#i’d like to lobotomise myself

[badbitchstromboli]

Tollhouse Confessional

I clip my fingernails in the shower where only god can see and I think of the man at the bar

They are the same because neither would take no for an answer

Both told me how pretty I’d look if I were on my knees for them; they coaxed me, instructed me to prepare to receive their body as some healing aspect of consumption—

I am perceived without my consent, which is the beginning of other acts without my consent and so I know god is that man at the bar because I can’t stop writing them into the worst places I remember

I go for a walk and a smoke and see a light-haired dog and miss its owner so I think a coyote has gotten itself loose in the suburbs and I think of all the wild beasts I’ve seen loose in the suburbs with their teeth and their claws and I think of how I would prefer a coyote to them.

I see a tuxedo-black cat whose white shirt pops in the streetlight and I cross the street to give it its space, to respect its lack of verbal consent for my approach; I see this cat and hope it knows I mean it no harm and I crossed the street because we do not share a language.

I hold the smoke down in my lungs as long as they can hold anything, my swimmers’ lungs I shot to death that October I was working as a script doctor and left my patient on the table—

Let us go there, you and I, when the evening is splayed across the sky like a patient euthanised on a table, and the patient is me, and I am in the morgue of myself, in this cemetery of CouldHaveBeens and WouldHaveBeens, this cemetery they call my body.

We carry our ghosts with us; I carry myself so well, they have said.

I think of the man at the bar and think of writing verse instead of thinking because I am done with men at bars and thinking of them and verse is the place where derision lives

You have to laugh or you will cry

You have to laugh or you will die

And dying is against our aim

So laugh we shall, if but in name

And I think I need to be lobotomised or held

Or lobotomised while being held

Or broken as chocolate is broken into chunks for thick, melty cookies, the kind that never coax you to your knees but wait patiently on a large plate you don’t think you deserve

And maybe you’re right

But there are so many things we don’t deserve so it might as well be cookies instead of something more powerful than yourself that won’t listen when you say no, no thank you, I’d rather not

There are so many things we don’t deserve and I’d just like to be grabbed by hands that care if I break

I exhale smoke, perhaps as the devil, and I think of nothing and wish I could cry.

[cosmicwavelength]

.

[lovemishjen]

Reading reviews of 15x20 on IMDB is so cathartic

 this can't be serious

15 years of character development right out the window. i watched the episode with zero expectations and still managed to get disappointed. can't believe not a single person during the steps of its production stopped and said "hold on...are we sure this is how we want to be remembered"

                                                     *** 

I feel like I got lobotomised

This episode gave me covid, I also feel like Sam's wig had covid.

                                                     ***  

They had all the pieces for a beautiful ending and instead took a 180 and drove the show into the ground

Even my worst imagined ending was better than this. All the character arcs were forgotten for season 1 nostalgia. It was so out of character. Nothing like Dabb's other episodes. What happened?

                                                    ***  

Pulling the ending out of a Cards Against Humanity deck would've been better

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with rebar to the back and a party city clearance wig.

                                                   ***

 2020 please stop

After 15 years that's how you ended a great show ??????? terrible

                                                   ***  

supernatural wanted to beat game of thrones for worst series finale and it shows.

The supernatural series finale felt like it was one big april fool’s joke except it's november and nobody's laughing.

                                                    ***

If I could give this negative stars, I would.

Some of the most awful writing to come out of this entire series. I don't know what Andrew Dabb was thinking. Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki deserve accolades, they put on an acting clinic, but even their phenomenal performances cannot salvage this entirely and that is the real crime here. Fifteen years of character development thrown in the garbage, the themes of family not ending in blood, of "good things do happen" (hope against all odds, survival), and the meta narrative around the Winchesters beating the Author to finally write their own story right along with it. And that's not even going into the other relationships and characters which were dropped like hot potatoes as though the entire season prior was irrelevant. This wasn't just Covid, either. From statements given by cast and crew and Dabb himself, this ending was planned even prior to the pandemic, so using that as an excuse rings extremely hollow. Now I understand why Jensen said he was unhappy with the ending - turns out, he was right to.

                                                   ***  

I laughed I cried it was worse than Bugs

I don't even want to talk about it. Save yourself time, and go find a better ending on Ao3.

                                                   ***  

The bar was so low. Yet they still managed to get underneath it.

Worst series finale I've ever seen. Truly, it could not have been worse. The GOT ending is a masterpiece compared to this.

                                                    ***  

bro what ???

Why did these last two episodes feel like a fever dream? they were so out of character. season 15 was about defying destiny, but in the end they all became exactly what they were supposed to be, kinda horrible lazy writing if u ask me.

                                                    ***  

First time i cried while watching smth because it was that bad

I can't believe people get payed for that level of writing. 15-year-olds on AO3 do better. SPN wasn't good last several seasons but that series finale just hit the bottom broke the floor and descended to writers's hell

                                                    ***  

Sorry Jensen

Dean deserved so much better. He fought for other people all his life then he fought for his own free will and never got to live for himself for more than a week before being killed off in such a mundane way for shock value.

                                                    ***  

Only 1 star and it's for the dog

Terrible ending. Basically forgot all the character developments? I feel bad for the cast, after all those years their characters deserved a way better ending than that.

                                                     ***  

Defeat God, and you'll be murdered by a NAIL.

And don't even get me started on Jareds wig. He be walking around like Doc Brown.

                                                     ***  

THE WRITERS WERE HIGH

Why that cas-baiting? why those 'where's misha' jokes. you didn't bother to give misha a proper farewell, made cas's last scene a 'fake call from lucifer' but had the audacity to make it like "will he be there/will not he" knowing fully well that castiel is not gonna appear in the final episode. i didn't think I'd find a more disappointing ending than game of thrones, but supernatural did it. i didn't have much expectations going into the finale, but this, this was so freaking low. castiel and dean deserved better. this episode destroyed each and every story arc in 40 minutes.

                                                       ***  

only the sweet release of death can undo this

If i could travel back in time and euthanise myself before i ever had to suffer this flop of a finale, i would

                                                         ***  

is this a joke

So... i'm choosing to pretend the last 2 episodes of the show did not exist because otherwise i genuinely will never be able to enjoy the rest of the show again. jensen and jared did a wonderful job with the absolutely horrific script they were handed, but there was no saving this dumpster fire of an episode. yikes. cas and misha deserve better.

[beingdreeyore]

Today... happened. 

Different to yesterday. In some ways better, I guess, but in others worse. It was calmer. Less erratic moods. Less defensiveness. We each played a part in ensuring that while communication was open, we didn’t get back on the carousel. But then other things... What to say and where to start? 

I have a migraine that started to ramp up it’s presence around lunchtime. My brain had been stuck on a thought for awhile... Ruminating. Then an ice pick stabbed me in my left-eye. A sharp pain. Straight in. A clear force into my skull, so well-defined that if I’d bothered to get good at anatomy I would’ve been able to accurately describe to you the exact path it took on the way in. I’m trying to remember the last time I had a migraine worth mentioning. It’s been a while since one like this. Stress-induced is what they used to tell me. Whatever the cause and whoever they are, it’s here now. Just in time for my full day of lectures and exams tomorrow and my 14 hour shift on Saturday. 

I’m lucky though. They don’t floor me like they do some people, or like they used to. The last couple I’ve had have slowed me down a little, but mostly they just make me less tolerant of pretty much everything. People talk to me and I can’t focus on their words - I’m daydreaming about how you would actually remove an ice pick from an eyeball or I’m closing my eye just enough to lessen the strain, but not enough to draw their attention to what I’m doing. it’s a delicate exercise and I can’t do that as well as listen to them. When you have an ice pick sticking out of your skull, it’s hard to think about much else. 

I got through dancing. I smiled. I laughed. That’s how I know this one isn’t as bad as they used to be. While there I had thoughts that needed correcting and I got angry at myself for having them though. The good days have that way of turning into the bad days, because the good days are always followed by the bad days and once I’ve remembered that, I dread them coming. So I think about my ice pick instead and how I’d most likely be dead, or at the very lobotomised, if there really was an ice pick jammed into my skull in the way it feels like there is.  

There’s things I know I need to say, but I can’t quite articulate what they are. Things I know I need to share, but they just haven’t fully formed into something I can communicate yet. I write, but the ice pick in my left eye is incredibly distracting. I need something way more interesting than my own neurotic thoughts to trump that stupid ice pick. So for now I’m not pushing myself. That nagging feeling, that thread that begs to be pulled... It will all still be there tomorrow. Most likely the ice pick will be too, but hopefully with a few hours sleep the ice pick starts to dissolve into my skull, melting away, and the thoughts are then free to link up together and start to say something meaningful again. 

[velvethopewrites]

5 fanfics you recommend?

Do you want just H/G fics or other ships?

