May the strings make you smile, May they always remind you of me
When others merely had one song (maybe two), he had an entire playlist. Dozens of songs that made him come to mind, make him hard to forget. With each change of tempo, each inflection of tone, chord progression, whisper, or guttural groan.
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I’m not sure if I truly understand the ways of man…
Or maybe of those without mended wounds.
I wanted to turn me into an “us”, if just
for a brief moment where we could explore
our lust or shared desires.
But at the time that was ours, the interlude
was over before it could ever begin, so I think
were we ever supposed to be a thing?
Maybe we were best suited for our roles
before the whole ordeal — two people so wrapped
up in our heads that only others like ourselves
could possibly comprehend the many voices
which live within.
And even after our “never been” came to an end,
I still wanted for us to be friends.
But the distance that always existed only persisted
and it was as though we once again lived on the same
planet but in different universes.
I get it — women tend to be difficult to read,
but I was a book with the pages willfully exposed,
waiting for a reader to bring each chapter to a close.
And though our possibility has been tossed into the category
of ‘what could’ve been,” I’d still like to know within you
lies a friend.
(originally posted Jan. 7, 2017)
As I’ve previously written in the first installment of this series-long ‘editorial’ (if you will), the following posts are created to air out more or less, ‘adult’ grievances and flush out underlying (as well as obvious) themes that I’ve found while watching these childhood movies over again.
*Please Note: I do not ‘blame’ Disney for any of my findings, as these are films based on very old fairy tales, however, as Disney animated them I will continue to say ‘Disney’ as a reference. **Also, not all cartoons animations of childhood fairy tales were the brain child of Disney, so I will attribute the production companies accordingly.*
After a very long break, I’ve decided to return to my wonderful franchise with the ever-shallow Disney flick, Cinderella.
So the first question I had, after looking back at the film, was why didn’t Cinderella’s dad have a will? For a man who cared sooo much for his little girl — and had to endure the death of his own first wife — how could be be so careless? Yes, I can grasp the fact that maybe life insurance policies didn’t exist, but the WILL has been around since the dawn of time. What would’ve happened if Daddy Rella died before he married Lady “Bitch Face” Tremaine? Cindy would’ve just became a penniless ward of the state. Daddy missed the ball on that one.
Next, Cinderella was better than most children, because I couldn’t understand how she could stand years of mental and physical abuse. I mean, first she got kicked out of her nice room — and we still don’t know what it was turned into — forced to live in an attic, and then do ALL the housework? She didn’t have a third cousin on her mother’s side to run away to? If I were Cindy, the first thing I would’ve done was moved out of the place and moved in with a close friend of the family or something. Make a living out of cleaning and singing and do the damn thing.
Third, who the hell is Lady Tremaine’s baby daddy?
I love how every single Cinderella movie leaves out any kind of back story of her previous husband/baby daddy. Did he divorce her? Was he even a Lord to give her a lady title? Did she kill him for the money and then moved on to her next target?
And just how did Cinderella’s pops died?
I smell foul play — especially from Lady “Bitch Face” Tremaine.
Also, why was it that the ONLY animals that could coherently talk in Cinderella were the mice? We can understand everything they say, but Bruno was left to grunt and growl like a regular dog, the birds had to chirp their words, Lucifer meowed, etc. Did Disney just run out of money to hire actors to speak for them?
And what about all this baby fever the King had?
If he wanted a baby around so much, why didn’t he just remarry (what the hell happened to his wife in the first place? Disney and these damn “dead wives”!) and have a baby of his own. He was freaking KING. He definitely could’ve done that. His eldest son still would’ve been his successor and when he croaked, he could leave his new wife to raise to new prince/ss.
Oh, and please let’s not get me started with the fact that Anastasia and Drizella were so ugly, they couldn’t have even been drawn to look like humans…
They look like straight cartoon characters — no bust, half-moon eyebrows, the works. Furthermore, their dad must’ve been one unattractive dude to produce THOSE faces. That’s probably why Bitch Face killed him. #ISaidIt Side note: who names their child “Drizella”? You know what, let me leave that alone because people name their children worse…
Another thing that killed me was Cinderella’s shoe being able to fit only HER foot. You mean to tell me, that not one OTHER person in that entire kingdom was a size 4 1/2?!
