Since the natural light in my bathroom has been so good lately, I’ve been getting ready in the morning without the lights on. It has been lovely, until I realize the dark circles under my eyes are so dark they make me look like a zombie.
“When women write in the first person their work is often called “confessional.” And there’s an accepted template for female narratives that tends to be the only story you read in bestselling books and first-person essays in women’s magazines that goes like: “I was bad – [sordid description of bad behavior] – but then [love, my baby, my husband, AA, etc] saved me. I solved my problem. I am no longer bad.” I have nothing against redemption per se but I am really bored with that story. That story doesn’t reflect anything about what women’s or human beings’ lives are really like. I have always gravitated to books that resist the commercial impulse to make life conform to formulaic narrative conventions. This is how books are marketed, understandably, because it’s an easy story to sum up, and you can also sell it to the reader as instructive: this is how you, too, can get better and start living your best life ™! But I prefer to read books like, say, Glory Goes and Gets Some by Emily Carter, where the narrator goes to rehab, gets clean, and then the book is only half over and she still has to figure out life and it’s genuine and very complicated.”—In case you were confused about what kind of books I like (via emilygould)
“Despite the fact that there’s scant evidence in the Bible that Jesus was an asshole who commanded his followers to bully gay children to death, a group of American Christian parents seem to think Christ has called upon them to act like jerks.”—Erin is the best thing to happen to Jezebel in years. (via coketalk)
Yes, while trying to read April’s book on the way to NYC I just couldn’t focus because there were these 2 girls a few rows behind me loud-talking about the one girl’s engagement and upcoming wedding. How loud are we talking? Before we could leave they had to go over bus safety, and the lady at the front of the bus on the microphone had to ask them to stop talking over her and pay attention 3 seperate times. I had my headphones on with no music to drown them out so I could read in peace. Then when I could still hear them, I turned on my music. I had to keep turning my music up, so at that point it was impossible to read. It was either try to read through dumb wedding drivel OR listen to music loudly. I went with the latter. My eardrums were a bit peeved at that decision. Ugh, so these 2 fucking girls kept loud-talking for the ENTIRE 5 HOUR RIDE that even my music couldn’t drown out their babble. My neighbor and the couple behind us all made fun of them for the last half hour of the trip. These girls talked about bridesmaids dresses for an hour. FOR ONE WHOLE HOUR. Guess what, bridesmaids dresses are awful! No debate of short over long, strapless over strappy, all the same color or different colors, will change that! AHHHHH
Of course, no one wanted to be “that person” to tell them to keep it down, although I was tempted. (Wasn’t there a Seinfeld episode about this?) Anytime I went to get up and tell them to use their 6-inch voices, my blood would start to boil and then I just couldn’t because I knew I would say something some may consider “mean.”
The best part about this whole story, is that one half of the 2 annoying girls sat next to me on the ride back to DC. Her partner in being annoying had missed getting on the same bus by like 10 minutes. She was on the phone with her annoying bus-missing friend, which I thought was going to make for just as awful of a ride back, BUT her phone was about to die sooooo she had to turn it off. I silently rejoiced. I also silently debated offering up my iphone charger, but ultimately landed on “hell no,” since this bitch caused me so much strife on the way to NYC. I don’t feel that made me a bad person for many reasons. A couple of these reasons were “she is a vapid, inconsiderate human,” and “ew, she reads Cosmo.” (SPOILER ALERT: one of those sex tips will tell you to play with a guy’s balls)
So, March’s book, Les Liaisons dangereuses. Pretty fucking sweet book, huh? I think I love this book so much because it’s so dishy and full of goss. The whole time you feel like you’re in on all of these secrets. I don’t know why that appeals to me, or what that says about me (probably that I’m a horrible person), but frankly, I don’t care. This book is Scandalous with a capital S. That and many of the themes surrounding men, women, sex, and love still ring pretty true today.
I really love the Marquise de Merteuil. I mean, when she isn’t being an evil conniving mastermind, I really love her. That aside, she is a self-made woman. I think her husband’s death had much to do with this, since she was no longer tied down to this notion that she had to be virtuous. She never let society or fate dictate her. While she is manipulative, the fact that she has this kind of attitude about her life is what draws me to her. She doesn’t let love rule her life. She did what she wanted and what made her happy. You could definitely say I aspire to be like the Marquise in this way.
One of my favorite quotes from the book is from one of Merteuil’s letter to Valmont:
“…pleasure, which is undeniably the sole motive force behind the union of the sexes, is nevertheless not enough to form a bond between them, even if it is preceded by desire which impels, it is succeeded by disgust which repels. This is a law of nature which only love can change.”
“‘Live each day as if it’s your last’, that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn’t practical. Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance.”—David Nicholls, One Day (via tokeletesterdek)
I do – quite genuinely – love how America pumps its citizens full of drugs as children and then gives them guns and inferiority complexes when they don’t grow up to be rock stars and movie stars or a Kardashian. It’s like we’re actually living in the first twenty minutes of an apocalypse movie and Morgan Freeman is narrating this.
Not saying we should all move to France – I’m just saying they have their shit (mostly) together and we should be taking some notes.