I’m gonna go with a mix, so probably, off the top of my head, The Room of Lost Things by Deadwoodpecker, (@deadwoodpecker) A Second Chance by Breanie (@breaniebree), Unravel Me by Ladylithe (@narukoibito), and Two Jily fics I really enjoyed - Shelf Awareness by Ghost of Bambi and Lily Evans, Chaser by Lobotomised.  I have found myself reading a lot of Jily lately, because it gives me the feels and sometimes when I am actively in the middle of writing H/G, I find it hard to read them by someone else until after I finish something. Does that make sense? 

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to read as much as I’d like. Because I am either at work, or writing, and therefore, not reading fan fic. When I finally finish In Essence: Undivided, I am planning on giving myself a huge writing vacation and actually read a whole bunch of stuff. Part of me can’t wait, lol Part of me also thinks I will be curled up into a little ball when I finally finish it and no one will see me for weeks, lol.

[houkagokappa]

We had another anime club meeting today and almost every episode we watched gave me thoughts worth sharing so here they are.

We began with episode 5 of Golden Kamuy and I’ve now come to the realisation that it’s not a comedy anime like I first thought, or an action anime like it first seemed, but a cooking anime. Even though they mostly eat meat and that’s usually a turn-off for me, the fact that it’s centered on Ainu traditions makes it A+++, very good cultural exchange.

We continued with two episodes of Kino no Tabi (2003). The first was about a country with the tradition of creating traditions. It was a fun episode, but with a fairly cruel twist at the end. Kino no Tabi is great in how you never know what kind of country they’ll visit and how it always gives you a lot to think about - so many questions about morality! I really liked the structure of this episode, it was a bit different compared to what we usually get in that we saw several short visits rather than the usual full episode exploration. Variation is always great and I really loved how all countries/encounters ended up being connected to each other.

The second Kino no Tabi episode began with Kino and Hermes lying in a bed of red flowers and I was instantly struck with stress and fear because I remembered this scene from the 2017 anime. I couldn’t remember which episode it was, only that it meant we’d be in for a BAD_TIME. Yup, turns out it was Otona no Kuni, Kino’s “origin story”. I’d forgotten most things from it, like how all the kids in Kino’s home country get lobotomised when they’re 12 years old so they can turn into adults and work with a smile on their face even though they’d otherwise hate their job and life. The episode hit me even harder now, because I’ve thought a lot about my own place in society and I have pretty strong feelings about going against what society tells me to do to pursue my own happiness. Watching Kino be able to do that was great. Or you know, it was horrible and traumatising, but at least they made it and it made me love Kino and Kino no Tabi even more. I also want to shout-out the scene where Kino takes up their new identity, if you want a cool genderqueer/agender character look no further!

Next up was Martian Successor Nadesico. Sursprisingly I’m kinda loving it? I don’t really follow along with the plot, but I also don’t think that matters at all. It’s a mecha parody anime from the 90′s and all the hijinks and jokes carry the whole show regardless of what’s actually going on. I love any anime with an anime within the anime that one or several characters are obsessed over and we get updates on. The way Akito and Gai bonded over their love for Gekiganger 3 was amazing and super fun to watch. I also can’t believe that they apparently killed off Gai (and that I completely forgot about it, since I didn’t think they were serious about it, whooops). It’s great how episode 4 showed us Akito mourn the loss of his newfound friend. It stood out nicely with everyone else seemingly not caring at all and I could relate to him wonder why he has to be alone in his sorrows. I also liked the girl he confided in, I even thought that they’d make a nice pair so I was very pleased when the episode ended with them getting together. I also loved that it happened right in front of Yurika who’s been telling everyone that Akito is her bf or something along those lines. It’s kinda annoying when anime characters do that and especially when it comes to romance it’s super satisfying for me to watch characters not get what they want (don’t psychoanalyse me please). All in all it was great to see them mix things up a little and give us something unexpected rather than having Yurika continue to claim they’re dating when they actually aren’t (even if it’s only for a little while and they end up together later). Oh and I also love all the new pilots, they’re such disasters.

Following that we watched episodes 4-5 of Spice and Wolf. The anime is well-made and Holo’s a great character. Since I like her it’s nice enough to watch her interact with Lawrence. I’m not invested in their relationship and I don’t care for their romance, apart from appreciating that they actually have some chemistry and it’s great to see Holo make some advances already. Unfortuantely I couldn’t care less for the plot, this silver coin bs is super boring and uninteresting. Hopefully it’ll be over soon and the anime will get more engaging again, although I can’t think of any merchant business that would be appealing to me. I don’t see myself falling in love with Spice and Wolf, but if I can enjoy it a bit more in the future that’ll be great.

We ended the evening with episodes 5-6 of Bungou Stray Dogs. I’d seen them before when they originally aired in 2016, but my memory was a bit hazy and rediscovering that Ranpo doesn’t actually have supernatural powers, he’s just like that was a great moment. I’m still annoyed at the “over the top” comedy with the funny faces, twitches and sounds, but I can appreciate the anime having that as a distinct style. They’re also getting less frequent and annoying as Atsushi (it’s mainly his doings) becomes more used to the Armed Detective Agency and all its idiots.

I feel like I like the anime more now than I did 4 years ago. I think I understand the characters and their quirks better and how it’s the trade-off for their powers. One has to wonder how much that has to do with the fact that we’re living in a post-Sarazanmai world where I’m more partial to the Mamo-Hosoyan pairing, which certainly helps, but isn’t everything. Apart from the reaction humor, there’s some genuinely great humor and fun character moments. I also like the superpowers and twists. Akutagawa comes across as an edgy chuuni character so I’m not intimidated by him, but I remember the first season ending with another villain character who was super intriguing, so I’m looking forward to continue the series to that point and beyond!

[rangerslayer-97]

Galaxy-38: The Morning After

*20 BBY, Bunks, Clone Barracks*

Katooni opens her eyes, before quickly shutting them when bright lights flash her.

Katooni: Kriff, kriff, kriff!!! Why does my head feel like a firing artillery gun?

????: Keep it down!!! My karking head is pounding!

The Padawan Learner turns to her left and sees one of the members of the 332nd. A new Clone, a Shiny.

Katooni: O_O

????: Commander!? Sir!? Why are you in my bunk!?

Katooni: I- I- I- I... R- R- Ridge, right? O_O

Ridge: Um... yes sir. Uh... we didn't...

Katooni: O_O *looks under blanket scared. Finds she is in sleepwear and Ridge wearing his blacks*

Ridge: Oh thank the Little Gods! Neither of us had sex while drunk *sighs in relief*

Katooni: You better thank on your life! If Ahsoka found out, she would have lobotomised you!!! I would be lectured if I lost my virginity!!!

Ridge: I thought you're a bit young to drink, sir. Never mind sex... ... ...

Katooni: Katooni when off duty, Ridge. Um... yes, technically, but Bomber took me out with you all to celebrate my 16th. Thought I should experience alcohol.

Ridge: Very bold of him. You handled your drink alright. 3 pints of beer, followed by 4 shots and a Corellian Whiskey to wash it all down. I was partially drunk, but one of the boys from the 501st brought us back here. Captain Rex, I vaguely think?

Katooni: O_O

Ridge: Comm- Katooni?

Katooni: Oh Force, no!!! If Rex knows, he would have told Anakin. Then Anakin would tell Ahsoka!!!! My Master is going to murder my shebs!!! *clutches head* Ow! Ow! Karking headache!

Ridge: I can comm one of the boys to bring us some painkillers. If you feel like throwing up, the refresher is there *points General direction to refresher*

Katooni: Considering if I can walk straight. Kriffing Sith Hells! I'll never drink again!!! Curse you, Bomber!!!

The two were about to attempt getting out of bed, when they both hear a 'click' of a holo-camera. A holo-photo was taken. They both look over to see...

Katooni & Ridge: BOMBER!!!!! >:(

Both clutch their heads again.

Katooni & Ridge: Ow, ow, ow!!!! >.<

Bomber: *singing* The Commander and Ridge laying in a bunk. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!!! XD

Bomber sprints off with the holo-photo as Katooni and Ridge stumble out of the bunk to chase after Bomber. Still being 90% hungover, they stumble again and fall on top of each other. They both groan as their headaches get a little worse.

Ridge: I'm starting to see why my brothers looked at me crazy for assigning myself to this legion.

Katooni: Never mind that! Bomber's got blackmail on us and will start spreading you and I are dating or had a one-night stand... ... ...

Ridge: If the General finds out, I'll be lucky to live -_-

Katooni: At best, Ahsoka will give you latrine duty -_-

Ridge: Are we just going to lay here or should we try and move and... well... risk Stab's wrath?

Katooni: As of now... I'd rather deal with Stab than Ahsoka.

They lift their heads hearing more noise, footsteps specifically. Ones belonging to...

Kaeden: Are you sure you have time?

Ahsoka: Kaeden, the meeting doesn't start till 1100 hours. It's only 0730. That's more than enough *voice grows sultry* Besides, I'll always have time for you XD

Kaeden: *laughs*

The "secret" lovers stumble off to find an empty bunk as they engage in heated contact.

