The Forestry Of My Mind

I have no right to be depressed.
But I am. Why?
What is there in my life that is so terribly awful, so awful, that I want to scream all the time? What is it I can do to take away the emotional hurt?
Nothing, not really.
I know myself only to an extent. There's another version of me, the depressive me, that sleeps somewhere in the darker recesses of my heart, the deepest pits that I can't find alone. I can't find it, it finds me. And when it does it takes over me completely. Surely that's a sign of some psychological problem? What other reason is there to feel the way I do now?
It's times like these when I can't know myself because I feel like I'm trapped in my own head, struggling to break free from the clutches of my depressive self. They are two parts of me that make the same. They're like two extremes of my personality, not two different ones.
I just want so desperately to be happy. Really, truly happy, not the sort of fleeting happiness I seem to experience during the day. That kind of happiness never lasts, and it always seems to come with a bring down, because you've lost the feeling you've been missing for such a long time. You think that maybe, just maybe, it will stay with you for good, only to have it leave you again.
It's much harder to cope with that way, it's like being tricked.

This morning, I picked up the newspaper and read it. About half way through what should I come across?

I'll tell you what: an article describing the Vatican's condemnation of the Harry Potter books. Apparently these tomes are pure evil incarnate; celebrating the cult of satanism and encouraging young impressionable's into following this dark path. The Vatican believes that Harry Potter is a 'grave lie' and a poor hero for children to follow, because not only is he a magician but he has no religion. Harry Potter is on the fast track to eternal damnation, essentially.

So I suppose it'd be all right if Harry Potter was a Muslim or Jew? No, it most certainly would not. The Vatican are incredulous because there is a series of books out there that are loved by both children and adults, that they have not been given the chance to approve. They are pissed off because Harry Potter is accessible to everyone, and not under the influence of a set of rules which may or may not be right.

They believe that Harry Potter is himself an evil and poor quality hero. Where does that come from? Never once has Harry Potter done anything remotely evil. He's so white bread he's boring. It's the characters around him that are interesting (Fred and George beng a prime example of that). The worst thing Harry Potter ever does is prowl the corridors after dark...even when he's in his rebellious years all he really does is shout and cry.

So does the fact that he's a wizard make him evil? Hell no! You ask any child whether wizards and witches actually exist and they'll probably say 'no'. Ask them if Harry Potter is a bad person and they will also say 'no'. Ask them if Lord Voldemort is a bad person and they will undoubdetdly say 'yes'.

Which is my exact point. The Harry Potter books follow the age old Good vs. Evil structure. It's teaching children about morality; the importance of friends and family and doing the right thing rather than being seduced by power. Where does Satan come into that? Here is an unlikely extract from an unseen Harry Potter book:

From Harry Potter and the Satanic Orgy

"But Professor Dumbledor," Harry said as Hermione painted a pentagram with fresh goat's blood on his bare chest, "I'm not sure if summoning up the dark forces of Lucifer is a good idea."

"Oh do be quiet my dear boy," lisped Dumbledor in an amazing portrait of gay stereotypes. " Only with the awesome power of the Prince of Darkness may we defeat the slightly less evil Voldemort. Now get on your knees and let Mister Weasely have his way with you."

"Get in!" laughed Ron.

You see my point.
Good God, it's just the sheer ignorance of it that truly smacks my gob. Let's think how many Catholic priests have ruined the lives of young children by molesting them? I'd say that's blurring the lines of evil a hell of a lot more than a simple children's book.

Whatever happened to letting children have an actual childhood? Is the Vatican so desperate to get this Godless society back under the great thumb of religion that it's attempting to destroy the happiness of thousands of children? Can't they see that it's pure fantasy, pure entertainment? Are they really that blind?

It's a sure sign of desperation to see a spark-shooting wand as a threat.

'Once upon a time...' is one of my favourite phrases. It sets a tone for magic and beauty and fear; a world is constructed before your very eyes, such is the power of these words.

