She didn’t expose herself to mainstream fashion magazines or TV; she was interested in art films and books and indie music. But no matter how alternative the movie, the protagonist was almost always skinny. And wanting to be a protagonist means wanting to be someone, as most people do. Apparently, your story is only worth hearing, you’re only someone, if you’re skinny—it’s like, the blueprint of a human. Once that’s down, you’re allowed to be as interesting and protagonist-y as you want! Apparently.
”How to Not Care What Other People Think of You, Rookie Mag.
Damn this is so very true.
Think Small.
I can’t really even begin to explain how much I am loving Charlotte Bronte’s “Jane Eyre”. I know I’m “late to the boat” with this one (think 165 years late) but previously I’d read Emily Bronte’s “Wuthering Heights” and didn’t overly take to it. Too emo, and gothic for me.
But Charlotte has a little more humour, sentimentality, optimism and joie de voire than her sister - without losing the trademark Bronte bookishness and tendency to overanalyse. You know, they like to mull over things with dark clouds hanging over their heads. Just my kind of gals! In short, I am totes girl-crushing on Charlotte and wish she were around today so we could be BFFs.
There are moments in the book where I pull myself away from it, fighting the magnetic force the pages seem to draw, because it all becomes too much. I so strongly identify with the thoughts and feelings of Jane that it’s like I’m in her body, wriggling her fingers and toes, and everything that’s happening with Mr Rochester is just so breathessly wonderful and painful that I can hardly bare it.
Now THAT is one helluva writer.
I know back in that day women’s worlds were just so much smaller (especially women without means) - their breadth of experience and exposure to world affairs and places and people so limited. And this would inform why Bronte writes with such acute detail about this little cast of characters and their feelings and thoughts. I, on the other hand, - hurrah to feminism! - was blessed with the ability and opportunity to experience and know of much more.
And yet, lately I am enraptured by The Small, and so disheartened by The Big. I think if you look at the work of David Sedaris, and This American Life, and Jane Eyre (three things I have lately been reading) you’ll see there is so much power, depth and beauty to be had by the small and the personal. And perhaps there is more truth to be had than the churn of the 24 hour news cycle (be it television, web or what have you) - which is so filled with vitriolic debate, fake stories, hysterical editorials, rumours, mirror reflections and general rancidness.
No Sex & The City
It’s been awhile since I’ve felt depressed. It is Saturday night and I have curled up with a repeat of Sex & the City (with flicks to the tennis), a sleeping dog, chocolate, cheese and a tumblr post. The very picture of the life of a single girl circa 2012.
Now I’m downloading a computer game I used to play as a teenager, called ‘Curse of Monkey Island’. So I can whittle away a few more hours (or hundred) with some mindless activity and avoid actually examining my life. Probably an even more contemporary portrait of singledom.
I’m having a realisation that I think a lot of people who have lived away from their hometowns have. That if there was any Monica-shaped hole left in people’s lives when I left Sydney three years ago, it was filled in a while ago (and fair enough). And there’s a number of my best friends who don’t live here anymore anyway. So this place doesn’t really feel like home. But where does?
Thing is, I’m not even that keen on returning to China. All signs seem to indicate that my present gang of friends there is breaking up, with members returning to home cities or moving onto others. And I’m tired of the pollution and the cold and being away from my Western world things and conveniences (as spoilt as that sounds, is it not natural that as one ages, one begins to cling tighter to creature comforts?)
Some of my heart strings tug on the idea of coming back to Sydney, getting a well-paid (though probably unrewarding) job, and having a nice little house with a backyard and a dog. Hanging out at the beach on the weekends. Eating good food. Yeah, I’d probably be lonely and bored but heck, maybe that’s what a perpetual bachelorette slipping over the other side of 30 simply has to expect.
I could move to New York - or London where a couple of best friends currently reside. Ugh but the idea makes me feel so damn tired. Starting again! No money, no job, no network … could I really do it again? Is this all my life is about? Rootless wandering? Don’t I have a vision for myself? Am I not building anything?
