No, contrary to the common belief, one size does not fit all. It's a myth, of course it is. How can one size fit all when a size 10 dress doesn't even fit all size 10s?
It's because there is one thing shops seem to forget when sizing up their clothes; boobs. I don't have a large stomach and I don't have broad shoulders but I have boobs and, when shopping, they are a really pain (and no that's not just from wearing a bra).
My boobs are the bane of my life when it comes to clothes shopping; nothing too tight but nothing too loose. Not too revealing but still comfortable. (Urgh girl with large boobs complaining about her struggles. Sorry, it's probably annoying but just be thankful that your boobs are in proportion to your body.)
I guess it's not just boobs they forget, it's legs too. Let me and my short and stumpy legs shop in peace. Please. The correlation between height and size is wrong and, generally, just very confusing.
Clothes are complicated. Very complicated; dresses especially. How am I supposed to find a dress that fits when my lower half is screaming size 8 and my upper half a 10. Size 10 isn't massive, that's not the problem. The problem is that women come in all shapes and sizes and clothes shops just don't cater for that. I struggle into my size 8 tops knowing full well they may rip at any moment during the awkward putting on process. Or getting it off. They are both a struggle. It's no fun, trying to squeeze into outfits because, even if you had the money to get it in a bigger size, it then wouldn't fit the rest of your body.
To add to insult, there are clothes which look gorgeous. Petite summer dresses which you look at and think 'wow I want that. I want to look that cute'. But it just isn't meant to be. People have ideas in mind when they design clothes, of course they do but sometime things shouldn't be available if they are just going to look dreadful. Some clothes are designed for smaller sizes so don't try to make the same style dress suit a size 6 and a size 16, it isn't going to work.
Being short doesn't help the issue. Apparently if you're short you are a size 6/8 and tall a size 10/12 (we'll talk compared to my feeble 5"6 (that sounds about right, I don't know my exact height). Anything long is a no go; dresses, play suits, dungarees. You name it and I've probably tried it on and stood on tip toes trying not to fall over my own feet.
Are small people not allowed clothes? Please explain this to me. It's highly unreasonable for me and my short legs.
The other week I tried on a long play suit. Well, I say 'tried on' I attempted to try it on. It was unsuccessful. I got just below my hips before I thought to myself 'there is no hope struggling, this is not getting past my hips. My hips. My hips which stick out, like every other girl. Why is it so hard for retailers to comprehend that if something needs to go past my hips in order to be put on then it needs to be bigger. This was a size 10 play suit (one which, in all honesty, I probably would have tripped over anyway.)
Shopping is stressful enough as it is, don't make me guess which size I need to pick up today. Why is it that I can still fit into size 8's in New Look but have to buy size 12's at Topshop? Two whole sizes is way too broad, how the hell am I supposed to know which is the more accurate one? (Although in this case it's obviously New Look because I don't have the body that Topshop account for.)
It's no wonder really that clothes is almost always a no-go as presents go (unless it's for a man, then sizing seems to be miraculously easy) and let's not even get started on online shopping.
I guess I'm stuck. Lured in by New Look's summer sales and Primark's affordable (and reasonable, I'm not one to buy a £20 top, I don't see the point) prices. Trapped in the world of inaccurate sizing's and frustrating shopping. A world where size 6's are A cups and size 14's are D cups (sorry all, that's not quite how it works).
So don't worry lads, it's not just you being stupid, women's sizing makes no sense and confuses us too.
--- Aimee ---
Tuesday, 26 July 2016
Monday, 18 July 2016
Truck Festival (Take 2)
Ah Truck Festival, how wonderful you were (again). A weekend filled with laughs, music and festival food (Wok and Roll where were your tofu noodles at? I was looking forward to those but it was ok because the burrito from elsewhere made up for it.)
Attending with a first time festival goer my dad, it was quite an experience. Whereas a avid festival goer myself (yes, one previous festival makes me an avid fan) not much of the festival life bothered me, my dad's two complaints were the quality of the toilets (eh, understandable) and the lack of kebabs (less understandable).
It started off not so great when, after being at the festival for a few house I realised I had forgotten my hairbrush. What a moron. Saved by the high ponytail and the girl who leant me her brush (thanks you absolute babe) it proved to be less of a problem than I had first thought. It was, at least, less of a problem than the 'instant' porridge my dad had brought that was only 'instant' with milk and a microwave (someone didn't read the small print).
The camping side of things was actually pretty good (as good as camping can be that is) and it only took two attempts to fit the tent into the bag (pretty impressive if you ask me)
There were three major band highlights for me this year (oddly one for each day.)
On the Friday we saw Neck Deep and it was amazing. After seeing them in April (thanks Jack) I knew it would be brilliant and it did not disappoint. Handing over to the crowd for a verse of 'A Part of Me' made me melt inside. Utterly beautiful. It was one of those moments that there just aren't the words to describe the sensation. It was all worth it, even if it did result in a semi lost voice.
For me, the second highlight came on the Saturday night. Manic Street Preachers headlined (shout out to my dad for coming to the whole weekend when this was the only band he wanted to see.) The atmosphere was terrific. Opening with 'Motorcycle Emptiness' (I have never felt more alive than I did during this beautiful number) and ending with 'A Design for Life' the set could not have been better. Dragging my dad into the mosh pit (it wasn't the best mosh pit granted) proved to be very fun and not too injury worthy.
The third came with Kodaline's performance last night (although the water fight in the crowd prior to their performance was also pretty memorable). Despite not being an avid fan, I was able to enjoy their songs and the brilliant atmosphere which came with this. In all honesty I could have easily burst into tears during either 'The One' (an absolutely epic love song) or 'All I Want' (the saddest break up song I have ever heard. 'But if you loved me why did you leave me'. Everyone can relate to those lines, it is just magical.)
So that was Truck 2016, hoping to see you next year and if there is one thing that this weekend has taught me it's that you should never go braless if moshing may occur, it is not comfortable. (And also don't take chocolate to a festival and leave it in a tent, especially digestive biscuits but that is probably a given.)
--- Aimee ---
Attending with a first time festival goer my dad, it was quite an experience. Whereas a avid festival goer myself (yes, one previous festival makes me an avid fan) not much of the festival life bothered me, my dad's two complaints were the quality of the toilets (eh, understandable) and the lack of kebabs (less understandable).
It started off not so great when, after being at the festival for a few house I realised I had forgotten my hairbrush. What a moron. Saved by the high ponytail and the girl who leant me her brush (thanks you absolute babe) it proved to be less of a problem than I had first thought. It was, at least, less of a problem than the 'instant' porridge my dad had brought that was only 'instant' with milk and a microwave (someone didn't read the small print).
The camping side of things was actually pretty good (as good as camping can be that is) and it only took two attempts to fit the tent into the bag (pretty impressive if you ask me)
There were three major band highlights for me this year (oddly one for each day.)
On the Friday we saw Neck Deep and it was amazing. After seeing them in April (thanks Jack) I knew it would be brilliant and it did not disappoint. Handing over to the crowd for a verse of 'A Part of Me' made me melt inside. Utterly beautiful. It was one of those moments that there just aren't the words to describe the sensation. It was all worth it, even if it did result in a semi lost voice.
For me, the second highlight came on the Saturday night. Manic Street Preachers headlined (shout out to my dad for coming to the whole weekend when this was the only band he wanted to see.) The atmosphere was terrific. Opening with 'Motorcycle Emptiness' (I have never felt more alive than I did during this beautiful number) and ending with 'A Design for Life' the set could not have been better. Dragging my dad into the mosh pit (it wasn't the best mosh pit granted) proved to be very fun and not too injury worthy.
The third came with Kodaline's performance last night (although the water fight in the crowd prior to their performance was also pretty memorable). Despite not being an avid fan, I was able to enjoy their songs and the brilliant atmosphere which came with this. In all honesty I could have easily burst into tears during either 'The One' (an absolutely epic love song) or 'All I Want' (the saddest break up song I have ever heard. 'But if you loved me why did you leave me'. Everyone can relate to those lines, it is just magical.)
So that was Truck 2016, hoping to see you next year and if there is one thing that this weekend has taught me it's that you should never go braless if moshing may occur, it is not comfortable. (And also don't take chocolate to a festival and leave it in a tent, especially digestive biscuits but that is probably a given.)