Katooni: O_O

Ridge: Uh... ... ... do I even want to know what I just heard? O_O

Katooni: No, I recommend it is best for your sanity you do not -_-

[projectraspberry-blog]

I took a Coronavirus Test

Today I got a coronavirus test so I thought I’d take a few minutes to let others know what to expect. 

First things first, the actual test, which you administer yourself, wasn’t that bad. It was a throat and nose swab and all in all took less than 10 minutes which included reading through the instructions and dropping the test off.  

The part that gave me the knot in my stomach was how military like the whole process was, and that is a good thing. 

I took my test at a local stadium car park. I drive this way a few times a year so it wasn’t a difficult journey and with so many people off the roads it was almost a pleasurable drive. Once you get to the car park you can immediately see the size of the operation. White tents, cones marking your every route, personnel everywhere making sure you know exactly what to do. 

The first wobble I had was when it dawned on me that this whole process was going to be done with little to no verbal communication as I was gestured up to my first stop point. A clipboard was held up with instructions as to what I needed to do. No windows down unless instructed, OK no problem. Do you have your booking number and scannable code? Yes I do ( my wife had prepared me everything in advance in a nice little pack). Photo ID? Check. 

Great, next gesture to move on through the cones into the queue for one of the bays. The bays here were white cabins surrounded by white tents, think of all those zombie movies where people get checked for the virus and its a fairly good representation. 

You sit and you watch what goes on ahead, which is to say someone stands in-front of each car, something is thrown into the car through a cracked window and the car moves into the next area. 

When it gets to my turn I’m stopped within the white tent, sign for engine off, clipboard up. This time I’m given a number to call which is answered by the man in front of me. Staring at me as if he could see into my very soul he gave me some clear instructions and about what I needed to do with the packet about to be given to me. Code scanned again, window cracked, packet thrown in. A sealed clear bag with another bag inside, along with a vile containing some sort of liquid and swab, a tissue and some gloves. Time to move onto the next area. 

You are instructed to reverse into a bay, so you can be observed if you are struggling. If you have a problem put your hazard lights on, if you have a medical emergency sound your horn. It is here that I appeared to forget how to reverse a car, it took me a couple of goes but we got there in the end. 

You are given plenty of reassurance by the people in this area to take your time and do not rush, they give this reassurance by a combination of clipboard and yelling through the closed window. I’ve never been so grateful to hear someone yelling at me. 

Time to take the test, comprehensive instructions are given. Make sure you have clean hands, swab your tonsils (or the area they used to be in if you no longer have them) for 10 seconds, followed by sticking the same swab up your nostril for 10-15 seconds and rotate as you hold it up there. Further reassurance is given in the instructions to only push it in until you meet resistance, I dread to think of the outcome of people not following that bit. So after gagging and feeling like I might lobotomise myself, it is time to put the swab in the tube, bag it, code it with your little stickers from your pack, and double bag the whole lot. Little bag first then big bag with the worlds strongest seal second. That’s it, test done now to drive off and hand it in. Nice thumbs up from one of the assistants as I drive out makes me feel better about the whole thing. 

The drop off consists of opening the window just enough to drop it into a bin (a big bin but still a bin) which is then immediately removed and taken away presumably to some scientist to determine if I need to sleep in the spare room for the next few nights.  

It’s then off home again. The whole thing is handled with as much precision as you can expect considering the speed in which this was all put in place, which is to say the whole thing was very impressive now I’ve had time to think back on it, if more than a little mentally draining. 

If there were a few things to take away from the experience it would be these

The people doing this job are amazing, it all just happens despite so little interaction available. 

Here in the UK it’s nice that we clap for the NHS but what would be really useful is if everyone just did what the NHS asked us to do and stay in doors so visitors to this sort of place are limited and manageable. I’m not sure why this is proving so hard for some people. 

You may think you want to be in a zombie movie but the reality is far more jarring than on TV. 

So if you have to take one of these test’s, it really isn’t as bad as you might think. 

However, if you haven’t had to take a test but you’re out socialising because lock down is getting tough now, or you just really needed to pop to the garden centre because you have a coupon thats going to expire, well the test is horrendously painful. So best you stay in so you don’t get symptoms and have to go get one done. 

[werevulvi]

My past traumas fuck with me too damn much today. And they did yesterday too. I mean more than usually. I've had way beyond enough of all those intrusive sexual thoughts/fantasies of men that almost make me wanna lobotomise myself at this point. Those combined with my dick-repulsion feels like mental torture.

I feel like my rapist took my lesbianism away from me and that he ruined my dating/sex life before it had even started. I think I hate him a bit for that.

For the past 12 years (until 6-7 months ago) I harmed myself with sex with men despite not being into a single one of them, all because of him. And not even now I get to have my lesbianism, cause I keep getting bombarded with all those intrusive thoughts that make me wish I was dead. They gross me out so bad and make me feel like I've no control over my own mind what so ever. I'd much, much rather focus on fantasies about women or just no fantasies for a moment or two, but my mind won't let me have either for very long at all.

I realised yesterday that I didn't really try to repeat the rape with all those men I fucked... I was trying to finish the rape. Cause he didn't finish and for some messed up reason it kept haunting me so bad that I felt a need to finish it for him with other men, obsessively and self-destructively, until eventually I hit my breaking point. May seem like a small detail in the grand scheme of things, but I know it’s important. I've felt so much shame about everything that happened during that one evening.

It was so long ago now, but it won't let me rest.

It makes me doubt. Am I really a lesbian when I keep thinking about men this much? Even though I don't want any of those horrible thoughts in my head and they upset me, and even though the only thing I actually want sexually is healthy sex with other women and only women. I need a break from my own mind.

[monkberry]

who am i to fall in love, when your love never is for me?

it will be the first time i’ll be scribbling and posting without any alterations, any revisits to the text. so any one of you, my 4 and a half readers, should bear with me for the next 2 minutes or something. i dont intend to keep it long but hey, i dunno anything nowadays.

i have been staring into the distance a lot lately. i just phase out. i mean i do not phase out fully. its more like trying to focus the lens kilometres away. it drains the battery pretty quickly. and the machinery is out of my hands, i do not even handle the focus anymore. but in the process, i cannot focus on work, on my music. i cannot function more than 10 minutes focused on something which will do any good. 

i hate the way i feel. it is not a shocking newfound thing for me to hate the way i feel. for instance, i do not trust anyone. long ago i decided to trod this path without any shoulder. no borrowed hiking shoes, no map from anyone, no direction but the wind. but i hated it. i hated it yet i knew that it was the way to be. the best route is the route you know. i know myself enough not to need any outside assistance. so even though i hated this route plan, life did not leave me any other choice but to just headbutt the fuck out of obstacles with my devilish horns.

now i hate the fact that i feel a traction. the gravity of a person. i fucking hate it. i hate the fact that i cant spend a friction of a second without imagining her face; the fact that she takes the role of a mole, which i keep whacking to naught; the fact that i cannot jerk off to standard, disgusting porn, or just cannot blankly relieve myself, so to speak. i hate that she just barged in my brain. its not heart. thats just bullshit. she just impounded the control panel. just like that. barged in and said “now we occupy this tiny space together.” i fucking hate that. i hate her for that.

“the way i learnt to love things is to choke them to death.” maybe this time it will work. cos i really want to choke her to death in my mind. i wanna lobotomise her out of my mind. look at her and feel nothing. if i apply ice cubes on her, will it numb me enough? fucking hell, she’s a force to reckon, possibly she’d melt them in an instant.

lemme tell you about her a bit. she’s around 5′4′’ tall, handcrafted figure, beautiful face, an artist, an architect, only child, happily in a relationship with a guy whose career plan is to become the president. yeah last part is real by the way. these are the superficial, one glance information. what galls me goes beyond these. for instance, how comfortably she can see through me. fucking x-ray vision im talking about. she’s the only person who genuinely made me laugh in about fucking ages, so she’s pretty funny. her kindness stretches out of my vocab; so much so that i feel bad for her. she’s clever and quick on her feet, something i admire pretty much on anyone as a twat with the intelligence of a lettuce.

she is so familiar. i couldve sworn ive met her thousands of times before these two months in which we met for the first time. and the feeling is mutual. it felt like we just picked it up somewhere we left it and forgot. she fits me like frozen pitch fits the thermos flask, right alex? we even entertained the idea of being soulmates, two parts of the apple the god split in two, all that jazz, until we decided that thats just plain stupid. with the comfort of familiarity, she just kept knocking wall after wall, statue after statue, like the fucking godzilla herself. do i believe in something? too bad. that belief better go fucking hide perfectly, she’s coming for you pal. 

all in all, she’s special, and this is terrifying.

cos here i am, 5 am, in the dark, sneaking a cheeky beer, mumbling to a blank white pop up page in the middle of my screen, words which will not most possibly be read even by 4 and a half readers i’ve got. but i had to do it. it was either this or singing this at the top of my lungs at the top of a mountain but we are quarantined so...

and there she is. wherever she is. she belongs to someone else. fuck me he knows how valuable he is. guys are generally a bit retarded when it comes to recognising what they possess. but this CUNT knows. fucktard. first appointed president of my arse cheeks. i hate this too. jealousy. so petty.

i will probably never be hers. she will probably never hold my hand, look me in the eyes, give me a peck on the lips and say “im glad you’re here. im glad you endured what you had to endure”. so i should stop myself wanting to be there. come to my senses. get my shit together. prop up the statues back again. mend the walls.

i’d welcome a bullet right about now.

i guess i kept it long. i really dunno anything nowadays. such fuckery...

