Existential dread and the promise of happy endings

I am researching on fairy tales for a class paper. And I want to say one thing while facts and logic point me to something else. And it should be easy to revise my opinions, open my mind but I persist in holding on to something that I can't quite fathom. A feeling that niggles at the back of my mind, a certain something thats so part of me that it has never needed any explanation.

 

What I thought would be a fairly easy assignment has turned into a relentless soul searching. Where do we draw the line between childhood security and gender manipulation? Don't we modern women like to think of ourselves as empowered in comparison to our counterparts of earlier centuries? But then what is empowerment- its not a homogenous "equality", thats obvious. And its not ensuring a safe life or the elusive "freedom". Who do we want to be? More importantly, is who we want to be pre-programmed into us by culture? There is pretty much noway to find out- erasure of culture is a culture by itself.

And yet, if its all just manipulation why do some aspects tap into psyches far far more than others? What is that naive, childhood longing that still surfaces on lonely bus rides and loud parties? Some cultures prescribe a "swallowing" while others medicate a "running away"....but its there, always lurking, ready to flow in at the slightest slip of our ambitious, determined "happiness". Ash says nobody understands what the hell I'm talking about but then....

 

But then I think many can...only that these things sound unfamiliar when they are taken out of our souls and worded into sentences.

My Pocket Person

You're my pocket person- with me everywhere I go, silently witnessing everything I do. Not my shadow for you have a mind of your own, not my imagination for you definitely there- but a wispy entity. Not just an addition but not completely separate either.

The world might not see you but I feel your presence stronger than ever. Like we are parts of a whole but yet i know you are you and I am me. You make me feel so much more, you're so within me...yet there is so much about you I don't know.

You will soon want to break free...but I know you will be forever drawn to me as I am to you.

My little pocket person

Whats your favourite word?

Words are beautiful little things....we use them so carelessly, so easily without really understanding their potency, their inherent little wordly qualities. I see them as tiny beads packed with meaning and definitive purpose. Strung together as sentences, flavoured with accents and moods-they are tossed across in conversations. And when these garlands touch-maybe caress, sometimes hit the other person-they explode into a shower of comprehension, imagery and colour.

Some words are hard, unyielding....like a "cut" or a "brunt"...then there those dynamic ones that can "swing" or "slash". The softer "slush". The tempting "lure".

Then there are the quiet ones, mild but shrouded in mystery like "ether"...It has a cottony feel as it slips off your lips. But my all time favorite would be "metaphor"....enigmatic and dignified. Something about it that makes it so powerful in a subdued sort of way....