The valiance post was a description of a friend I know who is maybe an English size fourteen, or size sixteen tops, who I think is beautiful. Her beauty is not an ideal I would attempt to conform to; it is not my own ideal, nor is it hers. She would like to be thinner, I would like to be thinner. As such I do not wish to conform to the ideal of Valiance. I could not; I know that whatever I do I will not be a soft proportioned person, and my face is unlike hers anyway. There is something blunt about my face and tough about my limbs. I am of an athletic build; euphemistically. This means, otherwise, that I am broad shouldered and as such carry excess weight well but have a tendency to look masculine as opposed to feminine. I can handle this. If I was describing myself, what would I say? Well, I too am pale. Masculinity is no bad thing. I am as strong as a piece of steel, flexible and coiled like a spring. Tensile strength is one of my best attributes. Yes, then. I am a sheet of steel that repells the sun, that glints as it shimmers softly over water, that can bend and stretch and do.
I watched TV the other day and four women with normal bodies swam the channel. That they could do that, that their bodies, though aged, were capable of that gave me enormous respect for what my body can do, what its potential is and why I should be neither over nor under loading it with food or subjecting it to constant criticism because it is a useful tool, nothing more and nothing less.
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Valiance
There is a doe-like softness about her eye which is beautiful, the dark pool of the centre contrasted with the white, and the pale lashes fluttering about the lagoon of the pupil. She herself is tender and malleable, skittish even, yet she portrays an exterior of harshness and people mistake the perceptive shrewdness of those milky eyes for dominance and betrayal. Maybe they are right. It could be the cut of her jaw, or her pink mouth that quirks slowly at the edges, or even her voice that sounds like honey running over and dripping off the back of a spoon, oh so slowly uphill and then drop drop drop down. Any of those give the impression of quiet confidence in oneself that could easily be adapted to a weapon against others, or of power.
The animation in the turn of her wrist is wonderful. She is wonderful, her body is soft and quick to move. The joints, the waist are concave to the hips and chest. Everything is gradual and undulating, and pale. She is a creamy shade, a full beauty with no mark of palpitation on her, no protruding bone or bursting vein upon her leg, about her decollete or around her arm. She is whole like the glowing moon, in perfect proportion to herself.
The animation in the turn of her wrist is wonderful. She is wonderful, her body is soft and quick to move. The joints, the waist are concave to the hips and chest. Everything is gradual and undulating, and pale. She is a creamy shade, a full beauty with no mark of palpitation on her, no protruding bone or bursting vein upon her leg, about her decollete or around her arm. She is whole like the glowing moon, in perfect proportion to herself.
Monday 18 June 2007
Hades
Or Pluto, or any of the other names.
Hades drew the short straw when it came to dividing the realms. I wonder what he thought? I wonder if he simply wanted to make the best of what he had, dividing the underworld into three, and taking a Queen for it. Did he have any choice except for to take Proserpine by force? Was he simply so downtrodden by the monotony of it, by the sheer neutrality, that he needed some consort from the living, some mediator to expound his love upon?
I read that Hades, contrary to popular representation, is not evil but neutral. Then again, aren't these inextricable from each other? It is doing nothing that allows evil to flourish. But I do not think that Hades is reminiscent of Nazi Germany, no. Hades, Pluto is a fair man. Death itself is the most neutral state, as one is inert and completely subject to other's opinions which are given without contradiction from oneself. Autonomy disappears. Hades is not evil, he is simply an overseer of souls, a doler-out of the God's punishments. I wonder what he was like before, before he was the God of the Underworld with his part-time Queen. Idealistic, possibly, and full of the arrogance of Victory and Youth. I would like to write a story, perhaps a play, about Hades, about Proserpine, his neice and half-bride, about his domain and his court.
Hades drew the short straw when it came to dividing the realms. I wonder what he thought? I wonder if he simply wanted to make the best of what he had, dividing the underworld into three, and taking a Queen for it. Did he have any choice except for to take Proserpine by force? Was he simply so downtrodden by the monotony of it, by the sheer neutrality, that he needed some consort from the living, some mediator to expound his love upon?