[brood-mother]

sinnotalone replied to your post “me: [asks myself literally any question] my shit brain: have you...”

This is the worst and it would be nice if we could just turn off our brains instead of having them intrude on fucking everything with cool concepts like "You're making pasta?? What if you poured the boiling water on yourself instead?!? Could be fun!1"

it would be a tremendous thing to be able to temporarily lobotomise ourselves so we can shut the braingoblins off for like 20 minutes. “what if you just left in the middle of the night and went to the woods and never came back” then i’d be cold and wet and probably out of breath, thanks for the useless input asshole

[ecotone99]

[SF] Patient 0436

The room smelled of bleach, sterile and arcid. I sat on a chair that was designed, first and foremost to be looked at. I wondered how I’d gotten here. My last job was a repetitive lot of 30 second phone phone calls and paperwork. That was it. Any sensible person would have held onto that little over paid position - but I was bored within a week. So there I sat, uncomfortable and slightly dazed. (The fluorescent lighting was really doing a number on me)

​

The room looked just as sterile as it smelled. White walls, white tiled floor and that awful lighting! It even felt like a hospital - it wasn’t.

​

After waiting patiently for fifteen minutes, I started rubbing my thumb on the top of my jeans. I hated these first days at a new job, the whole thing was such a long process of half truths and grovelling. At least it’d be over soon. Just as I began to drift off, I saw the doorway across from me actualise and my interviewer step through. She was one of the most strikingly beautiful people I’d ever seen.

​

“Thank you so much for coming, and thanks for your patience Mr. Talbot”

​

I had to put on a happy face despite myself.

​

“No worries” I chirped back.

​

“I’m sure you’re interested in seeing what this job’s all about, so lets get started! - If you’ll follow me we can begin immediately.”

​

I squirmed in my chair - I’d always found it hard to speak to women, the attractive ones most of all.

​

“Sure thing” I squeaked back and scurried silently through the door behind her.

​

The next room, somehow was even more sterile than the first. The same faint air of bleach in the room, the same tiles, the same damn lighting. And not a stick of furniture, save one white stool that rose out of the centre of the room as if it was a part of the floor. The walls were rounded so once the door closed it seemed like one continuous surface.

​

“Here,” she said - gesturing to the stool “Is where you’ll be doing the majority of your work with us.”

​

Opposite the stool was a long, thin window - the kind you see in interrogation rooms.

​

“As I’m sure you know already,” she continued “your main role here will be observation”

​

“Yes” I stammered “but what exactly will I be observing?”

​

“We have a series of new patients here, all S class psychopaths - we’re trialing a new drug to hopefully help them reintegrate into society.”

​

A wry grin crossed my face -

​

“Ha” I thought “reintegrate into society”

​

That explained the waiver and the non-disclosure agreement and layers of locked doors. Com-Sec was up to something. Either they were finding a way to chemically lobotomise these “psychopaths” or they were creating mind-wiped soldiers to fight on the Kashmir front. Whatever it was, the boys at news net would pay handsomely to know. Suddenly it all rushed back to me. The room, the girl, the job.

​

“So what am I supposed to be monitoring?”

​

“We’d like you to watch each subject and write what you see, simple as that. Because of the experimental nature of the procedure, its best if you are told as little as possible, so your observations aren’t biased.”

​

“Fair enough” I muttered

​

“We picked you because of your background in psych-analytics, no need to overthink this”

​

“OK, sounds simple” I replied, trying in vain to sound neutral and professional.

​

“Great, well if theres nothing else you want to know, lets get started!”

​

“I hate to ask… but whats the rate of pay for this position?” that was the big one. Glad I managed it.

​

“12 gigacredits per day with a 5 - pent bonus at the completion of your 3 year contract” she said flatly.

​

My eyes widened. With that kind of money I could move out of my shoebox in Stately and move somewhere nice. I could get mom out of the retirement village - with just enough left to feed my growing list of vices. I did my best to sound nonchalant

​

“Sounds fair”

​

“Well if you have no other questions - lets begin.”

​

She raised a desk from the floor like quicksilver and handed me a small black tablet and stylus. “Your first session will last for 5 hours - I’ll be in the next room, if you have any trouble just hit the button on your desk and I’ll come right in.”

​

Then, as if by magic she was out of the room as soon as she had spoke, with the door quickly deacutalizing behind her. At the same time, the window in front of me parted, slowly revealing an impish man squatting in the middle of the room across from mine. He wore a faded blue shirt and ripped blue jeans - his face was a scrappy hedge maze of dark, scraggly hair which seemed to hang from his face like moss. At first, he sat there, motionless - knees bowed apart like some great awful swan. He slowly raised his head, and if it wasn’t for the 6 inches of mirrored perspex, I could swear he was looking right at me. It seemed like his old, tired eyes were trying to find some way out of that 4x4 room. I began my notes. As I began to write, he began to mumble. An incoherent mess of syllables - I couldn’t tell what language it was, if any.

​

“Where do they find these people!” I thought to myself “Surely he’s got some sort of complex.” I had to feel sorry for him.

​

But I could scarcely say he was human. The more I wrote, the more he mumbled.

​

“We make a good team” I chuckled to myself.

​

Not that there was much to write about. After a few minutes he began pacing back and forth - muttering gibberish as he went.

​

“At least they’ll get there monies worth” I cackled to myself.

​

I’ve never written such a detailed account of something so ordinary - but it was their money and I wasn’t complaining. After half an hour of pacing and mumbling “Scabbers” - as I’d politely dubbed him, seemed finally to have tired himself out. He lay on the pristine white floor, splayed out like the cover model of some forlorn magazine waiting for their close up. I breathed a sigh of relief - finally, I could stop writing this meaningless drivel and have some time to myself. My mind drifted to thoughts of the credits and what I’d do with them. Take a shuttle and see the games maybe - this time of year both teams put their best foot forward to try and score the best sponsors, and you could be sure there’d be a heavy weapons expert and a ju jitsu master or two thrown in to really get the crowd going.

​

“Fuck! Where’d Scabbers get to?” I thought

​

My first day on the job and I’d already lost my patient! And he was in a locked room no less!

​

“Ah” I breathed a sigh of relief, he was just sitting directly below the window. Must’ve snuck off for some private time.

​

“Mustn’t scare me like that old chum!” I chortled

​

I noticed the pool of blood on the floor and instantly my confidence evaporated. How had he managed to hurt himself? There wasn’t anything sharp in the room - hell, the room itself didn’t even have corners. I thought about calling in my interviewer, but decided against it. It didn’t matter, he didn’t look too hurt. What was important was the notes.

​

I started writing again. As I started writing, he started mumbling. I noticed something - his hand was moving. He was writing something on the floor

​

- M - A

​

Jesus, in his own blood - she wasn’t kidding about these people. Well, whatever he was writing must’ve mattered a whole lot to him, he kept going.

​

M - A - L

​

He ran out of blood and then I got to see how he’d done it - he’d cut open his hand with his filthy nails.

​

Then after getting more “ink” he was straight back to work. I looked down at what he was writing.

​

M - A - L - C - O - M - T - A - L - B - O - T

​

My name.

​

It definitely put a damper on my first day at Com - Sec. I’d had about enough. I thought I’d be getting these credits easy and now I had some half baked experiment scribbling my name across the floor in blood. Time to hit the button and take my smoke break.

​

I felt the rigid surface of the button slide underneath my finger. Then, all at once - blackness. Where was the door? I stood up and groped the inky darkness around me.

​

Nothing.

​

No handle. No doorframe. No corners even.

​

I sat there for what seemed to be an eternity - it was probably closer to 30 minutes. I heard the muffled sounds of footsteps through the wall.

​

“Thank God.” I exclaimed

​

Little miss pantsuit is finally here to turn on the lights and get me out of here. Across from me, a long thin window slowly opened. Through the wall I can just barely make out the conversation -

​

“Your first session will last for 5 hours, I’ll be in the next room, if you need anything just hit the red button.”

submitted by /u/siliconslavestate [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2WNhS2y

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Rapetastic

by Wardog

Friday, 02 January 2009

Wardog rambles about Twilight.