I am currently reading Charlotte Bronte’s ‘Jane Eyre’ from which that quote is taken. And although our lives are incredibly different - hers so limited in choice, and mine too abundant, there are passages like above that I innately connect with. I grow restless in Beijing, but it is too optimistic to say I that in looking to the horizons I am seeking a freedom or stimulation that fulfils me. Simply that I look to find a new situation in which to be momentarily charmed and quickly grow dissatisfied.
But actually I am growing used to or perhaps developing the idea of ‘home’ (a stable core) disengaged from time and physical place. That it is a mixture of coming back to Sydney and seeing my family with the frequency that I do, making the effort to see my very good friends scattered in different parts of the globe, and carrying these relationships - if not in bright and frequently written emails - at least close to my heart. Never once forgetting that they are more true and loyal to me than the excesses and fast-joys of whatever city I happen to be in. And that though we are not in each other’s lives every day (which is a very sad thing) we are still important to one another and that we can and must work hard to overcome this unfortunate handicap.
And that on the other hand all the loose links I make with all the places I go (and the fleeting friendships they offer) too is a type of relationship which works, although only in conjunction with the deeper relationships of the VIPs in my life. In that way, I have breadth as well as depth. A touch of both, both disadvantaged.
Why I love weddings (other people’s weddings!)
In the last 12 months I’ve been to four weddings, with the four brides good friends of mine. The fourth I attended last week, and I don’t have any more weddings lined up, so immediately after I experienced a touch of post-wedding blues. My friends in Beijing seemed surprised when I confessed that I loved weddings. But here’s why I do:
1. It’s like going to a show, with entertainment, great food and an open bar.
2. You get to meet (and party with) all the most important people in your friend’s life and feel so honoured to be one of them.
3. It’s the day you’ll see your friend and their partner looking totally hot and incredibly, incredibly happy.
4. It’s a reminder that love really does exist, and it is worth waiting for.
I was there the day my friend Sasha met her now husband. We were at the races (lol!) and when I saw them chatting (and eventually making out) I wrote it off as a drunken hookup. I wouldn’t have predicted that the next day they would meet up to see a movie and then see each other virtually every day from that day onwards.
And I know statistically that some of these marriages will fall apart. But in these innocent days of just-married life, I simply cannot imagine who.
Second chance resolutions
UGH, there’s a new years resolution for you: no drunk-blogging, ever. (Have since made the post private.)
I’ve decided to start my resolutions after Chinese New Year - lololol, is that cheating? It’s just that in January I’ve been in holiday mode so all of the resolutions were quickly broken. Of course come March I’m sure I’ll be all, “Oh, ACTUALLY I’m starting my resolutions with the Tibetan New Year” and so on and so forth, perpetually uncovering some ethnic New Year to hang my resolutions off.
I actually LOVE the new years deal. A chance to wipe away the mucky past, start afresh, transform oneself Lady Gaga style. Perhaps I should simply apply it to my life every single day.
Idea: fashion blogger meets Occupy Wall Street protester
Like my friend Rachel I’m somewhat fascinated by “it girls”. I feel that it’s a seduction one should fight - but other times I’m not quite certain why I should. Yes, they are famous for being famous (or photogenic). But I think so long as the attraction remains superficial, rather than being elevated to ‘role model’ status, there’s no harm. To love the sight of a beautiful woman is to simply love life, right?
(BTW I think you can see the male equivalent in the film Crazy, Sexy, Love where Ryan Gosling plays a rather old-school playboy. His charisma is skin-deep. It’s all about how he carries himself and his style, rather than the substance of his character or content of his words.)
I also wonder what are, exactly, the ingredients of creating an “it girl” and whether they would be so difficult to adopt.
I have been similarly fascinated by the “Asian feminine ideal” - modest, humble, sweet and gentle - attributes I don’t really have. (My fake Chinese uncle recently contrasted me from my sister, her being ‘feminine’, me being ‘lively’.)
I am thinking of playing with these two feminine ideals, but inserting some social messaging in them. (For example, replicating a classic pap shot while wearing an air pollution mask, or with a caption “on my way to a gay marriage rally”.) It wouldn’t really be subversive, more exploiting the language of beauty and celebrity to carry out a campaign.
Basically it’d be activism for non-activists. Think fashion blogger meets Occupy Wall Street protester.
But I’m hesitant. Maybe it’s a lame idea. Need your thoughts.