--- Aimee ---
Friday, 15 July 2016
A Fed Up Feminist
'So women want to be treated equal but still want us to hold doors open for them?'
Oh sorry, did it inconvenience you to be a helpful person; not a gentleman, a person.
In 2016 do people really still believe equality is about holding doors open? Really? Like proper educated individuals?
Equality, believe it or not, cover issues a bit more serious than feeling like you have to hold a door open (you will never get those 10 seconds of your life back, what a tragedy).
It's time to rise and shine and smell the oppression (it probably smells like Lynx). Stop complaining about opening doors and start complaining that women are oppressed (it really would be a much better use of your time and I won't feel the urge to punch you.)
As a top that I fell in love with yesterday read (it was love at first sight), Fuck the Patriarchy.
Yes, there is an image of masculinity which is pushed upon but does it really impact you that much? Are you going to start working out because of the pressures in society or because you want to impress females and yourself?
Are you forever forced to be skinner in order to be pretty? Are you scrutinised for saying you love your body when society thinks otherwise? Are you made to buy bigger sizes at clothes shops (it really knocks your confidence) who cater for size 6 models because this is their ideal?
And why is it that almost any clothes shop feel the need to make women's clothes either; partially see through (where is the practicality?), lacy (come on, we all know lace is supposed to be sexy), low cut (we all know the degrading vocabulary which correlates with this), short (I'll probably be slut shamed for wearing a skirt anyway, do you need to make them so short?), uncomfortable (I don't think fashion is always worth it's pain), awkwardly sized (no, my hips and boobs aren't in proportion to the rest of my body, can we please stop assuming they are), sexist (yes Primark I'm talking to you with your pink love heart shaped football shirts, give it a break), tight (I'm always going to sweat so could we please make this less obvious when I do) or grey (talk about the sweat patches! Grey tops should not exist.)
Are you confined to the tiny area between too much makeup and not enough? Between too masculine but not feminine enough? Between too tall and too short? Too skinny and too fat? Too loud or too quiet?
Maybe I don't need to fit any criteria because I'm not trying to impress anyone. Why is anyone ever described as 'too' anything? What criteria are we trying to meet? It can't be perfection because society will never let us be perfect, or even feel it. Comfortable in our own bodies, where's the profit in that?
Do you have to face being degraded while being referred to as 'honey' or 'sweetie' or 'darling'? No, I'm not a 1950's housewife who is happy catering for her husbands needs so stop treating me like it. I don't care if you are male or female, don't refer to me in a way which states 'aw nice try, you did your best' or, more sexist-ly 'you did well (for a female)'. We all know that's what you mean. 'You did very well but you're a woman so you can't be that good can you?'
Do you get mocked for wanting equality? Do you get told to 'calm down' because you're a woman angry with her society? I think I have a perfectly good reason to be angry, stop making me feel bad for doing so. No, somebody is NOT on their period, somebody is fed up of being oppressed.
Do you grow up needing to learn how to be 'wife material' or are you instead told how you're going to 'break hearts' when your older? Do family friends comment on you being a 'fine young lady' (which we all know means being delicate, polite and attractive.) Are you pushed (from an early age) to believing you must have a family to be deemed someone who's 'made it'? Forced into believing a stable family home with kids (after marriage of course) is the ultimate goal. Are you questioned on whether you will be able to balance kids and a job? Will you be questioned upon offloading you kids for the day whilst you go to work (you've got to pay for the kids somehow).
Is your gender associated with being weak and incapable? In need of helping (a damsel in distress if you will). In need of a man to make her feel complete (just read a book or watch a sad film, it's much cheaper).
Do you have to fight for equality or do you already have it?
--- Aimee ---
Oh sorry, did it inconvenience you to be a helpful person; not a gentleman, a person.
In 2016 do people really still believe equality is about holding doors open? Really? Like proper educated individuals?
Equality, believe it or not, cover issues a bit more serious than feeling like you have to hold a door open (you will never get those 10 seconds of your life back, what a tragedy).
It's time to rise and shine and smell the oppression (it probably smells like Lynx). Stop complaining about opening doors and start complaining that women are oppressed (it really would be a much better use of your time and I won't feel the urge to punch you.)
As a top that I fell in love with yesterday read (it was love at first sight), Fuck the Patriarchy.
Yes, there is an image of masculinity which is pushed upon but does it really impact you that much? Are you going to start working out because of the pressures in society or because you want to impress females and yourself?
Are you forever forced to be skinner in order to be pretty? Are you scrutinised for saying you love your body when society thinks otherwise? Are you made to buy bigger sizes at clothes shops (it really knocks your confidence) who cater for size 6 models because this is their ideal?
And why is it that almost any clothes shop feel the need to make women's clothes either; partially see through (where is the practicality?), lacy (come on, we all know lace is supposed to be sexy), low cut (we all know the degrading vocabulary which correlates with this), short (I'll probably be slut shamed for wearing a skirt anyway, do you need to make them so short?), uncomfortable (I don't think fashion is always worth it's pain), awkwardly sized (no, my hips and boobs aren't in proportion to the rest of my body, can we please stop assuming they are), sexist (yes Primark I'm talking to you with your pink love heart shaped football shirts, give it a break), tight (I'm always going to sweat so could we please make this less obvious when I do) or grey (talk about the sweat patches! Grey tops should not exist.)
Are you confined to the tiny area between too much makeup and not enough? Between too masculine but not feminine enough? Between too tall and too short? Too skinny and too fat? Too loud or too quiet?
Maybe I don't need to fit any criteria because I'm not trying to impress anyone. Why is anyone ever described as 'too' anything? What criteria are we trying to meet? It can't be perfection because society will never let us be perfect, or even feel it. Comfortable in our own bodies, where's the profit in that?
Do you have to face being degraded while being referred to as 'honey' or 'sweetie' or 'darling'? No, I'm not a 1950's housewife who is happy catering for her husbands needs so stop treating me like it. I don't care if you are male or female, don't refer to me in a way which states 'aw nice try, you did your best' or, more sexist-ly 'you did well (for a female)'. We all know that's what you mean. 'You did very well but you're a woman so you can't be that good can you?'
Do you get mocked for wanting equality? Do you get told to 'calm down' because you're a woman angry with her society? I think I have a perfectly good reason to be angry, stop making me feel bad for doing so. No, somebody is NOT on their period, somebody is fed up of being oppressed.
Do you grow up needing to learn how to be 'wife material' or are you instead told how you're going to 'break hearts' when your older? Do family friends comment on you being a 'fine young lady' (which we all know means being delicate, polite and attractive.) Are you pushed (from an early age) to believing you must have a family to be deemed someone who's 'made it'? Forced into believing a stable family home with kids (after marriage of course) is the ultimate goal. Are you questioned on whether you will be able to balance kids and a job? Will you be questioned upon offloading you kids for the day whilst you go to work (you've got to pay for the kids somehow).
Is your gender associated with being weak and incapable? In need of helping (a damsel in distress if you will). In need of a man to make her feel complete (just read a book or watch a sad film, it's much cheaper).
Do you have to fight for equality or do you already have it?
--- Aimee ---
Tuesday, 5 July 2016
Defining Emo
Define emo.
What springs to mind? Black? Metal? Piercings? Goth?
'This song makes me feel so emo'. Yes I have said that on many occasions when listening to classics such as Welcome To The Black Parade (how can you not feel emo listening to that?)
If I was to define 'emo' I would put it somewhere between screamo and punk; easier to understand than scream but deeper (and darker) than punk.
According to the reliable source that is Google, an emo 'is overly sensitive and full of angst or adopts a certain style characterized by dyed black hair, tight t-shirts and jeans'.
So, am I an emo?
I'm not ashamed to say that I dyed my hair black to be more emo, but I've come to the realisation that I'm not any more emo than a 5 year old boy who listens to Take That (who are/were (are they even together any more?) a pretty good band - this isn't me hating on them.)
Anyway, I don't know who I was kidding thinking a simple box (well two, oh the joys of thick hair) would magically transform me from the shy kid in class to a rebellious and, well, emo one I guess.
I guess a part of me wanted a change so I could at least pretend I was a different person. I still think that it makes me feel as though the friends I used to have really don't know me know, sometimes people don't recognise me and I'm happy about that. I'm happy that people who used to know me don't recognise me because I'm not the same person anymore and people should know that.
