at high-noon. A generous mother's credit card, a decent deal on Amazon and 2 weeks later and I had three big books to take on holiday.
I read Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse in the space of three days. I didn't find them particularly appalling, yet I didn't find them particularly enthralling either. I bought Breaking Dawn, curious as to how Meyer planned to end her 'saga' and found it dull; the book was too long for the story it was trying to tell. She could have saved a section of the rain forest by simply telling the story. Don't even get me started on the child's name.
Now I'm not one to 'hate' on those who like the books. As I've said, they were good for a read when I needed a book, I just didn't find myself pulled in. However, I do have an issue with the hysteria this saga has produced. Three movies have been rolled out in less than two years, billions of dollars have been spent at box offices around the globe and teenage girls everywhere have learned that the only man for them is the one who'll hopelessly devote his (eternal) life to them. Mammies are even joining in; Twihards, along with their Twimoms, have devoted themselves to a new 'Twiligion'. 'Cullenism' is the key it seems. Yet when you think about it really is quite tragic. Despite the fact that he's probably making millions, Robert Pattinson will never be able to live a normal life again after taking on the role of Edward Cullen. Twilight has become to Pattison as Avada Kedavra was to his Cedric Diggory, an Unforgivable Curse.
Legions of fans adore and worship Pattinson, unable to visualise the line between the man and the myth. A recent episode of Glee drew attention to the hilarity of the fanaticism, a devoted 'Twihard' character descending upon a fellow student in a vampiric fashion claiming 'this will DEFINITELY get Robert Pattinson's attention!'. Hilarity in satire, horror in the reality it's based upon. Devoted to Pattinson, these Twihards will do anything to protect and defend their Rob... I mean Edward, Edward, of course he's Edward. Even if it means taking on their most hated crack unit - The J Team. Are you Team Jacob or Team Edward? Answer carefully for your future hangs in the balance! Emma Roberts, niece of Julia and star of Nickelodeon's 'Unfabulous' and teen movies 'Aquamarine' and 'Wild Child' can undoubtedly testify to that.
The New York Daily News reported July 17th that Roberts had been forced to close her Twitter account due to backlash from angry Rob.. I mean, Edward fans. She appeared alongside Pattinson on Jay Leno and openly expressed that sadly, she was not Team Ed. Yes, Roberts is one of The J Team. Whilst Pattinson laughed it off and quipped that Roberts had 'no taste', Twihards took Twitter by storm, flooding Roberts page with their disapproval of her choice. Twihards were also quick to attack the NY Daily News Article, claiming it wasn't Roberts' choice of 'Team' that infuriated them so, but 'her snarky and hateful tweet about Rob that she posted after the show!'. This particular Twihard continued ' Frankly, I'm GLAD she's not Team Edward...there's not enough room for all of us and her BIG EGO, too!'.
Emma's 'tweet' read "Rob Pattinson is so nice! I was slightly disappointed his skin wasn't glittering & the song 'Wild Thing' didn't start when he shook my hand." Read into that what you will, I personally found it witty and I'm sure Pattinson would too.
I'll never pretend to understand 'Twihards'. I was engrossed in Potter from a young age, the books, not the films, but never to the point at which I believed he was going to fall down my chimney thanks to a frog in his throat and some dodgy floo powder. My irrational fear that good old Voldy would appear outside my door can be put down to an over-active childhood imagination, at least that's what I tell myself; whatever helps me sleep at night. I won't begrudge anyone a love of a book, I know plenty of sane people who rather enjoy Twilight; it just seems that there are a rather large amount of people who love it a bit too much for comfort... check out http://www.mylifeistwilight.com if you dare.
As for me, Team Edward or Team Jacob? I've read the books, seen the movies and still have come to the conclusion that I'll have neither thanks. I prefer a bumbling idiot of a man who is perfectly adorable in his geekiness and complete and utter lack of tact. At least he'll make you laugh, whether it's with him or at him. You'd seriously want to smile in a town like 'Forks', what with all the dead bodies and the less than perfect weather. So when it comes to the ultimate 'fictional' heart-throb(particularly because the glow from his ginger hair would 'eclipse' any vampire's sparkly skin), as 'Gryffindors all sing' Ronald Weasley is and forever shall be my king.
However, I fear the time has come to bite the bullet.