Look, there's no way of saying this gently, but Twilight (the movie) is awful. It's just awful. It's so badly paced, it's actually boring a lot of the time. And when you stop and think about it for half a second you realise that it's stupid and, potentially, offensive as well. But that's Meyer's fault, not the film's. But, still, like the book to which it is almost co-dependently true, there's something about it that makes it ... addictive, in the most tepid, bloodless way possible. Like ready salted hula hoops.

But what the Twilight movie does exceptionally well is capture the atmosphere and preoccupations of the book. The lingeringly dreary tale of Bella Swan falling for Edward Cullen, the biggest vampiric pussy ever to grace the pages of romantic fiction, is re-created with all the intensity of the original, and told without a glimmer of humour or self-irony. Which, remarkably, works in its favour - since a sense of self-irony is something that develops after being a teenager has already fucked you up beyond redemption.

So in terms of fidelity to the original, it is, at least, well done. The Cullen clan are all spot on, especially Alice (although Jasper looks lobotomised a lot of the time). And the guy playing Jacob - who I always preferred to Edward although I understand Meyer psychos him up in later books - is, true to form, hotter than Edward, much as I love Robert Pattinson. The two leads have impossible tasks but somehow they manage to imbue their lingering looks and clunky dialogue with some sense of conviction - I thought they were both nuts but I believed in their nuttitude.

But let's face it here, there's no way this review can ever be fair (or even a review) because Twilight isn't aimed at me. Far more interesting than the film, to be honest, were the reactions of the audience. It was comprised mainly of teenage girls, who shrieked, sighed and swooned their way through it, and their long-suffering kid brothers who couldn't contain their utter contempt for everything that transpired, occasionally bursting into uncomprehending, hysterical laughter or expostulating "dude! This sucks!" in tones of utter despair. As I left I ducked into the lady's toilets and was thus subjected to a barrage of high-pitched enthusiasm about the gorgeous Edward Cullen and the romance of it all. Waiting outside, my companion in being grown up enough not to get it, overheard two boys as they left:

First boy: That was the worse film, ever!

Second boy: That's the last we ever see a chick flick.

Oh bless. But then Twilight wasn't for them either.

I reason I quite enjoyed Twilight when I read it was because I gave it too much credit and thought it was an allegory. I've always really like paranormal teenage stuff. It makes perfect sense to me. I mean when you're between the ages of 13 and, well, 27, attractive members of the opposite sex do seem like these impossible, unknowable, unattainable creatures so they might as well be vampires or werewolves or vampirates (okay, maybe not vampirates). And since a large part of growing up is getting to grips with a world both hostile and full of secrets people won't tell you, again, it makes perfect sense for those secrets to be "there are vampires in it". And since you're undergoing a horrific process of unstoppable uncontrollable change that you both want and don't want, why shouldn't it be represented by discovering that you're also the High Queen of Faerie, or a Vampire Slayer, or whatever? And, finally, of course there's the problem of sex - its dangers and attractions are beautifully encapsulated by the dangers and attractions of supernatural power, manifest either in others of yourself. That it articulated these ideas so clearly, so cleverly and so wittily is one of the (many) strengths of early season Buffy.

Unlike Buffy, Twilight is not knowing. But it is terribly terribly serious and that's why it works. Teen crushes and love affairs (to be honest, crushes and love affairs in general) are rarely humorous to those involved: unrequited love is the most painful of adolescent experiences and your first taste of romance the most intoxicating. And although when you look at Edward Cullen with the eyes of an adult you see an obsessive, domineering, disempowering, semi-misogynistic nutjob, when you look at him with the eyes of a teenager, he's utterly, profoundly desirable. His whole world is Bella - because he never sleeps, he can literally spend every hour of every day either with her, watching her or thinking about her. He has no life and no interests outside her - for the rest of us that alone cries out "restraining order", for a teenager (to make this less patronising, I'll say, for my teenage self) the idea of someone being completely bound up in you is breathtakingly romantic. As a teenager, you are still semi-dependent upon various authority figures (school, parents, etc. etc.) and very probably highly uncertain in yourself - thus the idea of another person needing you for anything cannot fail to be appealing. Again, I'm making a lot of generalisations about The Way Teenage Girls Feel here, but I associate my own teenage years with confusion, helplessness and a fair quantity of misery. Quite frankly, I wanted an Edward Cullen - because I thought that through the value given to me by another I could learn to value myself. Feeling incomplete, because, quite frankly, I was, I was searching for romance to "complete" me. That real loves exists only between two fully self-actualised, functional and capable human beings is something one learns only in later life.

What I'm trying to say here is this: it's theoretically okay to like Twilight. I even believe it performs a useful function: rarely are these private ideas and desires as well-realised as they are in Twilight. It's nice to have someone stand up and say "yeah, sometimes girls want this"; unfortunately, where it becomes problematic is that it never acknowledges its own status as fantasy and it never grows up. Now, I read a lot of a romance so I'm quite happy with fantasies progressing down whatever path they happen to progress - the alpha male may not appeal to me personally but I'm capable of recognising that it's perfectly acceptable to fantasise about having a domineering man with storm grey eyes who is secretly in love with you but doesn't know how to express it fling you down across the bed and have awesome sex with you until you get to like it. Women are very capable of recognising that when they want flinging it's on their own terms and that a man who behaves like an attractive asshole in a book may not be so attractive in real life. I like romance because it's such a grown up genre: it's a safe space where we get to shrug and let ourselves get swept away in what could be a rather politically incorrect fantasy and nobody accuses you of being too dumb to be able to tell the difference.

Because, as I have said, that Twilight isn't knowing, its status as a fantasy becomes problematised. Basically there's no acknowledgement that it is one; there are elements of the fantastic, gorgeous vampire falls for everygirl etc, of course, but the book never invites us to question their relationship. And, really, given its nature, we should. I could easily list the ways in which Edward and Bella's relationship is fucked to high heaven but since we're all intelligent readers I won't bother. I suppose the quintessential example, however, would be Edward's refusal to turn Bella into a vampire. This is never really open for discussion, one gets the feeling Edward has made his decision and that's that. You'd think that, as an equal participant in a relationship between two people, Bella's opinions should be at least relevant and that their final decision on the matter should be one they have reached jointly. That's what happens in functional relationships. But Edward is not to be persuaded: thus it is very much his decisions, not their decision. He thinks he's protecting her but his behaviour implies that he does not trust her to know what she wants and, in this, as on many other occasions, his protective streak is actually revealed to be rooted in fundamental disrespect for Bella's ability to live her life and make decisions.

Interestingly, despite the chorus of sighing from the teenage audience, I was impressed by Robert Pattinson's portrayal of Edward Cullen. I found him genuinely a bit creepy. He's so obviously ill-at-ease with who and what he is (unlike the rest of the Cullen clan who seem perfectly content to be vampires) and his self-loathing is both evident and off-putting. I think the other girls were titillated by the air of danger and emo but, actually, it's hard to love a man who hates himself. With a weirdly twisted smile, Edward characterises their relationship: "a stupid lamb and a sick, masochistic lion" - the point that Pattinson (bless him) seems to be trying to convey is that he genuinely means it. He thinks Bella is stupid for loving him and, quite frankly, she is (never trust a man who wants to eat you, girls); and he hates himself to such a degree that he cannot respect anyone who purports to love him. This is, of course, precisely what Pattinson has said in interviews - and I'd like to send him about two tonnes of love for actually managing to bring it out of the text since, you can see from reading about half of page of the book, it is something one reads into it, rather than something that is meant to be read.

Edward's love for Bella is truly masochistic at heart - since he must exert constant control to avoid eating her, he never allows himself to forget his own predatory nature, the very nature he despises. I think, through his protection of her, he is attempting to protect the part of himself he conceives as lost - his innocence, his mortality, whatever you want to call it. Regardless, it's messed up and in no way a grounding for a healthy relationship, even, or perhaps especially, with a 17 year old girl. Combine this tortured emotional masochism with an equally tortured attitude to sexuality and things really get nasty. Given Meyer's background, it's not surprising that Twilight, despite the gushyness of its romance, is essentially sexless but the intermingling of Edward's bloodlust and, err, lust-lust, however, serves to present sex as something dangerous and potentially fatal. Noticeably Bella spends most of Edward's kisses (and also her wedding night) unconscious. By this stage we have left the realm of fantasy far behind and moved full time into "just plain wrong".

Now I'm not going to get onto a soapbox and start sputtering that this not appropriate reading material for our children. The first book at least functions as a fantasy and as an honest expression of not-entirely-healthy teenage desires. And, although if you pay even the slightest bit of attention, you can see some very disturbing undercurrents, it was clear from the giggly enthusiasm in the cinema nobody gave a damn. We went there to see Robert Pattinson looking intense and beautiful with his insane bedhair, his silly sparkling skin and his dodgy crimsoned lips. That's what we were looking for, and that's what we got. And, for the moment, that's okay.

