What's in a name?

The ink has hardly dried on the reports of the disgrace of The New of the World.  Rupert Murdoch and his despicable reporters caused untold misery and humiliation to some very vulnerable people.  They used methods worthy of the F.B.I. to source information for their sensationalist stories.  And for what?  To further their deceit driven careers and sell Murdoch's precious Sunday newspaper!  Somehow, Murdoch got away with it.  It seems that repeating over and over again that 'none of it had anything to with me' gets you off scot-free!  If a company folds, the director is held responsible.  If a football team lose too many matches, the manager is held responsible.  So why this farcical parliamentary enquiry, when by convention, the top-dog is held responsible for epic failure?!

So here we are, the Saturday before the first Sunday Sun is published.  'Because in Britain, The Sun comes out every day'.  A newspaper, check.  A Sunday edition, check.  Owned by Murdoch, check.  So where exactly is the difference here?  The News of the World / The Sun on Sunday.  What's in a name?  I don't see the point of a newspaper falling into disgrace and being shut down if a matter of months later, what is essentially the same newspaper, with the same values, probably the majority of the same reporters, and certainly the same boss is allowed back into print.

I suppose there will be some new code of ethics which will promise to drop the sleaze that has kept The News of the World selling for so long.  I hope someone is keeping a close watch, because tabloid reporters love nothing more than to push boundaries.  Still, if they can't resort to their old methods to get the top gossip, there is a possibility the Sun on Sunday will be rather duller than its predecessor.  But fear not, Murdoch still has a few tricks up his sleeve!  Visit the Sun website and you will be hit in the face by a ridiculously long-lashed, rusty-faced Katie Price who is clearly held in such high regard she has been given her own column in the Sunday edition!  Other people study and work tirelessly for years to break into the media!  I suppose Katie has worked tirelessly too to remain in the spotlight.  Always working, even whilst on holiday as you can see!



But apparently she is 'writing to show people she's not just boobs, lashes and fake tan'.  Personally, I think refraining from episodes such as this one is more likely to do that.


Still it would be interesting to see what Katie finds to write about.  I suspect it will be along the lines of boobs, lashes and fake tan.  Possibly not hers but undoubtedly other people's.  Unfortunately, I will never know, as I don't intend to go out and buy it.  Because I like news.

What am I not getting?

Fashion.  I don't pretend to be an expert.  I like old stuff, whether it's 'in' or not.  But I do take an interest, and love looking at what everyone's wearing.  So today when StylistPick threw up a little fashion week blog on facebook I thought I'd have a shufty.  They'd hand-picked and photographed some rather 'trendy' (is that word even trendy?) looking girls they'd found wondering the streets of London.  Some quirky, some fabulously accessorized.

 Now I'm sorry to this lovely looking woman for picking on her, I really am, she looks lovely, but I don't understand why she was picked out for a super fashion snapshot?  Jacket, black jeans, jumper, scarf, hat, boots.  I haven't seen any of these particular items in the 'Spring' stuff that's coming out and if this is super funky, I'm doing it every day.  I suppose I should be glad?

Actually, it makes me feel that I'll never really get it.  I don't think there is a formula.  If you look totally quirky and have found some bizarre looking garments to adorn yourself with, you're fashionable.  If you throw on some ripped jeans, some enormous biker boots and your boyfriend's t-shirt, you're fashionable.  If you dress like you're from any by-gone era, you're fashionable.  And clearly if you throw on some jeans and a jumper and wrap up warm, you are fashionable.  I think if you went out in your pyjamas you'd probably win some sort of award!

So I think I'm just going to stick with what I like, and hope someone thinks that's fashionable.  OK, OK!  I'll leave the Boyzone t-shirt in the draw!!!

Run Fat Bitch Run

No, I'm not insulting you.  This is the name of a book.  On reading recommendations of this book in both Zest and Women's Health, I decided I would give it a go and purchased it for my Kindle.  As I'm sure you've guessed, this book is about running! This is where I stand...

The author, Ruth Field has an interesting approach to running, which I like.  The book, she says, is designed for those of us who 'never commit to anything by way of exercise or diet for long enough to see any results'.  She suggests that you will probably never enjoy running and it will always be hard work.  BUT, you will eventually 'embrace' the hard work because of the results you see it bringing.  Fair enough.