But honestly, I couldn't be emo if I tried.
I'm more like that shy kid that secretly (secretly meaning not hiding it, just not talking about it) listens to punk (or whatever the hell the music I listen to is actually classed as).
How can I say if I'm emo or not when I don't even know what an 'emo' is?
I'd like to think I'm too nice and approachable to be an emo (although I have been informed that people think I'm a bitch and am not approachable at all...oops). But is being 'emo' even about the type of person you are? Is it not more about the music you listen to? Even then which bands are exactly 'emo'?
Gerard Way stated that emo, to him, was 'fucking garbage' and 'a pile of shit' (his words not mine). Yet My Chemical Romance still feature majorly in discussions on the topic of emo music. It begs the question on who can define which genre(s) a band belongs to? Doesn't it depend on the album or even the song?
In my opinion The Black Parade is an emo (or at least what the majority of people class as emo) album whereas Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (what a rad album name) is not emo, nah (na, na na na, na na na), it's not even close.
But people have different opinions. Pop lovers think anything angrier than James Blunt (another fab artist - not a dig) are heavy bands.
Here's the thing, if you are ruling out any band who you class as 'emo' you are probably missing some truly great music. Some music is loud, some is angry, some focuses on real issues; it doesn't make them emo. Listen to different music and live a little, bring out your inner emo.
And, as I close this blog post (I'm not really sure if what I currently have has any purpose so I figure I'll end it here before I keep rambling on about things that might not even be emo), I realise the two most emo things in my room are my Green Day calendar (who aren't even emo) and my winged eyeliner (which I like to think is stylish and not just the singular aspect which groups me with other emos.)
I'm not emo and I never have been; oh well it was worth a try.
--- Aimee ---
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What springs to mind? Black? Metal? Piercings? Goth?
'This song makes me feel so emo'. Yes I have said that on many occasions when listening to classics such as Welcome To The Black Parade (how can you not feel emo listening to that?)
If I was to define 'emo' I would put it somewhere between screamo and punk; easier to understand than scream but deeper (and darker) than punk.
According to the reliable source that is Google, an emo 'is overly sensitive and full of angst or adopts a certain style characterized by dyed black hair, tight t-shirts and jeans'.
So, am I an emo?
I'm not ashamed to say that I dyed my hair black to be more emo, but I've come to the realisation that I'm not any more emo than a 5 year old boy who listens to Take That (who are/were (are they even together any more?) a pretty good band - this isn't me hating on them.)
Anyway, I don't know who I was kidding thinking a simple box (well two, oh the joys of thick hair) would magically transform me from the shy kid in class to a rebellious and, well, emo one I guess.
I guess a part of me wanted a change so I could at least pretend I was a different person. I still think that it makes me feel as though the friends I used to have really don't know me know, sometimes people don't recognise me and I'm happy about that. I'm happy that people who used to know me don't recognise me because I'm not the same person anymore and people should know that.
But honestly, I couldn't be emo if I tried.
I'm more like that shy kid that secretly (secretly meaning not hiding it, just not talking about it) listens to punk (or whatever the hell the music I listen to is actually classed as).
How can I say if I'm emo or not when I don't even know what an 'emo' is?
I'd like to think I'm too nice and approachable to be an emo (although I have been informed that people think I'm a bitch and am not approachable at all...oops). But is being 'emo' even about the type of person you are? Is it not more about the music you listen to? Even then which bands are exactly 'emo'?
Gerard Way stated that emo, to him, was 'fucking garbage' and 'a pile of shit' (his words not mine). Yet My Chemical Romance still feature majorly in discussions on the topic of emo music. It begs the question on who can define which genre(s) a band belongs to? Doesn't it depend on the album or even the song?
In my opinion The Black Parade is an emo (or at least what the majority of people class as emo) album whereas Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (what a rad album name) is not emo, nah (na, na na na, na na na), it's not even close.
But people have different opinions. Pop lovers think anything angrier than James Blunt (another fab artist - not a dig) are heavy bands.
Here's the thing, if you are ruling out any band who you class as 'emo' you are probably missing some truly great music. Some music is loud, some is angry, some focuses on real issues; it doesn't make them emo. Listen to different music and live a little, bring out your inner emo.
And, as I close this blog post (I'm not really sure if what I currently have has any purpose so I figure I'll end it here before I keep rambling on about things that might not even be emo), I realise the two most emo things in my room are my Green Day calendar (who aren't even emo) and my winged eyeliner (which I like to think is stylish and not just the singular aspect which groups me with other emos.)
I'm not emo and I never have been; oh well it was worth a try.
--- Aimee ---
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Wednesday, 22 June 2016
Legally Blonde (and Highly Sexist)
After constant criticise for not having seen Legally Blonde (from Nicole due to it being her favourite film) I decided to give in and watch it.
My immediate reaction was 'wow this film isn't the girly piece of shit I was expecting' (no offence Nicole).
So yes the film was good. Very good actually. I really enjoyed it.
It had it's fair share of humorous and serious moments; just the right balance.
But, as (I hope) anyone who's seen the film knows, the film presents the audience with many sexist moments (displayed in a comedic way as to not offend of course).
Elle Woods. She is a stereotypical blonde. All about the fashion and beauty. Definitely not about the brains. All she cares for is a guy. She's the type of character that I would like to slap in the face and teach about real life, although, I do credit her self-motivation.
A brief overview if you haven't watched the film: Elle Woods chases after her ex boyfriend which leads to her going to Harvard to prove her worth to him (and doesn't even end up with him.)
Let's start with the fact that Elle is accepted into Harvard by a group of white, middle aged men with their decision purely being based on her looks. It's highly uncomfortable to watch a group of businessmen viewing a young woman as an object of pleasure.
These men didn't chose Elle because of her potential as a Law student, they chose her because of her looks. I'm sorry, did someone say sexism?
Despite the fact that this (I hope) wouldn't happen in real life, there are so many things that are wrong about this but there wouldn't be a film without this plot so I guess I'll leave it alone.
Studying Law purely to prove yourself to a guy screams sexism. No one is that committed, there really is more to life than a guy, especially one who doesn't even want you. The whole concept is borderline stalking and, switching which gender the character who is pursuing the other is, I'm sure this point would be picked up on a lot more.
Elle Woods is not a typical female success, it takes her while to understand her own capabilities. By the end of the film she is able to prove women can be 'girly' and be smart (and the ability to put this asset to good use.)
I guess it's okay not to address Legally Blonde as sexist; it was meant as a light-hearted girl power film, not a mockery of females.
But it does mock them. And, what's worse is that she's blonde. Poor girl, she really did have no hope.
And it's not as if it's Elle's fault. Her society has led her to believe she is incapable of being a success (well, based on her brains anyway.) It's no wonder the girl thrives in her beauty and fashion, what other choice does she have?
Yes, Elle is able to overcome the stereotypical image of a dumb blonde but you mustn't forget how she got there; by chasing a guy.
Thankfully, Elle doesn't get back with her ex and finally learns that she is more than just a pretty face; an excellent message to give. By the end of the film she seems to have her priorities right, focusing on her own success and forgetting her previous intention.
I'm not sure whether the whole thing is a comedic dig at blondes or if it's a realistic portrayal of female power. I finished the film with a lack of knowing how I really felt.
I strongly believe that, in the film, there are two versions of Elle Woods. Version one is girly, dumb, makeup loving and, to be honest, a character who I do not like. Version two however is strong, smart and capable; that's the kind of character I like to see.
I could never visual myself as Elle Woods at the start of the film, but Elle Woods at the end is something I think I could become.
Hell yeah I could become a female success but not to impress a guy, I wouldn't stoop so low.
--- Aimee ---
My immediate reaction was 'wow this film isn't the girly piece of shit I was expecting' (no offence Nicole).
So yes the film was good. Very good actually. I really enjoyed it.
It had it's fair share of humorous and serious moments; just the right balance.
But, as (I hope) anyone who's seen the film knows, the film presents the audience with many sexist moments (displayed in a comedic way as to not offend of course).
Elle Woods. She is a stereotypical blonde. All about the fashion and beauty. Definitely not about the brains. All she cares for is a guy. She's the type of character that I would like to slap in the face and teach about real life, although, I do credit her self-motivation.