I read that Hades, contrary to popular representation, is not evil but neutral. Then again, aren't these inextricable from each other? It is doing nothing that allows evil to flourish. But I do not think that Hades is reminiscent of Nazi Germany, no. Hades, Pluto is a fair man. Death itself is the most neutral state, as one is inert and completely subject to other's opinions which are given without contradiction from oneself. Autonomy disappears. Hades is not evil, he is simply an overseer of souls, a doler-out of the God's punishments. I wonder what he was like before, before he was the God of the Underworld with his part-time Queen. Idealistic, possibly, and full of the arrogance of Victory and Youth. I would like to write a story, perhaps a play, about Hades, about Proserpine, his neice and half-bride, about his domain and his court.
Prelude to weight loss
I am at home for the summer, planning to get some work and get on in the world. I am missing my academic life, friends as well as others. I will get so fat over this summer, with no plays to be in and no work to do. I must rectify the second. My waist is about 27 inches at the moment, smaller than I thought it would be and the smallest in my family household. Smaller than my ten year old sister's, which shouldn't be I suppose. She should be smaller. I should not be larger.
Anyway. It was fathers day yesterday, and I'd purchased a moleskine (yes the spelling is correct) notebook for mine, and written a poem inside it. He didn't like it as much as I'd thought he would, but he had spent most of the day writing code and he was tired. Besides which, I should know him better- I did have inklings that the notebook, however well intended, would languish in a corner because my father has more important things to do. He's very clever, tenacious and dogmatic. He thinks I have a wealth of information, but this is simply because I have read slightly more- he reads philosophy, but his career is in computing, which he excels at. He believes that the best use he can be to us is to make money rather than be around a lot, which is not true. He seeks me out to discuss philosophy with because I am the echelons of education (this in itself is a farce), and exhausts my potential for such debates. I thought that with the notebook, he could record his musings (which are usually cantankerous ones about society going down the pan) and alleviate them somewhat. In retrospect, it is too bulky and too much fuss for him to carry about everywhere- I should have bought him a real book, he loves real books. I think he would do a philosophy degree if left to his own devices. My parents are potential cut short- both were bright, but my Mum wasn't expected to do A Levels and my Dad wasn't pushed enough so they didn't do as well as they could have done. They've both got careers now, but it would have been accelerated if they'd been encouraged. I am glad that they are encouraging of me, well, with common sense things. They wouldn't want me to be an artist or an actress, for example. They'd see it as futile I think, because I'm no Nicole Kidman or otherwise and wouldn't earn any money henceforth. I'd stunt my potential for other things by spending my life waiting tables. I've never spoken to them about drama school or anything, and I wouldn't because I don't want them to pay out any more than they have, they've put me through university and that is enough. And they are right.
Anyway. It was fathers day yesterday, and I'd purchased a moleskine (yes the spelling is correct) notebook for mine, and written a poem inside it. He didn't like it as much as I'd thought he would, but he had spent most of the day writing code and he was tired. Besides which, I should know him better- I did have inklings that the notebook, however well intended, would languish in a corner because my father has more important things to do. He's very clever, tenacious and dogmatic. He thinks I have a wealth of information, but this is simply because I have read slightly more- he reads philosophy, but his career is in computing, which he excels at. He believes that the best use he can be to us is to make money rather than be around a lot, which is not true. He seeks me out to discuss philosophy with because I am the echelons of education (this in itself is a farce), and exhausts my potential for such debates. I thought that with the notebook, he could record his musings (which are usually cantankerous ones about society going down the pan) and alleviate them somewhat. In retrospect, it is too bulky and too much fuss for him to carry about everywhere- I should have bought him a real book, he loves real books. I think he would do a philosophy degree if left to his own devices. My parents are potential cut short- both were bright, but my Mum wasn't expected to do A Levels and my Dad wasn't pushed enough so they didn't do as well as they could have done. They've both got careers now, but it would have been accelerated if they'd been encouraged. I am glad that they are encouraging of me, well, with common sense things. They wouldn't want me to be an artist or an actress, for example. They'd see it as futile I think, because I'm no Nicole Kidman or otherwise and wouldn't earn any money henceforth. I'd stunt my potential for other things by spending my life waiting tables. I've never spoken to them about drama school or anything, and I wouldn't because I don't want them to pay out any more than they have, they've put me through university and that is enough. And they are right.
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