So if this book is for the commitment-phobe, how do we motivate ourselves to get running and stay running?  This is where it goes downhill if you are like 99.9% of women.  In order to motivate yourself, you must tell yourself what a fat, lazy bitch you are.  Yes!  Now, I don't about you, but I do this pretty much every day.  It does NOT motivate me to exercise, it motivates me to give up and reach for another cream cake, 'coz I'm fat anyway'.  It's called being a woman.

When you begin Field's six-step programme you have to plan a route, which should be between 3 and 4 miles.  Initially she wants you walk it.  Just walk, no running.  Great!  No.  This will take you around an hour and you are expected to do this every day until you start to feel you can do a bit of running.  That put me put off the whole programme instantly.  Trying to find an entire hour to commit to exercise every day, certainly for me, is simply impossible.  Even if I could find one, I couldn't justify spending so much time walking around.  She disagrees.  Apparently, if President Obama can fit in a run a day anyone can.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think Obama has a little help with the everyday things that take up much of everyone else's free time.

Finally, she specifies that your route should be on your doorstep.  You should find one which is pleasurable, scenic, where you can get onto grass or better, sand, and breathe in fresh air.  That might be OK if you live in the South of France or near Bondi  Beach.  If you live in the city, beyond your doorstep is likely to be concrete pavements and polluted main roads.  The only grass you'll see is in the local park, where 14 year-olds are drinking White Lightning, hanging off the climbing frame and taking the time out of their hectic homework schedules to mock your wobbly bottom.

So to sum up 'Run Fat Bitch Run', if you have a lot of time on your hands, live in a beautiful sleepy Cornish village and enjoy hurling abuse at yourself, buy it.  If you are a normal, hard-working, suburb-dwelling human being with emotions, do not.

The Red-Carpet Generation

On my lunch-break today I was idly flicking through a Marie Claire magazine when something occurred to me.  It appears, as this is predominantly a fashion magazine, that it is highly unfashionable to smile.  No, really!  Page after page of pouts, of smoldering eyes, of faces so serious you would think their dogs had just died!  Celebrities, models, even photos of the columnists display faces that declare 'fashion-is-very-a-serious-matter-don't-you-know'.

Not only that, but I noticed some of the bizarre poses celebrities pull on the red-carpet.  Case in point shown above courtesy of Eva and Megan.  What I have now dubbed 'The Owl'!  In which other life scenario would you contort your neck in this direction?  Clearly, this display is intended to show the celebs best assets.  After all, they've worked hard to get into those Spanx, and the face has taken all day! And who could forget the famous red-carpet pout?  For a film premiere is not a happy occasion where celebs celebrate their work, it is an opportunity to look sexy so they can get more work!  I don't know where Keira gets her lemon drops from, but they work wonders for those cheek bones!

Now, go onto facebook.  Anything seem familiar?  Yes, this bizarre trend has filtered down to almost the entire facebook generation!  You will barely see a photo pass by without a pose or a pout.  I'm no different.  I've done it...badly.  I must admit I haven't yet had time to perfect the art.  I have no idea which is my best side, and my clumsy legs and arms just don't know where to go to get that classic red-carpet silhouette, but some people are doing a fabulous job!

After considering this phenomenon, I would like take a moment to thank my boyfriend for furnishing facebook with some of the worst, yet most authentic photos of me!  I am not a celebrity, and I don't need to impress anyone with sexy poses and pouts.  So I think what facebook, and what we all need are photos that look a little more like this....

Happy clicking!

...Blonde

             



The pages don't intimidate.
   There is freedom in the Ulysses that
Fix her gaze.
   They do not see their Misfit
In this freeze-frame.
   The pages aren't a game, it is over
For now
   Until the still
Brings immortality
   And she plays from the grave,
Again.
   But the pages don't intimidate

My Week with Marilyn - internal debate pushed to the limit!!!

I know, I know!  This is only my third blog and the subject matter is Marilyn Monroe.  I can't help myself and I can't promise there won't be many more.  More specifically, I want to talk about 'My Week with Marilyn'; the book and the film.

I watched this, when it came out at the cinema, with trepidation.  I am a fan.  It could have gone only one of two ways, there was no middle ground!  Love or hate.  Fortunately, I was thrilled by the depiction of the woman I feel I have grown to know through her work, the words of her contemporaries and of her own.  A beautiful, creative, philosophical, ambitious, insecure, desolate woman who wanted desperately to be better, better at everything she did, better at being a person.