A brief overview if you haven't watched the film: Elle Woods chases after her ex boyfriend which leads to her going to Harvard to prove her worth to him (and doesn't even end up with him.)
Let's start with the fact that Elle is accepted into Harvard by a group of white, middle aged men with their decision purely being based on her looks. It's highly uncomfortable to watch a group of businessmen viewing a young woman as an object of pleasure.
These men didn't chose Elle because of her potential as a Law student, they chose her because of her looks. I'm sorry, did someone say sexism?
Despite the fact that this (I hope) wouldn't happen in real life, there are so many things that are wrong about this but there wouldn't be a film without this plot so I guess I'll leave it alone.
Studying Law purely to prove yourself to a guy screams sexism. No one is that committed, there really is more to life than a guy, especially one who doesn't even want you. The whole concept is borderline stalking and, switching which gender the character who is pursuing the other is, I'm sure this point would be picked up on a lot more.
Elle Woods is not a typical female success, it takes her while to understand her own capabilities. By the end of the film she is able to prove women can be 'girly' and be smart (and the ability to put this asset to good use.)
I guess it's okay not to address Legally Blonde as sexist; it was meant as a light-hearted girl power film, not a mockery of females.
But it does mock them. And, what's worse is that she's blonde. Poor girl, she really did have no hope.
And it's not as if it's Elle's fault. Her society has led her to believe she is incapable of being a success (well, based on her brains anyway.) It's no wonder the girl thrives in her beauty and fashion, what other choice does she have?
Yes, Elle is able to overcome the stereotypical image of a dumb blonde but you mustn't forget how she got there; by chasing a guy.
Thankfully, Elle doesn't get back with her ex and finally learns that she is more than just a pretty face; an excellent message to give. By the end of the film she seems to have her priorities right, focusing on her own success and forgetting her previous intention.
I'm not sure whether the whole thing is a comedic dig at blondes or if it's a realistic portrayal of female power. I finished the film with a lack of knowing how I really felt.
I strongly believe that, in the film, there are two versions of Elle Woods. Version one is girly, dumb, makeup loving and, to be honest, a character who I do not like. Version two however is strong, smart and capable; that's the kind of character I like to see.
I could never visual myself as Elle Woods at the start of the film, but Elle Woods at the end is something I think I could become.
Hell yeah I could become a female success but not to impress a guy, I wouldn't stoop so low.
--- Aimee ---
Thursday, 26 May 2016
Calling Out Cat Callers
Summer. Cat calling. Oh don't those two fit hand in hand.
Last week I was lucky enough to be informed, through the act of cat calling, that men found me attractive. Oh what a privilege that was. Finally I could believe that I was beautiful. Thank god I could finally see my own beauty, my own worth...oh wait I've known that for years and it didn't come about because a few twenty something guys told me.
No, I don't like cat calling. No it's not complimentary; it's just plain rude.
It isn't because I'm a feminist.
It's because I'm a self respecting female who doesn't wish to be treated as an object.
Why, why, why. Why do people find it necessary to voice their opinions in a gross and degrading way.
Yes I often aim to look good but, if you're going to be distasteful about it then please just keep your opinions to yourself. I do not need your approval to feel good about myself. I do not base how I look on how many men I can catch the attention of.
Do people really still believe that is a nice and considerate thing to do? Have people ever believed that or has cat calling always been a way to show dominance and power?
Don't cat call me. Don't cat call me. Don't fucking cat call me.
I am a 17 year old girl. I am not an object who exists for your pleasure. I am going to go far in this world and no, it's not because of how I look.
Don't objectify me. I am a human being and I deserve to be treated like one.
I shouldn't have to think twice about what I'm wearing because I may get made to feel uncomfortable by men who seem to be unable to keep their opinions to themselves.
Am I being naïve about this whole thing? Am I missing something? Was the educating on how to be a moron something I missed out on because of my sex?
Cat calling is not appropriate, not in summer, not ever.
What do people gain from making others feel uncomfortable?
There is nothing and I mean nothing pleasant about being cat called. All it does is make that person feel like nothing more than an object who isn't even worthy enough to be respected as a human being.
So next time you open your foul mouth to shout some form of sexist remark, don't. Instead to something much nicer, be a decent human being and keep your mouth shut.
--- Aimee ---
Last week I was lucky enough to be informed, through the act of cat calling, that men found me attractive. Oh what a privilege that was. Finally I could believe that I was beautiful. Thank god I could finally see my own beauty, my own worth...oh wait I've known that for years and it didn't come about because a few twenty something guys told me.
No, I don't like cat calling. No it's not complimentary; it's just plain rude.
It isn't because I'm a feminist.
It's because I'm a self respecting female who doesn't wish to be treated as an object.
Why, why, why. Why do people find it necessary to voice their opinions in a gross and degrading way.
Yes I often aim to look good but, if you're going to be distasteful about it then please just keep your opinions to yourself. I do not need your approval to feel good about myself. I do not base how I look on how many men I can catch the attention of.
Do people really still believe that is a nice and considerate thing to do? Have people ever believed that or has cat calling always been a way to show dominance and power?
Don't cat call me. Don't cat call me. Don't fucking cat call me.
I am a 17 year old girl. I am not an object who exists for your pleasure. I am going to go far in this world and no, it's not because of how I look.
Don't objectify me. I am a human being and I deserve to be treated like one.
I shouldn't have to think twice about what I'm wearing because I may get made to feel uncomfortable by men who seem to be unable to keep their opinions to themselves.
Am I being naïve about this whole thing? Am I missing something? Was the educating on how to be a moron something I missed out on because of my sex?
Cat calling is not appropriate, not in summer, not ever.
What do people gain from making others feel uncomfortable?
There is nothing and I mean nothing pleasant about being cat called. All it does is make that person feel like nothing more than an object who isn't even worthy enough to be respected as a human being.
So next time you open your foul mouth to shout some form of sexist remark, don't. Instead to something much nicer, be a decent human being and keep your mouth shut.
--- Aimee ---
Thursday, 5 May 2016
Confessions of an Uninspired Writer
It's currently 21:11 and I have some time to spare so I figured I would blog.
I'm frantically looking round my room trying to find an object which will spark off a genius idea for a post but so far I have had no luck.
I guess that it would help matters if my room wasn't so full of uninteresting 'organised' crap.
Oh I could talk about my DVD collection and how I have only watched half of them. Or maybe talk about my Dr Who box sets and how, despite love for it I haven't actually watched an episode since last summer. It's not that I haven't wanted to but I just know once I start the first episode I won't stop there and I have more important things to do than binge watch four series of Dr Who. (No I do not see how you could watch any series since David Tennant left.)
Maybe I could write something about the books hidden in my wardrobe and how they have shaped my life in the most magical way. I mean sure, I could do that but there is that fact I have only read less than a quarter of the books I own. There are well over 50 book sat lonely on my shelf that I haven't even considered to read since I brought it.
One day I will get round to it and have the time and the effort to read them, I don't want to not experience the wonders that lie between the pages, what a waste that would be. Sure I haven't got round to it yet but at least they look pretty.
Is there perhaps something to say in the jars of artsy crap I brought last summer when I was certain that I would really get into sewing and being creative. I'm still holding on to the hope that one day I will put all those materials to good use.
What about the keyboard hidden out of sight in my wardrobe, purchased second hand four years ago and the most I've used it was for about a week last summer. Sure, I learnt a few songs but only the notes, I didn't have the patience or skill to start learning chords too.
Maybe I could write about the clutter that is currently sat in the top of my wadrobe but what's the point, if it's not worthy enough to have on display in my room then it's probably not worthy enough of me writing about it.
Is it worthwhile me mentioning my collection of Me to You bears in my window which are just sitting there and getting dusty as the days pass? Maybe I should shamefully mention that I just had to move and check what they were actually called because it's been at least three years since my collection has been added to so now they are just a piece of who I was which have far too many memories attached to for me to get rid of.
Could I write to admit that I am wearing aged 8-10 Disney pyjama bottoms which make me feel like Jennifer Aniston in that episode of Friends where she looked super cute...who am I kidding, that is literally every episode. I'm just as shocked as you that these bottoms still fit me, have I not grown at all in 7 years? Oh well, it would be a lie to say this is the only piece of clothing which I should have outgrown long ago.