Some Rockin' Twilight Links

Oh God, no

Growing Up Cullen

Cleoland's Discussion of Twilight

, including her recaps of Midnight Sun

My second favourite Robert Pattinson interview

My top favourite Robert Pattinson interview

Themes:

Books

,

TV & Movies

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

~

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

go to latest

)

Gina Dhawa

at 00:28 on 2009-01-03Whilst I'm not sure I can actually bear to fork out as much money as my local cinemas is asking for in order to see

Twilight

, I am actually intrigued by the movie because of what Robert Pattinson has been saying about how he's approached Edward. If he's managed to bring any hint of that about at all, it's no bad thing.

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 19:44 on 2009-01-03Basically it's not a good film - so it's hard to recommend it. It's very true to the book so if you hate the book, you'll hate the film. On the other hand, Robert Pattinson is obviously the best thing about it. He's fabulous to look at (although the film does its utmost to make him look *stupid*) and his interpretation of the character really comes through the performance. Which is a pretty impressive feat, when you think about it.

permalink

-

go to top

Nathalie H

at 21:03 on 2009-01-03"It's nice to have someone stand up and say "yeah, sometimes girls want this"; unfortunately, where it becomes problematic is that it never acknowledges its own status as fantasy and it never grows up."

I think here you've really hit the nail on the head and said everything about my problem with Twilight.

I hated the book because it was astonishingly badly written; and I haven't seen the film, but I think I'll like it more because I am a step further away from the astonishingly bad writing, and only have to deal with astonishingly bad dialogue. ;) Oh and pacing and all that. But yes, props to Pattinson here.

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 00:14 on 2009-01-04The style of the book didn't bother me too much - I think I rated it as clunky/pedestrian rather than actually terrible but I was really looking at it with a proper critical eye.

The dialogue is - as you would expect - rather cringe-inducing. The ludicrousness of it seems more marked when spoken, than when read:

Edward: I've never wanted a human's blood so much.

Bella: I trust you.

Me: Wrong answer.

permalink

-

go to top

http://serenoli.livejournal.com/

at 12:59 on 2009-01-10The point where I wanted to give it up was when Isabella Whats-her-name got annoyed with people for not knowing her nickname was 'Bella' not 'Isabella'. The book is annoying enough in its portrayal of the obsessive/dependent relationship they have, but Isabella is just such a self-absorbed twit that I kept wanting awful things to happen to her, and getting angry with Edward for saving her in the nick of time.

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 00:51 on 2009-01-11Hello and thank you for the comment. Yes, I entirely agree - Bella is infuriating. I found Kristen Stewart moderately sympathetic, insofar as I thought the actress was doing a tolerable job with an awful part (and I thought the relationship between Bella and her Dad was one of bearable aspects of the film), but the character is beyond redemption. I think she's basically a placeholder ... a big walking sign with "insert yourself here" written on it; unfortunately the fact she has no personality to speak of just makes her actions/reactions both irritating and incomprehensible.

permalink

-

go to top

Jamie Johnston

at 02:22 on 2009-04-19Hurrah, I've finally got back to reading FerretBrain! And to prove it, I'm going to comment on this review of a film I haven't seen, just like I used to.

So no, I haven't seen the film and have not the slightest inclination to do so, especially having read this, but I have read the first three books, and I like them, and two remarks spring to mind as I ask myself why their uncritically positive depiction of an unhealthy teenage relationship doesn't bother me. The first is that I'm not sure that it's uncritically positive, and the second is that I'm not sure that it bothers me that it's uncritically positive. (Yes, these remarks are mutually contradictory, but never mind.)

Being unfashionably opposed to spoilers, I warn readers that as I unpack those two remarks I'll be mentioning elements of the plot of the first three books. (Likewise, if anyone replies, please warn me if you're going to mention any plot from 'Breaking Dawn' so I can close my eyes!)

So yes, having recently finished reading 'Eclipse' I don't feel that, at this stage of the series, I'm being asked to whole-heartedly approve of Edward and Bella's relationship. I think it's fair to say that by the end of 'Eclipse' we've seen, quite comprehensively dramatized, the tendency of the relationship to cause emotional and physical harm to people who don't deserve it, and that Bella and Edward have each engaged in some - perhaps tediously much - self-criticism on that point. They've even to some extent acknowledged that there is such a thing as a normal, emotionally balanced, non-obsessive relationship that can be had, one that would not be a pale imitation of 'true love' but a genuinely loving long-term relationship such as people should count themselves lucky to find, and that theirs is not it. Of course they cling to the belief that theirs is equally valid, or perhaps more so, but surely to ask anything else of these characters would be to ask the writer to be morally responsible at the expense of emotional truth. People in an unhealthy relationship do, at some level, believe that love redeems, trumps, justifies, cancels out the unhealthiness, otherwise they'd address the unhealthiness or get out of the relationship. So naturally Edward and Bella don't see their relationship as a Bad Idea, but what about the reader?

I won't deny that Meyer puts the reader in a sort of default position of assuming that the relationship is a Good Thing and the couple should stay together. But I'd have thought that was the inevitable and proper consequence of making Bella the point-of-view character. We identify with her and therefore we shrink from the emotional pain that would come from breaking them up, even if we feel it would be better in the long run. We also, through her eyes, feel strongly positive about Edward and therefore don't want to put him through the wringer either, and we have to admit that frankly he is probably the one character who genuinely would be worse off if they broke up. That's not because Bella is all that, but because he seems to have no better options and because he, unlike everyone else including her, doesn't obviously suffer any real ill effects from the relationship (apart from the fact that it perpetuates his unhealthy view of relationships in general, but that's not a problem since he's not remotely interested in having any other relationships ever).

Oh, and a quick digression here in response to the comment that "the intermingling of Edward's bloodlust and, err, lust-lust, however, serves to present sex as something dangerous and potentially fatal". Yes that's true, and yes it's a rather unhelpful way to encourage teenage girls to think about sex. But at the same time - and I admit that here I venture into dangerous territory for someone who's never been a teenage girl - is it encouraging teenage girls to feel that way, or is it merely providing a rather apposite metaphor for the way many American small-town teenage girls probably *do* feel about sex? Let's face it, there are umpteen things in modern western (and particularly unreconstructed American) culture that conspire to make sex seem to them both dangerous and desirable, fearful and forbidden and, yes, even potentially fatal but at the same time the proper and expected fulfillment of female life? Aren't they told that they mustn't but also that they inevitably must, and am I wrong to suppose that quite a few of Meyer's readers will find (or will already have found) themselves in clinches where, like Bella, they want to go further than they 'know' (as it were) it is 'safe' to? I agree that Meyer's metaphor to some extent reinforces that unhealthy fear of sex by having sex as a literally life-threatening process for her heroine. But at the same time it goes some way to redeeming itself by at least reversing the traditional 'girl resists, boy insists' caricature of sexual initiation (on which, of course, traditional 'male vampire bites screaming female virgin' stories depend) - she at least is not saying to her young female readers that they shouldn't feel sexual attraction to their boyfriends, and she does a fairly decent job of sharing the responsibility for avoiding the 'dangers' of sex between the boy and the girl (the message being that the girl is entitled to expect the boy to restrain himself, but she should also be aware that what she's doing can make that easier or harder for him, which is perhaps not the most role-busting message ever but is better than many). And, as things stand at the end of 'Eclipse', the message seems to be developing from 'sex is dangerous' to the more balanced 'sex can be dangerous but that needn't stop you doing it with the proper precautions' (though it remains to be seen quite what the precautions are in the case of Edward and Bella); and although it would be nice to live in a social and medical world that justified a rather more positive and cheerful message, I'd say that's a reasonably constructive message considering the world we (and, again, small-town American girls in particular) do live in.

So, returning from that digression, I'd say it's no surprise and no serious moral or literary failing that the most frequent and obvious signposts in these books point to 'Bella Edward 4 Eva' land. Still, as I've said (and as you've said too, Kyra), there are plenty of fairly visible signposts to 'This Relationship Is Going To Hurt Everyone Around It', and at least a few to 'Just Plain Wrong'. The question for the reader in the end is whether 'but they love each other' is an adequate answer. Isn't that the case with 'Romeo and Juliet' similarly? Don't get me wrong, I don't compare the two works for quality, and I don't suggest the central relationship of Shakespeare's play is quite as messed up as that of the 'Twilight' series. But they both depict intense teenage romances that are almost certainly, when looked at from a sober adult point of view, Bad Ideas, and that can only be seen as positive if one accepts the leading couple's belief that the intensity of their love is sufficient to overcome all objections and excuse all damage caused to themselves and others. And although in both cases there are plenty of clues leading to the sensible conclusion that it isn't, there's also sufficient force in the lovers' own view, and sufficient attention given to that point of view, that significant parts of the audience (whether teenage girls in cinemas or eighteenth century Romantics in theatres) can end up approving of the Bad Idea.

