If you've heard the saying that one can either be a Wuthering Heights person or a Jane Eyre person, disregard it and read both for yourself.
Also, if you've seen people paint Charlotte Bronte as the villain sister, know that her only fault is outliving her family and ignore those comments too.
Also, if you've seen people paint Charlotte Bronte as the villain sister, know that her only fault is outliving her family and ignore those comments too.
“Let me be torn away, then” I cried. “Let another help me!”
“No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall yourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand: your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.”
-Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
“No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall yourself pluck out your right eye; yourself cut off your right hand: your heart shall be the victim, and you the priest to transfix it.”
-Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
❤1
"Who told thee that thou wast naked?"
-Genesis 3:11
"Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?"
“Yes,” I want to say. I have eaten of consciousness. The lowest form of it at that. Self-consciousness.
Who told me that I was naked?
Who hasn't?
And why should they not?
I AM naked after all. Fig leaves are pathetic substitutes to grace. Awkward, cover-up contortions stand in place of my innocent vulgarity.
I have a face now, so I blush, as recognition precedes expectation.
Exposure maims, exposure kills
Wounds admit invasion.
Still, beasts huddled together survive the cold.
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, each step could be my last. But death is the noblest of all indecencies, isn't it? It's the truest.
Yet, truth takes me only so far.
All because I am naked.
No, not quite.
All because I KNOW that I am naked.
That's what I like about Michaelangelo's David.
He doesn't know.
-Genesis 3:11
"Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?"
“Yes,” I want to say. I have eaten of consciousness. The lowest form of it at that. Self-consciousness.
Who told me that I was naked?
Who hasn't?
And why should they not?
I AM naked after all. Fig leaves are pathetic substitutes to grace. Awkward, cover-up contortions stand in place of my innocent vulgarity.
I have a face now, so I blush, as recognition precedes expectation.
Exposure maims, exposure kills
Wounds admit invasion.
Still, beasts huddled together survive the cold.
As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, each step could be my last. But death is the noblest of all indecencies, isn't it? It's the truest.
Yet, truth takes me only so far.
All because I am naked.
No, not quite.
All because I KNOW that I am naked.
That's what I like about Michaelangelo's David.
He doesn't know.
❤7
Let no religious rite be done or read
In any place for me when I am dead,
But burn my body into ash, and scatter
The ash in secret into running water,
Or on the windy down, and let none see;
And then thank God that there's an end of me.
-John Masefield
In any place for me when I am dead,
But burn my body into ash, and scatter
The ash in secret into running water,
Or on the windy down, and let none see;
And then thank God that there's an end of me.
-John Masefield
😭3
Muse
I think the universe is compensating for my height by giving me long hair. I should have known
Some of us haven't been compensated. Clearly, the universe has favorites.
💯1😭1
My name was pointed out to me twice this week.
It reminds me of a college essay that a brilliant girl sent me years ago, which, according to her, played an important part in her acceptance.
In the essay, she recounted her life and used the meaning of her name to tie it all together. It had me thinking what my own name had to do with my life.
I thought my name held a bit of family lore and paradox to it but ultimately names have nothing to do with a person unless it's something we were bullied for. However, let's indulge in symbolically linking it to me for art's sake.
I'm writing something about it.
It reminds me of a college essay that a brilliant girl sent me years ago, which, according to her, played an important part in her acceptance.
In the essay, she recounted her life and used the meaning of her name to tie it all together. It had me thinking what my own name had to do with my life.
I thought my name held a bit of family lore and paradox to it but ultimately names have nothing to do with a person unless it's something we were bullied for. However, let's indulge in symbolically linking it to me for art's sake.
I'm writing something about it.
❤4
Call me Thomasene.
My name means Faith. Well, the irony isn't lost on me. I know I don't live up to it.
I don't even think seeing is believing. I leave room for perception and the possibility of illusion.
I speak in "Maybe's" and "Mostly's". I'd rather say, "I think" than "I feel". And "I feel" than "I know".
I gravitate towards symbolic thinking because it has flexibility and there's little margin of error. This can be manipulative and cowardly sometimes.
The one thing I can stick to is the fact that I'm at least two at a time.
Whenever I find myself desperately searching for a footing, I wish to stand unmoved, having used the full force of my insteps. But perhaps some of us need to play the role of the devil's advocate and challenge the prosecutor in defense of a cause we may not believe, just to ensure the punishment is befitting the crime.
However, we should remember that our mild personas make extremists want to mold us in their image and we, in turn, admire their unflinching stance as we don't have it. Our unsure non-judgement attracts diamonds as well as rust. We should take care not to be the vector of their disease.
We should be sounding boards, not blank slates.
Back to self...rare as they are, I have convictions. But fewer loyalties. I have beliefs but not a belief system. Everything is liable for change.
I am ambivalent but not neutral. I like to think that duality is not duplicity. Or nonpartiality an equivocation.
I own that my ambivalence comes with a heap of self-doubt, guilt, indecisiveness and a potential for dangerous nonalignment. But it's not apathy or double-dealing.
I have beliefs dear to me too, yet I don't always think I'm right about them. I don't always agree with the established metrics of discernment.
My chi is The Titan of Braavos, with his broken sword and unyielding shield, a foot on each of two separate lands and waves of the narrow sea crashing onto them.
My name means Faith. Well, the irony isn't lost on me. I know I don't live up to it.
I don't even think seeing is believing. I leave room for perception and the possibility of illusion.
I speak in "Maybe's" and "Mostly's". I'd rather say, "I think" than "I feel". And "I feel" than "I know".
I gravitate towards symbolic thinking because it has flexibility and there's little margin of error. This can be manipulative and cowardly sometimes.
The one thing I can stick to is the fact that I'm at least two at a time.
Whenever I find myself desperately searching for a footing, I wish to stand unmoved, having used the full force of my insteps. But perhaps some of us need to play the role of the devil's advocate and challenge the prosecutor in defense of a cause we may not believe, just to ensure the punishment is befitting the crime.
However, we should remember that our mild personas make extremists want to mold us in their image and we, in turn, admire their unflinching stance as we don't have it. Our unsure non-judgement attracts diamonds as well as rust. We should take care not to be the vector of their disease.
We should be sounding boards, not blank slates.
Back to self...rare as they are, I have convictions. But fewer loyalties. I have beliefs but not a belief system. Everything is liable for change.
I am ambivalent but not neutral. I like to think that duality is not duplicity. Or nonpartiality an equivocation.
I own that my ambivalence comes with a heap of self-doubt, guilt, indecisiveness and a potential for dangerous nonalignment. But it's not apathy or double-dealing.
I have beliefs dear to me too, yet I don't always think I'm right about them. I don't always agree with the established metrics of discernment.
My chi is The Titan of Braavos, with his broken sword and unyielding shield, a foot on each of two separate lands and waves of the narrow sea crashing onto them.
❤2🔥2
Life is actually loooooong! Too long! I've been alive forever, sheesh! Think about it. You were alive for as long as you can remember.
I think it's good times that are short, few and far in-between. It's those we want to extend. Even those are overrated.
I should go to sleep.💜
I think it's good times that are short, few and far in-between. It's those we want to extend. Even those are overrated.
I should go to sleep.💜
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