If I glance left I can see masses of CD albums, most of which have been neglect. Not neglected in an awful way, just in the sense they haven't been listened to since purchase. Do I admit that my music varies from Steps and Westlife to My Chemical Romance and Slaves?
In all honesty my eyes keep wandering back to my elephant duvet and how I have a supposed 'elephant obsession'. I didn't think I did or maybe it just never considered it. It's only a duvet, ornament, canvas, necklace, dress and teddy (and phone case as I have just been reminded.) Alright maybe I see where this rumour came from.
In the most basic form, all that makes up my room belong to three groups; who I am, who I was and who I one day hope to be. Hmm, I've never of thought of it in that way until now. Maybe I don't need half this stuff. Maybe I should move on from some of the things which, unpleasantly, remind me of who I was. Maybe I should give in and accept I may never use my artsy stuff, perhaps it has always been a lost cause that I just haven't accepted.
Do I now confess that I had meant to write a really deep post but in reality have just written about what I can see in my room? Not that it's all bad, my room is pretty damn cool and, for once, pretty flipping tidy too.
--- Aimee ---
I'm frantically looking round my room trying to find an object which will spark off a genius idea for a post but so far I have had no luck.
I guess that it would help matters if my room wasn't so full of uninteresting 'organised' crap.
Oh I could talk about my DVD collection and how I have only watched half of them. Or maybe talk about my Dr Who box sets and how, despite love for it I haven't actually watched an episode since last summer. It's not that I haven't wanted to but I just know once I start the first episode I won't stop there and I have more important things to do than binge watch four series of Dr Who. (No I do not see how you could watch any series since David Tennant left.)
Maybe I could write something about the books hidden in my wardrobe and how they have shaped my life in the most magical way. I mean sure, I could do that but there is that fact I have only read less than a quarter of the books I own. There are well over 50 book sat lonely on my shelf that I haven't even considered to read since I brought it.
One day I will get round to it and have the time and the effort to read them, I don't want to not experience the wonders that lie between the pages, what a waste that would be. Sure I haven't got round to it yet but at least they look pretty.
Is there perhaps something to say in the jars of artsy crap I brought last summer when I was certain that I would really get into sewing and being creative. I'm still holding on to the hope that one day I will put all those materials to good use.
What about the keyboard hidden out of sight in my wardrobe, purchased second hand four years ago and the most I've used it was for about a week last summer. Sure, I learnt a few songs but only the notes, I didn't have the patience or skill to start learning chords too.
Maybe I could write about the clutter that is currently sat in the top of my wadrobe but what's the point, if it's not worthy enough to have on display in my room then it's probably not worthy enough of me writing about it.
Is it worthwhile me mentioning my collection of Me to You bears in my window which are just sitting there and getting dusty as the days pass? Maybe I should shamefully mention that I just had to move and check what they were actually called because it's been at least three years since my collection has been added to so now they are just a piece of who I was which have far too many memories attached to for me to get rid of.
Could I write to admit that I am wearing aged 8-10 Disney pyjama bottoms which make me feel like Jennifer Aniston in that episode of Friends where she looked super cute...who am I kidding, that is literally every episode. I'm just as shocked as you that these bottoms still fit me, have I not grown at all in 7 years? Oh well, it would be a lie to say this is the only piece of clothing which I should have outgrown long ago.
If I glance left I can see masses of CD albums, most of which have been neglect. Not neglected in an awful way, just in the sense they haven't been listened to since purchase. Do I admit that my music varies from Steps and Westlife to My Chemical Romance and Slaves?
In all honesty my eyes keep wandering back to my elephant duvet and how I have a supposed 'elephant obsession'. I didn't think I did or maybe it just never considered it. It's only a duvet, ornament, canvas, necklace, dress and teddy (and phone case as I have just been reminded.) Alright maybe I see where this rumour came from.
In the most basic form, all that makes up my room belong to three groups; who I am, who I was and who I one day hope to be. Hmm, I've never of thought of it in that way until now. Maybe I don't need half this stuff. Maybe I should move on from some of the things which, unpleasantly, remind me of who I was. Maybe I should give in and accept I may never use my artsy stuff, perhaps it has always been a lost cause that I just haven't accepted.
Do I now confess that I had meant to write a really deep post but in reality have just written about what I can see in my room? Not that it's all bad, my room is pretty damn cool and, for once, pretty flipping tidy too.
--- Aimee ---
Monday, 18 April 2016
The Danger of Analysing
We are the generation who are taught time and time again to 'find the deeper meaning'. I can't think of one English lesson I have had in the past few years where we haven't been made to analyse a text until we find the message the author was hinting at when he described a woman in a red dress.
I do get it. Often there are many hidden meanings which people just don't see.
But sometimes, just sometimes we are looking for a message that isn't there. Sometimes we, as humans, just need to accept that nothing more is meant than what is written on the page.
The issue of doing this is we are being taught to keep analysing the different meanings of all these things. Analyse, analyse, analyse. Keep looking until you find another reason.
Not all of us are able to leave that analysing skill in the classroom. Too often does the same thing happen in our daily lives. We are being taught to analyse novels and poems in so much depth so why stop there? Why not use this skill in our daily lives and look so deeply into what someone says that it tears us apart trying to figure out the meaning.
When your friend mentions one habit of yours that annoys them why not take it to mean they are debating their friendship with you and wondering how much more annoyance they can take before they want out.
Most of the time it's totally irrational which makes explaining it to others very difficult. How does someone explain that a simple 'morning' instead of 'good morning' affected their whole day and made them think they were in the wrong for something?
Whether we realise it or not, it is ruining our lives. One word at a time our minds are being destroyed by everything that isn't being said.
We are nervous. Worried that we aren't seeing the true meaning of something, worried that we should be looking further into what our friends say to us to find those words that they can't say.
We don't get a reply for a few hours and assume we are a bother, a pain, annoying. Isn't it more likely that the person is eating, doing work, out? It's jumping to conclusions that don't exist. Believing in the unrealistic situations which we picture in our imaginative minds.
We are human. We aren't well planned novels. No one has created us with a further meaning that what is on the surface. Yes, we are complicated but we are not a combination of messages and hidden meanings.
To listen to the wise words of Ted Mosby 'maybe... maybe a locket's just a locket, and... a chair's just a chair. Maybe we don't have to give meaning to every little thing.'
Perhaps sometimes it is logical to really think about things, to find that other meaning that isn't obvious but other times it just ruins things. You find yourself making up stuff which never happened, thinking people mean things that they have never even said.
Chances are if you are forever finding these other messages which aren't obvious it's just your mind analysing a situation to exhaustion. It doesn't make you a bad person and it doesn't make you broken or damaged.
It simply means that life might be a bit harder for you but that's ok, hopefully it will all be useful one day.
--- Aimee ---
I do get it. Often there are many hidden meanings which people just don't see.
But sometimes, just sometimes we are looking for a message that isn't there. Sometimes we, as humans, just need to accept that nothing more is meant than what is written on the page.
The issue of doing this is we are being taught to keep analysing the different meanings of all these things. Analyse, analyse, analyse. Keep looking until you find another reason.
Not all of us are able to leave that analysing skill in the classroom. Too often does the same thing happen in our daily lives. We are being taught to analyse novels and poems in so much depth so why stop there? Why not use this skill in our daily lives and look so deeply into what someone says that it tears us apart trying to figure out the meaning.
When your friend mentions one habit of yours that annoys them why not take it to mean they are debating their friendship with you and wondering how much more annoyance they can take before they want out.
Most of the time it's totally irrational which makes explaining it to others very difficult. How does someone explain that a simple 'morning' instead of 'good morning' affected their whole day and made them think they were in the wrong for something?
Whether we realise it or not, it is ruining our lives. One word at a time our minds are being destroyed by everything that isn't being said.
We are nervous. Worried that we aren't seeing the true meaning of something, worried that we should be looking further into what our friends say to us to find those words that they can't say.
We don't get a reply for a few hours and assume we are a bother, a pain, annoying. Isn't it more likely that the person is eating, doing work, out? It's jumping to conclusions that don't exist. Believing in the unrealistic situations which we picture in our imaginative minds.
