Monday, March 19, 2012

So. Life. Blearg.

This is the best song/poem/thing in the world, ever.

No, it actually is.  I have it playing in the background while writing this and I am already crying by the time she mentions his muley cow. Ack.  Gillian Welsh kills me.

As a well-read, college-educated, reasonably comfortable white female in the south-east of Ireland, my opinion on things is OBVIOUSLY so so niche and thus is frequently sought on various matters. I read non-fiction books! Alot of the time those NF books are NOT about the Mitfords or Jane Austen and are about actual stuff that happened in the last fifteen years! I -sometimes, seriously, it is so painful though- read novels that AREN'T set pre-1950 and involve actual contemporary issues! [Gender & race politics during the post-WW2 era is kinda contemporary, right? Yeah? God, I so have my finger on the pulse of the average fiction reader. I'm so glad I work in the industry that I'm in. I would sooo hate to be out of touch of the typical fiction reader haha that would be a deathnell haha wait what?]

Also, I read the lifestyle sections of [certain] newspapers! And I have recently weaned myself off reading Roisin Ingle's IT's Saturday column for diuretic purposes! I'm so well-adjusted and alligned with the average 25- 40 demographic. Survey me! I'm, like, uber-intelligent and informed! I am!  I did a module on 20th Century Irish Pol in college! Yes! Yeah, so I can't spell for toffee outside MS Word but heck, I have opinions and I am willing to share them. Here is one and it is bland *SPOILERALERT*

So. I have a terrificly bad habit of canonizing things/people/books/authors/directors/musicians as my own personal gospel and utilising theorems/philosophies/lyrics from such as my own personal bible. Do you do this?  WHY WOULDN'T YOU? Itss pretty much how modern culture is presented to us. Like that Adele song?  Well, here's seventeen-hundred articles why Adele is awesome and why you should worship her and ALSO panicbuy concert tickets at 8am because you're told to. See also: Lily Allen, Coldplay, Bruce Springsteen, Florence & The Machine, countless others that are sufficently marketed to us MOR people so we prebook and think its a gift. They seem so great, let's make them our religion. Yeah?

It's a shockin' bad habit of mine, anyway, even before the marketeers cottened on to it. I have previously gotten through quitting a job by repeating a poem in my brain like it's religious verse, my (final, successful) driving test by mumbling the good luck message of a friend like it was a mantra. I have frequently reminded myself of this poem whenever I feel lost and adrift and can't understand humanity (AKA hungover).

I'm entirely cognisant of the fact that my future biographer will make great haystacks out of my professed atheism alligned with my imperiative need to idolise individuals, writers, politicans, men, women etc; and correctly question my opposition to theism. Hey.  Fine. Whatevs, future biographer: I havent done anything noteworthy yet so dunno why you exist.

I try real hard not to do it, because it's crazy and untenable and recently I have been super productive on the whole regarding-humans-I -meet-and-like-as-humans-not-as-prophets-on-how-I-should-live-my-life (look at me! 29 and still expecting to find a life mission from the next person I meet! Cult-leaders, seek me out!), but it's a slow progress.  Everytime I hit a metaphorical roadblock, I start humming "Hard times; ain't gonna rule my mind, honey"; anytime human avarice or folly exasperates me I find myself stumbling to Austen for satirical succor; whenever I feel like the biggest fool in the room I just smoke a cigarette and think of this song. And all these things, they're so great, so awesome, so profound, so off my beat that they fix me.  So, there's that. I'm not cured yet.


JMH said...

I bought this because I'm very susceptible to peer pressure, especially from strangers who live overseas (or maybe I'm the one who lives overseas). It better be the best thing I've read, ever, or else I will be mildly disappointed. However, if it is the best thing I've read, ever, I would suggest that you try to sell me expensive things.

Lucy said...

WHAT, WHAT DID YOU BUY?? Sorry for yelling, I got super frenzied when I realised I had persuaded someone to buy something.

Tell me tell me! What did you buy! Did you buy my blog? I will sell it to you! €2? Alright, €1.50 but that's as low as I can go.

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Raskolnikov said...

Don't worry, I do the same thing - I repeat my own words as a mantra, though. So at least you aren't as narcissistic as me!

Lucy said...

I absolutely believe I am more narcissistic than you, because I am the most & best at everything. It would be impossible for you to love you more than I love me because you are not me. *curtsies*

Raskolnikov said...

Nope, Narcissus was a self-deprecating young man compared to me. I could also put your last sentence in a more succinct manner, meaning your verbosity excludes you from any list of "best", sorry.

Lucy said...

@Raskolnikov You tricksy rascal you. I have four gold medals from the Self-Loving Olympics I'll have you know. And yes I did mean that sentence to come out that way.

Raskolnikov said...

Me, tricksy - never.

The "Self-Loving Olympics", ey? What events take place at the "Self-Loving Olympics"?

Lucy said...

Speed and stamina events mainly, but also some awards for creative panache.

Raskolnikov said...

I could win three medals for my creative flair alone. Shame there isn't a doubles section, we could be like [whatever sports team is good].

Lucy said...

Yeah, I'm sure. I don't usually like to share glory though. Maybe you should just compete in some local heats before you try to turn pro BLAH BLAH I'M NOT EVEN ATTEMPTING A SPORTING METAPHOR NO SIR IT JUST ISN'T WHO I AM.

Raskolnikov said...

You don't share glory in a team! You snatch it from the other person and turn the spotlight on yourself to bask in adulation's warm, comforting embrace. How many people know how awful 'The Waste Land' was before Ezra Pound got his hands on it? Eliot is seen as a genius, though.

The only literary sporting reference I could think of came from Joyce, and that just seemed wrong.

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