I read a lot of myths and fairytales; they are essentially the fabric which holds my existence together. The whole culture of the fairytale has definitely had an influence on who I am. They fascinated me as a child and continue to fascinate me now. but there is something that really must be considered. Everybody knows the classics of the Western culture (even though we filched them off the other countries), but do we ever really question their nature?

In my collection I include: The Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Anderson, anthologies adult reworkings, collections from around the world, novels, graphic novels...
One of my favourite books is 'The Bloody Chamber' by Angela Carter. If you haven't read it then I must insanely encourage you to (though I've found as a reader I tend to get put off books when people force them on me, *cough cough* 'The Davinci Code' *cough*). It's a compilation of short stories based on fairytales with a so-called feministic twist. If you've ever seen the excellent Neil Jordan film 'The Company of Wolves', which I quoted in my last blog, was birthed from the story of the same name. The book is wonderful and evocative, emphasised by Carter's beautiful writing. She is someone I look up to massively, and I think she was taken from us far too soon.

What it is about these stories is that they are incredibly dark and sinister. Children accept the horrifying elements without question (well, most of the time), but with they grow up they realise that these childhood tales are really not for children at all.

But of course they are morality tales wrapped in imagery. They were always intended for adults, in fact the Brothers Grimm began their collection with that demographic in mind, but they read them to their children to keep them quiet. Even watered down versions of well known fables like Snow White and Cinderella still hold a little darkness between the pages (that is excluding the Disney films, which up until the 'The Little Mermaid' and 'Beauty and the Beast' contained the weakest heroines known to man and the twee-est approaches to the stories).

It wasn't until I was older, about thirteen or so, that I realised the true extent of Snow White's suffering or what really happened to the Ugly Sisters in Cinderella (let's put it this way, ravenous and vengeful birds + eyes = unpleasant reading). It's all about sexuality (which Carter was very quick on the uptake with), development of the soul and human nature; so much packed into an apparently innocent five minute bed time story. When I am a mother, I will only read the ture fairytales to my children, not the namby pamby, PC ones of today. The fairytale is still significant to society and should be preserved as they are, not forced into something new. Snow White lived with seven dwarves, taking that out of the title doesn't change that.

My childish desire to be a princess never really did fade. The hope that you could be beautiful and revered by others, that your singing voice would charm whomever you so choose.

Princesses have the best adventures, if they don't want to be rescued that is.

First things first.

My two year relationship has been over for week today. To be honest, I can't find the words to write it all down, but I will say this: It was for the best and we're going to stay friends. I am fully aware that is a sentence uttered by countless people during breakups but I know it's the truth with me and him. I can say this because we say eachother yesterday and it was the same as out old relationhip, albeit missing the 'boyfriend-girlfriend' factor.
Except every now and then he'd touch my arm or rub my shoulder like he'd forgotten we weren't together anymore. I didn't mind.

Such a lot has happened since I last wrote but I don't want to put it down here. Christmas was Christmas. I got far too much as usual.

New Year was...forced. If I'd been given the option I would have locked myself in my room and screamed until it was all over. I hate the idea of getting dressed up in a tarty outfit to go to some shitty party in a shitty pub where you drink too much and let yourself get chatted up by shitty people and throw yourself about to shitty music and pretend to be happy even though you've had a shitty year filled with pain and misery and celebrate the start of a fresh shitty year.

Roll on 2008! The Cynical is officially here, fuelled by break up petrol and tiredness.

What much else can I say? The older you are, the less special everything is.
I fear I may be turning into a recluse, especially given my night time behaviour. I'm tired but actively avoid sleep; staying up til 2AM, squirrled away in my room watching foreign films and writing or sketching, whatever takes my fancy I guess. I won't sleep until I know I can't stay awake any longer.

I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with the company of humans. I want to be on my own in a cottage somewhere by the sea where I can seek solace in my books; absorbing stories of cokney show business twins (Wise Children), Oepipus and Freud (Where Three Roads Meet) and perverts with stupid names (Lolita). They're soaked in my skin and I live and breath them all day and all night. When I see someone I want to warn them 'never trust a man whose eyebrows meet in the middle' or pinch them and see if they're real.

Why, what quick hands you have.
Yes, all the better to write with my dear.