We are human. We aren't well planned novels. No one has created us with a further meaning that what is on the surface. Yes, we are complicated but we are not a combination of messages and hidden meanings.
To listen to the wise words of Ted Mosby 'maybe... maybe a locket's just a locket, and... a chair's just a chair. Maybe we don't have to give meaning to every little thing.'
Perhaps sometimes it is logical to really think about things, to find that other meaning that isn't obvious but other times it just ruins things. You find yourself making up stuff which never happened, thinking people mean things that they have never even said.
Chances are if you are forever finding these other messages which aren't obvious it's just your mind analysing a situation to exhaustion. It doesn't make you a bad person and it doesn't make you broken or damaged.
It simply means that life might be a bit harder for you but that's ok, hopefully it will all be useful one day.
--- Aimee ---
Friday, 1 April 2016
Finding Friendship
Friends. I never did have any issues with friends. I didn't have a large group or any more than 10 close friends but I didn't see any issue with that. I was always content with the friends I did have. Maybe a small part of me wished I was more popular or more well liked but it didn't largely affect me.
In the first few weeks of sixth form I became good friends with Grace. We had tutor and 4 lessons a week together, it made sense to be friends. We spoke in tutor and in lessons but I had other people who I hung out with (not that that lasted long).
She was able to help me and be there when others wouldn't. It gave me comfort to know I had someone there no matter what. We started hanging out more and soon became close friends.
My counsellor mentioned week after week that maybe things would be better if I had a group of friends, not just a number of friends from different groups.
I didn't understand what she meant.
I didn't think that being part of a group was the answer to all my problems. Sure, I didn't want to be alone but being alone wasn't the root of my problems.
She asked if there was any group I could join but I gave good reasons for why attempting to be part of each would be a bad idea. There was always one or two people who I knew I wouldn't get on with in each group and I didn't want to get involved in what, in many cases, was many years worth of friendship.
I didn't want to be that one person in a group who doesn't quite fit. I feared more judgment for even attempting to do so.
I wouldn't say I was immensely happy with having a single friend to be with all the time. It was enough for me but I felt a severe amount of judgement from my peers.
Lets not pretend like we don't judge anyone who is on their own or with the same person for large amounts of their time as an outcast and someone to stay clear of. There is obviously a reason they are alone so why would anyone want to get involved and find out more? Just stay safe and let things be how they have been. No disruptions. No change in opinion.
One of Grace's friends, Jack, often sat with us in tutor although I will admit now we barely spoke. I was scared of talking to him and he was scared of talking to me. I didn't fancy embarrassing myself in front of someone I barely knew so I simply spoke to Grace and sat awkwardly when she and Jack spoke.
The main reason me and Grace started talking was we were two of four girls in our Computing class. Neither of us really knew each other but we got on well. After we were getting homework in the subject which we struggled to complete, we decided to find help.
How convenient that Jack did computing too.
A Facebook group was soon formed and we often got help with our work along with having various odd conversations regarding a variety of people.
Following our other friend from our class dropping the subject, the group consisted of myself, Grace and Jack.
At school Grace and I sometimes hung around with Jack and his friend Mark. We all got on well and Mark soon got added to our group.
On the last day of term at Christmas we went to town where Grace ditched me for a train which she missed (serves you right Grace) and I got left in McDonalds with three people I barely knew (the third being Jack and Mark's friend Jamie). Needless to say it was the most awkward McDonalds of my life.
Going back to school after the Christmas holidays saw the four of us being together more and more with a blossoming group dynamic. It made me happy (and still does) to have found an actual group of friends after so long being without one.
I now feel like I belong somewhere again. My counsellor was right, it did help. I didn't understand it at the time but now I do. There is something special about a friendship group and I'm not sure anyone can truly explain the effects it has.
People really don't appreciate it enough. It's not all that easy to find people who want to be friends with you or want to spend time with you. Please cherish the friends you have, you may need them more than you realise.
Finding people who are so easy to get on with is a hard task and not always something you set out to do. Sometimes things just work out in a way you never thought they would and you can no longer remember the sad and lonely times.
Sometimes all you need is a place to belong and to feel safe. Somewhere where you are comfortable and happy.
I am truly thankful to have such wonderful friends like these three.
So, Jack, Grace and Mark, thank you. Thank you very much. You are all truly wonderful people and I hope you know what you mean to me. I wish you all the best and the upmost happiness, you really and truly deserve it. Thank you for all the happiness you have brought me and the brilliant memories. I love you all very, very much.
Being part of a group is very underrated, especially by those who have never been without one. Its hard when you don't have anywhere to belong to. It's likely that the same situation will occur come September when Jack and Mark leave for university but that's still 5 months away. For now I will just cherish the friendship I have with these three and be thankful for every moment.
--- Aimee ---
In the first few weeks of sixth form I became good friends with Grace. We had tutor and 4 lessons a week together, it made sense to be friends. We spoke in tutor and in lessons but I had other people who I hung out with (not that that lasted long).
She was able to help me and be there when others wouldn't. It gave me comfort to know I had someone there no matter what. We started hanging out more and soon became close friends.
My counsellor mentioned week after week that maybe things would be better if I had a group of friends, not just a number of friends from different groups.
I didn't understand what she meant.
I didn't think that being part of a group was the answer to all my problems. Sure, I didn't want to be alone but being alone wasn't the root of my problems.
She asked if there was any group I could join but I gave good reasons for why attempting to be part of each would be a bad idea. There was always one or two people who I knew I wouldn't get on with in each group and I didn't want to get involved in what, in many cases, was many years worth of friendship.
I didn't want to be that one person in a group who doesn't quite fit. I feared more judgment for even attempting to do so.
I wouldn't say I was immensely happy with having a single friend to be with all the time. It was enough for me but I felt a severe amount of judgement from my peers.
Lets not pretend like we don't judge anyone who is on their own or with the same person for large amounts of their time as an outcast and someone to stay clear of. There is obviously a reason they are alone so why would anyone want to get involved and find out more? Just stay safe and let things be how they have been. No disruptions. No change in opinion.
One of Grace's friends, Jack, often sat with us in tutor although I will admit now we barely spoke. I was scared of talking to him and he was scared of talking to me. I didn't fancy embarrassing myself in front of someone I barely knew so I simply spoke to Grace and sat awkwardly when she and Jack spoke.
The main reason me and Grace started talking was we were two of four girls in our Computing class. Neither of us really knew each other but we got on well. After we were getting homework in the subject which we struggled to complete, we decided to find help.
How convenient that Jack did computing too.
A Facebook group was soon formed and we often got help with our work along with having various odd conversations regarding a variety of people.
Following our other friend from our class dropping the subject, the group consisted of myself, Grace and Jack.
At school Grace and I sometimes hung around with Jack and his friend Mark. We all got on well and Mark soon got added to our group.
On the last day of term at Christmas we went to town where Grace ditched me for a train which she missed (serves you right Grace) and I got left in McDonalds with three people I barely knew (the third being Jack and Mark's friend Jamie). Needless to say it was the most awkward McDonalds of my life.
Going back to school after the Christmas holidays saw the four of us being together more and more with a blossoming group dynamic. It made me happy (and still does) to have found an actual group of friends after so long being without one.
I now feel like I belong somewhere again. My counsellor was right, it did help. I didn't understand it at the time but now I do. There is something special about a friendship group and I'm not sure anyone can truly explain the effects it has.
People really don't appreciate it enough. It's not all that easy to find people who want to be friends with you or want to spend time with you. Please cherish the friends you have, you may need them more than you realise.
Finding people who are so easy to get on with is a hard task and not always something you set out to do. Sometimes things just work out in a way you never thought they would and you can no longer remember the sad and lonely times.
Sometimes all you need is a place to belong and to feel safe. Somewhere where you are comfortable and happy.
I am truly thankful to have such wonderful friends like these three.
So, Jack, Grace and Mark, thank you. Thank you very much. You are all truly wonderful people and I hope you know what you mean to me. I wish you all the best and the upmost happiness, you really and truly deserve it. Thank you for all the happiness you have brought me and the brilliant memories. I love you all very, very much.
Being part of a group is very underrated, especially by those who have never been without one. Its hard when you don't have anywhere to belong to. It's likely that the same situation will occur come September when Jack and Mark leave for university but that's still 5 months away. For now I will just cherish the friendship I have with these three and be thankful for every moment.
