My knowledge Your knowledge.

I have just spent the best part of an hour writing a blog post I was at first excited to share with the Internet. And then as I was half way through I was overwhelmed with the sudden notion that I perhaps shouldn't share these particular thoughts with strangers and acquaintances in a manner that wasn't, for me, intimate enough. There was nothing especially private about the thoughts I was writing about, they were probably just another case of teenage angst, but it was my teenage angst and actually I don't want everybody to know about it. There was something about how I was spewing this often inward and private contemplation that made me want to keep it to myself, for now.

I'm often in awe of people who have the ability to keep things to themselves and not share every waking thought and idea with anyone you meet like I have a tendency to do. I love intense, passionate conversation and so to generate that I must subconsciously open myself up to people so that we can talk and talk until the sun don't shine. For someone who can contently spend hours and hours by herself and be in her own, secluded world I have the biggest desire to let people know me, and for me to know other people. And so when I get the feeling that I just don't want to share some of my thoughts, it's an interestingly powerful sensation. It's almost as if my instinct is letting me know that keeping that particular idea private is what is best for now. To keep your thoughts to yourself is sometimes much more exciting than keeping someone else's secrets.

Writing about this is reminding me of the common criticism of the nature of the Internet being that too much is shared. "I don't want to know if someone just ate a sandwich" or "I don't want people to know if I've just had a colonoscopy" are frequent comments worthy of banging one's head against a wall several times. There is no rule to say that you must read someone's tweet about the sandwich they've just eaten, nor that you must make a Facebook post about personal medical treatments and visits. The whole idea is that now this free flowing stream of information exists and that this information can be both good and bad. It is up to whoever participates to filter what they want to know and not know, what is good and what is bad and by distinguishing this for themselves they can then understand what they wish to contribute to this growing pool of ideas and feelings and facts and figures.

I, for some reason, felt it was not the time to express a particular private thought I was having and I feel good about not sharing it, but it doesn't stop the thrill of pressing 'publish' and sending my other thoughts out into this virtual world of free judgement and understanding. I'm just aware that I am in control of what I am choosing for everyone to know about me, which is healthy and good.

Films are like drugs (I imagine)

Source via

I love to watch films. I love to watch witty romantic comedies, classic 90s teen flicks, classic 80s teen flicks, beautiful indie films with a poignancy incomparable to any Hollywood film, black and white classics, anything with Audrey Hepburn, thrillers with some awful, painful message interlaced throughout, films too clever for their own good, off the wall films, and mostly all films I can both cry and laugh at. 

I love to watch films because, like books, you are completely and utterly immersed into a new world so far from your own it can be like living a short, wonderful second life. However, unlike books, films are quick and so the thrill of them only lasts a few hours. And so I suspect that much like the concept of taking drugs, watching films is like having a short blast of imagination to make you feel - anything. Whereas with books, as much as they are the most essential human necessity other than food, they take an investment of time. Characters you will have to spend days or weeks getting to know, depending on your reading speed, and stories whose endings are away in the distance and not definitely coming after an hour and 49 minutes.

Films are miniature worlds created for an audience unbeknown at the start of its creation but filled with absolute love from every writer, director, actor, producer involved. Without knowing the reaction it will receive a film relies on a band of people to give time in their life to create something to share with the rest of the world. If it flops, then a film hangs in a sort of limbo of a life that could have been lived, but if it succeeds then an international audience can connect through the world captured on the screen. 

Sometimes, if the film is particularly wonderful, one can watch said film so many times the lines and scenes become a part of your mind and someone else's world and creation can make its way into your own heart. The rush of a good film is an experience of a connection with an artist you've never met, but have understood on one level of their being. 

Unreal stories with unreal people in an unreal world can have a silly effect on my own world, but it feels wonderful all the same. And when I'm feeling down, or bored, or simply in the mood to watch a film, I can enter another realm for a short while. A realm entirely made up of every artistic medium available which, to me, is pretty beautiful. 

Hang your head upside down.

Source: Tumblr page 'Maudit'. 

It is all very well to say that, when in a chipper mood, one is able to adapt and control the intensity and significance of the emotions one might encounter. 'Happiness is a choice' you might declare as the sun is shining, or you've received good news, or you are inexplicably cheerful at that moment. But when a dull cloud appears over your head out of boredom, or a series of unfortunate events, or a long spout of sunless weather, that choice becomes a rather difficult one to make.