Furthermore, who the eff uses a shoe as a means for identification?! Like come on, the prince can’t be that dumb. Why didn’t he round up all the blondes in the kingdom between 5′ and 5’5″ and then work from there? So you mean to say if a red-head or a girl with a pixie cut fit the shoe, then that was the girl from the ball? If I was Cinderella, I would’ve been offended. This dude thought she was SO beautiful, but couldn’t remember her features enough to have a sketch artist draw a photo so he can send his goons out to search for her. Laziness… and straight disrespectful.
Now here we go with the thematic portion of today’s head scratcher:
Theme One: You Need to Know Who You’re Marrying
Cinderella’s dad made the ULTIMATE mistake when he didn’t check who the hell he was marrying before bringing Lady BF Tremaine into his house with her two fugly children. Yeah, he thought he was bringing in mother figure for his daughter, and thought she’d be compassionate because she has kids of her own. Yeah, NO! This is a culture of #TeamMe and he should’ve known better to think that that woman would ever consider Cindy as a part of her family. Furthermore, Cinderella should’ve probably thought twice about marrying Prince Charming. If he couldn’t even remember what she looked like, can you imagine what else you would forget? Can you imagine if Cinderella went missing? He would probably have to give the guards her shoe to place on all the dead bodies in the kingdom to see if she was dead too.
Theme Two: Parents Need to Invest in Life Insurance
I know for a fact my own mother is scared poopless of the term life insurance because it really should be called “in case of death” insurance. But guess what? When you have children, and early deaths run in the family, your behind needs to make sure you have something saved away for your kids’ future. If Cindy’s dad thought more about making sure she was taken care of and less about bringing another female into his house, he would’ve written a will saying that Cindy got EVERYTHING and that Lady T was only there to supervise until Cindy got to marrying age. Then, Lady T could marry her off to the first thing that batted his eyes at Cindy and then she could’ve paid that dowry off, sell the house, and found herself an even richer man… to later kill and inherit his fortunes.
Theme Three: Slave Labor Can Exist in Your Own Home
Cinderella basically ran that house — cleaning, cooking, window washing, tending to the animals, etc. with no pay, no guarantee to her home, nothing. Basically for free. Out of the goodness of her heart, but more so because she was abused. In the beginning of the movie the say that she was treated terrible and humiliated, which means to me they probably broke her like a slave. Yup. Cindy was a slave in her own home. The only thing missing in a cotton field and a whip in Bitch Face’s hand.
Theme Four: Mice Are Still Creepy Ass Pets
I was never a person for mice as pets. They’re small, they get into everything, they breed quickly, they carry diseases, they eat everything… they’re just kinda gross. And the fact that they SPOKE in this movie creeped me out even further and resolved me to the notion that they’re just creepy ass animals.
Theme Five: Make Sure You’re Really Over Your Clothes Before You Throw Them Away
One of the scenes that really disturbed me in this movie was the scene where Anastasia and Drizella ripped apart Cinderella’s dress that used a COUPLE scraps from the sisters’ old clothes. I don’t know about you, but it always made me feel dirty… almost like a rape scene. I almost thought they were going to leave her naked on the floor with Bitch Face smiling in the corner. But this just makes my point that you should always make sure you’re really ready to throw your clothes away before you do. These girls really weren’t over their items like they thought they were — or maybe they were just jealous it looked nicer on Cindy than on them. Either way, they weren’t down with Cindy’s rat and bird friends upcycling their scraps to make her a half-way decent dress. So, before you dump away your old clothes, make sure you’re really over them. You never know what gems you could be missing.
Theme Six: Godparents Can Be Really Great in a Pinch
If it wasn’t for Cinderella’s fairy godmother, she probably would’ve just offed herself in that fountain when those skeezers ripped up her dress. But Ms. Bibbity Boppity Boo came and gave her a new dress, pumps, a fresh hairdo, and transportation, and that really made me appreciate having god parents. They’re purpose is to basically help the child when the parent can’t and in this case, Cindy needed all the help she could get. So make sure to show your god parents tons of love. You never know when you’d need them to spot your five bucks for cab fare.