--- Aimee ---
Wednesday, 23 March 2016
Kiss From A Rose
Rose Dawson. A remarkable and incredibly independent woman.
Yes Jack saves her but she is no damsel in distress.
The only role Jack really plays is assisting Rose to see the value of life. He provides her with a reason to live, a passion to continue. It is evident at the end of the film that her life adventures were inspired by Jack's outlook on life. People don't live their lives in a certain way because of someone they had a fling with told them too, there was true love between Jack and Rose, an unbreakable bond.
Rose isn't perfect, she is deeply flawed. She is an outsider. Too well brought up for the likes of third class but bearing qualities frowned upon by those in first class.
Her suicide attempt isn't a beg for help. She has no intention of a young, handsome man coming to her rescue. She isn't aware that anyone cares, she only cares about her own well being. Her attempt isn't dramatic, she truly believes she will go through with her plan.
Rose isn't take prisoner by some fairy-tale villain, she is a prisoner of her own thoughts, her own mind. Her suffering isn't on display for all to see, few barely notice she is suffering at all making her pain even more agonising to witness.
Not only does she believe that she won't be saved, she doesn't want to be saved. It takes a very selfless hero to save someone who has no intention of being saved. A total of 5 minutes sees Jack as a saviour and hero, the rest of the film sees him as the other half of Rose. The two are equal, one a woman, one a third class passenger, how much lower in society could the two get?
Prior to meeting Jack it is evident that 'her' decisions aren't hers at all but those forced upon her by her fiancé, Cal. The relationship status of 'fiancé' of course means ownership. Rose has always been (as far as the audience are aware) an obedient wife, never stepping out of line. She simply assumes her position as the property of Cal.
Rose isn't stupid. Her marriage to Cal is not her choice but she understands the consequences of rejecting such a proposal. She is simply waiting, waiting for the chance when she can safely escape the clutches of Cal. Jack is able to give Rose the power she needs to break away from her pain. She is a woman trapped in the mould society created for her and she will not settle for this.
Rose makes her own decisions, once she has her power she does not waste it.
There is no forcing of decisions. He lets her make the choice of not jumping. He doesn't force a relationship upon her but instead allows her to make the decision to continue seeing him. Jack recognises Rose's fierce attitude and doesn't dare interfere.
It is Rose who picks Jack over Cal. It is Rose who makes the decision to get back onto the sinking ship to find Jack. It is Rose who makes the decision to save Jack. She doesn't save him because she is told to, she does so because she cares a great deal.
Rose isn't an extreme example of a woman with power, nothing bad happens because she speaks her mind. If more woman were like Rose I highly doubt the world would end in a burning fireball.
The two bring out the best in each other, there is no doubt about that. Jack saves Rose from jumping, Rose saves Jack from his capture. The relationship is clearly two way and clearly more than a four day fling.
The line 'Rose. Rose Dawson' makes my heart melt. She owes her life to Jack and this is her tribute to him. Without him she wouldn't be the same person and, more importantly, it is unlikely she would still be alive.
And, if you still don't believe that Rose means business then picture the scene where she roams the corridors with an axe, she isn't just the pretty fiancée of Cal, she is her own woman.
Of course the film shares it's strong links with the classic Romeo and Juliet. Two forbidden lovers. A blossoming romance. A tragic end. James Cameron himself pitched the film as a Romeo and Juliet style love story.
I personally think Romeo and Juliet is wonderful (even if the film adaption is shockingly bad) but Juliet isn't the strongest woman. A product of her time means she can only ever be a secondary figure to the men in her life. No quality can set her apart from other women of her time, not in the way that Rose is able to.
The only power Juliet is given in the play is when she is dead. It only seems right I suppose that giving a living woman power would be far too disastrous and catastrophic. There is no harm that Juliet can do once she is no longer breathing.
'For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'
In the most heart-breaking line in the entire play Juliet is finally regarded as more than an object or lover of Romeo. It takes the entirety of the play for Juliet to be given her power. Power in the form of ownership of her husband, her dead husband.
Shakespeare got it right. He was 'her' Romeo. The two belonged together, not in a possessive and controlling way but rather in a romantic and love driven way. They could not exist as two separate beings, only together.
It really is a pity that the glorious Romeo and Juliet is constantly overlooked and passed off as a 'meaningless romance'. But, compared to so many other romances of today there is only one clear factor which makes this exquisite love story to be regarded as foolish, rushed and silly, the ending. Had their relationship worked out and continued to blossom and grow people would have a far different opinion on the story. Comments such as 'oh how romantic to have found each other like that' rather than the more common 'it was a stupid teenage romance'.
Do most teenage romances end with one being distraught at the idea of living without the other or do they usually cry a bit and move on?
Both stories are that of true love.
The short time scales are not to say that the relationships themselves were rapid and rushed. The love doesn't make either story tragic, the death aspect does. But what would make either story popular if they lived happily ever after?
--- Aimee ---
Yes Jack saves her but she is no damsel in distress.
The only role Jack really plays is assisting Rose to see the value of life. He provides her with a reason to live, a passion to continue. It is evident at the end of the film that her life adventures were inspired by Jack's outlook on life. People don't live their lives in a certain way because of someone they had a fling with told them too, there was true love between Jack and Rose, an unbreakable bond.
Rose isn't perfect, she is deeply flawed. She is an outsider. Too well brought up for the likes of third class but bearing qualities frowned upon by those in first class.
Her suicide attempt isn't a beg for help. She has no intention of a young, handsome man coming to her rescue. She isn't aware that anyone cares, she only cares about her own well being. Her attempt isn't dramatic, she truly believes she will go through with her plan.
Rose isn't take prisoner by some fairy-tale villain, she is a prisoner of her own thoughts, her own mind. Her suffering isn't on display for all to see, few barely notice she is suffering at all making her pain even more agonising to witness.
Not only does she believe that she won't be saved, she doesn't want to be saved. It takes a very selfless hero to save someone who has no intention of being saved. A total of 5 minutes sees Jack as a saviour and hero, the rest of the film sees him as the other half of Rose. The two are equal, one a woman, one a third class passenger, how much lower in society could the two get?
Prior to meeting Jack it is evident that 'her' decisions aren't hers at all but those forced upon her by her fiancé, Cal. The relationship status of 'fiancé' of course means ownership. Rose has always been (as far as the audience are aware) an obedient wife, never stepping out of line. She simply assumes her position as the property of Cal.
Rose isn't stupid. Her marriage to Cal is not her choice but she understands the consequences of rejecting such a proposal. She is simply waiting, waiting for the chance when she can safely escape the clutches of Cal. Jack is able to give Rose the power she needs to break away from her pain. She is a woman trapped in the mould society created for her and she will not settle for this.
Rose makes her own decisions, once she has her power she does not waste it.
There is no forcing of decisions. He lets her make the choice of not jumping. He doesn't force a relationship upon her but instead allows her to make the decision to continue seeing him. Jack recognises Rose's fierce attitude and doesn't dare interfere.
It is Rose who picks Jack over Cal. It is Rose who makes the decision to get back onto the sinking ship to find Jack. It is Rose who makes the decision to save Jack. She doesn't save him because she is told to, she does so because she cares a great deal.
Rose isn't an extreme example of a woman with power, nothing bad happens because she speaks her mind. If more woman were like Rose I highly doubt the world would end in a burning fireball.
The two bring out the best in each other, there is no doubt about that. Jack saves Rose from jumping, Rose saves Jack from his capture. The relationship is clearly two way and clearly more than a four day fling.
The line 'Rose. Rose Dawson' makes my heart melt. She owes her life to Jack and this is her tribute to him. Without him she wouldn't be the same person and, more importantly, it is unlikely she would still be alive.
And, if you still don't believe that Rose means business then picture the scene where she roams the corridors with an axe, she isn't just the pretty fiancée of Cal, she is her own woman.
Of course the film shares it's strong links with the classic Romeo and Juliet. Two forbidden lovers. A blossoming romance. A tragic end. James Cameron himself pitched the film as a Romeo and Juliet style love story.