That opt for happiness is suddenly not so easy to muster up. It is far more effortless to remain in whatever bad mood you've found yourself in.  It becomes indulgent even to allow yourself to wallow pathetically in your own sorrows. Any emotion other than contentment is of course permitted, and natural, to experience both randomly and for good reason. It is perhaps much more pitiful however to remain in a less justifiable foul mood than to be genuinely inconsolable as a cause of some unfortunate circumstance. And yet both promote a challenge to regain a more pleasant sensation no matter the triviality of the blues you've acquired. Especially when the blues equate to the feeling of wanting to either bite someone's head off or dig yourself a very deep hole for yourself to never again come out of.

Happiness is, quite honestly, a choice. It just takes a few more minutes dancing manically in the kitchen or hanging upside down off the edge of your bed (both excellent ways of releasing endorphins) to let yourself chill out, observe your own bad mood, move on and enjoy the rest of the day. For one, it is far from desirable for others to be in the presence of somebody who finds themselves in a less than jolly mood.

 And so, if you'll excuse me, I will just be off to do some terrible dancing with my good friend David Bowie in my room for a short while.

Is Michelle Obama a western heroine?

A lot of discussion and debate as a result of Michelle Obama's refusing to wear a head scarf in Saudi Arabia has made the judgement that it was in fact deeply disrespectful to not adhere to the country's customs and traditions. Frankly, I find it refreshing that Michelle was able to defy what is a profoundly disrespectful assumption that a woman does not mind the speculation nor lack of choice from all societies she receives in wearing said head scarf.

In fact, Michelle Obama is not the first non-Arab, female ambassador to not wear a scarf as it is not expected of them as the media has so crudely and falsely stated. Whilst the questionable treatment of women in Saudi Arabia becomes a little more poignant when a foreign visitor is allowed to walk around with the leading men, without a head scarf and with what seems more equal regard it is not such a display of courageous defiance of the western woman in question the media has made it out to be. Perhaps a more Islamophobic atmosphere, as stated in this fantastic article on Vox, has perpetuated such a response to a normal procedure

However, if Michelle was to have worn a head scarf to the funeral of the late King Abdullah, whose traditions and customs would she actually be adhering to? The sexist rules put in place by an archaic patriarchal society due to a narrow and conservative interpretation of the Qur'an is the only reason I can possibly think of. I'm assuming the amount of women actually wanting to adorn a head scarf, whether for cultural or religious reasons, is considerably lower amount than the authorities and conservatives would like to think.  It is not my western education and indoctrination that has lead me to believe so but the simple lack of voice women in Saudi have as to the debate of 'no head scarf, yes head scarf' that goes on around them without ever fully including them. It's rare to hear and possibly very hard to find the honest opinion of a woman whose head is concerned in the matter because even we as the self-proclaimed liberal advocates of the world are too afraid to ask. The non-Muslim western world makes the presumption that no woman could possibly want to interpret her religion in that way and the middle east seems to barely give a thought as to the preference of the woman at all.

For my interpretation of feminism I most highly regard the concept that choice is the most important aspect of emancipation and in this case I fear that choice is not considered at all, on either side of the argument. Least of all the complete lack of consideration for the women who are actually involved, whose heads, hair and scarf we so ignorantly dispute about without once stopping to ask all these Saudi women if they share one or the other's view.  I think most importantly that both sides of the debate forget that this purely concerns the women's interpretation of their religion, or absence of religion, and their culture and their choice in how to go about this. Not one of us who is not a woman living in Saudi, or in any other country with the same rules in place, has the right to decide whether wearing a head scarf in public is appropriate or respectful or not. Judgement is inevitable but, please, without the understanding of how these individual women actually feel about the matter one has no say in how they present themselves to the world around them.

Feminism in Hollywood.

Feminism being the current theme in a hugely powerful industry with enormously influential people is incredible. The Golden Globes this year was hosted by two amazing feminists, Amy Poehler and Tina Fey, who throughout the night made painfully awkward yet potent comedic comments on gender inequality crimes within the film and television industry such as the Bill Cosby rape accusations and the pay gaps even within the multi-million dollar business. The girls were powerful and witty and heroic in using such a well publicised event to scrutinise the obvious sexism they as female comedians experience and the racism highlighted at such award events. We use film and television as a microcosm to reflect on the real world anyway and so having the inequality of the industry highlighted is like looking in a mirror from the rest of society.