Theme Seven: Don’t Let a Man Get You Sprung
If it wasn’t for Cinderella acting all sprung about the Prince when she heard he was looking for her, she probably could’ve avoided that whole being locked in her room waiting for the mice to save the day thing. But her head was so far up in the clouds, she didn’t have enough sense to play it cool and strategize getting out of her in-house slavery. That’s a lesson to you ladies — don’t get so hung up on a man, that you lose all sense and reason and then find yourselves in trouble you could’ve easily avoided.
Theme Eight: Be Nice to Everyone Because You Never Know When They’ll Be Rich Enough to Help You
One, if not the BIGGEST lessons learned from Cinderella is the idea that you should always be nice to people, no matter how much you really dislike them. Hear me out: Cinderella had a beautiful voice, right? If Lady Tremaine had invested money into Cindy being musical, she would’ve had the best singer of the kingdom bringing in suitors (and their money) into that house. As a matter of fact, if Bitch Face treated Cinderella with an OUNCE of niceness, got Cindy a dress for the ball, and let the prince play with her feet, then Cinderella just might have moved the whole damn family into the castle. Instead, she wanted to be a stingy prude. And what did it get her in the end? An old rickety house and two daughters no one wants to marry. Boom.
Theme Nine: No One Likes a Nasty Pussy
I will end this post with the most gratifying scene in this entire movie — Lucifer the Cat’s death. That was the nastiest cat I’d ever seen in my life and I genuinely hated him. When he fell from the tower of the house to his horrific death, I was happy. Pleasantly happy. He caused trouble for Cinderella, he tried to eat her mice friends, he got Bruno in trouble. He was just Damien re-incarnated into a cat. And no one like a nasty cat. Now, if you want to take that heading to mean something else, you can very well do so because I’m all for double entendres and in this movie, it definitely applies.
I don’t know when I became Miss Led.
Ms. Led on too damn long.
Ms. Led to sing that same god damn song.
When did I become the follower and forgot to lead?
When did I forgot the importance of my needs?
Last time I checked, there wasn’t a Mrs. in front of my name,
and I shouldn’t have to go through this round-about game.
I don’t know when I became Miss Led.
Ms. Led on the wrong path by the same ol’ guide.
Ms. Led to into believing truths when they continue to lie.
Ms. Led thinking that you’ll always be around.
Ms. Led thinking there was something good to be found.
Ms. Led always trying to see a better side of the same token.
Ms. Led thinking that we could possible fix what was once broken.
I don’t know how I became Miss Led…
Especially when it’s not my name.
Hello all!
I have to admit, I am utterly ashamed of myself. By not writing to you all (on a consistent basis), I’m failing myself. So, I make a resolution (once again) to jump right back into being a more frequent blogger. Lord knows it’ll take some time, but I’m going to work hard towards it. Even if I have to write about things that do not pertain to my several unfinished novels (which I intend on working on).
First on the list, the book I am currently reading: The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin.
So if you guys know me, you know that I have sort of a soft spot for science fiction and fantasy. I stumbled upon the book after hearing it referenced in that movie The Jane Austen Book Club, which was also based on a book. I figured if one of the main characters made such an argument for his love interest to read it, then shoot, I should read it too.
I will not lie — it took me a minute to get into it. Not knowing that this book was a part of a larger series, you can imagine the numerous questionable looking expressions on my face when I fell on weird ass city names, species of humans and the word kemmer which is like one of the MAJOR themes of the book.
Nonetheless, I continued to read and found myself getting increasingly immersed in it — especially because I had never read a book about an androgynous race of people. They are not androids, they’re not “aliens” in the sense that we know them, they’re a race of hermaphroditic beings that mate once a month almost on a menstrual cycle!
Consider my MIND #BLOWN. Add the fact that a person can be either man or woman at a different cycle?!?!?!? Could you imagine that?!
And this is why the people of their world believe that there is no cause for war; there is no imbalance of hormones to create a feeling of superiority. At the same time, it’s awkward because there is no gender, the society is just a mass of the same people.
Anyway, I’m starting to enjoy the book because of its shift in narration — and because this book was published in like 1969. It’s pretty freaking amazing that this was around at a time where social constructs were being challenged, but at the same time remained very much rigid.
