variations on the word love...

Variations on the Word Love

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.


Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside.
You can hold on or let go.
. Margaret Atwood

I love this poem. I found it earlier when I was feeling a bit despondent and it made me feel... not happy exactly, but different. And sometimes change is good.

I'm considering going to stay with my auntie who literally lives at the end of the world (Gower). I have decided this because there is no wireless, no noise, and very few people. A bit of walking in a truly pretty place might do me a bit of good. Plus, unlike my house, they have fruit and vegetables so I might avoid the almost inevitable onset of scurvy.

Last night, I went to see Scott Pilgrim Vs the World, which made me want to dye my hair blue. I also get this feeling every time I watch 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' or 'Ghost World'. Unfortunately, I neither look like Kate Winslet or the much less famous ones in the other two films, so I think I'll refrain from being too hasty. Not that becoming 'the weird girl with the blue hair' wouldn't be fun...

would you rather get married or lick a tramp?

I often start a blog post with no intent and no idea where it will take me. This is one of those occasions. My mum's come back, so the house has a miserable air. I'm glad I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. She does have her uses though, having just removed a monster earwig from the kitchen for me. I've always hated the vile little things ever since I found one hanging out of my finger a few years back. Grim.

According to the Guardian, Warwick is now second only to Oxford and Cambridge in excellence. This means I will be even more gutted when I fail to make the cut in just over a month.

Also according to the Guardian, one in five of those in a relationship claim to be in love with a third party. The article then goes on to dismiss these feelings as misdirected lust and rather self-righteously explain where these poor, misguided romantics went wrong in their relationships, even stating that they have never known love at all. Of course, just because I think the journalist in question sounds like a bit of a ponse, doesn't mean I disagree with her.

Now, I may be about as cynical as they come. When people ask me why I don't have a boyfriend, I scoff and say something derisive about men, cite my insane independence and say something wry about my general contempt for society. I make no secret of the fact that I don't believe in marriage. I have completely perfected my ''can't argue with the statistics'' argument, and though I try to be supportive to those of my friends who have chosen to get engaged at the ripe old age of eighteen, I can't help but be pessimistic. It's just my nature, I've never been mushy. And when yet another person blames my attitudes to all this crap on the "hard time" I've supposedly had in life, inside I am screaming that I would have been like this anyway! That's what I let myself think.

I think at the end of the day, it's all about what makes us happy. I am perfectly content with the idea of being married to literature and music and goats' cheese. I'm not saying this won't change, but for now I'm dangerously close to the terrifying precipice that is happiness, and I find it disconcerting. After all, youth is supposed to centre itself around self-obsessed angst, isn't it? Meanwhile, the label of a slightly damaged , hostile girl has been working just fine for me, and I will think very carefully before ditching it.

Love will tear us apart.

Lazy saturday...

I should probably do something productive today. This does not class as productive, though it is probably better than sitting around watching 'Bananarama's Girlband Anthems' all day. Oh, wait. I'm doing that too...

I had a fun day yesterday hanging out chez Vaid and seeing his gorgeous 10 month old Indian/Columbian nephews. Now I am not really the baby type, but the twins are just adorable. They are called Kiran and Ishan and I'm pretty sure it would be impossible not to like them. The picture is of a stroppy Kiran (and was not taken yesterday. Sorry...).

Call me a cynic, but romance really is dead. In a bid to chat me up earlier today, someone I barely know thought it would be a good idea to commence proceedings with a simple sentence - "u am cute". My sarcastic, somewhat harsh reply seemed to land without much comprehension and the culprit continued to misjudge the situation; his remarks becoming more and more sleazy. With yet another snide remark, I blocked him fairly quickly. I will let it slide, and I will not go off on a massive rant, but do boys really think they will get what they want over Facebook chat? If so, this force of stupidity is not to be reckoned with. It is bigger than you and I. We are doomed.

I had said that I would decide which university to go to by Wednesday. This is a big fat lie. I am no closer to making a decision. It may happen eventually...