To set the record straight let me first state that yes, I have read Twilight and all of it's sequels. In fact I read them before they had even been released in Europe. I have had a long standing tradition of taking a hoard of books on holiday with me, and so a trip to Tunisia way back when proved no different. In the weeks before the trip I searched Google for the best recommended reads I could find. The New York Times Bestsellers List lead me to a curious little book about vampires called 'Twilight'. An avid Buffy fan in my earlier youth, Twilight seemed fair game for a read on a sun-lounger. Let's face it, it was chick-lit wrapped in a fantasy fiction; I just wanted a cheap read. Whilst I was at it, I figured paying a little more and getting its two sequels would do no harm; I'm pastier than any vampire, tanning was going to be a time consuming process which would inevitably result in skin that would burn more quickly than Dracula's at high-noon. A generous mother's credit card, a decent deal on Amazon and 2 weeks later and I had three big books to take on holiday.
I read Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse in the space of three days. I didn't find them particularly appalling, yet I didn't find them particularly enthralling either. I bought Breaking Dawn, curious as to how Meyer planned to end her 'saga' and found it dull; the book was too long for the story it was trying to tell. She could have saved a section of the rain forest by simply telling the story. Don't even get me started on the child's name.
Now I'm not one to 'hate' on those who like the books. As I've said, they were good for a read when I needed a book, I just didn't find myself pulled in. However, I do have an issue with the hysteria this saga has produced. Three movies have been rolled out in less than two years, billions of dollars have been spent at box offices around the globe and teenage girls everywhere have learned that the only man for them is the one who'll hopelessly devote his (eternal) life to them. Mammies are even joining in; Twihards, along with their Twimoms, have devoted themselves to a new 'Twiligion'. 'Cullenism' is the key it seems. Yet when you think about it really is quite tragic. Despite the fact that he's probably making millions, Robert Pattinson will never be able to live a normal life again after taking on the role of Edward Cullen. Twilight has become to Pattison as Avada Kedavra was to his Cedric Diggory, an Unforgivable Curse.
Legions of fans adore and worship Pattinson, unable to visualise the line between the man and the myth. A recent episode of Glee drew attention to the hilarity of the fanaticism, a devoted 'Twihard' character descending upon a fellow student in a vampiric fashion claiming 'this will DEFINITELY get Robert Pattinson's attention!'. Hilarity in satire, horror in the reality it's based upon. Devoted to Pattinson, these Twihards will do anything to protect and defend their Rob... I mean Edward, Edward, of course he's Edward. Even if it means taking on their most hated crack unit - The J Team. Are you Team Jacob or Team Edward? Answer carefully for your future hangs in the balance! Emma Roberts, niece of Julia and star of Nickelodeon's 'Unfabulous' and teen movies 'Aquamarine' and 'Wild Child' can undoubtedly testify to that.
The New York Daily News reported July 17th that Roberts had been forced to close her Twitter account due to backlash from angry Rob.. I mean, Edward fans. She appeared alongside Pattinson on Jay Leno and openly expressed that sadly, she was not Team Ed. Yes, Roberts is one of The J Team. Whilst Pattinson laughed it off and quipped that Roberts had 'no taste', Twihards took Twitter by storm, flooding Roberts page with their disapproval of her choice. Twihards were also quick to attack the NY Daily News Article, claiming it wasn't Roberts' choice of 'Team' that infuriated them so, but 'her snarky and hateful tweet about Rob that she posted after the show!'. This particular Twihard continued ' Frankly, I'm GLAD she's not Team Edward...there's not enough room for all of us and her BIG EGO, too!'.
Emma's 'tweet' read "Rob Pattinson is so nice! I was slightly disappointed his skin wasn't glittering & the song 'Wild Thing' didn't start when he shook my hand." Read into that what you will, I personally found it witty and I'm sure Pattinson would too.
I'll never pretend to understand 'Twihards'. I was engrossed in Potter from a young age, the books, not the films, but never to the point at which I believed he was going to fall down my chimney thanks to a frog in his throat and some dodgy floo powder. My irrational fear that good old Voldy would appear outside my door can be put down to an over-active childhood imagination, at least that's what I tell myself; whatever helps me sleep at night. I won't begrudge anyone a love of a book, I know plenty of sane people who rather enjoy Twilight; it just seems that there are a rather large amount of people who love it a bit too much for comfort... check out http://www.mylifeistwilight.com if you dare.
As for me, Team Edward or Team Jacob? I've read the books, seen the movies and still have come to the conclusion that I'll have neither thanks. I prefer a bumbling idiot of a man who is perfectly adorable in his geekiness and complete and utter lack of tact. At least he'll make you laugh, whether it's with him or at him. You'd seriously want to smile in a town like 'Forks', what with all the dead bodies and the less than perfect weather. So when it comes to the ultimate 'fictional' heart-throb(particularly because the glow from his ginger hair would 'eclipse' any vampire's sparkly skin), as 'Gryffindors all sing' Ronald Weasley is and forever shall be my king.
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