After watching the film I was content to enjoy it for what it was, a wonderful, well-rounded portrait of Marilyn. However, the book drew me in and the internal debate began!  The book is essentially the diary of Third Assistant Director on the film 'The Prince and the Showgirl', Colin Clark.  It is split into two parts, the one he wrote whilst filming took place at Pinewood Studios, and the one he wrote many years later.  The one he wrote later is the 'missing nine days' of his original diary, or, his week with Marilyn.  From reading reviews, I seem to be the only one who is finding this fact questionable.  After all, these diaries are historical documents, which my degree studies are encouraging me to tear apart!  I'm not saying I disbelieve Clark's story, I am merely questioning whether the imagination can run away with a person when reminiscing on an exciting chapter in one's life.  I think it probably can.  In addition, I believe a little hindsight can creep in when writing about past events many years later.  To what degree have Clark's words been shaped by the things he learned about Marilyn after the event?  He does seem, at least to me, to be almost omnipresent throughout the week in question.

As a fan, I like to think that every word of Clark's self-confessed 'fairy-tale' is true, and the books and hence the film give us a true reflection of Marilyn Monroe.  And I do mean Marilyn Monroe and not 'Norma Jeane', as so many writers choose to divide the two as if separate entities (but that's for another blog entry).  The fact is, we will never know how much is truth and how much is fairy-tale, just as I will never truly know who she was.  One thing is for sure, my search for her has not ended with Clark's words, although I like I think they corroborate what I have already learned.

The issues of the 13/02/12

Three immediate topics hit me today: the late Whitney Houston, slavery and Valentine's day.  They are NOT related, you understand, or we could end up with a rather ridiculous and inappropriate story on our hands!

I'll keep it brief about Ms Houston: like Ms Winehouse, what a tragedy.  A life of astronomical success entirely deserved when judged on her supreme talent, but plagued by addiction and sorrow.  Drugs and alcohol stripping away yet another celebrity's dignity, in death.  No, I hate the celebrity tag here; I mean another human being.

I am currently studying the Trans-Atlantic slave trade for my degree.  I have studied slavery and the slave trade before, but perhaps, not so much in context.  Of course, the trade was appalling.  The scale was appalling.  The morality was appalling.  But, how can any of us really, ever, comprehend what happened.  Standing in the barracks and ruins of Auschwitz I & II, I found the enormity of the crimes committed there, during the Holocaust, incomprehensible.  Looking at the 'Stowage of the British slave ship "Brookes" under the Regulated Slave Trade Act 1788' c.1790 (Library of Congress), I can only begin to understand the horror and inhumanity of the trade.  Imagine lying, shoulder to shoulder, head to wall, feet to wall, only 2 feet above you, for three months.  You may as well picture yourself in a coffin.  Add to that human bodies: sweat, bodily functions, rats, disease, corpses.  And this is only your journey; if you make it alive.  The journey to 18 hours a day hard labour in the blistering heat, not enough sustenance, whippings, beatings, mutilations, sexual assault, families torn apart.  No, we cannot begin to comprehend the life of one slave, let alone the plight of millions.

On a lighter note today, and even typing it after my previous musings seems inappropriate; Valentine's day.  What a lovely idea when you are 14 years old and a mystery card comes through your door on February 14th, or is snuck into your schoolbag by an unknown party!  If you're that lucky!  But come one, when you're 27 and desperately in love, must we rely on Saint Valentine, or more appropriately Clinton Cards, to tell us when to celebrate our fortunate situation?!  I think not.  I'm not averse to a little romance, a nice dinner, some wine and choccies, flowers!  But I wouldn't want to restrict myself to one day a year, when the prices of all five little treats treble.  Happy Valentine's day Clintons, you're getting the best present of all.  I bet your shareholders are googly eyed with love for you every February 14th!  You wouldn't sell that ridiculous, pointless tat any other time of year!

Happy Monday!

Made it

Long have my passionate thoughts on the subjects of the day simply dwindled and died away! Do I have something to say?  I can't remember.  It's time to inflict my feeble musings on the world.  No longer will I sit by idle as though I don't know or care about the world in which we live.  I do.

This isn't to say I will only blog about whatever I read in the Times, you understand!  No, No.  There is so much more to life.  There is that cream I tried the other week, there is that dress I bought on ebay and various other shallow yet satisfying escapades!

So here I am, finally, after meaning to do this for so long.  My thoughts, accessible to all...for what they are worth!