I’m at a point in the book now where POVs are about to converge and I’ll finally get to see them interact once more. I have to say this book is not necessarily an easy read, but some of the metaphors are beautiful and some of the quotes make me want to highlight them for forever.
—
As for everything else going on? I’ve halted on the period piece, despite the fact that I have the entire plot mapped out. Finding the words to move the plot can be so hard to do sometimes, and I don’t really want to force it. And my fantasy novel (pfft), I haven’t looked at the in a while. My novella is on hiatus BUT I intend to make a triumphant return and finish at least ONE this year … maybe … no, I have to. I just have to!
Mucho besitos!
-Alja
Amazing-
I consistently find myself in these awkward situations
amused by seemingly promising and provoking conversations
then left in a state of silent infatuation
degraded,
deflated.
I’ve opened Pandora’s box and find the lid too heavy to shut
second guessing,
ever questioning,
the mixed feelings and anxiety wrestling restlessly in my gut.
Stalking,
gawking,
looking for some glimmer of a response, a clue, to find
what’s going on to give a little ease to the thoughts in my mind
hoping to put these puzzle pieces in a straight line.
Confused,
at first amused, but now bemused
I refuse to be in this trapping contraption
attracted by attention and undone by dejection
waiting for the other shoe to drop – or should I say
flip-flop.
Phasing,
getting ready to start the process of fading,
putting memories into the furthest recesses for bating
as I can no longer provide energy to keep concentrating
on my infallible ability to attract derogating.
No more debating.
No more waiting,
tired of being the patient to this impatient torture of never knowing what lies beneath
just to learn there’s nothing below the surface that I seek.
Tired of being the mouse-turn-cat in this chase
just to end up losing the race.
This time I’m resigning from the game before the stakes get to high
no poker face
no saving grace
I fold and leave without the little tid-bits I’ve already sold.
Some days I wonder to myself
“What’s the use?”
the back and forth’s been
going around in circles
and we can never get to a
point of parallel lines –
going forward with no
inteferring intersection.
It’s humorous how time
can make barely existing
troubles stew into
never ending shouting matches –
dreams disappear and from
the shadow of doubt
nightmares take its place.
Why do we bother?
What love do we have to keep us
united when silence slowly
tears us apart and we both don’t
care to mutter words to keep it
together.
What we once had was beautiful,
but it seems almost impossible
to recover, it seems like
“Once Upon A Time,” we were
requited lovers.
But now, the dust has settled
and what we had feels lost.
The stars are going and maybe
it’s time we finally made our lives
uncrossed.
I don’t ask for much.
Give me some time, any moment you can spare.
Give me some attention, so I won’t have to share.
Just a kiss or two when you’re standing close.
Just the trail of your finger going down my nose.
I don’t ask for flowers – I don’t care for roses.
I don’t ask for love letters – I don’t need your proses.
I don’t ask for much.
I don’t need dinners at fancy restaurants.
Your arms wrapped around me is all I can want.
Your hands on my stomach as we go off to sleep.
Your laughter in my ear as we watch some TV.
I don’t ask for rings- jewelry is not my thing.
I don’t ask for money – I don’t cost a thing.
I don’t ask for much.
Just hold on real tight and don’t let me go.
Kiss my neck and nibble on my earlobe.
Hold my hand when we walk down the street.
Give me your lap whenever I need a seat.
I don’t ask for your name – I’ve got my own.
I don’t ask for any toys – I’m way too grown
I ask for your lips, so that I can have them to kiss.
I ask for your heart, so I know that I’m missed.
I ask for arms, so I can keep your embrace.
I ask for your eyes, and the contours of your face.
I ask for your skin, your voice and the wonder of it all.
I ask for you during spring, winter, summer and fall.
She came over to my apartment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. We’d been dating for some weeks and I have to admit that I really like her. I’ve always liked her really. I’d known her for a while, but just never really had the nerve to ask her on a date. When I did, we hit things off so well that it only made sense to keep dating. When she kissed me, I knew that I didn’t want to stop kissing her. And the way she looked at me – some kind of twinkle in her eye, biting her bottom lips and a blush on her cheeks – just only reassured me that I was right to ask her out again. Continue reading
AljaTheWriter 