The big objection to what I've just said, I suppose, is that 'Romeo and Juliet' isn't *specifically marketed at teenage girls*. That's a fair point. But, well, I don't know, somehow that doesn't quite convince me. Partly that's perhaps just because I don't want to blame Meyer for the way her books are marketed; and even if she consciously wrote them for that audience, I'm still not entirely comfortable with the idea of not trusting young people to cope with it. I remember hearing Richard Eyre on the radio talking about his production of 'King Lear' and saying that when he was in his 30s he thought 'how could Lear treat his children like that?' and when he was in his 50s he thought 'how could Lear's children treat him like that?' Teenagers are going to read a story of teenage romance differently from us sensible jaded sort-of-grown-ups, but does that mean writers should over-compensate by steering them strongly to see things the way they 'should' see them, i.e. the way we see them? Or should we let them believe that 'Twilight' and 'Romeo and Juliet' are about all-conquering all-redeeming love and trust that the more-or-less subtle indications to the contrary will lodge somewhere in their unconscious minds and give them a richer view of the texts as their view of life becomes more complex over the years?

Of course this all partly depends how the series turns out in the end. If it ends, as it may well do, with everything hunky-dory for everyone, then my argument here will be a lot weaker than it seems to me now at the end of 'Eclipse'. But at the moment I think the most important thing for books like this is to be emotionally honest and truthful, and I think the series so far, and perhaps 'Eclipse' in particular, have enough of that for me to feel fairly comfortable about the more troubling side.

permalink

-

go to top

http://viorica8957.livejournal.com/

at 05:04 on 2009-04-19tl;dr

Seriously though,I think that Meyer's comparisons of her work to other famous "love stories" and her belief that hers leaves them all in the dust, and the fact that she's openly stated that she would leave her husband for either of her male leads proves that she isn't just writing from a teenage POV; she's living through one.

(By the way, is anyone else having trouble logging in? Half the time it refuses to accept my password, and the other hald, it logs me in automatically.)

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 11:10 on 2009-04-19@Viorica: I'd noticed you were commenting via OpenID lately. Could you drop me an email (

webmaster

at

ferretbrain.com

) with details? Let me know what browser you're using, etc?

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 11:38 on 2009-04-19Speaking as somebody who has *not only* not seen the film but *also* not read any of the books (but who *has* poked around fandom a fair bit) I'd echo Viorica's comments that Meyer's comments about the series undermine a lot of the saner, more sensible interpretations of it.

It's a classic Death of the Author problem - you can probably read Twilight as an interesting portrayal of a destructive relationship from the point of view of somebody currently caught up in it, but if you *know* - for a fact - that the author didn't intend it to be read that way it becomes a lot harder to see that interpretation.

You get a similar problem with good old HP. The early books are convincingly written from the point of view of a naive, slightly self-absorbed teenager. Later we discover that no, they were actually written by an omniscient narrator, and that Harry's warped perceptions of the world map 1-1 onto Wizarding reality.

permalink

-

go to top

Shim

at 13:54 on 2009-04-19

(By the way, is anyone else having trouble logging in? Half the time it refuses to accept my password, and the other hald, it logs me in automatically.)

Not the same trouble, I reckon. But I always have to log in exactly twice.

(also, if using Firefox you have to quickly "allow" whatever the bar asks about before it disappears - once you've done it once it seems happy enough to work in future)

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 15:43 on 2009-04-22Welcome back to Ferretbrain, Jamie :) Yay. I'd be interested to know what you think of Twilight after Breaking Dawn...

I think both Dan and Viorica have in to some extent my concerns with your points. But essentially, to me, the Twilight series only feels emotionally honest as you claim if you're willing to problematise it on your own behalf. And although there are plenty of sensible people of all ages who read Twilight and end up asking the interesting, complicated questions you ask about it (is twue wuv really enough to justify all this), there are plenty of people who simply don't. I can't really quality this clearly to myself I think it comes down to a few interacting issues:

1) Surrounding cultural framework and the problem of authorial intent - basically I don't think you can discount this sort of thing when you're reading a text (although, of course, you shouldn't be constrained by it). And Stephanie Meyer is basically nuts. She is very obviously not only unaware of but wilfully blind to potential dysfunctionalities in her text. Furthermore, many of the things you draw attention to, for example the fact Edward and Bella angst all the time about their relationship and the fact it seriously damages anyone who comes near it, I believe are meant to *validate* the twueness of their wuv.

2) Moral responsibility - maybe this is going to make me look like some kind of fascist and I'll probably regret it but I believe that if you're writing for children and young adults you have a moral responsibility to your audience. All readers are, of course, to an extent vulnerable. And by a moral responsibility I mean you don't necessarily need to say morally righteous things, or even give a damn about morality, but I think fostering uncritically (and I know you dipsute this) the unhealthiest notions of love and romance is genuinely hugely problematic. I know this sounds like hypocrisy because I'm also going on about and about the fundamental human right of fantasy but, again, I think this is becomes very dangerous territory when it is not accompanied by awareness. Essentially Meyer does not seem to be saying "we all have fantasies about this kind of thing" or "isn't it intriguing the way romantic may not be the same as healthy" but "hey girls, I wish I had this, so it must be okay."

3) Connected to the above - I often find reading teenage romances interesting, mainly because when I started I had to make a psychological adjustment. Initially I was found I was grumbling away in my adult "you think this insipid guy with floppy hair is the love of your life but he's just some 16 year old" way and then I realised I was missing the point completely. Ultimately what I'm trying to say is that it's possible to being true to the way love and life feels when you're a teenager, right down to the unhealthy aspects of teenage love, without also being nuts about it.

Anyway, I'm going on and on and on. I do see your points, but I think you're being way to generous to Meyer who doesn't deserve it =P

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 16:27 on 2009-04-22The first time I read Wikipedia's plot summary of

Breaking Dawn

I thought someone had vandalised the article. I was wrong. This series is its own parody.

permalink

-

go to top

Jamie Johnston

at 22:28 on 2009-04-24

tl;dr

Story of my life. :)

Okay, I take your collective word for it that Meyer is nuts and creepy and probably shouldn't be allowed to write for children. It's a shame. She plots well. In fact one of the things I most enjoyed about the books was nothing to do with the teenage romance but the rather thrilling moment in the first book (

spoiler alert

) when it occurred to me that (1) there was a big vampire cross-country hunt possibly followed by an even bigger vampire battle going on somewhere, (2) I wasn't being given a description of it as I would have been in any fantasy / horror book not specifically aimed at teenage girls, and (3) I didn't feel I was missing anything at all. But that's by the by.

Basically I say this stuff not because I'm an 'authorial-intent-is-irrelevant' hard-liner but because I almost never read interviews with authors and generally haven't the foggiest idea what the author thinks. Partly because it's disappointing to discover that an author adheres to a less nuanced and sophisticated interpretation of his or her own work than I do. :)

permalink

-

go to top

http://descrime.livejournal.com/

at 03:03 on 2009-04-25Okay, I went on YouTube and watched the first 6 parts of the movie.

I have to give her credit for one thing: Bella and Edward clearly deserve each other. They're both self-centered, anti-social, emo kids. In fact, I think Meyers/the screenwriter does a really great job of showing that Bella would never be happy except with Edward.

I mean, on her first day of school, six kids try to befriend her. We're shown that the adults in the town also go out of their way to acknowledge her. And yet, she spurns all offers from the other kids to come join them hanging out in the parking lot. She agrees to go with the other two girls to pick out prom dresses but then sits in the window and reads a book the whole time, clearly sending off signals that she's such a martyr for coming. She derides all the towns welcoming efforts to her mother. And she never freaking smiles. She's a permanent flatline. Might as well date the dead.

And oh god, the moment in the science lab when they meet for the first time. Their eyes meet and she steps in front of the fan so that her hair blows dramatically. It was hilarious. And you know Edward jerked like that because

he totally popped a boner

felt their mystical connection. The actor clearly went out of his way to show how awkward Edward is and how out-of-control of his own emotions and body. I appreciated that in a movie he could have just cruised through.

Since I don't care to track down the rest of the movie, do we ever learn why Bella has such special smelling blood or why Edward can't read her mind?

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 03:31 on 2009-04-25

Since I don't care to track down the rest of the movie, do we ever learn why Bella has such special smelling blood or why Edward can't read her mind?

I believe the answers are a) she eats a lot of asparagus and b) she has no mind lol.

permalink

-

go to top

http://poeticalengine.blogspot.com/

at 17:29 on 2009-04-25I admit that I've never read the books or seen the movie (I pretty much swore not to the minute I saw someone selling "Edward Body Glitter" on eBay). However my flatmate has been reading them and doing a fairly amusing read through on LJ. Between reading this article and watching her chuck the book at walls, I think it's safe to say I won't be reading it despite my curiousity. Or seeing the movie which is a shame, really, because Robert Pattinson really is very nice to look at.

Still, I'm a bit worried at how lack-of-self-awareness is becoming a prerequisite for writing a mega-successful book series these days. It's possibly just my cynicism showing through but between Meyer's "This is True Love! Really!" and JKR's plea for tolerance, my belief that canny self-reference can be found on the bookshelves of my local ASDA for less than a fiver may have been irrevocably shaken.