I personally think Romeo and Juliet is wonderful (even if the film adaption is shockingly bad) but Juliet isn't the strongest woman. A product of her time means she can only ever be a secondary figure to the men in her life. No quality can set her apart from other women of her time, not in the way that Rose is able to.
The only power Juliet is given in the play is when she is dead. It only seems right I suppose that giving a living woman power would be far too disastrous and catastrophic. There is no harm that Juliet can do once she is no longer breathing.
'For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'
In the most heart-breaking line in the entire play Juliet is finally regarded as more than an object or lover of Romeo. It takes the entirety of the play for Juliet to be given her power. Power in the form of ownership of her husband, her dead husband.
Shakespeare got it right. He was 'her' Romeo. The two belonged together, not in a possessive and controlling way but rather in a romantic and love driven way. They could not exist as two separate beings, only together.
It really is a pity that the glorious Romeo and Juliet is constantly overlooked and passed off as a 'meaningless romance'. But, compared to so many other romances of today there is only one clear factor which makes this exquisite love story to be regarded as foolish, rushed and silly, the ending. Had their relationship worked out and continued to blossom and grow people would have a far different opinion on the story. Comments such as 'oh how romantic to have found each other like that' rather than the more common 'it was a stupid teenage romance'.
Do most teenage romances end with one being distraught at the idea of living without the other or do they usually cry a bit and move on?
Both stories are that of true love.
The short time scales are not to say that the relationships themselves were rapid and rushed. The love doesn't make either story tragic, the death aspect does. But what would make either story popular if they lived happily ever after?
--- Aimee ---
Wednesday, 24 February 2016
Painted Image of Love
As the hype of Valentines Day passes the minds of fellow humans for another year I can't help but sigh a breath of relief.
I despise the day. Maybe its because I'm a morbid person and think the worst of every situation. Maybe its because, despite my best efforts, I find more comfort in sadness than in happiness. Or, a more popular belief would see it being as I feel isolated, being single once again on this loved-up day.
There's something hidden away. Hidden beneath the declarations of love, behind the heartfelt messages. There is no public display about the heartache or heartbreak tied in with love. Its ok, the odd 'he's drives me crazy sometimes but I love him no matter what' messages give a slight insight into the unhappiness but it's not enough. It doesn't compete with the fact that love is sugar coated because 'that's how it should be'. Happy, problem free, everlasting.
I feel like every single Facebook and Instagram post about a loved one is just a painted picture of false happiness and hidden upset. No showing of the arguments or betrayals. Of course there is no reason really why I would want to see arguments posted everywhere, annoying the shit out of me day in, day out. I think what I really want is some comfort that not everything is perfect but that doesn't mean it will work out. Just a few messages telling me things don't have to be perfect to be okay, that happiness doesn't not direct link with perfection.
I can't be dealing with this picture perfect idea of love, forcing me to believe anything beside the perfect moments is a rarity. I don't want to feel like there is one specific way you should treat the one you love. There are numerous to show it, it's not all chocolates and roses. There are so many people I love in my life and who are important to me, people who keep me happy. Of course on Valentines Day this doesn't matter because obviously my single status reflects my hopeless and lonely life.
No it's not the single status that makes me sad, it's all the other problems in the world. You must be kidding yourself if you really think that my number one concern in life is finding a partner. I mean I know currently that I am a weak, helpless and incomplete woman who needs a man to swoop in and fix all my life problems...oh wait is that not the case? I guess I must be too influenced by almost every film I've ever seen.
It's not the situation I or anyone else is in that causes pain but the changes that took place in order to reach that situation. All the loss. All the pain. All the tragic memories.
The films don't do the pain and sadness of it all justice really. Take Love, Rosie for example. The film is an artwork. It truly is brilliant. The acting and storyline go so well together but there is something missing. I don't know whether its this film in particular or just maybe its an impossibility to recreate in films but something is missing. In too many love films there is a small sense of heartbreak but that's all it is, a small sense. Something brushed off and overlooked. A 30 second clip of a teary girl is supposed to portray years of grief and pain, really? Sorry, I'm not going to believe your version of heartbreak.
The films don't depict reality. Some try harder than others but ultimately they all fail. I guess there is a limit to the amount of pain you can portray but to me it all still seems false. Love isn't all happiness and roses and cute dates. All that stuff is what we have been taught to associate with love through books, films and music since a young age. Too many false portrayals of a 'good' and 'ideal' relationship have left too many of us with the wrong idea about love.
Because heartbreak isn't a couple of tears here and there with soppy messages of how much you miss someone; its floods of tears. Breakdowns over hearing the mention of their name. Hours of deciding what it was that went wrong, what you did to screw things up yet again. Days of wondering why you weren't enough for them. So much time spent wondering if things will ever get better or whether you are now stuck in a bottomless pit of emotions that you will never escape from.
Love's all right while it lasts but we all fall out of love, we all move on whether we like it or not. Nothing is a constant; it never has been and it never will be. Maybe someone will one day change my mind on Valentines Day and I'll be one of those soppy little shits that I currently despise, indulging in the day.
--- Aimee ---
I despise the day. Maybe its because I'm a morbid person and think the worst of every situation. Maybe its because, despite my best efforts, I find more comfort in sadness than in happiness. Or, a more popular belief would see it being as I feel isolated, being single once again on this loved-up day.
There's something hidden away. Hidden beneath the declarations of love, behind the heartfelt messages. There is no public display about the heartache or heartbreak tied in with love. Its ok, the odd 'he's drives me crazy sometimes but I love him no matter what' messages give a slight insight into the unhappiness but it's not enough. It doesn't compete with the fact that love is sugar coated because 'that's how it should be'. Happy, problem free, everlasting.
I feel like every single Facebook and Instagram post about a loved one is just a painted picture of false happiness and hidden upset. No showing of the arguments or betrayals. Of course there is no reason really why I would want to see arguments posted everywhere, annoying the shit out of me day in, day out. I think what I really want is some comfort that not everything is perfect but that doesn't mean it will work out. Just a few messages telling me things don't have to be perfect to be okay, that happiness doesn't not direct link with perfection.
I can't be dealing with this picture perfect idea of love, forcing me to believe anything beside the perfect moments is a rarity. I don't want to feel like there is one specific way you should treat the one you love. There are numerous to show it, it's not all chocolates and roses. There are so many people I love in my life and who are important to me, people who keep me happy. Of course on Valentines Day this doesn't matter because obviously my single status reflects my hopeless and lonely life.
No it's not the single status that makes me sad, it's all the other problems in the world. You must be kidding yourself if you really think that my number one concern in life is finding a partner. I mean I know currently that I am a weak, helpless and incomplete woman who needs a man to swoop in and fix all my life problems...oh wait is that not the case? I guess I must be too influenced by almost every film I've ever seen.
It's not the situation I or anyone else is in that causes pain but the changes that took place in order to reach that situation. All the loss. All the pain. All the tragic memories.
The films don't do the pain and sadness of it all justice really. Take Love, Rosie for example. The film is an artwork. It truly is brilliant. The acting and storyline go so well together but there is something missing. I don't know whether its this film in particular or just maybe its an impossibility to recreate in films but something is missing. In too many love films there is a small sense of heartbreak but that's all it is, a small sense. Something brushed off and overlooked. A 30 second clip of a teary girl is supposed to portray years of grief and pain, really? Sorry, I'm not going to believe your version of heartbreak.
The films don't depict reality. Some try harder than others but ultimately they all fail. I guess there is a limit to the amount of pain you can portray but to me it all still seems false. Love isn't all happiness and roses and cute dates. All that stuff is what we have been taught to associate with love through books, films and music since a young age. Too many false portrayals of a 'good' and 'ideal' relationship have left too many of us with the wrong idea about love.
Because heartbreak isn't a couple of tears here and there with soppy messages of how much you miss someone; its floods of tears. Breakdowns over hearing the mention of their name. Hours of deciding what it was that went wrong, what you did to screw things up yet again. Days of wondering why you weren't enough for them. So much time spent wondering if things will ever get better or whether you are now stuck in a bottomless pit of emotions that you will never escape from.
Love's all right while it lasts but we all fall out of love, we all move on whether we like it or not. Nothing is a constant; it never has been and it never will be. Maybe someone will one day change my mind on Valentines Day and I'll be one of those soppy little shits that I currently despise, indulging in the day.
--- Aimee ---
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