However, I have a bone to pick. There is of course a slight hypocrisy in the recent complaints made by a few female actors about the pay gap between them and the male stars in the movies they make. Jennifer Garner made some very valid observations about how when her husband Ben Affleck is interviewed, he is never asked about his family but when she herself is interviewed she is repeatedly asked how she balances work and family which is backward and ridiculous.
She then revealed how a female star is almost never paid more than a female star in a movie, which is wrong, but the figures of how much they get paid makes it hard to feel a little sorry for them. Sandra Bullock would probably be paid $51 million for a movie whereas Robert Downey Jr is paid a whopping $75 million. I think it's important to take into account here not only how there's a gender pay gap, but a pay gap between big actors and smaller actors who both do the exact same thing. It's not a question of talent because there are people out struggling in the acting industry with a world of brilliance they're unable to share. There is a ridiculous amount of money flying around in the Hollywood business where films are being made that aren't even guaranteed to be as good as an indie film on a tiny budget. I admire Jennifer Garner but I'm not honestly sure how she's going to win the support of us mere mortals who would be pleased to reach over £50,000 as an annual income in our lifetimes.

Equality needs to happen in all industries and societies and it's exciting how mainstream feminism is becoming, but complaining about a pay gap that has no effect on whether you can afford to pay your bills or not, just on how big your will might be, is possibly not going to gain a huge amount of sympathy.

Photoshop your personality.

Source: Tumblr 'haunting--thoughts'

The photoshop epidemic of the western world depicts 'perfect' men and women with unrealistic bodies and faces that often look like Barbie just got really good at making life like dolls. You all know this, it's drilled from both sides of the argument into your head pretty much every day. You must simultaneously look like a plastic superhuman without even any pores in your skin whilst shunning the industry that indoctrinates you to look thus. It's exhausting and no matter how hard you try to believe that whatever you look like is beautiful because being a human is impressive in itself you inevitably feel down about something.

You can sometimes go through a whole day feeling as if a photographer should be following you around for a piece in Vogue and then go home and notice your hair looked messy, or you've actually had mascara giving you a black eye for the whole day. You then start thinking ridiculous things such as 'I bet you Jennifer Lawrence never, ever has a bad hair day'. Or, when you're lying elegantly in bed with your chin at your chest in your most disreputable clothing you wonder why Beyoncé wouldn't look quite as disgusting. I am aware that comparing myself to celebrities where the only photos I will see of them are professionally groomed, photographed in perfect light and then skilfully photoshopped is almost illogical but I'm ashamed to say it can bring me down. To a point.

When moaning and grumbling about the way I look some days in my head I always come to the abrupt realisation that looking like an actual human being is much more preferable to appearing surreal. Because that's what photoshop does, it dehumanises you. It takes away your unique physical appearance and morphs it into a clone of some sort. Like a sick, sadistic sausage factory for photographs. The more you ponder on it the weirder it gets. The whole idea is very bizarre. We want to achieve the most desirable image we can conceive with ideals that we initially created with photoshop and the only way we can achieve such physical beauty is on a computer.

Photoshop is also, essentially, void of personality. We have become so obsessed with the way we look in a photograph that we barely even consider how witty, kind, intelligent, or thoughtful the person is. For some reason I fail to remind myself that I am almost always only attracted to personality over looks. That isn't a pretentious, 'holier-than-thou' statement it's generally what I've experienced in my short life. Why then is it taking so long to get us out of this strange marketing ideal of what beauty is when the majority of us would never notice in real life if somebody had slightly imperfect eyebrows? We're all totally aware of how damaging a concept photoshop can be, and yet we continue to eat it up and perpetuate it across all media.

I'm not sure I can fully conclude this post as it's become less clear to me as to what the answer would be to my questions. It is almost like a new phenomenon for the majority of the population who are level-headed, clever individuals to somehow believe in photographs of men and women who are sometimes so perfect it would be anatomically impossible for them to survive. Perhaps, at least I do hope, that ridiculous levels of photoshopping is just a fashion that will begin to die out in a few years and that eventually we will start to accept images of real people with normal flaws in our magazines and on our screens.

The right kind of reaction.

Another terror attack, another country. Whether or not the culprits are linked we know who will essentially be blamed. But this incident has seen a change in how terrorism has been dealt with in the past.

Terrorism is deliberately named thus to describe acts designed to cause mass terror. It has been working, apparently, with the way the media across the world has responded each time. 'Be scared be scared be scared!!' newspapers have cried out, pandering to the exact aims of whatever terrorists were operating. By reacting in such a way we have fed the trolls, given them precisely what they yearned for. Fear.

This time, however, something seems a little different to me. I do not think that the French are scared, they are just awfully upset. And because the French are not scared, the rest of the world is not scared. The French are standing up, going straight to the scene of the incident and showing that they do not care for this pettiness. Freedom of speech and press is ours, that is absolutely one thing that cannot be damaged by terrorism. This is merely an insult to, not a powerful attack on, the invincibility of wit and satire.

Solidarity is key, but not being afraid is even more potent than that. The big bad wolf cannot stand if we are not scared, and so we will not be scared.

My heart goes out to the families of the lost ones and my heart also stands with France.

#jesuischarlie