-Heather-Anne

(My flatmate's read through, if anyone's interested, is here: http://augustm.livejournal.com/ )

[manicmustard-blog-blog]

Mystery Article.  Okay.  It’s not.  It’s about ferret-farming.

Once again it's time for the dreaded monthly article.  The red mist has gathered, a storm is brewing and I'm about to rant about something yet again for the simple fact that I can.  Still here?  Excellent.  But what?  What on earth has mildly irritated me today in such unfathomable ways that it can burst apart the very seams of my normally zen-like wellbeing and provide me with enough internal rage to lay siege to your poor eyes with angry words designed to blast and sunder at your very soul?

Well.  It's actually something I remember ranting about years ago.  So straight off the bat, originality is fucked and flushed down the toilet.  Hey, it's 2017, there are no original ideas left and unless you're contemplating whether or not your hairy and slightly pokey vagina means you have 5 genders or 6, you should really be used to this type of thing right now.  Fine.  You want originality? Try mixing sawdust in with your goulash for an ethnic twist.  Perhaps rag a mountain goat while you're at it and you can drain it's juicy innards into a bowl and mush it up with some dead fermented wasps so that you can tell all your friends how fucking cultured and enlightened you are.

Phew.  Not you of course dear reader.  Just people.  You know.  The other types of people.  Not you honest.  You're special and unique.  Just like Uncle Jeremy told you at Christmas as he gently stroked your knee with a little bit too much enthusiasm.  That's right.  I know.  Everyone knows.

So.  What was my article about?  Oh yes.  Online dating.  Ahem.

Haha.  Well, as many/some/none of you know depending on what day of the week it is, I came out of a long-term relationship a while ago and to be honest have no real interest in getting into a new one right now.  Why? You might ask with quivering lips.  Well, to be honest I'm incredibly fucking lazy and the idea of getting to know another person and having to actually give a shit about them and all their fucking problems and whether or not they approve of my life choices and fucked-up personality is a little bit more effort than I can stand right now.  Plus I've started watching How I Met Your Mother recently and quite frankly I don't want to have to watch it from the beginning cos some girl/bloke/vegetable/marsupial that I'm dating decides that we should start from season 1.  I mean.  I'm willing to make an effort for a potential soulmate that I might spend the rest of my life with, but as with everything in life, there are limits.

But yes, despite my general satisfaction with remaining single for a variety of reasons I won't go into here, (next article already planned, boom) I decided many months ago to create a dating profile (because I'm original as the rest of you salty bastards) and have a look to see what's going to test the waters for when I can be bothered.  So.  What did I find.  Well, hmm.

Now.  I can hear you all thinking at the same time so bear with me a second. You're thinking, "Get over yourself!"  or "Stop being so fucking fussy!"  or "Why am I reading this shit?" (mind-control..) and to be honest you're right in some regards but it's not honestly because of the basic reasons you'd expect...it's because most of the profiles I've read are quite frankly as BORING as my left nut sack and so full of shite that it honestly just makes me want to strangle the next biped I come across.  But why?  Huh?  HUH!?

Well, to start off with.  I get that despite our fantastic age of equality and all that bollocks, men are still expected to make most of the effort by SOME women, especially early on.  But for fucks sake at least bother to fill in the "about me" section of your profile.  Don't just put a bunch of dots or even worse write "lol, I dunno wot to put ere" and expect to get anything other than a fucking troglodyte respond.  Show a bit of your fucking personality.  Unless of course you're trying purposefully to advertise that you're an empty-headed shallow fuckwit with absolutely no opinion on anything besides what you've read others repeat on Facebook.  In which case, well done.

Equally.  For those that actually can muster the powers of their vocabulary and spew forth more than a few words on how shit they are at actually articulating anything past a fucking duckface...I can only suggest that you try to be at least slightly realistic.  For example, don't say three fucking words about yourself and how you love Hollyoaks followed by an explanation of how you won't respond to any men who don't make an effort to come up with proper conversation and have something interesting to say.  Be realistic.  I wouldn't walk up to you and say "mE liKE shIny ROCKS!" while scratching at a nice pile of nearby granite then get all pissed because you don't start quoting Shakespeare in response.

Likewise!  Don't set your profile to "looking for fun and nothing serious" and then spend several paragraphs writing about how you're looking for a soulmate and are fed up with getting messages from bastard men who just want sex.  I get that most dating sites don't have an "I'm bipolar" option nor provide a big flag to point out that you can't work out the basics of setting up your fucking profile.  But either way you're not doing yourself any favours.

Oh and talking about pictures.  Try and have some variety for god's sake. Different situations.  Different environments, something to perhaps portray what type of person you are.  If I see a profile with pics of holidays, backpacking, nights out and a few decent selfies or pics with friends etc, then I can't help but take more of an interest - it just looks a bit more interesting even if it is probably false advertising.  Well done you!  However, if all 8 shots are of the same fucking aforementioned duckface taken from a slightly elevated angle with different filters then just...just no.  Much like the whole "lack of words thing" I mentioned earlier, it kinda makes me wonder what the fuck went wrong in your childhood that turned you into yet another pod person.

Oh and as a final note.  When you're describing who you're looking for - I get that being honest is a good thing, but I've nearly spat my coffee all over the screen with utter amusement and tumultuous glee when I see the occasional profile with a very average girl in it explaining how anybody who is not fit as fuck and over 6ft tall shouldn't even bother messaging them.  Perhaps it would be equally acceptable if I demanded a fucking supermodel with no gag reflex and huge tits that dispense chocolate milkshake when I twist her nipples.  I mean really?  What utter bollocks.  Besides, if I was superfit, ripped and over 6ft, I wouldn't be on a dating website, I'd be selling that shit to rich housewives and buying all the chocolate milkshake that my superhard man-pecs could buy.

So...  Random glimpse into my fantasy of being a male cocoa-whore asides...what else?  Well, nothing really.  All I can say is that when I am finally ready to start dating, I either need to start socialising like a normal person or failing that, lobotomise myself with a blunt and reasonably heavy object.  I'm not entirely sure which one sounds more appealing.

[mi4012georgehunter-blog]

Storyboard Script.

Below is the re-write of my humument story that resembles are more traditional story.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My life began and my part time biggest common bond with Mum and Dad left us together, dumped strangers like extras in a blockbuster. Dr Suess's latest zombie film 'Dudeski'. So achingly passive to each other, feigning attempts to buy each other's appreciation with cheap gifts and squeak toys. I was a failure to them nine months before my birth. They left me few options in life, cutting my losses with them shortly after my 16th birthday. I moved to a half-way house allowing the feeling of disconnection to fall off, but most of us druggie teenagers found that we'd screech like randy tomcats, causing chaos invading the lives of others to escape our own. Sooner or later we'd join the adult world, lobotomised freaks waiting for their next pay check from KFC or Sports Direct. Lacking every bit of correct dental work, despite having the money to purchase a fresh set of dentures. I was one of the 'lucky ones' who found office work with a decent salary, although I was more likely to reconnect with my family than I was to receive a promotion. Unlike most I frequented the dentist. Opening the opportunities closed by my parents was top of my agenda, I had to look presentable. But fuck did it hurt, the old bastard would yank my skull toothless, towards the end of an appointment he'd show me the meat he'd torn from my jaw as collateral damage. Yet we'd shake hands at the end of the appointment, all the while knowing I'd spare no grief if I were to see his corpse,  after all he had cut me in two. I am disgusted at those thoughts, but I still thought them nonetheless. Maybe I am a bad person? Though my faith that life would miraculously force me down a road of love and plenty can never be lost. The soreness is consistent and so devotion to hope dwindles, most nights I'd lay awake, alone, thinking, questioning. "When exactly is it we end?". I'd arise the following morning only to open a new line of questioning in a bid to answer my query, "maybe I'm just lost?".

All of that was years ago, now I'm almost 30. Still stuck in the same well paid dead end job, still grasping to the remnants of my faith, all the while still questioning my life and my reason to be here. Mark Twain once said, 'The two most important days of your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why'. It was apparent not everyone had a 'why?' or at least mine was yet to reveal itself.  I have but one cure for these thoughts that have so far been dependable throughout my life I work with her every day, on good business. Board meetings filled with suppressed giggles. We goof off whenever we can. Relive how it all felt, to screech like randy tomcats and dream of paradises away from our desks. I love her. Though she can only fall for men on a higher plane. Perhaps she was my 'why'. I wish she were.   If I had lost my faith, I'd pray to replace my capacity for love with inspirational liberation. Freedom from significance. All of us so small and pointless in the universe, requiring God, fate, purpose. Is it not more noble to realise your triviality among the stars. This is my choice, my release, to tie myself in the forest. I think I am a broken person.  I question endlessly life; I put up with halfway relationships, loneliness. Lost the ability to recapture the purer feelings. My life is bad, not what I expected. Maybe you have been lucky, lucky enough to escape significance, to keep your faith and never have inner voices question you.